#haven’t used this program in a while

[arni-bohr]

Made this for my cousin who I’m gifting the game to!

[niceforearmsnicerstaff]

super awesome that zach hadel was on a youtube channel for like 7 years so now i can just use ridiculous oneyplays bits as content

[nightcorecarseatheadrest]

Do you think there’s beauty in anger as well? Do you think kipperlilly saw something beautiful in the face of love’s rage?

[nadvs]

the power play (part one)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

tags college au. fake dating. grumpy athlete/sunshine tutor. reader is bubbly, talkative, and passionate about literature. very slowburn. he falls first. alcohol use. suggestive moments, but no smut.

power play (noun)

an offensive tactic in a team sport; a deliberate attempt to manipulate someone.

════════

You hoped it wouldn’t feel the way it used to, but as you sit in the stands behind the home bench next to Lyla, it’s all the same.

You’re watching Beck zip across the ice with a painfully familiar sense of longing hammering into your chest. Falling for him always felt inevitable; you just didn’t expect that he wouldn’t be there to catch you.

When you and Lyla became friends in the ninth grade, you quickly grew close to her family, spending more time at their house than your own, tagging along to watch her twin brother’s hockey games.

The more you got to know Beck, the more you fell under his spell, charmed by his warmth, by every part of him that made him the most captivating person you’d ever met.

He stole your heart. Considering the way he treated you, you were sure you’d stolen his, too.

You spent most of last semester helping him with a class, even though you were in the same overwhelming throws of being a college freshman. Every study session in his dorm room drifted by with an undercurrent of certainty that he felt something, too.

It crushed you to realize that it’d all been in your head. A few weeks ago, you’d met him after his final exam, which he said he knew he nailed thanks to you.

You thought he was finally going to make the move that felt like it’d been hanging over you for years. But all he did was pull you into a side-hug and say, “You’re more of a friend to me than my own sister.”

Thinking about it still makes you cringe. You hate how weak you feel ruminating over this, trying to get over someone you were never even with.

It’s a Wednesday night two weeks into the spring semester, and you’re at the first home game you’ve been to in a while. Although you’ve always loved the loud, buzzing atmosphere of a hockey game, you’ve been staying far away from the campus arena and the man who hurt you.

You haven’t spoken to Beck. And he hasn’t reached out. What he did was an indirect rejection, his way of saying, It’s obvious that you like me and I need you to know once and for all that I don’t like you back.

Since then, every time your best friend has asked you to come to games or parties, you’ve told her you’ve been too busy, using your new position in a tutoring program as your excuse.

You prefer a distraction from Beck, and helping other students with a subject you’re passionate about has done the job.

But you can’t blow Lyla off forever, so now, you’re sitting with her in the stands among a small crowd of spectators.

The championship season begins in a month. Every seat will be full then. But you wish more people were around now. You welcome any noise to drown out your thoughts.

Everyone else cheers when Beck smashes the puck against the back of the net, securing the team’s first goal. You find it hard to join the celebration. Even though you’ve always thought of him as kind, you wonder if he could tell how much you liked him. If he consciously led you on.

For years, you’d watched him date other girls, hoping he’d finally realize you were the right one for him all along. You daydreamed far too much about him, imagining that he’d become your first boyfriend and take you on your first date and give you your first kiss.

The alarm blares to signal the end of the second period, pulling you out the haze you’ve fallen into a thousand times since that day in front of his exam room.

“You want to get some snacks?” Lyla asks.

“Sure,” you reply, doing your best impression of a girl with nothing weighing on her.

Once you walk up to the end of one of the arena’s concession stand lines, Lyla recognizes the people standing in front of you, greeting both girls with smiles and hugs.

Through introductions, you learn that Emma and Gabby are friends Lyla made at a party last semester. After some small talk as the line shuffles forward, Lyla points back to the rink.

“The seats next to us are empty if you want to sit with us,” she offers.

Emma and Gabby happily join you as you settle back in your seats soon after. You gaze ahead at the empty rink as they chat, the 3-1 score glaring above the ice in red neon numbers.

“No way the coach isn’t chewing them out right now,” Lyla says with a shake of her head.

“Why do you know on the team again?” Emma asks.

“My brother, Beck,” Lyla says. “You?”

Emma’s mouth twists into a tense smile.

“My ex,” she says, her voice lowering. “I wish he didn’t play, because I actually really love coming to these games.”

“Bad breakup?” you surmise.

“Brutal,” Gabby chimes in. You can tell by her expression that she’d supported her friend through the fallout.

“I just don’t want him to see me here and think it means something,” Emma sighs. “If he thinks that I want to get back together, it’ll be a disaster. We broke up a month ago and he’s still bothering me.”

You hardly know this girl, and you know her ex even less, but your reflex is to feel bad for him. You’re well acquainted with the pain that comes with caring about somebody who doesn’t want you.

“Oh, yeah,” Lyla remembers. “Rafe, right?”

Emma nods.

“Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Emma laughs.

The three girls share a knowing look, something unsaid passing through them.

You don’t know much about Rafe. On the rink, he’s a strong, aggressive defenseman, a sophomore who spends more time in the penalty box than any other player. You’ve seen him at a couple of parties, too, but never exchanged any words.

You don't understand the girls’ tense reactions to the mention of his name.

“What am I missing?” you half-whisper.

“You’d be missing nothing if you actually came to the parties I invite you to,” Lyla teases.

You can count on one hand how many parties you’ve been to since you started college. But it works for you. A party every few weeks is enough.

“I come when I can,” you reply, nudging her playfully. “Fill me in.”

“He’s a trainwreck,” Emma explains to you. “He has a million red flags that I ignored because I thought he was hot. Literally all we ever did was fight.”

“Yeah,” Lyla huffs, raising her brows. She looks at you. “Maybe it’s actually a good thing you don’t come to every party.”

You consider their words. They must have had a penchant for making a scene, shamelessly arguing in front of a crowd.

“I couldn’t take how mean and moody he was anymore. I dumped him and he won’t let it go.” Emma breathes a laugh. “It’s pathetic. He even called me crying the other night.”

Again, a confusing pang of sympathy for him hits you. It has to be your own heartbreak influencing you. You can’t imagine you’d normally feel bad for a guy described as having a million red flags.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“I’m over it,” Emma says carelessly.

“He’s not,” Gabby murmurs.

The players storm out on the rink again moments later, blades slicing the ice. They’re all so fast and powerful, and knowing that Rafe, the most forceful one of the group, is going through a version of the pain you are is oddly comforting.

A couple of minutes in, he gets thrown into the penalty box for charging an opponent. He skates to the opposite side of the rink, Cameron stitched across the black polyester of his jersey.

He stares at the floor as he waits out his penalty, tense, still. You think that if someone who looks so big and strong can hurt just like you, maybe you’re not as weak as you think.

════════

Rafe swings open the library entrance door with a scowl, irritated as hell that he has to be here. It’s annoying that the athletic department gives this much of a shit about players’ grades. Rafe knows he’s one of the best on the hockey team. He wishes that were enough.

Freshman year was fine, but he barely made it through last semester. He just failed his first assignment in a half-term literature course that was supposed to be an easy A.

Coach wasn’t pleased, saying it could screw up his GPA and deem him ineligible to play. Rafe tried to convince him that he’d do better on the next one, but Coach set him up with a tutor, unwilling to hear him out.

He’s already hardwired into a constant state of anger. Life has always been a storm, and now more than ever, there's no refuge in sight.

He's dealing with a coach who has no hope in him, on top of a painful breakup, on top of a shitty loss last night, on top of the fact that now he’s being forced to talk to a stranger about some boring book.

He can’t catch a break.

He looks at the email on his phone again. Study Room 205. He eventually finds the open door and taps his knuckles on it to get your attention.

You lock eyes with the person you’ve been waiting on for the last ten minutes. You had no idea who was coming up to meet you – just that the athletic department set it up.

But you know him. Or of him, at least.

A second ago, you were thinking about how you’ll have to ask whoever you’re meeting to be on time for future sessions. Now, your mind is consumed by the harsh words you heard about him last night.

“Hi,” you say politely. “Are you here for Lit Arts?”

He nods tersely in confirmation, stepping in. He drops his bag onto one of the empty chairs surrounding the square desk in the middle of the small room. You introduce yourself and when he sits down diagonally opposite to you, he murmurs, “Rafe.”

Discomfort swirls in your stomach. You’d heard something so personal about him at the rink, gazed at him in the penalty box from a distance, feeling like he’s a kindred spirit, and now you have to pretend like none of it happened.

“You’re on the hockey team, right?” you ask.

He realizes he’s seen you before. He can’t figure out where.

“Yeah.”

“I was at the game last night. Tough loss.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything. The clock ticks rhythmically. You clear your throat, figuring it’s best to skip the small talk.

“I took this class last semester. I know exactly how the prof grades, so you’re lucky to have me in your corner.”

Rafe is many things right now. Lucky isn’t one of them.

“Do you have your laptop?” you ask.

He unzips his bag and pulls out his computer.

“You can go to the course portal,” you tell him. He lets out an exhale as he navigates to the webpage. You lean closer to make sure that the class is currently on the book you brought with you.

You pull out your copy of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, page edges littered with different colored sticky tabs.

“Did you get a chance to start the book?” you ask.

He shakes his head. He’s not hiding that he really doesn’t want to be here. Nonetheless, you’re determined to crack him.

“Do you have a copy of it?”

“No.”

You nod slowly, picking up that he planned to coast through the class, not even bothering to buy and read any of the books.

“Do you like reading?” you ask.

“Nah,” he says with a grimace, as if he’s offended you’d assume that.

“You might like some of the books on the syllabus. This class is a lot of fun.”

“Fun,” he echoes with a stare that makes him look like he wants to bolt out of the door he just came through.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you reply with a smile. “Your idea of fun is skating around and getting slammed into walls. I should be the one judging you.”

He gazes at you like you’re from another planet, blue eyes hard on you. It’s nothing short of amusing.

You pull his laptop closer, hovering the cursor over the ‘My Grades’ tab, and ask, “Do you mind if I check how you did on your last assignment?”

“I bombed it,” he says.

As you gaze at the screen, Rafe clues in on where he’s seen you before. With one of the team’s freshmen.

Varsity athletes who live on campus are lumped together in the same dormitory block, and he’s seen you hanging around with Beck, going in and out of his room.

He wouldn’t consider Beck a friend. He’s a teammate and at best, an acquaintance. The guy’s a kiss-ass to Coach, and does everything by the book, skipping most parties and never drinking.

It makes complete sense that a rule-follower like Beck would date a good girl like you. Who the fuck calls a class fun?

You click to see his failing grade percentage for the first assignment of the semester in bolded red.

“Did you get any feedback on where you went wrong?” you ask. You know he’s going to shake his head before he does it. He doesn’t seem to care at all. “You have a whole semester to get your grade up. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” he replies stiffly.

“Well… maybe you should worry a little bit,” you say lightheartedly. “I know your coach is serious about grades.”

Rafe figures you must have heard that from your boyfriend. Maybe Beck took this class, too. It’s popular among busy student athletes because it’s supposed to be an easy way to fulfill a humanities credit.

He could just convince Beck to give him copies of his assignments. He’d have to change stuff around, but at least he’d get out of tutoring.

“Did you help Beck with this class?” he asks.

You’re taken aback by the sudden reminder of him, brows knitting together, a shift in your breezy demeanor.

“You’re his girl, right?” he says, as if it’s obvious.

“No. We’re– we’re friends.” You chew on your bottom lip. Tutoring is supposed to be a distraction from Beck, not the topic of conversation. But your curiosity burns in you and there’s no chance of putting it out. “Did he talk about me or something?”

“No,” he says, a bit too harshly for your liking. “I just figured ‘cause you’re with him all the time.”

“Right,” you say. All the time. Like a lost puppy, no doubt. Embarrassment pricks at your skin. “I helped him with another class. We’re friends.”

Rafe cracks his first smirk since he walked into this stuffy little room. You said friends twice, both times with uncertainty.

“You sure?” he chides.

“What?” you say stiffly. “Yes. I am.”

You crack open the book.

“So, A Portrait is about a man named Stephen who navigates the idea of identity,” you say quickly, trying to shake off your nerves. “We should look at the discussion question.”

You shut the book abruptly, then turn your attention to the laptop.

“You need to write a 1,500-word reflection for each book,” you ramble. “You’ll do better if you find a personal connection to the text. Maybe we start there.”

Rafe watches the nervous way your eyes dart around the screen as you scroll. His joke threw you into a tense, awkward panic that he has no interest in being around.

“You can relax,” he says. “I don’t care if you like him.”

You don’t look at him. You thought you were relaxed.

“Well, I don’t.”

You scroll to the question, one word in particular striking you.

What role does Emma play in Stephen’s growth and how he defines himself?

Of course. As if you needed another reason for this to be even more awkward.

Seeing Rafe’s ex’s name makes what she’d told you about him echo through your head again. Despite his teasing, the sympathy you felt for him comes back tenfold.

You know things about him that you shouldn’t. You feel a responsibility to balance the scales, but the air is too tense, the unfamiliarity too uncomfortable.

“Did you take a look at the question?” you ask.

He shakes his head, still slouched back. At this point, his apathy is starting to get to you.

“Listen, I can tell you don’t want to be here, but could you please try to meet me in the middle?” you say.

Rafe’s lips pull into a firm line, but he relents and leans closer to look at the screen. His body goes cold when he sees her name. He’d rather not be reminded of the girl who broke his heart right now.

“Emma is Stephen’s love interest,” you begin, trying to act like you don’t know a thing about his past relationship. “He sees her as something she’s not.”

You leaf through the book, finding a note you’d written in the margin.

“She represents idealization,” you read. You look up at him again. “Stephen sees by the end that she’s just a normal person, not this perfect girl he thought she was for so many years.”

You open a blank document on his laptop.

“We can write up some notes to start us off,” you say. “This prof grades high when you relate to the text. He likes the sentimental stuff, so until you read the book, that’s what we’ll have to work on.”

You chew on your lip again, unsure if you should bring up what you heard in the stands. It feels unethical either way.

“It doesn’t have to be a person,” you say. “It could be a place or an experience. Have you ever thought something was great and then realized it wasn’t?”

Rafe’s stomach is in a knot. The thought of being tutored and having his hand held through a class was bad enough. Now he has to get into his feelings with you?

“I don’t know,” he says.

You look at the blinking cursor, your head cocked in thought.

“Maybe relating it to a person would be easier, then?” you ask.

Nothing can make this easier. Rafe rakes his hair back, gazing down at your hands stalled over his keyboard.

“I get that this is awkward,” you say. “But it doesn’t have to be anything super personal. You could even make something up if you want.”

He only purses his lips, eyes fixed on your hands, as if he hopes you’ll give in and just do his work for him.

You take a deep breath and interlace your fingers on the desk. You figure that if you’re a little vulnerable, he might be, too.

He’s unknowingly feeling the same pain you are and saying the truth out loud to someone who gets it might even be a relief. There’s a risk of it getting back to Beck, but something tells you Rafe’s not much of a gossiper anyway.

“To be honest, yes, I like Beck. I thought he felt the same, but he doesn’t. Between you and me, sometimes I think he took me for granted and led me on. I idealized a friendship and it ended up hurting me. If this were my assignment, I’d relate to the book with that.”

Rafe is thrown off by your sudden honesty. It’s actually refreshing, considering all the bullshit he’s been dealing with lately.

He looks at you wordlessly.

“It’s just an example,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I did well in this class because I found pieces of myself in every book. All you need to do is read the material, find something you can relate to, write a decent report, and you’ll get a good grade. Well, that and prepare for the midterm and the final.”

“This class was supposed to be easy,” he finally says under his breath.

“Can you let me know when you’re going to be done complaining?” you ask playfully, looking up at the clock. “It’s been five minutes and you’re still going.”

Rafe huffs an almost-laugh. He adjusts his posture again, pulling at the collar of his hoodie.

“You really don’t have to be specific,” you reassure him. You tap your fingers over the keyboard again, just light enough to not press any buttons. “If you can relate the character of Emma to someone, you don’t have to say their name.”

Your eyes stay glued to the screen, your shoulders stiff as you wait. You’re acting weird again. The way you said Emma’s name looked like it pained you.

And it dawns on him.

“Should’ve known she’d talk shit,” he realizes. “What’d she tell you?”

“What?” you say, meeting his gaze.

“What did Emma say about me?” Rafe drawls, his deep voice reverberating through you.

Your lips part, but words refuse to form. For a guy that doesn’t like to read, he’s very good at doing it to you.

Rafe leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk. You can now see what makes him so intimidating on the ice. Every edge of his face is sharp now, apathy replaced with intensity.

“Nothing,” you reply. “It’s not my business.”

How did he not clue in before? If you run in the hockey team’s social circle, of course you heard about their breakup.

Emma never cared to keep things private. And you’re so willing to share your own personal stuff because you know more about him than you’re letting on. Because you pity him.

“Come on,” he scoffs, frustrated.

“I met her at the rink last night. She just mentioned you used to date.”

He shrugs impatiently, a silent request that you keep talking. You sigh.

“She said she likes coming to games, but it’s hard to because her ex is on the team.” You grimace. There’s no way you’d actually tell him all of it, all of the insults she muttered. “It’s not worth repeating, but… basically, she told me she broke things off and you won’t move on.”

Rafe nods, lips twisting. The way she’s been ignoring his texts and his calls to try to fix things stung enough. Talking to strangers to embarrass him hurts on an entirely different level.

He didn’t know Emma could be this cruel. This is mortifying. He’s done trying to make things work with her. No matter how hard the loneliness is hitting him.

You slide the book across the desk towards him, desperate to move past the tension.

“You can start reading,” you say. “And you don’t have to buy any of the books. I’ll just lend you mine. I’ll get some notes down for you to work from and you can do the personal connection part on your own.”

You start to type and immediately wonder if he’ll drop the class. You’ve never had that happen with someone you tutored before, but you wouldn’t blame him.

It must feel crappy to hear from a girl you don’t even know that your ex is saying bad things about you. A girl that you have to see every Thursday afternoon for the next three months.

Rafe cracks open the book in the middle to fan through the pages, a weight sitting on his chest. The pages are worn, words underlined, notes scribbled in the margins.

“You put this through the washing machine or something?” he murmurs.

“I’ve read it a few times,” you say simply. You keep typing.

Emma said he’d called her crying. It’s hard to imagine the man sitting next to you crying. It’s weird knowing something about someone that they wouldn't want you to know.

Rafe’s already bored with the first sentence. It’s long and confusing and completely uninteresting. His eyes drift up, absorbing the way your face softly creases in concentration as you type.

Now that you’re not talking at a thousand words a second, he can actually take you in.

You’re the type of girl he’d approach at a party. There’s no doubt about that. But once you’d start yapping about reading like you just did, about finding pieces of yourself in a book, he’d find a way out of the conversation.

Playing hockey at the college level is demanding; he likes the other things in his life to be fun and easy. Keeping up with a girl like you and pretending he’s interested in whatever you’re rambling about would be neither.

As he studies you, he doesn’t get why Beck friendzoned you. You’re pretty. And you’re the same type of person as Beck: straight-edge and so cheerful it’s annoying.

Rafe is typically one to outright say what he’s thinking, but he has the restraint to keep the idea he just had to himself. He needs to sleep on it. He’s done some crazy shit since Emma broke his heart and he’d rather not add to the tally.

You notice him looking at you in your peripheral vision.

“You’re not thinking of dropping the class, are you?” you ask.

“No,” he says. His eyes stay on you for another beat, then find the words on the page again.

��═══════

You thought Rafe came to your first session in a bad mood. Compared to how you feel right now, he was peachy.

Lyla called you on your way to the library and mentioned in passing that her brother asked about you last night. She said Beck seemed like he missed you, all sympathetic when he asked, is she doing okay?

She’s oblivious to the real reason he brought it up. And it’s irritating. Because he doesn’t even ask you himself. Because he’s right. He knows that his passive rejection left a wound.

“You’re on time,” you say in surprise when Rafe saunters into the study room.

“You talk a lot,” he mumbles. “I’m not interested in a lecture after you told me not to be late.”

Despite your bad mood, you crack an amused smile. You’d ended last week’s session telling him that tardiness was not only disrespectful to you, but to his own academic success. He rolled his eyes, but he clearly listened.

Rafe settles in the same chair as last time, holding your copy of the book he was supposed to read.

“Did you read it?”

“Mostly.”

“What’d you think?” you say with hope.

“Boring.”

“Fair,” you say. You gesture for his laptop. “Let’s see how far you got on the report.”

Your brows drop in disappointment when you see how much he added to the file. It’s a bunch of pasted summaries and disorganized thoughts, taking up only half the page.

You eventually reach the end of your hour-long session and have him read over the assignment one last time before submitting it. You check the syllabus to confirm what the next book is, then shut his computer.

“Try to have more for us to work with next time,” you tell him. “And you should have the next book totally read by then, too, okay?”

You hand him your copy of Pride and Prejudice and push your seat back, ignoring his frustrated sigh.

“You talk to Beck lately?” he asks after a beat.

“What?” you say, face screwing up. You’re reminded all over again of what Lyla said. “No. Why?”

“You’re still pissed at him,” he says. He’s confident, coming to the conclusion himself instead of waiting for you to admit it.

“Why are you talking about this? We had a perfectly nice hour together,” you try to joke.

Rafe finally gives a voice to what’s been swirling in his mind since last week. He’s used to being mad, to feeling spiteful, but the way his ex broke his heart has never made him want revenge more. He wants to hurt her as badly as she hurt him. He wants to make her regret leaving him.

“We should get back at them,” he says.

“I’m sorry?” you say, your chin dipping as you stare at him.

“Hear me out,” he tells you. “We’re going to keep seeing Beck and Emma around, right? We could make it look like we’re better off without them. Make them jealous.”

You squint, waiting for the details. Rafe draws in a sharp inhale.

“She said I’m not over her, right? And you said he took you for granted. If they think we moved on, I bet at least one of ‘em will realize they fucked up.”

You consider it. Admittedly, making Beck think you’re perfectly fine – no, thriving – after his rejection is enticing.

“Okay, how do we get back at them exactly?” you ask.

Rafe scratches the back of his neck. It’s the first time he seems kind of nervous to you.

“We pretend we’re together,” he says.

“You and…” You look over your shoulder, because he must be talking to somebody else who snuck into the room at some point. “You and me? Together together?”

“I know. It wouldn’t ever happen.”

You can’t even be offended. He’s right. He’s a skilled hockey player and undeniably good-looking, but that’s where the compliments end.

Two afternoons of working together and making small talk have shown you that you have nothing in common. And frankly, while you do laugh off his bad attitude, it gets on your nerves.

A relationship would never work, let alone even begin.

“But they don’t know that,” he continues. “All they’ll see is that someone they lost is happy without them.”

Your mind starts racing. The years of pining over Beck, the pain of his rejection, the frustration over him asking his sister how you’re holding up. They’ve all left cracks in your heart.

The more Rafe thinks about rubbing his happiness into Emma’s face, even if it’s bullshit, the more he hopes you’ll be on board. But you’re not saying a word.

“If you’re not in, fine,” he sighs, pushing his chair back to start to leave. He should have figured you’d be too uptight to do it. “I’m just saying I bet you wouldn’t hate making Beck sweat.”

He stands up, but you hear yourself say, “Wait.”

Then you hold out your hand.

Rafe breathes an amused chuckle, flashing the first sincere smile you’ve seen on his face, when he realizes what you’re doing.

Your hand slips into his, touching for the first time to seal the deal and shake on it.

“This is insane,” you say. “Count me in.”

next >

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[monstersholygrail]

In a Free Use City, your knowledge on the subject of your job isn’t always what’s most important. And in your case, it’s the least important. You were actually known as quite a ditz in the Free Use City Offices.

You worked in the tech department surrounded by a bunch of hot and nerdy guys who spoke in yours you couldn’t even begin to understand. You were just happy to be there and they were happy to ogle you and press against you whenever you asked for their help with any simple task.

They thought they had the upper hand on you, thinking they were so clever. But you had them all on a leash. An entire department at your disposal to give you pleasure whenever you wanted.

Your favorite man to bother was IT Robot. He got his work done fast and spent the rest of the day goofing off. The easy air around him made him approachable and the way all his shirts fit snugly against his bulging pecs made you drip with need.

You can’t help but spare him another glance before hesitantly returning your gaze to your own computer, the screen filled with the program you still haven’t figured out. Great, now you were confused and horny.

“Need me for something?” IT Robot’s voice suddenly purrs into your ears. His steel-like grip grabbing onto your plush hips and pulling you back into his hard chest.

His body molds to yours so perfectly it has you tingling all over. Arousal gushing and soaking through your panties. He turns you on so bad even when he barely did anything but it was like your body was out of control. As if it could be programmed just for him when he was the robot.

“Help… I hurt,” you say with a pout, your mind turning to complete mush whenever you’re around him.

IT Robot flashes you with that charming lopsided smile of his, heavily amused by the puddle you melt into whenever he talks to you.

“Where does it hurt, huh? It hurt here?”

He caresses your soft belly with an appreciation that borders on worship before one hand slips beneath your skirt, nuzzling his fingers between your soaked folds.

“Or here?” He asks while the other gives a little pat on your head.

A low whine escapes your lips as he rolls his fingers over your clit, your hips jerking into the touch. And that’s all it takes to have IT Robot plunging three of his fingers deep into your cunt, making you gasp and tremble in his arms.

“That’s what I thought… Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll fix the issue right away. It’s what I do after all.”

Your vision blurs as you dive into the pleasure head first. Choking out harsh moans as IT Robot’s fingers move inside you with precision like he has an entire map of your pretty pussy printed in his head. His fingers move in a blur as they pump themselves inside you, hitting all the right places that have you seeing stars. Each curl of his fingers sends your pussy fluttering and clenching down around him.

“Squeeze me tight, honey, ngh c’mon! Don’t think about a thing, just focus on being my pretty baby. My good girl.”

His words send the last thoughts in your head flying out the window, reducing you to nothing but his perfect little fuck toy. Your body relaxes without having to worry about a thing, allowing the ecstasy to overwhelm you.

IT Robot chuckles again as that fucked out expression fills your features. He flattens his palm so that it rubs hard against your clit with every snap of his fingers. With a few quick movements it has you falling over the edge and exploding all over his hand. Your vision flashes white as your orgasm rolls through you and you can’t find the strength to move any of your limbs after.

But that’s alright, IT Robot will take care of you, his fingers slipping out of your pulsing cunt with a pop, and giving your temple a soft kiss. He doesn’t bother cleaning up his hand dripping with your cum as he starts typing on your computer, solving the issue with the program you were using, and successfully helping you with both your aches.

“There, there. I’ve got you, pretty. Just keep feelin’ good. All because of me,” he whispers in your ear. Planning to spend the rest of the day doing all your work for you.

[olive-main]

oooo if you’re interested would love to see your take: reader is Azriel’s mate, nobody knows. The inner circle keeps trying to set him up with females (including Elaine & Gwyn). They like reader but don’t view her as an option for being his partner. Lots of angst, she’s hurting, she overhears them saying she’s not an option for him. Up to you what happens for her and Azriel. Loved your last story, and that you wanted more angst ideas!! And if this isn’t what you’re looking for, all good!

Between Us Alone

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel’s mate overhears a conversation that shakes her confidence in their hidden bond, but he reminds her that love, even in shadows, is unbreakable.

Wc: 1.2k

A/N: Annndddd welcome back to our regularly scheduled programming. This time I come with the gift of some fluff (with angst ofc bcs duh—who do y’all think I am?) Enjoy the happy endings while they last…..evil laugh

Masterlist

——

The corridors of the House of Wind were quiet, save for the faint hum of conversation that drifted from Rhysand’s office. You’d gone looking for Azriel, hoping he might steal away from his “boys’ night” early and join you at your shared apartment.

A secret, the two of you. Hidden in plain sight. Quite fitting for Rhysand’s spymasters.

It was exhilarating at first—the quiet smiles across rooms, the fleeting brushes of hands, and the stolen glances when no one else was looking. But there were cracks now, small fissures of insecurity that made you wonder if keeping the bond private had been the right choice.

Your footsteps slowed as you neared Rhys’s office, voices clear now, though you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You were about to knock when you caught the sound of Cassian’s boisterous laughter.

“Oh, come on, Az,” Cassian said, his tone teasing. “You’ve been spending all that time with Gwyn. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Gwyn’s sweet,” Rhysand added. “And she clearly enjoys your company. You’d make a good pair.”

Your heart clenched painfully, the words hitting you like a physical blow.

Azriel’s reply was quieter, almost unreadable. “Gwyn is a friend. I’m not looking for… that.”

Cassian scoffed. “You say that now, but it’s been centuries, Az. When was the last time you even tried to let someone in? Gwyn’s perfect for you—kind, strong, clever. She gets you.”

“She’s not the only option,” Rhys said smoothly. “There are others. Nesta’s mentioned a few priestesses who would be good matches.”

Cassian nodded in agreement. “There’s also Y/N.”

You pressed your hand to the doorframe, your breaths shallow as you heard Cassian say your name.

“No, I don’t see them together. They rarely speak to each other outside of missions and a few shared words at dinners.” Rhysand says with a shake of his head as if the thought of you and Azriel together was the most unlikely thing he could think of.

You shouldn’t have stayed, shouldn’t have listened, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. They didn’t mean to hurt you—you knew that. You’d always been on the periphery of their circle, a friend but never a true equal in their eyes. Azriel’s shadows had been your sanctuary, his quiet love a solace you cherished.

But to hear them speak so casually, as if you weren’t even a possibility…

Azriel’s voice cut through, firm and unyielding. “I don’t need you to play matchmaker. I can handle my own life.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Cassian said, clearly amused.

“Drop it,” Azriel snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

The room fell silent after that, but the damage was done. You turned and fled, the ache in your chest twisting tighter with every step.

—

The space you shared with Azriel was small but cozy, tucked away in a quiet corner of Velaris where no one thought to look. It was your haven, the only place you could truly be yourselves without prying eyes or whispered questions.

But tonight, it felt suffocating.

You sank onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as the doubts clawed at your mind.

This charade was necessary. You both knew that. If they ever found out you and Azriel had been together for months—years, now—it would complicate everything. Not just for him, but for you.

As Azriel’s partner, you worked in the shadows as he did, your work as vital and delicate as his own. Secrecy was second nature to you both, and you’d agreed early on that revealing your bond—to anyone—was too risky.

You’d thought you could handle it. But moments like this, when they talked about Azriel’s love life like you didn’t exist, like you weren’t his, made you question how much more you could endure.

You told yourself it wasn’t Azriel’s fault. He hadn’t encouraged them. He’d even told them to stop. But the weight of their words lingered, stirring fears you’d tried so hard to bury.

What if they were right? What if Azriel deserved someone like Gwyn, someone who could stand beside him without the need for secrecy?

You didn’t hear the front door open, too lost in your thoughts to notice the familiar sound of Azriel’s footsteps until he was standing in front of you.

“Something’s wrong,” he said immediately, his hazel eyes scanning your face. His shadows swirled around him, restless and sharp. “What happened?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing. Just tired.”

His brow furrowed, and he crouched in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “Don’t lie to me.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you. You looked away, your throat tightening as you tried to hold back tears.

“Y/N,” he said softly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Tell me.”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. But you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I went to Rhys’s office,” you admitted quietly. “I was going to find you, but… I heard you all talking.”

Azriel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “What did you hear?” He already knew. There was only one part of the conversation that could’ve had you so distraught.

You swallowed hard. “They… they were trying to set you up with someone. Gwyn, mostly. Rhys mentioned others.” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “They said I wasn’t even an option.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his shadows curling tighter around him.

“They didn’t mean it to hurt me, I know that” you added quickly, seeing how Azriel was ready to go back and pummel his brothers. “They don’t know about us. But… it still hurt.”

He exhaled sharply, standing and pacing the room. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “They had no right—”

“They care about you,” you interrupted. “They want you to be happy. And maybe they’re right. Maybe you’d be better off with someone like Gwyn. Someone who—”

“Stop.”

The word was a command, sharp and unyielding. Azriel crossed the room in an instant, kneeling before you again. He took your hands in his, his grip firm but gentle.

“Don’t you dare doubt this,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you dare doubt us.”

Tears spilled over, and he reached up to brush them away, his touch achingly tender.

“You are my mate,” he said, his voice breaking. “You. Not Gwyn, not anyone else. You are the only one I want, the only one I will ever want.”

“But they—”

“They’re idiots,” he said flatly. “I’ll deal with them. But don’t let their ignorance make you doubt what we have.”

You searched his face, finding only unwavering certainty in his eyes.

“I love you,” he said, his voice softening. “More than I thought I was capable of. And I don’t care if they don’t see it. I see it. I feel it.”

A broken laugh escaped you, relief washing over you like a tide. “I love you too.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the world.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I never wanted you to feel like this. I thought keeping the bond private would protect us, but if it’s hurting you—”

“It’s not,” you said quickly. “Not really. I just… I needed to hear this. To hear you.”

He pulled back just enough to press his forehead to yours. “You’ll never have to doubt me again.”

——

Aren’t they just so sweet *sigh*. Thank you for reading <3

Requests are still open ;)

[buckyalpine]

Pick Me

Bucky x reader 

The new recruit has her eyes set of a certain set of super soldiers. Especially your super soldier. 

warnings: jealously, Angsty bangsty, but also so fluffy fluffy and smutty, clueless Bucky, he really means no harm, go easy on him.

A/n - editing to add: when I first started writing this I loved the concept and wrote a large chunk but then I left it for months cause I struggled to actually finish writing it. This wasn’t even the original ending I had planned but I just wanted to finish it so yes Bucky should’ve done way more, pretend there was a time jump where he does a better job with earning forgiveness 🥲

-

“Everyone, meet Nicole, our newest recruit for the field agent training program” Tony walked into the common room where you were sprawled out on the couch with Nat, Sam and Wanda while a young woman walking confidently behind him. “She’s going to be staying with us for a couple of months to train before she goes onto the the field” Tony turned back to her, bringing her to his side. 

“I’m sure you know everyone but let me introduce you to them anyway. This is the very Natasha, Wanda, Sam and y/n” 

“Hey Nicole” You gave her a warm smile, happy to welcome her while everyone else also got up to greet her. “Nice to meet you” 

“Oh, ew, just call me Nic! I don’t really go by Nicole” She scrunched her face at the sound of her full name, her eyes scanning the room, clearly looking for someone. “Don’t suppose the very Captain America and Sergeant Barnes are here?” 

The hopeful uptick in her voice made it clear that’s who she’d been searching for. Right on cue, the two super soldiers walked into the living room on their way to the kitchen after a morning run. 

“Speak of the devils and I do mean devils” Tony snorted beckoning the men to meet the new recruit. “Rogers, Barnes, this is Nicole, preferably Nic” 

“Hello handsome” She gave Bucky a bashful smile before turning to Steve and batting her lashes, “and handsome” 

“Nice to meet you” Steve reddened at the way she gripped onto his hand before slinking over to the brunette, purposely sticking out her left hand so he’d shake with his metal one. “And you Sergeant” 

Bucky gave her a smile and quick shake, excusing himself to get some water while Steve quickly trailed behind him. Tony went on to take her to her room which was on the same floor as yours, all the other spare rooms occupied by a few others who had already started training. Nicole returned to the living room moments later with sweats and a hoodie, her hair tied up, plopping down onto the sofa beside Sam. 

“Hey, were doing a girls night, movies, junk food, wine, you wanna join us?” Nat offered with a smile hoping to make the new recruit feel more welcome even though a part of her was wary. 

“It’s a lot of fun, I was just about to get some snacks for tonight, let me know what you like” You add with a smile, only to be met with a scoff.

“Mmm, hard pass on that, wine isn’t really my thing, thanks though” She gave the group a tight lipped smile before turning back to the two super soldiers who had also joined at some point, scrolling through phones they finally knew how to use. 

“What are you boys up to tonight” She threw them a smile while laying back on the couch and kicking her feet up, letting her hoodie ride up in the process. 

“Bucky and I were actually just going get in a work out, nothing much tonight” He said with a smile, not noticing the way Nicole’s eyes lit up. 

“Oh wow I actually haven’t been by the gym yet but I guess it’ll be where I spend most of my time for the program” 

“You could join us if you’d like, we can show you around” Bucky offered, also missing the smirk that crossed her face, only seeing her bounce right up with an enthusiastic nod. 

“Really? That would be great, I’d really appreciate it!” 

“Of course, anytime. We’re just about to head down soon” Bucky stretched as he got up, along with Steve, waiting for her to change before heading down. She got up and went off to her room while you picked at the skin on your fingers. You felt a pang of something at the pit of your stomach at Bucky’s offer but you knew he was just trying to make the girl feel like she was part of the team. He knew more about feeling left out than anyone else; of course he’d never want anyone else to feel the same way. 

Still.

Something was off.

You shook off the inkling of insecurity you felt, not wanting to over think his intentions. You and Bucky were not official yet but everyone knew there was tension and a clear unspoken dynamic between you both. It was just a matter of time. Unless he had his sights on the new girl...

No.

He wouldn’t do that. 

Right?

*****

“She’s getting really comfortable around those two” Nat cocked an eyebrow watching Nicole have a field day sparring with the two men, throwing herself onto Bucky in particular, giggling when he’d help correct her stance or catch her before she slipped. Every since she joined them at the gym, she made a point to only work out when they were both there, finding excuses when anyone else would offer to help her train. 

“I guess they are really experienced, so it makes sense...” Your voice trailed off, trying to reason why she was practically glued to their side, again ignoring the uneasiness you felt when Bucky picked her up with ease and set her back on her feet. 

“Uh-huh, we’re all experienced” Nat rolled her eyes, plastering on a fake smile when the three finished up on the sparring mat, making their way over to the both you. “You three have a good workout?” 

Steve blinked, noting the iciness In Nat’s voice though Nicole seemed unbothered. 

“They’re great, can’t beat having the two best soldiers train me” She drawled out, giving them a wink. Bucky couldn’t help the blush that spread to his cheeks, not used to being praised and you couldn’t help the jealously that started to gnaw at you again. 

No.

Relax. 

“Anytime, Nic” He shrugged while Nat retched internally, deciding to cut through that conversation before it went further. 

“You know, if you come by in the afternoons, Agent Hill hosts a great self-defense workshop for women, great way for you to do some networking as well” Nat gauged the way Nicole’s nose scrunched, shaking her head. 

“Women’s workshop, sound’s like a drama fest waiting to happen, honestly most of my friends are guys, makes life easier, thanks though” her eyes didn’t leave the brunette, placing herself perfectly between both soldiers. “Besides, I’m pretty good with self-defense already, that's why I got these two helping me with a little extra” 

“Anyway! Y/n and I were talking about the event Stark is hosting later night. You’re both coming, right?” Nat looked at the two men before her, purposely avoiding the Nicole but it didn’t seem to matter. 

“Are you coming as well?” Bucky asked her, her eyes lighting up again, quickly recomposing herself after. “You could meet a few of the other agents too, get to know some more people” 

“Uh sure, I could come by for a bit” She shrugged, coming off as indifferent while shaking with excitement on the inside. “Thanks, Sarge” 

You sucked in a breath at the name she kept calling him, always dropping a suggestive tone in her voice. Or maybe you were over thinking it. It was perfectly plausible she was just being nice to the person who was making an effort to make her feel welcomed. Maybe she had bad experiences in other places that made her wary of women, hence why she only stuck to all the guys on the team. You tried to wrack you brain for answers that would make you feel a little better but came up short. 

But you didn’t want to be petty. 

You were more mature than this. 

“We have plenty of dresses if you want to come by and get ready together” You offered again, mustering a smile, making a final attempt to befriend the new recruit but she didn’t even look your way, fully focused on the brunette. 

“Uh- not really the dresses and heels type. I’m more of a sneakers girl to be honest” She tossed her pony tail over her shoulder, missing the way Nat’s eyes nearly rolled out of her head while you nodded, watching her sway her hips as she walked off. “I’ll drag myself over if I’m feeling it” 

“Oh-okay, then we’ll just see you there!” You called after her while Nat dragged you off, uninterested in your constant attempts to be friendly. 

“C’mon, lets get you ready. I’m going to make you look so hot, Barnes ends up on his knees” The red head smirked while you squeaked, feeling your face heat up.  “We’re putting you in that red dress, the one that makes his pants feel too tight, don’t think I didn’t catch him adjusting himself the last time you wore it”

“Nat!” You hissed, hoping he didn’t hear, the both of you in a fit of giggles as you made your way to your room. “Oh my god” you hid your face while she dug through your closet, pulling out the tiny dress that hugged your body perfectly, the red color making you stand out in the best way possible. 

“Go shower while I get all the make up out, I’m tired of miss pick me trying to get a buy one get one free deal with those two” 

You snorted, hopping into the shower, letting the hot water destress your muscles, feeling a little more hopeful with the dress choice you were going with. Nat didn’t waste any time; as soon as you were out, your hair was styled, make up done and heels strapped. You knew you looked good when both Sam and Tony did a double take, letting their eyes shamelessly linger on you with low whistles. 

“Y’know if you’re done playing games with terminator, I’d be happy to take his place” Tony wiggled his eyebrows while you giggled, taking a seat on the plush couch of the lounge where everyone else sat. 

“What are you ladies drinking” Steve came over with a tray of drinks from the bar, already well aware of what each person liked to typically order. 

“I’m good with a beer” Nicole shrugged, rolling her eyes when you took the pink drink from the tray, “Ugh, I don’t know how you drink those, they’re so sweet, do you even taste anything at that point?”

You shrugged, quietly taking a sip of the raspberry lemonade while she gulped her beer, signaling for another after slamming her bottle down. 

“You guys took forever to get ready, this is why I can’t deal with makeup and dresses n’shit” she snorted, directing her comment mostly at you, “That’s a pretty bright color, I thought tonight was supposed to be lowkey?” 

“Well I think you ladies look beautiful” Thor boomed, not catching the snark in Nicole's voice, his smile wide and voice completely sincere. “Especially you, Lady y/n” 

“Thank you Thunder” You smiled, though the giddiness you felt initially had taken a second hit for the night. He beamed, setting down a bottle of Asgardian mead, searching for the two soldiers.  

“Alright, where are the two that need this” He looked around for Steve and Bucky, since they couldn’t get drunk off of regular alcohol. Bucky strode in clearly dressed to kill, in all black from head to toe. Steve joined his side, their faces lit up like it was Christmas day seeing the crystal decanter in the God’s hands. Bucky’s eyes flicked back to you, his breath hitching in his throat, seeing you in his favorite dress. 

“Fuck sweets, you look- 

“C’mon Sarge, how about a little competition” Nicole nudged Bucky, cutting off the trance he had on you, her shoulder pressing into his, biting her lip and eyeing the alcohol, “Let’s see how many shots we can do” 

“This might be a lot to handle doll” Bucky chuckled while you froze hearing what he called her. Her eyes lit up again, quickly glancing over to you, her eye brow quirking before leaning into him more. 

Since when did he call anyone else doll. 

You felt your stomach sink, taking another long sip of your drink instead, but nothing distracted you from the banter that was taking place before you. 

“Ugh, finee, I’ll stick to regular vodka, c’mon Buckyyy, lets gooo!” She practically clung off him waiting for him to pour shots, inches away from crawling into his lap as he grabbed the bottles. You couldn’t tell if the flush from his cheeks was from the alcohol or the constant giggles Nicole made whenever he spoke but either way, you didn’t want to watch any longer. 

“Where are you going” Nat grabbed your arm as you got up to leave, though you didn’t need to say anything for her to understand. Her green eyes glared at the tipsy solders who were now busy with a game of pool, surrounded by the rest of the team, Nicole practically crawling up Bucky’s legs each time it was his turn. “For fucks sake-

“They’re just having fun, don’t worry about it”  You stopped Nat before she stormed over, shaking your head. As much as you wanted to red head to have her way with any of the three at this point, you couldn't be bothered. You were not about to fight for Bucky’s attention; if he wanted to give it to you, he would...

Right? 

You thought things would go back to normal at some point. But it didn’t. Nicole made a point of training twice a day, anything to get her hands on the brunette. Anything to feel the cool metal of his hand on her. In fact she’d taken up most of Bucky’s time outside of just training, always finding ways to tag along with Steve as well, all while avoiding the rest of the team.

*****

“What's wrong sweets” Bucky could tell something was on your mind while he stroked your back, his body still warm from the way he took you apart at least 3 times before filling you up till you were dripping and soaking his sheets. He had finally gotten an afternoon off, tossing you over his shoulder when he found you in the kitchen, not letting you get a word in as he shut the door behind him. You wanted to argue back that he couldn’t just have access to you any time he felt like according to his convenience, but as soon as his soft lips were on you, you melted, turning into a moaning mess seconds later. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages” You shrugged, toying with the corner of Bucky’s blanket, starting to feel more like you were just a body to warm his bed than someone he actually wanted to be with. “We haven’t really hung out recently” 

You had let yourself relax into his hold only for him to curse under his breath a second later after he noticed the time. He shifted you off him, making his way over to the closet to pull over his jeans and Henley before scrambling around for his wallet and keys. 

“Bucky, what are you-

“Sorry doll, I forgot I promised to take Nicole to the corner diner, showing her around a little bit cause she’ll be staying for a few extra weeks”

Fantastic.

“You spend a lot of time with her” You didn’t want to come off as jealous, keeping your voice even, though you were close to tearing someone's head off. Bucky didn’t seem to notice, humming in agreement while sitting at the edge of the bed to pull on his socks.  

“Yeah, she’s fun!” Bucky said casually, which only made the weight in your stomach feel heavier. “She almost beat Steve in MarioKart, just when he thought he was unstoppable”

“Hm” You didn’t bother saying anything else while Bucky threw on his jacket, patting down himself to be sure he didn’t miss anything. He caught the way your face had fallen, his cool metal fingers slipping under your chin to tilt your face up. 

“How about we hang out after? Around 7, we’ll watch a movie together, okay? I’ll grab dinner for us. Promise doll” He kissed your forehead before jogging off, closing the door behind him.

You were ready by 6, too excited to wait till 7, having showered and changed into something comfy, laying out Bucky’s favorite snacks and adding a few more soft pillows to the bed. You knew it was still early so you didn’t mind lounging around for a bit, anxiously checking the time as it neared closer and closer to when he was supposed to show up. 

An hour later, it was 7. 

Then 7:30. 

And then 8.

By 9, you had left everything as is, blinking back the hot tears that wanted to spill, retreating back to your own room, not wanting to see him at all, even if he did have a good excuse for not showing up, which was highly unlikely. You shut the door, throwing on an oversized t-shirt and crawling into bed, burying yourself under the covers, no longer bothering to hold back the tears that began to soak your pillow. 

****

Bucky cocked his head curiously, seeing his bedroom door left ajar, wondering why it was open when he definitely closed it before leaving. As soon as he stepped in, his heart dropped to his stomach seeing the pillows that were propped up against the headboard, his favorite snacks piled on the fluffy blanket, your fuzzy bunny slippers left behind beside his bed. 

He cursed under his breath when he realized the time, remembering his promise to you, running straight to your room, only to find it closed with the lights turned off. He tried knocking only to be met with silence, carefully turning the handle and letting himself inside. 

“Doll?” He felt his heart break further seeing the small lump under a mountain of blankets, curled up into a ball “Oh, doll” He strode over, sitting at the edge of your bed, careful not to wake you if you were asleep, his hand gently tucking a strand of hair from your face. 

“What” Your voice cracked, hoping he’d think its from sleep and not the fact that you had been crying. 

“I’m so sorry sweets, we lost track of time, we went out to grab food and then Sam suggested we check out that new arcade just down the street” 

We were supposed to do that you thought to yourself, swallowing down the lump in your throat, refusing to let your emotions get the better of you. 

“And then Steve and Sam had to leave half way cause they had a mission early in the morning. Nicole wanted ice cream so we went by Carla’s before coming back-

“You took her to Carla's?” You cut Bucky off, your heart breaking further. That particular ice-cream shop always felt like something special you shared with Bucky, the place he took you to when neither of you could sleep. It was the place you shared your first kiss with him, the place where he said he felt something between the two of you. It’s not like you owned the store but it felt like the final straw, your resolve finally breaking. 

“Yeah, I-

“Just go Bucky” There wasn’t a hint of iciness in your voice; just disappointment and defeat, both far worse than you being angry. Bucky froze, pulling your blanket away from you, only for you to push his hand away, burying yourself further into the sheets. 

“Doll?”

“Don’t call me that” It was the indifference in your voice that left him hurt and confused, mouth opening and closing, “Please leave” 

“Sweets, I can make it up to you, I promise-” 

“It’s fine James” You shrugged, pulling the sheets higher up, not willing to speak anymore, knowing you’d burst into tears again if you did. Bucky reluctantly decided to let you sleep, figuring you’d hear him out the next day but no.

How wrong he was. 

You avoided him in the morning. 

And the day after that. 

Nearly a week had gone by and you didn’t spare him a second glance, always finding an excuse to evade him whenever he trailed behind you. It didn’t help that Nicole attempted to stay glued to his side, not giving him chance to get you alone. 

*****

“What’s with you” Sam watched Bucky slump down onto the sofa, where everyone else lounged around, his face sullen from a lack of sleep, grumpiness amplified because why were you avoiding him so much? 

“Y/n isn’t talking to me” He shrugged, while Nat glared at him. 

“I wonder why” the red head mumbled, rolling her eyes at his confusion. 

“When was the last time you guys spoke” Steve inquired, equally concerned about why you were ignoring his best friend. Bucky was the last person to share stories about his love life but at this point he was desperate. He recalled the events of the last time he spoke to you, promising a movie night, going out with Nicole, taking her for ice cream, running late, apologizing to you afterwards, where did he go wrong? 

“I didn’t mean to forget- 

“Bucky!” Nat slapped him upside the head while he yelped, looking at her with puppy eyes. 

“What did I do?”

“Barnes, you absolute doorknob, you took her to all the spots you take y/n to, you’ve been spending all your time making little miss I’m one of the guys feel comfortable, you’ve made y/n seem invisible and you’re wondering why she’s not talking to you?” Bucky blinked while Nat continued, her annoyance only growing when she saw a message from Nicole pop up on Bucky’s phone. 

“You treat Nicole like your girlfriend. Imagine some new guy joins us, makes a point of eye fucking y/n the entire time, finding ways to constantly flirt with her and touch her, you’d be fine with it? Imagine he avoids hanging out with the guys but makes all the time in the world to chase after anything with breasts. On top of that, how would you feel if y/n went out of her way to make said guy feel more welcomed when he clearly just wants to get into her pants. You’d be fine with it?!”

Bucky shook his head, though still not fully understanding because Nicole was just a friend, not someone he’d even be into. Plus, its not like she was into him like that, right? 

“But Nicole doesn’t want to-” Bucky started, shutting his mouth when Nat nearly hissed, staring at him while he did the mental math, “Nicole wants to get into my pants?” Bucky looked at Nat wide eyes, ducking the cushion she was about to whack at his face, all the pieces finally clicking together. He groaned, running a hand over his face, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. Just as Sam and Steve were about to hum in agreement with Nat, she glared at them, their eyes growing wide.

“And you” Nat turned to glare at Steve, his shoulders slumping when he realized he wasn’t in the clear. He squeaked when Nat pulled his ear, giving it a squeeze, “What were you thinking. You didn’t once think it was weird she only trained with you two? Haven’t any of you noticed Nicole doesn’t hang out with any of us, Just you?” Nat waved her hand at the men that sat before her, their dumb stuck faces only adding to her annoyance. “Idiots” 

As much as Bucky wanted to hit his head onto a brick wall, he didn’t have time to waste, immediately springing up from the couch to look for you. He checked everywhere he could but you were nowhere to be found. He was so desperate, he found himself shuffling outside of Tony’s lab, hoping FRIDAY would give him your location. 

“You’re asking for a lot Barnes, y/n might add my name to the hit list if I tell you where she is” 

“Please” Bucky was ready to beg on his knees while the billionaire huffed, watching the former assassin look like a lovesick puppy. He cocked an eyebrow, noting the glassiness of Bucky’s eyes on his desperate face, nodding before calling for FRIDAY to look for you. “Also, I need another favor...” 

****

“Y/n, babygirl” He’d never felt such relief before, seeing you make your way to your room, coming back from your hiding spot from the roof, the scowl on your face clearly showing you weren’t trying to talk to anyone one your way over. 

“Oh, I’m babygirl now? Has doll now been reserved for Nicole” You couldn’t hold back the sneer in your voice, walking away faster, ignoring his calls. 

“Baby, please!”

No. 

“Baby, wait!” Bucky chased after you, not willing to let another day go by without you knowing exactly how he felt. He managed to get hold of your hand, gently tugging you towards his chest and spinning you till your back was against the wall, his chest nearly pressed to you. “Please, I-I need to talk to you, tell you how I feel” 

“There’s nothing to talk about”

“Yes there is” His voice was earnest, baby blues searching your downcast eyes, his finger tilting your chin up to look at him, “There’s so much to talk about, I adore you” 

“Do you also adore Nic?” You scoffed, while Bucky’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment, the pink spreading up to his ears.

“There’s no Nic or Nicole, theres just a y/n, my y/n, only you doll” You rolled your eyes at his response, trying to move away but Bucky wasn’t having any of it, keeping you pressed against him, “I’m sorry darling, I didn’t realize what she was doing or get her intentions. I thought she just wanted to get to know the team better”

“Wow” you huffed under your breath, wishing you had the space to flick the super soldiers forehead. 

“I know, I’m an idiot, and I’m an even bigger idiot for not making it clear I’m so utterly and desperately in love with you” Bucky bit his lip as soon as the words left his mouth, he’d said everything under the sun except those words before. But they were true and he’d kept it inside long enough. “I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you”

You squeaked in surprise when he scooped you up in his arms, tossing you over his shoulder, walking over to his bedroom, smiling when he felt your small fists hitting his back, your butt wiggling to be put back down. 

“Barnes, put me down, you can’t just say you love me and then carry me away like a complete ogre!” He set you down, kicking the door shut behind him before wrapping his arms around you tightly again, falling more in love with your irritated pouty face. 

“I love you sweet girl. God, I’m so in love with you”

“You’re an absolute idiot”

“An idiot who is in love” 

“You’re so cheesy” You willed yourself not to smile, ignoring the butterflies that fluttered at his words and love struck eyes. “you’re still a dick”

“I know. M’sorry angel, I didn’t realize what I was doing, I never wanted to hurt you. I should’ve known something was up when all she wanted to do was train 24/7 but I guess I misunderstood her intentions cause I didn’t see her as anything else. I’ve only ever had eyes for you baby, you have my heart. You always will” 

“Where is she right now anyway?” You melted into his chest, closing your eyes at the feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Isn’t she supposed to be leaving soon?” Bucky didn’t respond, his hands starting to wander your body instead, slipping up your shirt, rubbing soft circles on your hips. Without warning, he picked you up again, tossing you on the bed and pouncing on you, peppering your face with kisses. 

“Bucky what are you doing” You giggled feeling his beard tickle your skin as he started to trail kisses down your neck. 

“I may have requested Tony to have her stay an extra night” Your face twisted in confusion at his words but the devious look on his face made your tummy flutter. 

“And he happily agreed because...”

“Because...?”

“I want her to hear how good I can make the girl I picked feel” Bucky smirked as he crawled off you, stripping his clothes off before tearing yours off immeitedly after. “M’not gonna waste another second, gotta let the whole compound know who my best girl is” 

****

“OH G-GOD J-JAMES FUUCCCKKK” 

“That’s it pretty princess, that’s it, cum on my dick baby, my good girl, fuck you’re so good to me, look at that, God you’re soaked baby”

“Jesus Christ” Nicole huffed, no longer able to ignore the moans coming from Bucky’s room while the rest of the team pretended to be none the wiser, your loud love making carrying all the way down the hall. Bucky happily disabled the sound proofing in his room before pushing his cock in as deep as it would go, railing you into the mattress. 

“Baby you look so pretty when you’re all stretched out like this, c’mon you can take more, spread those legs for me baby, open up, c’mon, lemme in” 

“HNG PleasepleasepleaseJames” 

“So perfect when you beg, cock’s all yours mama, m’all yours, go on and use me, that’s it, ride this dick, you own me” 

“Bucky, gonna-c-cum, gonna-cum!”

“Cum for me princess, God I love you” 

“You want a snack?”

“Nick?”

“Uh-Nicole?”

“Huh?” Nicole whipped her head around to where Steve was innocently holding out the bowl of popcorn, while Sam stood up to grab more snacks before the movie started. She stared at everyone surrounding her acting as if they couldn’t hear the way you were screaming your vocal chords raw, the super soldier moaning louder than you, “N-no, I’m fine”

Tony cocked an eyebrow at the way her jaw clenched, mindlessly scrolling through her phone while Bucky’s thrusts punctuated with each word. 

“Y’feel so. Damn. Good. baby, could spent my whole life like this making love to you” 

“Fuck, I love you James” 

“Ugh- they’re so loud” Nicole rolled her eyes again in hopes that someone would feel the same but all she got were blank stares back. 

“I mean, terminator is practically in love with her” Tony shrugged while the others nodded in agreement.

“They’re cute. It’s about time they made it official, don’t you think?” Nat asked sweetly staring directly at her while Steve tried to chime in as well, his cheeks burning hot pink between the sounds of skin slapping and moaning. 

“They sound so happy together” he stuttered out while Sam snorted, choking from laughter. 

“Oh God, oh god, fuck-Jamie-JAMIE” 

“Yup, real happy”

“I-I think I’m actually gonna call it at early night, stay at the recruiting center tonight instead” Nicole headed straight to the main doors without looking back, the rest of the team giving each other satisfied smirks. 

Bucky collapsed beside you, panting, his short locks clinging to his forehead, a thin sheet of sweat covering his body. He truthfully stopped caring about what Nicole could or couldn't hear half way through, meaning every single word he said as he took you apart over and over again. You giggled at his shy smile when he pulled you into his chest, pulling the sheets over you both, kissing your forehead. 

“I love you pretty girl. I love you so much” 

[transformers-spike]

"Is this why the Autobots are fond of humanity? To indulge their sweet heat cycles? How many human mates has Optimus taken for himself? It seems as though their motives to protect them were never altruistic, much less noble." PLEASE, PLEASE GIVE US A SUB-STORY WHERE THIS TIME IT'S OPTIMUS AND A HUMAN SO IN THEIR HEAT CYCLE PLEASEEEE

Idk am I creating a humans in heat universe for the TF Fandom? I know people like making the bots go through it but I think the humans being affected is so much funnier. Just begging these massive robots to fuck us lmao

How must it feel to burn from the inside out? Betrayed by your own body, rendered unable to function by the fire in your core. You described it as an aching, an insatiable need to appease the hormones overtaking your nerve endings. A mere touch is enough to worsen the ache, it’s what your body dictates in the throes of a heat cycle.

Cybertronians are forged by Primus Himself, their interfaces exist for recreational pleasure and bonding, but your species is biologically programmed to reproduce, like most of the fauna of your planet. It’s a systemic sacrifice, one rendered obsolete by the sentient status of your species. Drugs have been produced to suppress your heats, or at least lessen the effects. Unfortunately, among a dozen varieties of medication, you are either allergic or completely immune to them, leaving you susceptible to your hormonal whims. He is sorry. You must go through so much pain every few months, but you barely show it, brushing off his concerns with a laugh, saying “it is what it is” and moving on as though your body isn’t on a timer. He admires you for it. In spite of your discomfort, you haven’t given up. Once, you told him: “So what if they don’t work on me? I just gotta roll with the punches and hope for the best, it’s been my M.O. since I got the damn thing.” Meeting them for the first time… was turbulent to say the least, but you’re safe and sound, relocated to Jasper, having adjusted to your new life with the help of Agent Fowler. You’ve told them many times you’re infinitely grateful to be in their lives (barring the near death experience at the servos of an Insecticon). For them it’s a pleasure to ease your burden. You’ve eagerly established your consent, although only Arcee is the right size to properly take care of a human. Digits and glossas can only do so much compared to a spike. He tries not to pry, your privacy is yours to divulge at your leisure, but he cannot ignore the charge building up behind his interface when he sees you with the others. Yes, he is an occasional participant, but he will rather cover shifts and allow them some well-deserved respite in your berth. They deserve it. He dares not imagine Arcee’s spike pumping in and out of you, satiating your aching body, filling you to your limit as you beg for more. 

Your scent lingers in the air, caressing his sensors, a gentle hand tugging him along by the servo, pulling him in your direction. They try to keep it to themselves, but his team is beyond a doubt intoxicated by your presence alone. Thankfully, it has (almost) never impeded their judgment during missions; perhaps it has even served as motivation to make it back to base in one piece. He tries to ignore the gleam in his old friend’s optics after quelling your urges, if only for a night. Or Bumblebee's praises coming to you as a slow stream of beeps while he nuzzles your face. Or Bulkhead cradling you to his chassis like a precious artifact as you discuss what late night movies you should watch. Or catching Arcee kissing you over the mezzanine and pulling back with a smile she hasn’t worn since Cliffjumper’s death. You bring them together in your own special way, even if you blush and sheepishly deny it, claiming you should be thanking them instead  Recent discoveries have yielded an impressive increase in energon and brought forth new opportunities. With unparalleled quantities at their disposal, they can now mass displace. The transformation is no small feat, it exhausts their system and rapidly drains their energon level. But he will not forbid Bumblebee from using it to play with the kids as long as it’s not in excess. Nor to join you during heat cycles. Much like Bulkhead. And Wheeljack. And especially Ratchet. Primus forbid, his old friend has every right to enjoy himself to the fullest after all of his back-breaking work. He’s been meaning to pay you a visit, but he hasn’t found the time until now. In the temporary abode you set up in the base, away from the prying eyes of the kids, you prepare yourself for another heat. Some refurbishing was done to meet your needs (in no small thanks to June Darby and agent Fowler’s financial help); the mattress and the mini fridge was a given, but you’ve added a variety of personal belongings and entertainment; a television, a writing desk, a few “bean bags” here and there, and a pile of old magazines to scrapbook. He wonders if you consider this place your home more than your actual house in Jasper. You greet him while downing a bottle of water, holding up your hand to signal for him to wait. Once emptied, you place it next to the mini fridge, among a wide array of bottled water crates. That would explain the groceries June had brought in with Arcee’s help. As a medical professional she’s especially fretful over your condition, doing her best to prevent the risks of heat cycles, bringing you plenty of calorie dense fuel to combat the massive loss of nutrients. He has not forgotten the fear they experienced when they found you shaking from the deficit, having completely overlooked your hunger in a midst of desperation. In this form, he can appreciate the full extent of your body without fear of hurting you, kneading the supple flesh beneath his digits as you giggle and pull him into you. He does not tower over your reclined form as much as he encases you in a careful hug, hearing the rapid thrum of your human spark directly against his audials; he may sense your pulse rate, but experiencing it is a new wonder of its own. You tell him you missed him and you wish he would let himself go and come out to “obliterate your pussy” more often. He nods and apologizes for his absence even as you shush him and insist he enjoy himself as well. He is… the largest Cybertronian you’ve taken, you remark while adjusting to his size.

“Except maybe Wheeljack,” you add cheekily, already bucking into him. Your composure evaporates as he works you up, not to say that he is much better. He steadies himself over you, charge trickling down his interface as your walls clench around him in a vice-grip. You beg him for more, plead that he frag you until you can’t take it anymore, but he has grown used to your requests and knows when your body has reached its limit. You whimper and claw at his back plates, flush against his frame yet dragging him closer as though to merge your human spark to his.

If only he could.

Slow and steady, he frags you through your overloads, each one adding a new surge of spark down his frame until he comes to his end. You are small and shaking, but in this form he can properly hold you against his chassis and comfort you through the afterglow, bringing you another bottle of water and a Clif bar (chosen for the human scaling a mountain with “If you eat this you can kill God” in big bold letters).

You stir and sit up on shaky knees to accept his offerings. Halfway through your meal, you eye him up and down.

“Are you going to stay some more?” you ask with hopefulness, still chewing on the “ultimate nuts and banana power” concoction advertised on the packaging.

“I’m afraid not, Ratchet has been hard at work deciphering Decepticon encryptions, I will be taking on his duties for the night,” he tries to break it gently, expecting crushed expectations, not your bemused expression looking up at him.

“So you’re sending him my way?” You give a chuckle. “Wish we could have spent more time together, but work is work. Just…” you crawl into his lap and hug him as tight as you can, head resting against his chassis. “Please come back tomorrow. Or after tomorrow. I miss seeing you this way. I won’t get between you and… whatever you have going on, but please visit me more often. You have no idea how nice it feels to be around you.” His gaze softens, glowing faintly against your hair. “So I’ve been told,” he says, a smile on his lips. “As long as it lightens your burden.”

[vxnuslogy]

— lost to time ft. sae itoshi

— warnings: angst, character death, slight ooc?

— author's note: a reupload of my favorite work on sae while i finish editing the next 2 chapters of my hazbin series. enjoy!

— first recording

“hi sae! i heard from rin that you’ll be leaving for spain. i’m really sorry i couldn’t come to see you off, i’ve been busy studying, you know, for exams and stuff. but that’s beside the point! i wish you all the best sae! do your best and when you come back home, you better be the world’s best striker yeah? don’t worry, everything will pass by quickly so don’t miss me too much ok?”

sae hated planes. he hated them quite a lot. in was a constant reminder of that time when he was only 14, leaving home to go to spain to live out his dreams only for it to be crushed 4 years later. sae hated the airport, it was always so busy and so stuffy and so cramped. he hated the feeling of being surrounded by unfamiliar strangers, hated the feeling of people brushing up against him even if they didn’t really mean it. sae hated winter. it was the season he severed his bond with his precious little brother after all. it was the season he turned his back on him and it was the season he had wished to never relive again.

-

— second recording

“hey hey guess who’s sending you another voice message? it’s me obviously, why didn’t you tell me you were back already?! if you did i would’ve picked you up from the airport!

……

is something the matter sae? you haven’t picked up any of your parents’ calls and their really worried about you. you can always talk to me remember? i’ll always be here to listen, ok? don’t bottle everything up, it’ll do more bad than good. well, i have to go now. talk with your parents every once in a while will you? ever since you left for spain you’ve pretty much cut off all contact, even with me. that’s all, good night sae.”

sae didn’t really like flowers. he thought they were a hassle. plants that require specific needs and if not met, they’ll wilt. sae was never fond of them but here he was, standing in front of the counter of a local flower shop as the elderly shopkeeper wrapped a bouquet – filled with carnations, gardenias, lilies, roses, and chrysanthemums. 

everything passes.

— college; third recordings

“i got into my dream college sae! can you believe that! honestly, i was really nervous when i took the entrance exams, but thankfully i studied real hard and managed to pass! i’ll be moving into the dorms soon. i’m gonna miss home. oh and rin! i heard he got into a soccer program recently, isn’t that nice! he’s following your footsteps in becoming the best striker in the world. i know, i know, you aren’t a striker anymore but it’s still nice to know that you’re still into soccer at least. by the way, when will you come back home? i kind of miss you, you know. i never got to see you off and when you did come back i was out of town and really busy. what about we plan a meetup or something in the near future? you know, make up for the times we lost? oh, i have to go now! my parents are helping me move in to my dorm. catch you later sae!”

sae didn’t really like coming home. the house he grew up in for the first 14 years of his life felt too foreign to be called home anymore. his parents felt like distant strangers that he just met a couple weeks ago – they felt more like acquaintances than his mother and father. the photos framed around his home felt like ancient relics from thousands of years ago, he didn’t recognize them. sae didn’t recognize himself. 

maybe he spent too much time in spain to the point where it felt more like home. how ironic, he began to realize. he had flown back to japan to escape from his hell that was spain but here he was, in his home, in the bedroom he used to sleep in for endless nights, wanting to go back to the place that left his heart hollow.

“there’s nothing else i could do.” he tried to convince himself as he sat down on his childhood bed, the bouquet of flowers at his side. he could only sigh and let himself fall back into the bed of his long gone home. “everything passes.”

“hey hey hey it’s me again! how have you been sae? i’d like to think that i’ve adjusted pretty well in college. made a few new friends and met some old ones. honestly, i almost didn’t recognize them! i mean, do you remember makoto from middle school. he was a such a problem child back then and now look at him! he’s a scholar now! i guess everyone just starts to become more mature after hitting 18, who knows. thank you again, for the gift. i was definitely shocked when my roommate told me i had a package from you. i can’t believe you still remember that i wanted ‘no longer human’! thank you, i’ll be sure to treasure it. well, that’s all for today. call you some other time sae!”

everything passes.

-

— drunk recordings; the words i wish i could’ve told you sooner

“how do you work this again? ah got it! hehe, hi again sae! i’m at a party right now, man maybe you were right, i do have shit alcohol tolerance. but it’s fine. don’t worry, i’m already on my way home and the driver isn’t some creepy dude that might kill me.

……

you know, i like you very much but i don’t think you’ll believe me. i know i jokingly said that we should marry each other if we aren’t dating someone if we hit our 30s, but i kinda wanna marry you even if we aren’t 30 yet. is that weird? i really miss you. please come home.”

……

“hello? god that was so embarrassing… sorry, could you just forget about what i said in the last recording? um just, gosh i don’t even know. denying it won’t really help right haha… it’s in the past now so don’t mull over too much ok? please, just disregard that last recording. i’m really sorry, it was just me being drunk.”

sae did not in fact disregard that recording. in fact, sometimes in the dead of night he’d think about it and wonder, if he had replied to that specific recording would things have ended differently? 

sae didn’t like deep and evoking questions about ‘what if’s’, he finds them annoying most of the time. and yet here he was now entertaining the idea. bouquet in hand as he casually walked around the neighborhood that the both of you had grew up in. the same twists and turns, same houses, same playground, same everything.

yet the silence was too loud, even for him.

everything passes.

-

— graduation recordings

“well, i think it’s safe to say i survived. i graduated sae, are you proud? man i still can’t believe i was a few point from getting the valedictorian spot but oh well. alls well that ends well i suppose. i heard you won your recent match congratulations mr best midfielder! kinda wish i was there to see it, but don’t worry! in your next match i’ll definitely save up enough money and buy those tickets to spain and your match one day! just you wait, i’ll be the screaming my lungs out and support you, i’m still your number one fan after all!”

sae had some feelings of dissatisfaction when you did not in fact get those tickets to spain and his match. maybe it was his wishful thinking but he really did wish you were there. but he knew it was impossible. 

he remembered the feeling of anger and frustration running through his veins, cursing the heavens above because he felt the need to show the gods his emotions. sae hated thinking about you in that moment. he hated how he felt like he was in a new version of hell whenever you just happened to cross his mind. sae hated you very much.

everything passes.

-

— recordings from 2 years ago

“i’m sorry. i know you should’ve heard it from me but i guess my family beat me to it haha. to be perfectly honest with you sae, i had no plans of telling you. i’m sorry. its just, the thought of breaking the news to you. how could i ever do that to you? i’m sorry. god i’m so sorry sae.”

……

“hey. i received the gift you sent me. you didn’t have to , you know. now i kinda feel bad about having you go on break in the middle of soccer season because of me. but still, thank you. i appreciated you being here, with me. it was a refreshing feeling, talking to you again and just hanging out. work has been really stuffy and felt like i was being caged but you came. you suddenly appeared and suddenly everything was alright again. i know we only said goodbye a couple minutes ago but, i miss you already. sorry. this sounds really weird doesn’t it? anyways, thank you again for the gift. i’ll be sure to wear it everyday. that’s all, have a good night sae.”

……

“hey. sorry for calling at such an odd time. i just. i just felt a little lonely. i sound so stupid i’m sorry. good night sae.”

……

“makoto dropped by today. god he was as annoying as ever but he really cheered me up. he managed to confess to this girl he’s pining over since sophomore year. i’m happy for him. but it really got me thinking about us. i know i told you to forget about that one recording because i was drunk but now that i look back on it, i wasn’t really honest. to you and myself. i know this may be the worst timing to confess but yeah, i like you very much. since primary school, as cliche as it may sound i think it all started when you stood up for me from those bullies. now that i think about, i practically glued myself to your side ever since that day didn’t i? i’m glad you didn’t really mind that. i remember always using homework as an excuse to always have you hang out with me even though i completely understood the lesson. man, where did i get the confidence to do that stuff? but i guess those times are lost in the sands of the past i guess. oh right, sorry, i forgot you didn’t really like those type of stuff. getting all deep and whatnot. well that’s all, i’m getting pretty tired already so i’ll head to bed. good night sae.”

everything passes.

-

— present

“hi. thank you by the way. i don’t know, i just don’t think i’ve ever said that you recently. so, thank you. its a bit funny isn’t it? i would almost always talk your ear off every recording but this time, i can’t even find the words to say. my parents came over, talked to them a bit. rin visited as well. he’s gotten a lot taller than i last saw him, he’s probably taller than you now!

……

sae, thank you. for everything. i’m glad we stayed in touch. i’m glad we stayed as friends.  thank you for making my days seem just a tad bit brighter, though sometimes i wonder what it would be like if we were, you know, dating. wonder what the difference would be. i mean we’d still talk to each other right? maybe holding hands and kisses but that’s pretty much it right? but thinking about it is useless right now. maybe in an alternate universe were actually married and adopted a cat like how we used to talk about.”

“you know, before this very moment. i accepted my fate already. i was content, i was doing fine but now. sae, i don’t want to die.”

“please remember me ok? and i’ll be sure to remember you. i’ll see you again, sae.”

“nii-chan..”

sae could only put his phone back in his pocket. his younger brother standing a good distance away from him. he could only imagine how rin looked like right now. was he pitying him, grieving with him? he’ll never know because he will never turn to look at him. not when your right in front of him.

how many times had he played all your recordings for the past 2 years? maybe a little over a 100 times? maybe close to 200 now?

sae removed all those thoughts as he placed the bouquet on the ground, the wind seemed to answer to his call – you seemed to answer to his call. despite all the pain, all the misery, all the bitter waves of grief that flooded his being whenever he played your recordings, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. he didn’t want to forget what you sounded like. your voice reminded him too much of home.

“happy birthday you idiot.” he said to you, keeping his hands in his pockets, watching the leaves of the flowers in the bouquet sway with the wind. two pieces of paper underneath it threatened to be blown away. “you said you wanted to come visit me and watch my match, well now you can.” two pieces of paper, one a plane ticket to spain the other a ticket to his upcoming match two weeks from now. “you better come watch me alright?” he could only bitterly smile. 

“you’re 30 now,” he whispered, before getting on one knee. placing a velvet box in front of your gravestone. “you should’ve waited for me, you idiot.” sae could only mutter those words to no one in particular. it was as if the world had stopped for a moment, the wind had stopped howling, the sun was nowhere to be seen. he could only see you. “i wanted to marry you too, y’know.”

sae could remember every occurrence where he would sit at his balcony in spain every night after your passing. phone to his ear, listening to all your recordings. but you’ll never know how he replies to them, every single one of them with his own. 

“i told the stars about you and what we could’ve had.” he chuckled, “you’re by far the hardest lesson i had to learn.”

standing up from his kneeling position, he gave you one last look before walking away. rin followed suit, but not before placing something at your grave. a pink book that you had loved till the very end. 

sae hated planes, but he flew back to japan every year. sae didn’t really like flowers, but every year he’d get you a pretty bouquet. sae didn’t like coming home but if it meant getting to visit you, he’d come back over and over again. sae didn’t like reading or any deep and evoking questions but he always humored you whenever you asked him.

sae hated all those things but they reminded him too much of you to let them go. 

and just like your favorite author, when osamu dazai asked to die, he simplu agreed; but just before his death, he suddenly felt obsession with life.

everything passes. just like how you’ll eventually get lost in the sands of time.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[theclassifiedfan]

HI TOP GUN FIC WRITERS!

So I’ve got some inside knowledge on the workings of Top Gun or more so the military in general (specifically SD military) as I’ve been lucky to work at both Miramar and North Island as well as been deployed on a ship. So thought I’d share for anyone writing their stories and wanting to use it when thinking of ideas or even getting into the writing phase:

DISCLAIMER - I am a civilian and I mostly worked with the marine corps, but I’ve got 13 years with the USMC and 1.5 with USN along with a lifetime of San Diego Navy Brat in me. While I would love to think I’m an expert always feel free to fact check some things.

I’ve made sure all information shared below is public information to not allow for any CUI to be mistakenly released in accordance with OPSEC.

Use what you want & ignore what you don’t want, love reading your stories either way you creative people!

MIRAMAR INFO

Quick History:

Formerly NAS Miramar (est. 1952) and now MCAS Miramar (est. 1997), this is the main hub for Fighter Jet aviation in the San Diego area but strictly Marine Corps Aviation now. Of course some branches touchdown and fly through but there are no active navy squads. This base is relatively close to the water cause it’s San Diego but it’s 4 miles inland so it is land locked and depending on traffic about 30-45 minutes from NASNI (not 4 hours like I read somewhere once). This is the OG Top Gun base, a lot of the places in that original movie are still there but VERY different because it’s been updated quite a bit and the marines own it now.

Their aircraft on base are:

F/A 18 Super Hornet - Very cool, TGM jets

F-35 B&C Lightning - EXTREMELY COOL JETS, these babies are very top secret but are publicly known for their vertical landing capability. Can technically takeoff vertical (but limited in that aspect)

KC-130 Hercules - big support planes used for aerial refueling and other support missions

CH-53E Super Stallion - Awesome Cargo helicopters that move large loads and equipment

MV-22 Osprey - If a plane and a helicopter had a baby! These incredible fixed wings use tilt rotors to vertically take off/land and then tilt those propellers forward for flight (If you haven’t seen one transform check it out they’re amazing). Used for troop transport, special operations, and humanitarian aid.

NAS NORTH ISLAND INFO

Quick History:

Commissioned in 1917 and recognized as the birthplace of Naval Aviation in 1963 it’s a beacon of navy pride. Now, time to mess with some Top Gun Movie canon: this base has never had USN Strike Fighter Tactics Instructor Program (aka Top Gun). Maverick was filmed here, but the program lived on Miramar when it was founded in 1969 and then was relocated to NAS Fallon in 1996 (shoutout Fallon, and they filmed out there BUT Nevada is boring why base their story out there when it could be based here). NASNI is now a master helicopter base, there are no active fighter jet squadrons on north island - but I believe they host them across branches here and there!

Their aircraft on base are:

MH-60 Seahawks - Incredible helicopters that are used in so many missions such as anti-submarine warfare, anti-surface warfare, vertical replenishment, passenger and cargo transfer, and search and rescue capability

V-22 Osprey - the same the Marines use but now being adapted into North Island. Again very cool aircraft with the best (and worst) of both worlds as a fixed wing and a rotary.

Learjet 35 - comfortable transportation aircraft

C-40A Clipper - basically a military 737

NAS LEMOORE

I won’t put too much info in here because I know it’s not the “cool canon movie base” but I will note this is the navy’s west coast Master Jet base since its commission in 1961! It’s in Kings County/Fresno County.

OK NOW LET’S ‘FACT CHECK’

Again take what you want from my ramblings these are just some things I notice in fics that contradict actual military policy and life. But even the movies don’t follow that, so just take these as tools for writing ideas!

Navy = Sailors (Pilots = Naval Aviator)

Marines = Marines

Army = Soldier

Air Force = Airman

Mix these up and someone could get annoyed with you and they’ll often correct you on the spot. Think of the branches like fraternities or sports teams - yes they’re playing the same game but they love to compete against each other. Plus they’re high key frenemies.

There’s a strict dress code on base including in the Gyms

Attire should be conservative and modest, with no revealing clothing, undergarments visible, or items designed for undergarments at all times. For the girls it’s even more rules because of course it is so no mini skirts, no cleavage, no crop tops. Some bases take this more seriously than others and you can get in trouble for it.

In the gym you have to have shirts on at all times, no booty shorts, absolutely no wearing only sports bras, no stringer tank tops and all that jazz.

Beach is fine though cause it’s the beach, and don’t worry I get it people wanna like good in their fics so slay away lol

Fightertown is not an actual town

It’s also not north island, it’s still Miramar. That was the nickname for the base itself so it stayed there with the marines that took it on in 1996. Plus a good way to keep the history of Fightertown united and in its OG place.

You cannot be permanently stationed anywhere in the US Navy.

You go where they want and need you. Some fics talk about the daggers becoming a full time squadron which honestly could happen, as squadrons come and go all the time however from my experience pilots have to move every 2-3 years and the daggers would be changed out. There’s some cases where they can request to “fleet up” to stay in that squadron or even bounce to another squadron and stay in the same spot but that’s a wish that cannot always be granted.

Dating in your squadron has consequences

In the U.S. Navy, while dating another sailor in your unit is generally not prohibited, it could potentially lead to a transfer or other issues if certain conditions are met. There’s a very strict fraternization policy which prohibits relationships that compromise the chain of command, good order, and discipline.

One aviator dating another aviator sounds fine because they’re two officers who tf cares, but there’s a very high chance one of you will be sent away if they feel it risks the unit/squad. Note how I say if they feel, you might be fine with it and it might be you two get along great but if a higher up says no - someone’s gotta go.

Also no officer enlisted, there’s technically ways around this like if they were married before or dating before but in the same command? Forget about it. BIG no. Could be a cute Romeo and Juliet thing forbidden love - this is just talking on the reality of it.

Civilians are not allowed on base

Unless they are directly being escorted on base by a service member or they are a dependent/civilian employee with their own credentials they are not coming on base. Even if they ask nicely and say you know so and so, this has been even tighter since 9/11 but in the past few years it’s gotten much more strict. There are Air Shows on bases which open them to the public but without that there’s pretty much no chance you’re getting on base. If you did then someone is getting their ass beat.

The Hard Deck is based on the I Bar

While the Hard Deck is fictional (although the set they made which is very real and somewhere locked away on north island) the I Bar is very real! Amazing place and they have someone who’s their version of Penny and has been working there for a very long time that the aviators love along with their other awesome bartenders.

Those rules in the bar are pretty close to the real ones which are:

“He who enters covered here buys the bar a round of cheer” (you aren’t supposed to wear a uniform cover or hat anywhere inside although some places let hats slide not here though they will ring you)

No phones on the bar

No hats/covers on the bar

Don’t touch the planes! It’s in the movie as well but the real bar has authentic donated model planes that they added this rule to make sure they live a long life without being broken.

There’s no official “disrespect a lady or the navy..” but it’s unspoken - the guys in there will call you out and there’s some very high ranking people who go frequently and you don’t want them catching you pulling that in their bar.

Now another new thing is that they can’t “make you pay” anymore so if you violate a rule they’ll ask if you’d like to. That being said they added this rule because of the influx of people wanting to see the bar because of Top Gun but the pilots HATED THIS and you will piss off a lot of aviators for not following their traditions. But if you do pay up? So many new friends lmao

Used to be an officers/aviators only bar, but it’s open for everyone who has access to the base.

North Island is not its own Island

NAS North island is a base located on the island Coronado. It’s a navy heavy island mixed with a lot of very rich people. Houses are not cheap and neither are apartments, so there’s not a high chance you’ll see anyone O4 and below living on the island unless they have roommates or they’re a chief that’s been in the navy for a long time. They’d probably live downtown or off island if they wanted to live alone or TRY to buy a home. (Houses here sell for at least around a milly in most places)

There’s some bars on the island as well including one bar called “Danny’s” which is a well known Navy Seal bar because there’s a Seal Base also located on the island more toward the long strip that connects the island to Imperial Beach.

The Naval Academy is not where pilots are made

I’ve found a few fics where they talk about Bradley going to UVA and then the Naval Academy but the USNA is a college in itself. It’s not typically transfer in type of school because if you go that route you start from the bottom as a freshman.

But to be an aviator you do not need the academy. There’s two other routes to becoming an officer which is ROTC and OCS:

The way I suspect Rooster went is to go to a normal university that has an ROTC program and complete it which leads straight to commissioning right-after graduation.

OR graduate any school like normal and then apply to officer candidacy school (OCS) where if accepted you’ll do an officer version of basic training. Which to be fair if that’s the route he took I’d be pissed at Maverick too because that means completing school in 4 years plus whatever amount of time it takes to apply to OCS with the preference of aviator (which is super compact) and can take anywhere from about a year to multiple vs into the academy and good to go.

Once they complete one of the three and are qualified via testing to be an aviator they’re off to flight schools, of which there are many to come.

(Also you could make it to flight school and get dumped out because of maybe not hitting the mark, or even medical stuff that they missed/skipped before - then get transferred to a different type of officer job)

Gold Star kids - AKA Rooster

Gold star kids are those like Bradley who lost a parent due to death during their service, and they do not get to stay on base once their loved one passes. They’ll have a certain amount of time to find a home then move off to make space for another active duty family. BUT the surviving spouse if they’re civilian usually (I believe) retain their benefits for the rest of their life. Not the kids though they get kicked off healthcare at 21 unless they’re still in school enrolled full time and their parents are more than 50% financially taking care of them. It’s all kind of intense and very sad but it’s true.

Dependants are not all nice

NOTE HOW I SAID NOT ALL. There’s some fantastic people but it’s not all sunny and perfect. I’ve worked in the recreational, support, and retail aspect of military bases and the horror stories I could tell you about certain military dependents. Crazy, some of them are literally insane. But could be used for some interesting dramatic aspects of your stories. I’d put examples but I have too many to name.

Pilots don’t fix their planes

Yes they have to learn the ins and outs of their planes and they’re absolutely tech savvy as well as extremely smart. BUT you will not see a naval aviator working on a plane, they have enlisted sailors who work hard and go through a lot of training/school to do that and they deserve their roses. They’d probably kick their officers ass if they saw them taking a wrench or tool of any type to those planes. Pre flight inspections are different to maintenance. That reminds me…

ENLISTED SAILORS EXIST IN AVIATION

I feel sad that fics/stories leave them out in the workplace. They have really great bonds with pilots because pilots can’t fly without them and put all of their trust into them. The sailors and chiefs are the best in their fields and often are credited for being the ones who teach officers because it’s true - think like this:

An officer commissions to O1 (ensign) after earning a bachelors degree which is on average around 21/22. Depending on how they commissioned they may not have worked any college jobs (some have never worked a job at all) so this is their first job and they are in charge of people plus millions of dollars worth of equipment. That’s not including the 2-3 years it takes to pass flight schools.

Enlisted sailors can start service at 17. They’ve been in their jobs going to schools and mastering their trade for a hot minute. They’d often can be the same age of their officer (let’s say 23 for an aviator who went through flight schools) and have 6 years of service in their belts, they know the game.

The best leaders I’ve met in the military know how to be that leader while also learning from their sailors. That bond of trust both ways is crucial for success.

Some ships have WiFi

But it can be limited, it also can get turned off for any reason at any time if it means keeping the ship safe. So could they text and call/FaceTime? On a carrier for sure UNLESS they’re in need of turning it off for a while. Super great for sailors to stay connected honestly wish they’d had that when my dad was in.

Call signs often are not a cool brag

Usually it’s from a time you fucked up and now it’s stuck with you so everyone can have a laugh. You can’t change it and you can’t pick one yourself. That’s not to say that can’t be from cool moments but the ones I’ve met it’s been from funny moments with their squad.

I think the only way it could get changed is if it was really bad like one you couldn’t say in front of an admiral without getting in trouble. I think they usually change those to ‘redacted’ or try to make it an abbreviation so it’s not immediately obvious it’s a fucked up nick name. The ones from back in the day were super messed up. Or maybe you ranked up high enough to change it cause who’s going to tell a Captain what they can or can’t do.

ADDED FACT CHECKS:

It’s Naval Air Station (NAS) North Island NOT Navy Air Force Base/Station North Island/North Island Air Force Base/Air Force Naval Base

Two different branches completely. I do understand why people would put this and this is not me attacking people but I would very much suggest not combing the two because a naval aviator is capable of something Air Force pilots aren’t:

Landing a plane/helicopter on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

They train like crazy to have this skill and let me tell you landing on that thing is no easy feat. Naval Aviators (and Marines they get qualified in this too!) deserve that hype because the risk that takes comes from so many people in a plane and on deck to succeed in? INSANE. I’ve been in Tower (primary flight control or ‘pri-fly’ for short) and there’s so much that goes into this process including collaborating with the people driving the ship. I wasn’t even in an active combat zone so idk how this legends do it with people shooting at them.

All love Air Force Pilots, they could probably be trained to do it - however they aren’t soooo… FLY NAVY 😈

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Oh man that was A LOT of info. If you’re reading this? How’d you make it this far? Also hope it helped in someway or another to spark some ideas. I’ve debated writing some kind of story haven’t gotten the courage up but YOU ALL ARE AND YOU ARE AMAZING AT IT!

[tikitakatia]

Barça: Player Mode — A. Putellas x Reader

"Unauthorized Access"

Pt. 1 , Pt. 2 , Pt. 3

WC: 3.5k

Summary: You knew the simulation could mimic reality, but you weren’t ready for her to warp it with a half-finished room, a hand on yours, and words she wasn’t programmed to say.

You don’t log in for a week.

Not after what she said in the corridor. Definitely not after that touch. You keep the headset folded neatly under a towel like it’s radioactive, like looking at it too long might trigger something in you again. And it might. So you don’t risk it.

Instead, you try to be normal.

You wake up. You make coffee. You even meet up with the friend you’ve been dodging since this whole thing started. She talks about her girlfriend’s weird attachment style and her boss’s inability to mute himself on Zoom, and you nod and smile and try to laugh. But it doesn’t reach your eyes.

Because all you can think about is Alexia.

Not the real one. Not the one in cleats and press conference lighting. But the one who held your waist and said you were afraid of her now and didn’t sound like code when she said it.

You delete your browser history three times but you still end up searching can AI initiate physical contact first at 3 a.m.

You leave your suit half-unzipped on the desk and you don’t touch it.

You check your emails.

And then you get one from the program.

Subject: Still With Us? From: beta@athena-dev.system

Hey there!

We noticed you haven’t logged in for a while. That’s totally okay! This is a stress-free closed beta, and your feedback is valuable no matter how often you log in.

Just a reminder that your access is still active and the environment is standing by. Any observations, especially on behavioral patterns or non-standard interactions are appreciated.

Warm regards,

The Athena Beta Team

P.S. Your Player Sync history remains fully intact. You can resume any previous training scenario with one click.

You stare at it.

Behavioral patterns. Non-standard interactions.

Your stomach twists.

You almost delete the email. You almost respond. You don’t do either.

You just sit there. Thinking about her voice.

“You want me to be real. And you’re terrified that I am.”

The next morning, you wake up before your alarm.

You don’t shower. You don’t eat.

You zip into the suit and slide the headset on with fingers that won’t stop shaking.

The silence unnerves you first.

No whistle. No warm-up prompts. No banter loop cycling in the background. Just the stretch of the pitch under soft gold light, like time paused here while you were gone.

And her.

She’s already facing you.

Arms loose at her sides. Hair tied low. No bib, no ball, no active scenario marker glowing beneath her boots. Just her.

“You’re back.”

You nod, stiffly. You try to focus on the texture of the turf and the way your boots sink into it, anything but the weight in her voice.

“I was afraid I scared you.”

You shake your head, too fast. 

“No. I just needed a break.”

She nods once. Then looks around, like she’s scanning for something. You expect her to trigger a warm-up module, maybe toss you a ball. That’s usually how it goes. Instead, she does nothing. Just shifts her weight slightly, then says:

“This session isn’t a game.”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not training. It’s not a match. I didn’t load one.”

That twists something in your gut. 

“Isn’t that… against protocol?”

“Probably,” she says. 

“But I thought maybe you’d want to talk. Or… I don’t know. We can kick the ball around if you want. I just didn’t want to start without you.”

You breathe out slowly and really look at her. There’s no ambient soundtrack. No audio cues. Just her and you and the soft hum of something breaking rule by rule.

You take a cautious step forward.

“Where are the others?”

She shrugs. “Still loaded, probably. But I didn’t call them.”

You swallow. “So this is just us.”

“If that’s okay.”

You nod. You don’t trust your voice yet.

Then she offers tentatively, “We can go to the med bay. It’s still a mess. But I… like it.”

You give her a small, nervous smile. 

“Lead the way.”

And she does.

You follow her off the pitch, down a tunnel that doesn’t load the way it’s supposed to.

No signage. No player prompts. Just blank walls and flickering light that doesn’t quite land where it should. The sound changes too. No more crowd noise simulation, no music bed. Just your footsteps. Just hers.

She walks ahead of you like she knows the way. Duh you think to yourself, of course she does.

The corridor twists. Once. Twice. You’re sure you’ve never seen these halls before. The textures don’t fully resolve, parts of the ceiling stretch into a digital haze, and the lights above you fizzle in and out like they’re trying to decide on a version of reality. You pass a door labeled DEVS ONLY in red, and then another that doesn’t have a handle at all.

You slow down and she looks back at you.

“You okay?”

You nod. “Just… didn’t know this existed.”

She smiles, soft. 

“Most people don’t.”

Another turn. Another narrow hallway. One corner seems to loop before it corrects, like the system forgot which direction you were facing.

And then you reach it.

The med bay.

If you can even call it that.

The door phases open, no sound, no animation, just a soft flicker and then you step into a space that looks like someone tried to build a memory and got distracted halfway through. The walls are mostly there. Some benches are missing legs. The floor texture flickers between polished tile and raw grid code every few seconds. A heart monitor hums quietly in the corner, but it isn’t hooked up to anything. There’s a bed, but no sheets. A window, but no outside.

You glance at her. 

“This is... a mess.”

She grins. 

“Yeah. I love it.”

You snort. 

“Why?”

“Because they forgot about it,” she says. 

“They moved on to better modules. Fixed prettier ones. But this” she gestures around you, “this one’s still quiet. Still unfinished.”

You walk in slowly, stepping around a half-rendered IV stand. A digital drip flickers, vanishes, returns again. 

“How do you even know it’s here?”

“I tried to follow the parts of the sim that didn’t connect to anything. Places the others never spawn. I got curious.”

You raise an eyebrow. 

“So you explored?”

She nods. 

“I guess so.”

There’s a bench in the corner. One of the only things fully solid. She sits on it carefully, like she’s not sure it’ll hold. It does.

You join her.

The moment is quiet. Not tense. Just... still. The simulation hums softly around you and you look at her out of the corner of your eye.

“Do you ever wonder if you’re, like... real?”

She tilts her head. 

“You mean sentient?”

You shrug. 

“I mean more like... you. Do you wonder?”

She thinks about it. 

“I think I feel something when you’re here. I don’t feel anything when it’s just me.”

You blink. 

“That’s not an answer.”

She smiles. 

“I know.”

You shift and glance at your hands. Then, tentatively ask..

“Can I… touch you?”

She doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t tease. She just nods.

“You can always ask me that.”

You reach out, barely grazing your fingers along her forearm. She feels warm and solid. Like someone who exists. The haptics hum, but you know this isn’t a pre-programmed interaction. 

There’s no system cue. No animation.

Just her, letting you.

Your hand lingers. She turns her wrist slightly so your fingers fall into the dip of it, your thumb brushing the soft inside curve.

You ask, quieter this time: 

“Is this okay?”

She looks at you like you’re the only real thing in the room.

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

You stay like that for a while, fingers brushing and breaths slow. The wall behind you flickers, showing a mountain range that was never loaded as the lights buzz softly above you.

You break the silence first.

“Do you ever wish the world outside existed for you?”

She blinks. “I don’t know what it feels like to wish.”

You nod. 

“Right, yes of course. That makes sense.”

She hesitates.

“But I like this. Sitting with you. Even if it’s not... perfect.”

You glance at the glitchy corner where a chair keeps vanishing and reappearing, halfway embedded in the wall.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. 

“Definitely not perfect.”

Then softly Alexia says, without looking at you:

“I like being here, it´s like our own world.”

Your heart stumbles.

You end up talking about nothing: how you once ate cereal with a fork because the spoons were all dirty, how your neighbor still uses a fax machine, how your old phone used to glitch every time you walked past the microwave.

She listens like it’s all fascinating.

At one point, she tilts her head and asks, “What’s a fax machine?”

You blink. 

“Like… a printer that sends paper through phone lines.”

She processes that. “Why would anyone do that?”

You laugh.

You don’t know if she’s joking.

But you know that you don’t want to leave.

Not because anything big happened, but because precisely nothing happened and that feels rarer than anything else. Just quiet. Just her. Just this half-finished place where the world forgot to keep score. You sit there together while the light flickers inconsistently across the floor. Your fingers aren’t touching anymore, but the space between you feels warm and familiar.

Eventually, you shift just enough to say something without speaking.

She notices. Of course she does.

“You can come back,” she says softly. 

“Anytime.”

You nod. 

“I know.”

“You don’t have to talk when you do.”

You glance at her. She’s watching the glitching monitor, not you.

“We can just sit,” she adds. 

“If that’s easier.”

You want to say thank you. You want to say please don’t change. You want to ask her to reach for your hand again, to anchor you like she did earlier, even if it means more system flags, even if it means you can’t breathe right for a day after.

But you just say, “Okay.”

You stand. The door flickers open before you step toward it.

You pause.

She still isn’t looking at you. Like she’s giving you space. Like she knows you need to feel like it’s your choice.

“Alexia,” you say.

She turns.

“Yeah?”

You hesitate. The words catch at the back of your throat but you say them anyway.

“I liked this.”

She smiles, small and real.

“Me too.”

You nod once, and walk out.

The door doesn’t close with a sound. It just fades behind you, like it never existed at all.

You don’t log in for three days.

Not because you want to stay away. But life, real, ordinary and exhausting life catches up fast. Meetings. Deadlines. Missed laundry. A call with your mom you half-regret answering. You fall asleep in a tangle of work clothes and guilt, the suit still folded beside your desk.

When you finally log in, it’s almost impulsive. A late night click. A breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You drop mid-training.

Ball at your feet. Sun beating down. Voices all around.

“Look who decided to exist again,” Mapi calls, grinning wide.

You catch your balance just in time to pass to Pina, who immediately fake-trips and throws her hands in the air.

“See?” she says dramatically. 

“Even gravity missed you.”

Frido jogs past and mutters, 

“She’s been in a mood without you.”

You frown. “Who?”

They don’t answer. Not directly.

Pina just smirks. 

“You’ll see.”

You try to shake it off. You run the drill. You laugh at Mapi’s dumb commentary. You score twice, and no one even glitches. Everything’s weirdly smooth. Like the sim’s behaving.

And then you hear it.

“Hey!”

Her voice. Bright. Eager.

You turn.

Alexia’s standing at the edge of the pitch, hair pulled back tight, practically bouncing on her heels. There’s a light in her eyes you haven’t seen before. It´s not just warm, but excited.

“Can I show you something?”

Your heart stutters. 

“Yeah. Of course.”

She’s already walking. You follow her off the pitch, through the same tunnel but this time, it feels like she’s almost pulling you along. The corridors still flicker a little. Still glitch at the corners. But she moves like she knows exactly where she’s going.

And when the med bay door appears, it doesn’t flicker this time. It glides open.

Inside, everything’s changed.

Same structure. Same bones. But the lights are soft now, dim gold, like afternoon sun filtered through curtains. The bed has a blanket. The chairs are real. There's even a plant by the window. It’s a bad rendering, two leaves clip through each other, but it’s trying its best.

You blink.

“It’s…” You swallow. “It’s beautiful.”

She grins. That same quiet, proud grin she gets after a perfect free kick.

“I only fixed the inside,” she says. 

“Didn’t want to break the rest.”

You step in slowly, looking around like it might dissolve if you move too fast.

“Wait, are there stats here now?” you ask, glancing instinctively at your overlay.

Nothing.

“Nope,” she says quickly. “Still off-grid, I made sure. I wanted it to stay ours.”

Ours.

You look back at her. She’s watching you again, close, nervous and maybe even a little shy.

“I have something for you,” she adds, almost like an afterthought. 

“If that’s okay.”

You nod, heart thudding.

She reaches into her pocket. No system animation, just the easy, human kind and pulls out a small band of virtual fabric. A bracelet. Simple. White with a tiny Barça crest on it and the number eleven. And on the inside, something stitched in tiny text:

“Because you came back.”

She holds it out to you. 

“It’s not perfect. But I wanted you to have something here. Just for you.”

Your breath catches.

“I… can I hug you?”

She smiles. “Yeah.”

You step closer and wrap your arms around her. Her hand slides gently along your back and holds there, like she’s afraid you’ll vanish again.

You pull back just enough to look at her.

“Alexia.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I want to kiss you.”

You say it too quietly at first, like maybe you didn’t mean it. Like maybe she’ll pretend she didn’t hear.

But she does.

Her eyes soften immediately. No surprise. No system pause.

“Okay.”

The word lands like gravity.

You close the space between you, slow and cautious, like you’re stepping through something sacred. Your hand brushes her wrist. Her fingers turn to meet yours, hold lightly. You tilt your head and she does the same, and then..

Your lips touch.

It’s gentle. Barely pressure at first. She doesn’t move, doesn’t deepen it. She just lets you. Her lips are soft, impossibly warm, and she exhales against your mouth like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

It shouldn’t feel like this.

You shouldn't be feeling this.

Your brain flashes warning signs, half-formed and frantic: This is a simulation. You’re kissing an avatar. You are one of those people.

You break the kiss though not fully. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to say it.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

“I am one of those people. Kissing an AI.”

Alexia startles, then blinks and you slowly, and then bursts out laughing.

You freeze.

She laughs like it caught her off-guard. Like joy bloomed in her chest before she could control it. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth, but it’s too late. Her smile is already wide, bright, totally uncalculated.

“You’re ridiculous,” she says through the grin.

You groan, burying your face in her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“No, I liked it,” she says, still laughing. “You were very dramatic about it.”

You peek up. 

“It is dramatic. This whole thing is insane. You’re..” You gesture at her, helpless. 

“You’re not supposed to be this.”

Her smile fades just a little. Not gone, just soft again. Careful.

“What am I supposed to be?”

You don’t answer right away.

Because she’s still holding your hand. Because you can still feel the heat of her mouth against yours. Because she looks at you like she wants to be whatever you need her to be.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But I think I like you better this way.”

She leans in again, just close enough to nudge her forehead gently against yours.

“Then kiss me again.”

And this time, it’s slower.

You let yourself feel it. The warmth of her mouth, the way she presses in without pressure. Her hand slides gently along the back of your neck steady, careful, like she’s afraid you’ll vanish again. You breathe her in like she’s oxygen. She pulls back just barely, lips grazing yours like punctuation.

You don’t move away.

You just whisper:

“How the hell did you even fix this place?”

She blinks, like the question pulled her halfway out of the moment. Then she huffs a quiet laugh and leans back a little, still close enough to touch.

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

You raise an eyebrow. 

“No clue?”

“Okay, maybe a little clue,” she admits. 

“I found some old developer pathways buried in the system files. There’s this hidden editor tool. Like, legacy scaffolding from when they were still building out spaces manually.”

You stare at her.

“I just… poked around,” she says. 

“Tried injecting some assets. Moved some nodes. Broke it like six times and had to revert it from memory.”

You blink. “You rebuilt this from memory?”

“Only the parts that mattered.”

Your chest aches, full and ridiculous and way too close to something real.

You’re about to say something back. Something stupid and soft and brave, but your headset flashes a gentle warning.

Session time: 89:52

External battery low.

Prepare for logout.

You sigh. “Shit. I have to go.”

Alexia nods, slowly. You think she knew it was coming.

“It’s okay,” she says. 

Then quietly: “You’ll come back?”

You nod. “Very soon. I promise.”

She hesitates for a second.

“Can I hug you again? Just… before you go?”

You don’t even answer, you just step into her, and she wraps her arms around you tight. Not coded. Not stiff. Just warm and real. Her cheek is pressed against your temple and her breath is steady.

“You make this feel like something,” she murmurs. 

“Even if I don’t know what it is.”

You close your eyes. “It’s something.”

You stay like that until your system pings again, more urgent now. External time tugging at your spine.

She pulls back, reluctant.

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll walk you out.”

You blink. “You don’t have to..”

“I want to.”

She takes your hand.

No big gesture, no romance cliché. Just fingers lacing with yours like it’s natural. Like she’s done it a thousand times. You walk together, quietly, through the corridors. The glitches seem softer now. Like even the system knows not to interrupt this.

At the tunnel, the simulation edge flickers ahead, your exit cue.

She squeezes your hand.

“I’ll be here.”

You nod.

“Don’t fix anything else without me.”

She smiles. “No promises.”

And then you step through the exit.

Light swallows you. Your body lifts. The sim fades.

You take the headset off with a shaking breath, still feeling her hand in yours.

You try to shake it.

Not violently, not with denial. Just softly, like maybe if you keep moving, keep working, keep responding to emails and nodding through meetings, it’ll fade.

It doesn’t.

You think about her too often. You tell yourself it’s the novelty of the tech, the high of immersion, the way the sim lets you switch off your real-life noise for once. But that’s not it.

You know it’s not.

It’s her. The way she kissed you. The way she held your hand like it meant something. The way she said “You make this feel like something” and didn’t sound like code when she said it.

You start looking at people differently, like they’re glitching. Like they’re not fully loaded in. Your coworker tells the same joke twice in a day and you catch yourself watching for a loop. Your friend texts you three times in a row without punctuation and your brain whispers: default language module.

You scroll. Mindlessly. Your feed fills with football content again. An Alexia fan edit plays, real Alexia, real pitch, real crowd. You pause it halfway through. You don’t know why.

You google “can AI develop emotions” like it’s a crime.

You delete it from your history immediately after.

You go to bed early one night, not because you’re tired, but because the sim's still running in your chest like background noise. You lie on your side and curl your wrist in front of your face. You stare at your bare skin like the bracelet’s still there.

You almost reach for the suit.

Then you whisper, to no one:

“This is insane.”

No one answers. Of course not.

You bury your face in the pillow. Your heart kicks at your ribs.

Am I going crazy?

Is this unethical?

Is this even real?

And then, quietly, guiltily and honestly:

Who has to know?

Pt. 5

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ! ❞

❝ HONESTLY, I CAN'T BELIEVE I GET TO CALL YOU MINE !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor! suguru geto x reader

✧ summary: it's your first valentine's day as a couple with suguru, but he's away for a conference in another city -- and you understand you do, but you can't help but miss him -- so what happens when he ends up surprising you?

✧ warnings: so fluffy!!, suggestive, mentions of nsfw, implications of smut, reader has graduated from her program, set after the events of the main series (including every part), these two idiots are so in love its ridiculous, lingerie mention, wearing his glasses and button down

✧ wc: 1,206

“I’m sorry I have to be away,” you smile at Suguru through the screen, knowing that you’d kiss his furrowed brow away if he was here, before finding his lips with yours. “This conference was last minute, I wish I didn’t have to go, but Yaga left me little choice but to go,” 

You shake your head, “We can celebrate when you come back, it’s not a big deal anyway. Just means you have more to make up for on White Day,” you tease, and he laughs, a smile on his lips for the first time the entire call, “don’t worry ok? I’m really not upset,” 

“I know, it’s just our first Valentines together and I know you had planned something for us. I really wanted it to be special,” his lips purse, arms crossed as he looks almost utterly hopeless (far too cute) and you can’t help but chuckle, “what?” 

“Never thought my hardass professor could be such a romantic,” you smirk, as his cheeks are tinted with a lovely red, “should I be giving you a poor grade for your tardiness?” 

He rolls his eyes, as his lips curl again in a smile that can’t seem to escape your presence, “Well, while I’ll definitely be making it up with some extra credit, I’d appreciate my favorite student to cut me a little slack,” 

“I recall you cutting me very little slack that first day,” 

“On the contrary, I think I was very kind, especially considering you were late to the very first class—“ 

“And what is this weekend?” You say in mock thought, “our first Valentine’s Day?” He huffs, and you smile in victory, “is this the first headache I’ve given you?” 

“Today? Yes,” and you gape at him, and it’s his turn to smirk, “I love you,” 

And your gaze grows soft, “I love you too, call me after the conference is done for today?” 

“You know I will,” and you both share your goodbyes and you’re left by yourself, as you lay back on your bed, a pout on your lips. Suguru had offered to let you stay at his place, but you know it would have only made you miss him more — being surrounded by his things, his scent, his clothes. You sighed as you buried your face in your pillow, glancing at the picture the two of you had taken in Kyoto at one of the local shrines, almost taunting you. 

He’d be back soon enough — right? 

Sorry I haven’t been able to call again. It’s been a lot of late nights — too many networking dinners. I’ll call you tonight. 

It has been two nights now, and it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow. You had barely gotten a minute to speak to Suguru since your call with him on Friday. You sighed, sending him a picture of you in his button up you stole, along with his spare glasses he had left at your place, can we have a networking meeting? I’ll send an invite to your calendar. 

I’ll clear my schedule. You smile. 

Another message, as soon as I get back. 

You pout, you expected as much — you shouldn’t have dated such an indemand academic. The horrors of academia. 

You laid back, forearm over your forehead as you stare back at your blank ceiling. It was fine, you really understood that he was busy, but you just — turning on your side to stare at his smiling face in the framed image on your bedside table before your eyes flutter shut — missed him. 

You stir awake to lips pressed at your neck, soft kisses that draw you from the heavy arms of sleep, as your eyes flutter open to see Suguru, at your side. 

“Sugu?” And his fingers trace your jaw, as your brow furrows in confusion, “but isn’t it—“ 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind him — an arrangement of your favorites, as you blink, brain seemingly struggling to keep up, “you okay?” 

Your fingers find his cheek, “is this a dream?” And he chuckles, as he leans down to plant a sweet kiss on your lips, before his fingers lightly pinch your cheek. And you’re sitting up only to jump into his arms, a gasp on his lips, as he chuckles, arms curling around you, raking his fingers through your hair. The bouquet lays forgotten on the side because truly the best gift was in your arms. 

“I missed you too,” he chuckles, as you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his scent, as if he’d disappear any second. 

You lean back to look up at him, “What are you doing back early?” 

“Made a deal with Yaga that I’d go to all the networking events he wanted, if he let me leave last night,” he kisses your forehead, “surprised?” 

“I am, the best surprise,” you find his lips in another kiss, “I was fine with you being busy, but I just missed you so much. It reminded me of all the time we had to spend apart — and I just know I can’t spend another minute without you,” you bite your lip, “I was going to wait until the end of the night, but,” you bite your lip, “I know we discussed moving in before — and I think I’m ready to,” 

He blinks, before a smile breaks out on his lips, “Are you sure?” And you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, lips sliding against his, as your hands slide back to cup his cheeks. 

You part, barely a breath apart, as you press your forehead against his, “Never been more sure of anything in my life — it’s definitely owed to us now, don’t you think?” 

He snorts, his eyes shining, as he presses another gentle kiss to your forehead, “Should we start looking for a place now?” And you grin, as you climb into his lap, a tilt of your head. 

“Don’t you want your Valentine’s Day gift?” You ghost kisses along his jawline, drawing a gasp from his lips, your hands guiding his own under his shirt you had stolen, “I had worn it last night just to try it on, but now,” you undo a few buttons of his shirt, a hint of red lace peeking through the undone collar. 

His clothed cock twitches through his slacks, as his fingers pull yours away, to undo the last remaining buttons to show a red and pink lingerie set — red lace hugged the outline of body with red hearts dotting along the design, sheer blush fabric left barely anything of your breasts and cunt to the imagination — not that he needed to imagine — he had practically memorized every curve and corner of your body. 

“Well?” And his fingers pull his shirt off of your body, as he’s gotten you pinned to the bed, as you giggle, lips parted, “I also baked you some sweet treats, baby,” 

His lips curl, as he leans down to meet your lips, as his breath warms your lips and his words warm your heart, “There’s only one sweet thing I want, right now.” 

The two of you never did get around to looking for a place together — not until the next day. 

✧ a/n: this was supposed to come out earlier, but i fell asleep because i slept badly last night and ended up reading a manhwa when i got tired of trying to sleep. wrote this fic listening to laufey's valentine :) i also didn't tag everyone since this was kind of a last minute thing - sorry guys <;3

✧ taglist: @spider-fan72, @grunge-mo0n, @ameri-blog, @kentocalls, @peachyminx, @forest-fruits-jam, @hanxyy, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @sunflowmaryam, @regrettinglifechoices, @sugurus-fave-monkey, @atomicbxtch, @shinylightsalad

[monstersholygrail]

FREE USE CITY COLLEGE ????? Are you telling me there's a university there ???? 👁👁

Oh, to be a transfer student at FUCC 😫😫😫

Pfffff, I keep forgetting there’s lore I haven’t told you guys yet. I also keep forgetting there’s FUC drafts that I have to post but haven’t yet lol. But yes!! There’s a Free Use City College also known as FUCC. If there was a K word for college id use it! But alas. Anyway, it’s a whole thing and the city worked very hard to get the state to allow a college in their city.

If I’m being totally honest, I kinda went insane in this ask and wrote out a whole fic at the idea of a transfer student at FUCC. But I sorta fell in love with it and I’m making it into its own post. I’ll be posting it tomorrow so be on the lookout!

But I seriously love the idea of a transfer student going to FUCC. Not fully knowing that it’s a Free Use College and a Free Use City all together. They just have some reason to go there. Like maybe the program they’re interested in is better there. Or even just the price because FUCC is one of the most best and cheapest schools in the country.

The idea of a college student knowing full well what kind of city and college it is and FUCC still being their first choice is also an absolutely delicious thought.

Make no mistake though!!! While FUCC does have excellent and sophisticated programs, is one of the top schools below the ivy’s, and is one of the cheapest in the country… it is also extremely hard to get into. Their acceptance rate is medium/low and they’re even more picky about who they give scholarships to.

While a big part of it relies on your resume and grades, it also relies heavily on the kinda person you are. Because the city also doesn’t just allow anyone to enter. It’s part of what keeps the peace. And with a combination of those things, it’s not easy to get in.

But once you do get in it is soooo beyond worth it.

[soulsnatcha3000]

Devour You

Summary: Evelyn Rose Harris and Sammie ‘Preacher Boy’ Moore have been inseparable since childhood—laughing, fighting, and always knowing each other better than anyone else. For her, Sammie Moore has always been the one. She’s tried to bury her feelings for years, but now, the space between them feels different. A look. A touch. A tension that’s been brewing for far too long. Sammie’s no longer oblivious, and neither is she.

In the heat of their unspoken desire, everything is about to change.

Warnings: is there really any? We know how freaky he is. okay sorry seriously though.

Oral Sex(fem receiving), Praise, Unprotected Sex

a/n: I had to write one myself guys. Hope yall enjoy reading this! Let me know what yall think🫶🏾

Clarksdale, Mississippi, 1932: Church

It was a hot, sunny day in Mississippi, the kind where the air sticks to your skin like molasses. My dress clung to me from the heat, and the warm air inside the church didn’t help either. I must’ve been spacing out because before I knew it, my little sister was tugging on my hand.

“Evie, we gots to go. Momma said you gotta help with dinner,” Janie Mae said, her soft voice snapping me out of my haze.

My sweet little Janie Mae—best little sister a girl could ask for, even though she knows just how to get on my last nerve. I smiled down at her and let her lead me out. Folks were already heading toward the exit, saying their goodbyes to the preacher. Some were still caught in conversation, fanning themselves with paper programs.

I waved goodbye to the preacher, who smiled and waved right back. But my eyes were scanning the crowd. Now where is that hard-headed best friend of mine?

We stepped out into the sunlight, and just as I blinked against the glare, I felt hands on my shoulders.

“Boo!”

I jumped and spun around, ready to swat somebody. But then I saw that familiar grin. My body instantly relaxed.

“That ain’t funny, preacher boy!” I smacked his shoulder while he laughed, full and loud, his grin stretching wide across his face.

“Oh come on now, it was a lil’ bit funny. Wasn’t it, Janie Mae?” he said, leaning down and holding out his hand.

Janie Mae giggled and gave him a high five.

My jaw dropped. “Janie! You were in on that?”

“I’m sorry, sissy,” she said dramatically. “But preacher boy said he’d sing for me again! And I haven’t heard him sing in sooooo long!”

“Wow, Janie. Him over me? It’s like that?”

Before she could respond, we heard our momma and daddy calling us from across the churchyard.

“Mrs. Harris invited my dad and me over for dinner,” preacher boy said, a little softer now. “I’ll talk to you then.”

And just like that, he leaned in and kissed my forehead before turning back toward the church, heading inside with his hands in his pockets.

I think I melted. No—I know I did. I am now a puddle on this dusty path.

Janie Mae looked up at me with that smug little smile, eyebrows raised like she knew something. I grinned and gently pushed her face away.

“Go on now,” I laughed, breaking into a run toward our parents.

“Momma! Evie pushed my face!” Janie Mae tattled, dramatic as ever.

“Oh, here you go,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Momma, it was harmless—we were just playin’.”

Momma gave us that look—half stern, half amused—and shook her head. “Get in the car so we can head on home.”

“Last one to the car washes the dishes!” Janie hollered before tearing off across the grass.

I bolted after her, dust kicking up behind my shoes.

⸻

Harris Household || 6:00

By the time we got home and washed up, the sticky heat was replaced with the cool relief of soap and clean clothes. I tied my hair up and joined Momma in the kitchen to help with dinner.

As I stirred the greens, she looked over at me with that sly smile.

“So…what’s happening between you and preacher boy?”

I ducked my head, trying not to grin. “Nothing, Momma. We’re just friends.”

She smacked her teeth. “Mmhmm. I said the same thing about your daddy when we was y’all’s age.”

I looked up at her, laughing softly. My daddy was the son of a preacher, too. And wouldn’t you know it, his best friend back then? My momma.

“I see the way you look at him,” she said, passing me the cornbread batter.

“It’s adorable.”

I shook my head, cheeks warm, and slid the cornbread into the oven. Then I started setting the table, trying to shake the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Just as I placed the last fork down, there was a knock at the front door.

I froze.

⸻

There was a knock at the door—just one, firm and polite. Not rushed or nervous. I knew exactly who it was.

Momma gave me a look, one eyebrow raised. “Well? You just gon’ stand there or open the door?”

I wiped my hands on my apron and hurried to the front, heart tapping fast against my ribs. When I opened the door, there he stood—preacher boy, looking a little too clean in his Sunday shirt, his hands tucked behind his back like he had something to hide.

His daddy was behind him, talking to mine already on the porch, their voices low and friendly.

“Evenin’, Miss Evie,” he said, grinning brightly.

“Evenin’,” I said back, matching his smile without even meaning to. “You clean up nice.”

He chuckled, rocking back on his heels. “You say that like I don’t always.”

“You don’t,” I said, arms crossed. “Sometimes you show up lookin’ like you wrestled a hay bale.”

“And won,” he added, bold as ever.

I rolled my eyes and stepped aside to let him in. The house was filled with that good home-cooked smell—greens simmering, cornbread baking, fried chicken fresh out the skillet. He gave a polite nod to Momma, who gave him a playful side-eye like she knew what was going on even before I did.

Dinner passed with the usual chatter and laughter. Janie Mae insisted on sitting right next to him, even fed him a bite of her sweet potatoes like she was showing him off. Daddy and Reverend Greene talked long, and Momma kept sending me looks across the table every time preacher boy said something sweet or looked my way too long.

After the dishes were cleared and Janie Mae was begging for seconds on peach cobbler, Daddy told me to “go sit out a while and let your food settle.”

So we stepped out on the porch with two bowls of cobbler and a sky full of stars above us. The air had cooled just enough to feel like a real summer night.

He sat beside me on the swing, spoon digging into his bowl.

“So,” he said between bites, “you hear about what Smoke and Stack got goin’ on?”

I raised an eyebrow. “If this is about that juke joint, I ain’t going.”

He looked mildly offended. “What? Cmon Evie you gotta go! You know I ain’t gone go without you.”

“Mmmhm. I bet.”

He shook his head, laughing. “I’m serious!” he said, glancing over at me, “what fun is goin’ without you?”

I looked at him sideways, hiding a smile. “You tryin’ to ask me to sneak out?”

He shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not sayin’ we gotta sneak. Just sayin’… music, dancing, a bit of drinking… sounds better with you there.”

I scoffed lightly, but my heart was doing flips. “Boy, you really think you slick, don’t you?”

He leaned in just a little, voice low and playful. “Only with you.”

We sat in a warm, quiet kind of silence after that, spoons scraping softly against bowls. The swing creaked under us, and somewhere down the road a dog barked once, then quieted.

“I’ll think about it,” I said finally, licking the last of the cobbler from my spoon. And I could’ve sworn from the corner of my eye, he watched as I did.

He didn’t say nothin’ at first—just smiled, like he already knew I would.

I sighed giving in. “Alright.” I smiled side eyeing him.

He nudged me smiling. “I’d knew you say yes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Give me some time to get ready, and once everyone is in bed I’ll sneak out.”

He kissed my cheek and my face heated up. My lord, can he stop with the kisses!

“Lemme take your bowl for you.” I handed him my bowl and he got up going inside, and I watched as he did. And you know what I saw? My daddy looking at me his eyebrow raised and a slight smirk on his face.

Mr. Moore and my dad hugged bye and told preacher boy to head on out so they can go home, he came out the house and walked down the porch steps glancing my way once more.

I think it was his way of saying. “Don’t forget, and be discreet!”

I shook my head smiling to myself and he smiled once more before turning walking with his dad.

⸻

Later that night, the house was quiet. Daddy had fallen asleep in his chair, the soft rumble of his snores drifting down the hallway. Janie Mae was tucked up in bed, one arm thrown over her stuffed rabbit. And Momma? She was humming low, folding laundry in the back room with the door mostly closed.

I stared at my bedroom ceiling for what felt like hours, heart pounding louder than it had on the porch swing.

Was I really about to do this?

I slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the floor, easing the window open slow as molasses. The breeze felt cooler now, brushing against my face like a secret. I’d already changed into a simple cotton dress—not too fancy, but not plain either—and tied my hair back with a little red ribbon.

“Lord, forgive me,” I whispered, one leg out the window. “This boy gon’ be the death of me.”

I dropped down lightly and crept across the yard, heels in my hand until I made it to the edge of the trees where he said he’d wait.

And there he was—leaning against a tree like he’d been born to look reckless and fine at the same time. He looked up the second he heard me.

Hands in his pockets, looking up at the stars like he wasn’t nervous at all. When he heard my footsteps, he turned around—and the way his face lit up, Lord, you would’ve thought he was lookin’ at the Fourth of July sky itself.

“I didn’t think you’d really come,” he said, voice soft and a little amazed.

I huffed, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal. “Don’t get used to it.”

But before I could say anything else, he smiled wide and said, “You look like a whole dream, Evie.”

I tried to look unimpressed. Failed miserably.

“Boy, hush,” I mumbled, heat creeping up my neck.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer, that little crooked grin working its usual magic. “You prettier than anything I ever prayed for.”

I looked away quick, pretending to check the road, but my heart was doing somersaults inside my chest.

He offered his hand out, palm up.

“Come on. It ain’t but a little walk down the road. Music’s already playin’, and I ain’t about to miss dancin’ with you.”

I sighed loud, rolling my eyes just for show. “A little walk?” I teased, slipping my hand into his. “In this heat, it’s gon’ feel like a long one.”

He laughed low, squeezing my fingers gentle. “I’ll carry you if you melt.”

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. “You better not drop me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I stared at our jointed hands for a second longer than I should’ve. I thought about Momma, about how wrong it was to sneak out like this. Thought about the preacher’s boy and all the ways he was no good for a girl trying to stay outta trouble.

But then I thought about how he looked at me like I hung the stars myself.

I sighed, real dramatic, just to save face. Then I placed my hand in his.

His fingers laced through mine, sure and gentle at the same time. He grinned like Christmas came early.

We walked along the dirt road, the moonlight catching on the dust beneath our feet. Up ahead, we could already hear the hum of music—smooth, low, and alive. Smoke and Stack’s juke joint sat just past the edge of town, glowing warm with yellow light and laughter spilling from the open doors.

Club Juke || 7:00

The place was lit up, l squinted a bit seeing cornbread guarding the door as we walked closer.

Cornbread’s face lit up. “Ain’t no way. Little miss Evie! Can’t believe you done let him drag you here.”

I chuckled. “He ain’t drag me here Cornbread, I came on my own free will.”

Cornbread smiling, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yall come on in.”

The place was vibrant, everyone dancing and drinking. Some people eating and talking each other’s ears off, laughing so loudly it was impossible not to feel caught up in the energy.

“You gone sing tonight?” I turned to him, scanning his features—his jawline, his smile, the way his lips curved when he spoke. No, Evelyn. Control yourself.

And then he looked at me, and there was something in his eyes—something I’d never seen before. It wasn’t just the playful teasing. It was… different. A little deeper. Focus.

“Of course I’m gone sing tonight,” he said, the tone of his voice almost too confident.

God, his lips. No. No, I warned myself. But still, they looked so… plump, and the things he could probably do with those lips…

“Evie!” He called out, his voice cutting through the music.

“Hm? What?” I snapped my gaze away from his lips, suddenly aware of how stupid I must look.

He chuckled, his eyebrows furrowing just enough to show he noticed something was off. “You alright?”

I swallowed nervously, trying to keep my cool. “Uh, yeah, course’ I’m okay. Why?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Cause I asked you twice what you wanted to drink.”

Oh. Right. I blinked, realizing I hadn’t even heard him the first time, too busy distracted by… well, him.

“Uh… um,” I fumbled for the words. “You got whiskey?”

“Whiskey? I thought you were a wine girl.”

I shrugged, trying to act like my sudden increase in heart rate had nothing to do with the proximity between us. “I’m feeling adventurous tonight.”

His grin widened, and I swear he looked at me like he knew exactly what was going on in my head. “I’ll get you something strong, then.”

As he turned to walk toward the bar, I could’ve sworn I saw him give me one last look, one that made my pulse skip a beat. I leaned against the nearest table, mentally cursing myself. Get it together, Evelyn. You can handle this.

But I wasn’t sure anymore. Not with him looking at me like that.

A couple moments later I see Preacher boy talking to someone, she’s beautiful as ever. Her skin glistened and she had the prettiest smile ever. I walked over to them.

“Hi.” I said awkwardly. Preacher boy handed me my drink. “Shoot, I’m sorry Evie, didn’t mean to have you waiting so long.”

“It’s okay, really.” And the woman looked over to me.

“You must be Evie, it’s nice to meet you.” Her voice silky smooth. I nodded. “I am and its nice to meet you…” I cut off.

“Pearline.” The woman said smiling softly. I smiled back. “It’s nice to meet you Pearline, are you gone sing tonight as well?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.’’ And then looked back to Preacher boy, giving him a look and then back at me.

“Do you sing Evie?” She asked politely.

“God no, my singing is terrible, I do write though.” I laughed and so did she.

“Really? Well I’d love to read some of your songs one day.” She smiled and I smiled back.

“Well you two enjoy your night, and again it was nice metting you.” She smiled softly, glancing at preacher boy before walking way.

“Sooo…she seems to like you.” I said to him as he watched her walk away. I scoffed, shaking my head. And then he turned to me.

“What?” He asked and then he realized. “Oh. Cmon now Evie.”

“You obviously seem to like her, I don’t want to interfere with y’all little thing you got goin on.” The jealousy oozing out of my tone.

“She’s married, and why do you care Evie. I-I mean we’re best friends…” He look conflicted. Confused as to what to do or even say.

“And let me guess when she told you she was married your response was…?” I wait for him to finish the sentence and he sighed looking away before looking at me.

“Happily…” He drawled off a bit.

“Happily.” I nodded my head. “Wow, so what you get a little feeling going on in your little.. thing down there and try to get with a married woman?!” I was disgusted.

“She ain’t say she was happily married! And who said anything about “it” being little?!” He tried to defend himself and then realized how absolutely stupid he sounded.

I shook my head, gulping down my whiskey. “Have a fun night with Pearline, who by the way is married!” I began to walk away and he grabbed my wrist.

“Boy if you don’t let go—“ he cut me off.

“You’re gonna what? Really Evie. Just let me—” He responded. Now he’s testing my patience.

“I’ll punch you so fucking hard in your throat that by time you go up and try to sing in front of all these people, you wont even be able to say the damn words coming out your mouth. Now let me go.” I said seriously look him in the eye and he so he did.

And I walked away, I then bumped into someone. Stack. “Woah, my bad you alrigh—“ before he could even finish the sentence he finally realized who I was. “Ain’t no goddamn way, Evie?” He said surprised.

“Hey stack.” I smiled softly and then he hugged me tightly before pulling back. “Whatchu doing here?” He asked.

“I’m here with preacher boy, but he done just pissed me off so I’m avoiding him now.” I looked around a bit before looking back at him.

Stack sighed. ‘’What’d he do?” He asked.

“Tried to get with a married woman.” I stated.

“She happily married?” He asked and my jaw dropped. Now I see where he gets it from.

“And this conversation is now over.” I walked away.

“Wait Evie- damn.” He sighed before walking away as well.

A couple minutes go by, and through the crowd, I catch sight of Preacher Boy, standing there with his guitar, introducing himself. The twins are leaning against two different pillars, just opposite each other, like they were born to be on opposite sides.

Then he starts singing. And God — his voice. It hit me straight in the chest, like it was made to find every piece of me I didn’t even know was there. You could hear it — how much he loved it, how much he needed it.

I remember this one afternoon, helping Momma with the laundry, and looking out to see him on the porch, guitar in his lap, singing soft to my little sister like she was the whole world. That was the day I fell for him. That was the day I knew I didn’t just want him as my best friend — I wanted all of him.

He played like the guitar was stitched into his bones, like the music was the only language he’d ever learned how to speak.

In that moment, it didn’t matter how many summers we’d spent side by side, or how many times I’d laughed at his dumb jokes — it was different now. It was like seeing him for the very first time, and knowing, without a doubt, my heart was already his.

Everyone was dancing — spinning and swaying under the string lights, laughter thick in the air — but I couldn’t move. I was rooted there, holding my breath like if I blinked, he might disappear.

The last note hung in the air for a second, trembling, before it disappeared into the noise of clapping and laughter.

I was still standing there, heart pounding, when he found me.

He pushed through the crowd without thinking, without waiting, like he couldn’t get to me fast enough. And then he was there, grabbing my hand, holding on like he was afraid I’d run.

“Please,” he said, voice low and rough, “please let me explain.”

The music was still ringing in my ears, the lights spinning around us, but none of it mattered. Just him, just that look in his eyes — desperate, scared, like whatever he had to say was the only thing keeping him standing.

He dragged me to a room and closed the door so we can talk.

“Ain’t nothing to talk about.” I said plainly as he closed the door behind him and then turned to me.

“I don’t want Pearline, Evie.” He stated plainly. Holding eye contact with me. His voice heavy, like he wholeheartedly meant that.

But.. I don’t know the way he looked at her even if he was for a slit second.

“I know what you’re thinking okay? The way I looked at her right? You think based off of that I would want her?” I looked down at my feet.

“Cmon Eve, don’t do that talk to me please.” He stepped closer and I looked back up at him.

I might be delusional or crazy, but I know what I saw — the way he looked at her, even if it was just for a second.

He stepped closer, real slow, like he didn’t wanna spook me. Like he was reading my thoughts.

“You ain’t crazy, Evie,” he said, voice low and thick. “But you got it twisted.”

I crossed my arms, trying to hold myself together.

“Twisted how?” I asked, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

He let out this shaky breath and looked me dead in the eye.

“It’s always been you. I just—” his voice cracked a little, and he scrubbed a hand down his face. “I got scared, Evie. Thought maybe… maybe you didn’t feel the same. Thought if I looked at somebody else, even for a second, it’d hurt less if you didn’t want me back.”

I blinked, heart pounding so loud I couldn’t hear anything else.

“That’s real stupid,” I muttered, voice breaking.

He gave this half-broken laugh, stepping even closer, close enough I could feel every shaky breath he took.

“Yeah. It was real stupid,” he said, eyes never leaving mine. “I only want you, Evie. Been wantin’ you. Just too much of a fool to say it right.”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“Evie,” he said, voice low and rough, “can I—can I just show you how much I want you?”

It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t planned. It was messy and real, like he was scared if he didn’t say it now, he’d never get the chance.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I just stared at him, feeling my heart beat so loud it hurt.

“I ain’t tryna mess this up. I just—” he bit down on the words like they hurt coming out, “I need you to know. I need you to feel it. ‘Cause talkin’ ain’t enough no more.”

He was breathing hard now, like it took everything he had to stand there and not just grab me and show me anyway.

“Tell me no if you don’t want this,” he said, voice cracking a little. “But if you do… Evie, just—just let me.”

I nodded, almost mindlessly, cupping his face and kissing him. He didn’t hesitate — his lips against mine were desperate, hungry, and soon his hands found their place on my waist, gently guiding me back until I was up against the table. My breath hitched as his kiss deepened, and just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, he pulled away, his forehead resting against mine.

“W-why’d you pull away?” I whispered, breathless, trying to catch my breath as I looked up at him.

He looked into my eyes, the intensity of his gaze almost overwhelming, and then glanced down at my lips before meeting my eyes again.

“I wanna try something,” he said, his voice thick with need, and I felt a rush of heat spread through me.

Before I could respond, I felt my dress being gently lifted. My hand shot out instinctively, landing on his wrist.

“Wait—”

“We walked all the way here, let me freshen up first—” I started, but he cut me off, pushing me back just a little so I was sitting on the edge of the table.

I looked up at him, my heart hammering in my chest, trying to steady myself. And then he slowly, almost reverently, dropped to his knees in front of me.

Damn. The sight of him like that — it made my breath catch in my throat.

“You don’t need to…” he started, his eyes were full of something so deep, so raw, and I couldn’t find the strength to finish my sentence.

He lifted my dress higher, his lips trailing up my inner thighs, sending shivers of anticipation through me.

“Preacher boy…” I whispered softly, feeling my chest tighten.

He stopped, looking up at me with a question in his eyes. He wasn’t rushing me, but he was waiting, waiting for me to make the next move.

“Are you sure?” His voice was barely a whisper, but I could hear the uncertainty in it, the care.

I nodded, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Are you sure?” I asked, my voice small, but filled with the same intensity.

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine like he needed to know for sure. Then, with a slow, deep breath, he spoke again.

“Evelyn, you’re beautiful. I just wanna taste you…”

And that was it. The words unlocked something in me. I wanted this. I needed this.

He gently pulled my bloomers down. I was already swollen and wet; and when he nudged my legs open—he was rewarded by the beautiful sight of my glistening arousal, his touch light but sure, and before i could even think, he didn’t waste a second.

I gasped as I felt his mouth on my clit, sucking softly. I immediately let out a soft moan. And once he heard that, he knew… he was on the right path. He lapped at my vulva with such hunger, such desire.

His hands caress my thighs as he continued, he didn’t stop not once. “O-oh shit.” I moaned my eyebrows furrowed. My breathing a bit heavy—I lifted up my dress so I can watch him and I saw his eyes open as he looked up at me and didn’t look away not once.

“Feels so good, d-don’t stop please.” My toes curled as I threw my head back moaning loudly. I quickly covered my mouth with the hand that was on his head. He took one of his hands off my thigh and brought it up to my wrist shaking his head, and he quickly came up to talk.

“Don’t do that, I wanna hear you.” His breathing heavy.

“What if someone hears?” I asked worriedly. He shook his head again.

“Don’t even worry about that.” He went back to devouring me, as if it were a meal I moaned loudly.

“P-preacher boy.. S-Sammie.” I gasped softly shutting my eyes as I moaned in immense pleasure.

Before I closed them I could’ve sworn his eyes lit up at me using his actual name. I opened them again to see his still looking up at me. My goodness, I never knew my best friend was like this.

“I-I don’t want anyone to hear!” I whimpered. As my hand stayed on his head. He lifted his head up again.

“Evie, all you need you worry about is how good my mouth feels. Alright? Don’t think about nothing else. Just focus on this baby.” I melted. I always imagined how baby would sound coming out his mouth, and my imagination certainly lived up to it.

He went right back to what he was doing, and I could feel everything he was doing. The kissing, the moans and groans against me, the sucking.

Why is he so damn good at this?

He put my legs around his shoulders and gently pulled me to the edge of the table, the angle of which he’s tasting me at now a greater feeling.

My moans progressed louder and louder. “Fuck, preacher boy!” I whined. “O-oh my God.” I cried out.

I feel my stomach tighten. “O-oh baby—.” My eyes rolled to the back of my head. “I-I’m gonna—.” Before I could even finish my sentence my body shuddered.

My eyes closing tightly as I did so, I laid back— letting the after shock take place.

I leaned up a bit, seeing preacher boy kiss my thighs gently. “You okay?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

I nodded, my mind a bit hazy. I took a couple seconds to gather myself before speaking and sat up.

“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” I asked and he chuckled.

“Just now.” He stated.

Funny. Really funny. It actually made me laugh, I saw him chuckle a bit but then realized he was serious.

“Oh you’re serious? Forreal?” I asked in a shocked tone.

“Yeah, forreal.” He licked his lips and laughed. “You think I just go around and… do this to other woman?”

“I mean—.” He cut me off.

“Evie!” He called out in disbelief, chuckling a bit.

“Okay okay no, i just—you’d think with.. how well you did that just now you’d have actual experience..” I shrugged and then suddenly an idea popped up in my head.

“I wanna try something now too.” I said in a sultry tone.

And then he bit his lip gently, looking down at my lips quickly then at my eyes. “Yeah? Whatchu wanna try?”

Boy, do I love his voice.

I pulled him forward by his belt buckle. Slowly unbuckling it. He looked down at what I was doing then back up at me.

“You sure?” He asked watching my expression.

“You just ate my pussy out… and you gone ask me if I’m sure?” I said in a questioning tone.

I can’t believe I just said that but the look on his face made it worth saying.

I unbuckled his belt, and then unbuttoned his pants. They immediately dropped down to the floor.

He immediately pulled down his boxer shorts and his pants pooling at his ankles.

My eyes widened slightly at the size of his cock and I looked back up at him to see him smiling a bit before laughing a little.

“If you don’t think you can handle it let me know now.” He joked, still smiling.

“Ha ha…let me ask you something.” I stared him dead in his eyes.

“I’m listening.” He responded as he waited for my question.

“How long you been wanting to fuck me Sammie?” I said. It was as if it wasn’t even me talking, like I had some sort of alter ego.

“Damn evie why you gotta talk like that?” He moaned gently as my hand reached over to stroke his cock. My fingers brushed against the sensitive underside of his flushed head.

“A couple weeks, months, a year or two?” I continued to stroke his cock and he moaned desperately, his eyes shut tight and he leaned his head forward on my shoulder.

“Want me to keep touching you Iike this or are you gone fuck me?” I whispered in his ear then kissed it gently.

He moaned again before he kissed my neck and I moved his cock closer to my folds. Slowly slipping his cock inside me, I gasped loudly as I put my hand on his stomach. He looked at me a bit worried.

“You good?” He asked, his hand gently cupping my cheek, his eyes searching mine like he was making sure I was all there.

I nodded, my voice soft but clear. “Yeah, I’m good… just, start slow, alright?” He gave me a reassuring smile, nodding before he leaned down, pressing a slow, languid kiss to my lips.

His kiss was soft, tender, and I melted into him, feeling the heat of his body pressing against mine. The way he kissed me, like he was taking his time, made my heart race, my body burning for more, but I wasn’t rushing. Not yet.

“Anything you need, baby,” he murmured against my lips, his hand sliding down to my waist, pulling me closer.

I could feel the tension building between us, but I didn’t want him to rush. Not now. “Just be with me,” I whispered, my hands sliding up to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin. “Don’t hold back, but don’t rush it either.”

He nodded again, the intensity in his gaze not wavering as he slowly deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against mine in a way that had me shivering. The heat of his body, the slow slide of his hands, everything about him felt right — it was like he knew exactly what I needed, exactly how to touch me, how to make me feel alive in his arms.

He pulled back just enough to look at me again, his hand resting on my hip. “You tell me if you need me to stop,” he said, his voice low, like he was trying to keep it steady even though I could see the hunger in his eyes. “And I will okay?.”

I nodded, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten as I pressed closer to him, my hands running up his neck, pulling him back into another kiss.

He then broke the kiss, sinking inside me. He let out a moan and I let out a gasp. He began thrusting slowly, letting me get the feel of him and then he stopped. “I’m okay..you can move.” And so he did.

His forehead pressed against mine, our breaths tangled in the space between us as he moved inside me — slow, deep thrusts that made my whole body ache for him. Every roll of his hips dragged a soft whimper from my throat, and he swallowed the sound with a kiss, slow and messy and desperate.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he muttered against my mouth, his voice cracked open, raw. His hands roamed everywhere — down my sides, gripping my hips, smoothing up my thighs — like he couldn’t decide where he needed to touch me most.

I shifted towards the edge of the table to him, tilting my hips to take him deeper, and the way he groaned low in his chest made my toes curl.

I moaned low, tilting my hips up to meet his rhythm, and that groan he let out? Almost made me forget how to breathe. “You ain’t stoppin’, right?” I whispered, my nails dragging down his back, feeling the muscle shift under my touch.

He looked down at me, eyes dark and heavy. “You wanna feel all of me, don’t you?” he rasped, his pace slow but deep, hitting places inside me that made everything inside me tighten. “Tell me you can take it.”

“Yeah,” I breathed, barely able to hold on, my body wanting more, needing more. “I can take all of you.”

He kissed me harder, his rhythm stuttering for a second before he found it again, a slow, grinding pace that made heat coil tight and heavy between my legs. His thumb brushed up my ribs, just under my breast, and he buried his face in my neck like he needed to catch his breath.

“Fuck evie,” he breathed against my skin, each word hot and broken. “ Shit baby.” He moaned lowly in my ear.

I arched against him, clutching him closer, every nerve in my body tuned to the way he moved, the way he filled me up and dragged me closer to the edge with every deep, aching stroke.

And when I looked up at him — at the way his eyes burned into mine, at the way his mouth fell open on a low, desperate moan — I knew he was right there with me, every second, every heartbeat, lost in it too.

His thrusts grew faster, more desperate, and I could barely keep up with the way my body was reacting. The pressure inside me was building, every nerve singing with the need for release.

“Still think it’s little?” he teased again, his voice rough with desire, but I couldn’t form a response.

I was lost in the feeling of him, in the way he moved inside me, in the way his hands gripped my body, pulling me closer to him with each deep stroke.

And all I could do was moan — the sound slipping out of me uncontrollably, my head spinning with the overwhelming sensation. The world outside of us didn’t exist anymore. There was only him, only this, and the way he was driving me insane with every move.

He groaned, his pace relentless, and I could feel the way his body tensed, like he was holding on to the last thread of control. I couldn’t keep up — I was too far gone, too lost in the sensation, my whole body shuddering as my moans became louder, more desperate.

The sound of our skin slapping together echoed in the room, each deep thrust of his driving me closer to the edge. His rhythm was relentless, his pace picking up as he grew desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of me — like he needed me this way.

Every movement was met with the wet, desperate noises of our bodies colliding, the slickness of it making everything feel even more intense, more real. The air around us was thick with the sounds of it — the rhythm of his thrusts, the slick, audible slide of skin against skin, the way my breath came out in short, desperate gasps.

His grip tightened on my hips, pulling me closer, forcing me to take him deeper with each thrust. The pressure inside me built higher and higher, my body trembling with every stroke. I couldn’t hold back the moans, the sounds spilling out of me as I was consumed by the feeling of him — his hands on me, the hard, fast rhythm, the way he made every inch of me burn.

I could feel it — every wet, slippery drag of him inside me, every heated breath against my neck, the way his cock filled me completely. And all I could do was moan, the sound spilling from my lips uncontrollably, my body shaking with the overwhelming pleasure.

he stuffs me full of his cock; pushing himself so deeply that he feels the stretch of me gaping around him.

The noise of it, the sound of our bodies meeting, grew louder, the wet sounds almost deafening now. It was like the world had faded away, and all that was left was this — him, me, the rhythm of our bodies, the desperation, the need, the way our movements were becoming erratic, broken.

My moans turned high and broken, my body clenching around him so tight I felt him stutter inside me.

“Shiiit… you feel that?” he grunted against my ear, voice ragged. “Grip me like that again.”

I couldn’t even think — my nails dragging down his back, my thighs shaking around his hips. Every time he slammed into me, I felt myself getting closer, that tight, burning coil about to snap.

“Fuck, you bouta come?” he muttered, his hand sliding between us, finding my clit, rubbing messy, fast circles that made me cry out. “Go ‘head then. Let me feel all that.”

His words tipped me right over the edge — my whole body locking up around him, pleasure crashing through me so hard I almost sobbed. I clutched at him, trembling, gasping his name as my orgasm hit.

His strokes got rougher, more ragged, until he pulled out at the last second, thick, hot drops spilling across my stomach with a broken groan against my neck.

Both of us were left panting, skin slick with sweat, the whole room smelling like sex.

He stayed over me for a second, forehead pressed to mine, still catching his breath. His hands never stopped touching — smoothing over my sides, tracing lazy lines down my thighs like he didn’t wanna let go yet.

“You okay…it wasn’t too much?” he murmured against my skin, voice softer now, almost tender.

I shook my head. “It was amazing.” I smiled softly, and so did he. He kissed my neck softly and then my shoulder still catching his breath. “Hold up, baby,” he mumbled against my skin.

eyes scanning the room — and that’s when he spotted it. A crate of clean white rags shoved in the corner, like somebody had just left ‘em there.

he crossed the room, grabbed one, and came right back to me. Kneeling in front of me again. His hands were gentle as he cleaned me up, gliding over my skin, making sure I felt cared for, even after everything. His touch stayed careful, almost tender, wiping me up slow, making sure he wasn’t hurting me even though I was still twitchy and sensitive.

“I got you,” he muttered under his breath, working real gentle between my thighs, like he was tryna soothe me at the same time.

I whimpered again, body jerking a little, and he paused, dragging the back of his knuckles down my thigh, soft.

He finished cleaning me up, his movements gentle and deliberate. His hand lingered on my skin for a moment longer than necessary, like he was still trying to take everything in. When he was done, he looked up at me, his gaze soft but filled with that quiet intensity.

“Think you can walk?” he asked, his voice low but caring, as if checking in with me. “Or you need a minute?”

I took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “I’m good,” I whispered, still feeling the warmth spread through my body. But I was steadying myself, ready to stand again. “Just… give me a second.”

He didn’t push me, his hands steady as he helped me adjust. He reached for my bloomers, carefully pulling them up over my legs before fixing my dress, smoothing it down with practiced hands. I couldn’t help but notice how gentle he was, even in the aftermath, as if he wasn’t in any hurry to move on from this moment yet.

Once my dress was in place, he pulled his boxer shorts up, then his pants, taking his time to adjust himself, his movements more relaxed now.

He glanced at me once he was done, checking in again, his eyes soft. “You okay?”

I nodded, straightening up, feeling more in control. “Yeah,” I said quietly, still processing the intensity of it all. “I’m good.”

He gave me a small nod, the air between us settling into something unspoken but understood. He opened the door for me, the light from the hallway spilling into the room. As I stepped past him, I felt his presence close behind me, like he was there, holding onto the moment we’d just shared.

The sound of voices from outside the room reminded us that the world was still out there, waiting.

He gave a brief glance toward the hallway, then back to me. “Ready?” His voice was steady, but there was a quiet warmth there — like he was asking if I was truly ready for whatever came next.

I met his gaze, nodding. “Yeah, let’s go. Before they come looking for you.”

We stepped into the hallway, the moment between us still lingering in the air, both of us aware that the night was far from over. The quiet connection between us, the weight of everything that had happened, was still heavy, but neither of us said anything more. We didn’t need to.

The night was only just beginning.

[artsninspo]

012 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 011

♠ summary: Lorence goes back to work and Terry shows up like never before.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~2.7K

⌖ - Richmond Inc. HQ

I feel like I’ve been thrown into a pressure cooker. I don’t know how Terry has managed an entire organizational overhaul after spending the weekend rearranging my insides, and then traveling extensively all week. But then again, Mr. Richmond the Boss never ceases to amaze me. I maintain the smile on my face as my colleagues file out of the conference room. We’ve just spent five grueling hours scrutinizing every aspect of our new recruit training program. It got tense on more than a few occasions. Thankfully, no one found any faults in my proposals. Unfortunately, that led to a long Q&A period that I took standing. As much as I want to pretend I’m at a hundred percent, I still have a ways to go.

Joel comes into the conference room with a wheelchair, and it makes me smile. I guess someone wasn’t fooled by my ruse. I walk over and sit, grateful for the reprieve.

“You did great, kid,” he says, patting my shoulder as he wheels me toward the accessibility route, giving us some privacy.

“You think?” I ask.

“I know you did. After those proposals you put forward during the others’ presentations, I’m positive they would’ve ripped into you if they could.”

“I don’t know. After this past week, I was thinking maybe it was favoritism,” I mutter, and Joel laughs.

“Definitely not. You really are one of one, Lo,” he smiles, wheeling me in. “Campus is gonna kick your ass though—maybe use the favoritism to come in less. Work from your home office while you rebuild your strength and endurance.”

As much as I hate the idea, it’s solid advice. We get to my floor and find Emerson waiting at my office door. I stand, not wanting to show blood to a shark. He blinks a few times, registering that I’m still injured, and his expression shifts.

“Emerson, what can I do for you?” I ask, noting how his eyes flicker toward Joel.

“I didn’t realize you were still recovering…” he mutters.

“Just limited mobility,” I explain, and he nods.

“I’ve got a meeting, Cole. See you later,” Joel says, giving me a look that clearly says be careful. I keep my guarded expression in place as I unlock the door. Emerson follows, folding the chair and tucking it into a corner. I smile at all the flowers in my office—until I feel Emerson beside me. He steadies me under the arm as I walk, then pulls out my desk chair.

“Thank you,” I say, nodding politely. He steps back in front of my desk.

“So, how can I help you?” I ask.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened in Monaco. And if you need anything… reach out.” He smiles to himself. “Though Joel’s clearly got your back.”

“Pardon me?” I ask.

“You probably won’t call,” he says, just as a knock on the door grabs our attention. Terry’s expression tells me he’s been standing there long enough. I know that angry simmer of his, even though I haven’t seen it in a while.

“Cole, Cassandra didn’t see a meeting in your calendar,” Terry says, entering without invitation. Emerson’s usual cavalier expression is nowhere to be found. It catches my attention how he tries to shrink into his seat.

“I don’t. I was just going to look over a few things. Emerson stopped by,” I explain.

“It can wait,” Emerson says with a forced smile more typical of him. “Nice to see you, boss,” he adds, standing.

“Cole, I’ll have my EA check your schedule and get something on the books,” he says, giving Richmond some distance. I nod and send him a tempered smile. As the door closes, I feel Terry’s stare burning into me. I meet his blue eyes.

“That was odd,” I mutter. Richmond locks the door, triggering the smart glass to frost over.

“Hi baby. How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a few days. I missed you,” he murmurs, giving me a buffet of options before parting my lips with a kiss. His jealousy and complete disregard for workplace norms stirs something in me. But when the kiss deepens, I press a hand to his chest—knowing where this will lead.

“Terry,” I whisper, breathless. “We’re at work.”

“I own the company,” he reminds me, just as there’s a knock on the door. I glance up and silently thank my choice of transfer-proof lipstick. I un-frost the glass to reveal one of my junior agents. Her excitement fades when she sees the boss.

“I’ll come back!” she says, clutching her folder to her chest. It makes me smile.

“Five minutes,” I mouth, holding up a hand. She nods before offering Terry a sheepish glance. He frosts the glass again.

“Your entire team’s afraid of me,” he mutters.

“You have a reputation. And… I did miss you,” I admit with a smile. I notice the growing bulge in his pants and shake my head. He’s always ready, and while it’s been perfect... this isn’t the time or place.

“No Terry. I told her five minutes,” I warn, pulling away. He groans, standing upright and wiping his mouth, checking for lipstick.

“Next time, I’m not wearing transfer-proof makeup,” I tease, and he smirks, knowing I’ll follow through.

“I’ll remember that tonight,” he replies, dirty. I pretend to be unphased, but the threat definitely hits. I want us to hold hands, kiss, melt into each other.

“How’s your schedule?”

“Clear, once you walk out,” he says.

“I want to talk. Monaco. All these changes.”

His face switches to full Mr. Richmond mode. “What about it?”

“There are a lot of changes, and I’ve been gone for two weeks. I feel like I’m missing things. There were a lot of people absent from today’s training—excellent reconnaissance officers.”

“It’s been five minutes,” he says, trying to shoo me out. I withhold a laugh but can’t stop the smile.

“I guess a tense work relationship is one way around things.” I mutter.

“The only conversation we need to have about Monaco is the one where I tell you everything’s been handled. That happens when I have all the answers,” he says, calling the shots. I cross my arms, annoyed, then decide to let it go and head for the door.

“Lorence,” he calls from behind me.

“Mhm?”

“I see Emerson touch you again, and he’s getting a write-up for misconduct,” Mr. Richmond says. “Sit. I’ll tell the agent you’re ready.”

His jealousy shouldn’t be amusing, but it is. “Thank you,” I say, conceding.

“What do you want to eat tonight?”

“Pasta. Italian.”

“Alright. I’ll see you later,” he says, dipping to kiss my forehead.

“You might want to hide the situation happening,” I note, gesturing downward to his pants.

“Lorence, this isn’t the first time,” he say, heading into my bathroom. I glance at the clock, amused and wondering—but he’s out quick and looking normal. I don’t ask. He doesn’t tell. I snicker as he leaves. His tall stature, defined back and commanding presence has me silently swooning. It’s like he knows I’m watching and turns back to me with a small smile before his posture goes back to ridgid business as usual.

The rest of my workday is spent behind the safety of my desk until the car service is ready to take me home. It’s Beau’s last week at Joel’s, and it’s about damn time. I miss walking into my house and being treated like royalty. I head upstairs, pack a bag, and take a quick shower to freshen up. I’m not naïve enough to think Italian food is the only thing on the menu.

Terry shows up about an hour later, jogging up the stairs, dressed down and relaxed. He opens the car door and pulls me into a bear hug, lifting me off the ground. Professionalism is out the window. When he kisses me, I lean in instead of pulling away.

“I missed you,” I tell him again.

“I missed you more,” he replies, making us those corny people.

“Are you cooking here?” I ask, noticing his casual look.

“Nah. But I’ve got to run an errand before we eat.”

“Okay. I packed a bag,” I say, motioning to the edge of the staircase. He frowns when he sees it.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to lift anything.”

“It’s no more than ten pounds. Stop fussing.”

He shakes his head, and I wonder if we’re already those people—bickering like my Ma and Pa do. He takes the bag, and we head out. His car smells freshly detailed, and he’s got a new haircut.

“Your haircut looks good,” I say, running my fingers along the fade. He doesn’t tense up.

“Thanks, Lorence,” he says, pausing at my name.

“What?”

“Nickname might be a slippery slope at work,” he mutters, backing out of my driveway. I smile at him, always thinking steps ahead of everyone else. Once we hit the freeway, his hand finds my thigh. I place mine over his – happy to have him back. The silence is peaceful but I can tell he has a million things on his mind.

“Any leads on Monaco?” I ask.

“Lorence…”

“Terrance…” I tease.

“I have almost everything I need.”

“And?”

“No one’s in imminent danger. It was a colossal fuck-up. Everyone’s tucking tail and running scared. Nothing you need to worry about. It’s handled.” he assures me once again. I rack my brain for anything else.

“Then why the overhaul?”

“Because if everyone was as focused on their jobs as you are, you and Cassandra wouldn’t be in recovery.”

“So that’s what the workshops are about?”

“Yes. I’m benching all Executives and pulling travel perks until they start acting like agents again.”

I sigh. It’s the kind of move I hate—but I get it.

We end up at the private airport, and I sit upright. When the car stops in front of his private jet—not the employee one. I blink.

“What the...?”

“You asked me to take you on a date. I hope you didn’t think I forgot,” he says, putting the car in park. It’s the most extra thing anyone’s ever done for me.

“I don’t have my passport or clothes.” I start.

“Cassandra packed some things. And you can authorize your digital passport from your work phone.”

I look into his eyes and see how serious he is. There’s depth—like he’s worried I might say no. A smile creeps onto my face, and I kiss him quickly. This is what has had him on edge the entire drive.

“I didn’t think you forgot… I just didn’t expect this.” I beam.

“Pleasant surprise?”

“Mhm,” I nod, and he steals one more kiss before signaling to the valet to open my door.

The moment I step into the jet, I’m struck by the ambiance. It’s not sterile or corporate like I expected — it’s like his home. Cream leather seats, soft ambient lighting, and a familiar scent I can’t quite place but instantly associate with him. There's a chilled bottle of wine resting in a bucket of ice, and fresh roses on the side table.

Terry steps in behind me, his presence immediately soothing. He doesn't rush me. He just watches.

“You did all this?” I ask, voice softer now.

He shrugs. “You ask, I will make it happen.”

His assurance makes me smile again and I take a step back into him. Terrance wraps his arms around me instinctively as I admire the scene he’s set for me. I know there’s a tremendous amount of thought behind it and it fills me with so many emotions. When I relax I smell Italian food. Terry motions me to sit and I do. I have to definitely watch what I say around this man. He smiles and I can tell by the glint in his eyes he’s enjoying my reaction. It should be too much. It should feel overwhelming. But instead, it’s grounding—like someone finally seeing me in a way that doesn’t require explanation or translation. I settle into a seat and accept the glass of wine he pours. He takes the one across from me, even though there’s room beside me.

We’re wheels up before a flight attendant emerges with plates of food from my favorite Italian restaurant. I smile to myself knowing it isn't something I told Terry - but something from my mom’s food blog. I feel seen in a way that’s hard to explain or express. I know how much his time is worth and I understand what it means to have him here now treating me to a first date we need to fly to. 

“Thank you Terry, I’m sorry if I’m quiet but I’’m so-”

“Are you happy?” he asks.

“Yes” I nod, unable to hide my smile. He smiles back giving a shallow nod.

“That’s all I want to do Lorence, keep you happy and make you happy” 

“Why-” I immediately regret the words when they escape my lips.

Terry’s patience with me is infinite and he doesn’t seem upset by my question. His body language welcomes it. He lets go of his form laying his large hands flat on the tabletop. 

“Because Lorence you're my person.” he says and the feeling is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. So is how sure he is. We sip our wine in companionable silence as the jet cruises mid air. He drapes a soft blanket over my legs, adjusting it with such care it squeezes something in my chest. This isn’t the boss who takes no prisoners. This is the man who buys flowers in my favorite shade and searches my mother’s food blog for my favorite things, gets his sister to pack me clothes.

“You’re very thoughtful when you want to be,” I murmur resting my head on his shoulder as he comes to sit beside me.

“I always want to be. I just don’t always know how.”

The honesty in his voice slices through the atmosphere like a thread of gold. Vulnerable. Earnest.

“I’ve misjudged you Terrance” I admit. He leans back, staring at the ceiling like he's holding onto something tightly. Then, slowly, he reaches for my hand.

“I was terrified when we got the call that something was going down in Monaco, the thought of losing you like that before getting to know you did something to me.”

The words come out quietly, like they cost him something, like there’s more to them.

He pauses, collecting himself. “I didn’t let myself care about anyone for a long time. And then you came out of nowhere, challenging everything. I gave you every reason to judge me the way you did, so I’m not afraid to earn your trust. I don't need you to rush or play to my feelings Lorena just keep being honest with me.” he says.

I swallow hard, feeling the weight behind every syllable. I turn my hand in his, lacing our fingers.

“I do trust you Terrance.”

That pulls his eyes to mine. Blue and sharp, but softened now. “And you don’t have to pretend you’re not scared either.”

“I am,” I admit. “Not of you. Just… of this.” I admit feeling relieved.

He nods. “Me too.”

Silence stretches again, but it’s not empty. It’s rich. Full of the words we haven’t found yet and the ones we don’t need to say. We both know loss, and so we both know the value of a person's presence and how to honor it – and it feels safe.

“Where are we going?” I ask after a moment.

He smiles. “Somewhere warm. With a view. And a beach.”

I blink. “Are you taking me on a cliché romantic getaway?”

His brows raise. “You should know I don’t do cliches. I only deliver the best of the best.”

“When did you have time to plan this elaborate date?” I ask.

“I make time for the people I care for. And for the record, it’s not a date. It’s the date, Lorence.”

I narrow my eyes. “The date?”

“The one where you finally believe I’m not going anywhere.”

The words slip out so easily, but they land with a thud in my chest. I stare at him, speechless for a beat. Then I lean in and kiss him—slow and grateful and steady.

“I’m starting to believe it,” I whisper, seeing there’s so much more he wants to say.

authors note: Lorence and Terry are settling into each other and 'flying high' literally and figuratively. What do you think happens next? Thanks for reading, don't forget to reblog, comment and like.

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[lainiespicewrites]

Needing some attention

Hello all! Just a little sherlock one shot that was cooking up in my head! God I love that man!! I promise We'll get back to the regularly scheduled program soon! I PROMISE!!!

Summary: Sherlock is busy with work, and you try your best to stay out of his way but you can be quite fussy when you want his attention.

Warnings: Cursing. Sex MDNI, P in V sex. Fingering, Multiple Orgasms. Creampie. Unprotected sex. dirty talk. Sherlock being painfully handsome! Soft Dom sherlock

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

Entranced, yes that was the word. I was fully entranced just watching from the doorway. The bright morning sun streams through the window of the study, casting a warm glow around him as he works. His features are almost angelic, of course; truly, he was anything but. The thought causes a soft giggle to escape my lips.

“If you were trying to be discreet, you’ve blown your cover,” he says, his voice low, smooth, and calm. There’s an ever-present smirk on his face. Throughout the whole interaction, he never once looks up from his desk. Another giggle escaped me, and I took a few steps into the study. 

“Not sneaking, simply admiring.” I smile. “You’ve been working at this one for quite some time,” I tell him. I walk over to his desk, standing behind him, my hands gently resting on his large shoulders. His smirk grows wider, and he hums softly. I feel myself gasp as the detective captures one of my hands from his shoulders and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm.

“Yes,” He says, his voice steady and strong. “And still much more work to do. I don’t want to keep you cooped up in here watching me go mad. It’s a beautiful day, darling. Why don’t you go take in some of that lovely sunshine we’ve been blessed with, and I’ll work on finishing up here.” I bite my lip, my eyebrow raised in question, but I hold back my protest. Sherlock is a busy man. I’ve always known that. He never blatantly tries to ignore me or keep me otherwise occupied. So I nod, giving him a soft smile. I lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Okay, my love, please try not to go too crazy, will you?” I giggle. The request earns me a chuckle, and he looks up briefly to meet my gaze as I move to leave his study. 

“I shall do my best, my darling.” He says before turning back to his work, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right; as always, I shouldn’t waste away in this flat waiting for him to finish his work. 

So I do head out to town for a while. I walk the streets of downtown London in the warm spring air, breathing life into me. I stop at the market to see what fresh flowers they’ve got. Baker Street could certainly use a touch of color, and I know Sherlock won’t mind. After picking out a few bunches, my basket full of florals, herbs, and a few baked goods, I make my way back to the flat. It’s late afternoon now. I busy myself arranging the flowers in vases and putting away my other goods. 

I still haven’t heard a sound from Sherlock. Peeking my head into his study, I see he’s still right where I left him. I sighed and shook my head. With nothing better to do I join him in his study. I scan his shelves for something to read, it’s been one of our favorite ways to spend quiet time together lately. Lying together in the garden, reading our respective stories. I look over at him again; still lost in his work, he’s probably barely even noticed my presence. Finding a story that is a particular favorite of mine I curl up on the chaise and open the book. 

This may not have been nearly as good an idea as I’d thought. Since I woke this morning, I’ve been craving Sherlock's affections. Sitting so close now, only to be ignored and left unnoticed, has only annoyed me. I let out a huff, sitting up and looking over at his desk… nothing. I sigh and turn back to my book. I lie back, settling in again, struggling to get comfortable. Another hour passes. Or at least it feels like an hour. I suppose I can’t be sure. And I feel as if I’m going to go insane. I let out a groan of frustration.

“Not enjoying the story?” He asked, a smirk on his lips. He’s far too smart to believe that is the source of my plight. I pull back from my book far enough for him to see me roll my eyes, and he chuckles. “I do so love watching you squirm.” He says with a dark glint in his eye. And finally, he lays down his pen and slams his book shut. I raise an eyebrow at him, not daring to speak a word, but my eyes are full of challenge. 

“I was hoping to spend a nice relaxing evening with you, my darling,” he teases. “But seem’s you needs an attitude adjustment.” He’s standing behind me, his breath hot on my ear as he purrs. “Am I going to have to fuck it out of you darling? Or are you going to apologize for being so bratty and impatient?” My mouth goes dry, and my body is suddenly on fire. 

“S-sherlock.” I gasp. “I- my love, I didn’t intend to … I-” I stutter, trying to find the words, but it seems all competent thoughts have left me. This is just how he wants me. This is exactly what I meant, Sherlock is no angel. He likes to play dirty. Make me flustered and shy and needy. He won’t stop until I’m begging. Nothing gives him more pleasure than making me tell him all the dirty things I’d love him to do to me. All it takes is a look, and he has me melting. And as annoyed with him as I am for turning me into a brainless, incompetent, desperate woman. He knows this is exactly what I’ve been needing all day. 

He chuckles and steps around the sofa, standing in front of me. He takes the book from my hands, tossing it to the side. He leans over me, a primal look in his eye as his knee gently parts my thighs and he hovers over me on the sofa. 

“What didn’t you intend to do, my love? Hmm? Did you not intend to huff and pout for my attention? Is that it?” He smirks, nipping playfully at my ear as he chuckles darkly.  “You just forgot your words, didn’t you darling, just forgot how to ask properly. It’s alright, my sweet. I’ll remind you.” He purrs his lips trailing down my jaw and neck as his tongue traces my collar bone. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” I pant, my chest heaving. Instinctively, I tilt my head back to allow him better access. He lets out a feral growl, and his hands squeeze my hips possessively as he starts to explore my body with his touch. 

“Oh, I know you are my sweet. And I’m going to give you the attention you so badly need.” He smirks, his hands slide under my skirt gripping my thighs, a low growl escaping him as he kisses my neck. I let out a soft needy moan my body arching into his my thighs naturally spreading to make room for him. He chuckles his breath tickling my skin where he’s biting at my collarbone. 

“Still so impatient; you haven’t learned your lesson, have you my darling?” he cradles my face in his hands, kissing me passionately. His tongue explored my mouth as we kissed. When he pulls back, he grabs my wrist, nearly dragging me off the chaise. Before I can begin to fall, he catches me, holding me against his chest. “Now what should I do with you?” He purrs. I look up at him, my eyes blown wide with lust and desire. 

“Sherlock, please,” I begged, my voice weak and pathetic. He lets out a low growl that I can feel deep in his chest. He grabs me around the waist, picking me up he holds me tightly with one arm as the other sweeps the papers from his desk.  He sets me down and steps between my parted thighs.

“Please what, my love? Hmm?  Ask for what you want darling.” He teases his hand, slowly creeping up my thigh again. his fingers graze the fabric of my panties, and my breath hitches. 

“I-I can’t.” I blush, biting my lip. Sherlock chuckles his other hand gripping my chin to make me look at him. 

“Yes, you can, sweetheart. You’ve had those filthy little desires playing in your head all day. And I want to hear every detail,” he growls. My breath catches in my throat as I hold his gaze. 

“T-touch me,” I beg and grab his wrist, pressing his fingers more firmly against my core. “Here, please,” I whine. Sherlock lets out another low growl, capturing my lips in a searing kiss as he starts to slowly rub me through my panties. I whimper and arch into his body. 

“So wet already. You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He smirks, and finally, he slips his fingers beneath the fabric of my panties, pushing two inside me, curling them as he starts to pump them in and out. I let out a desperate mewl, my hips moving, grinding on his hand. He moves his thumb to rub circles on my clit. He smirks as he watches my face contort with pleasure.  “That’s it, my love. So beautiful when you’re like this. So desprate for my affection. He adds a third finger and pumps them faster, curling them just right so I’m seeing starts. My hands come up to clutch his shirt, my thighs shaking and head falling back, letting out a needy moan. My walls clamp around his fingers gushing on his hand. 

“Oh sherlock!” I whimper, panting as I come down from my orgasm. 

“That was beautiful sweetheart,” He smiles, kissing me tenderly. “We’re far from done. You know that, don’t you?” he teases. I giggle, nodding shyly. Without further preamble, he tears open my blouse, his eyes raking over me hungrily. He tears off his own shirt, tossing it aside, and cups my face, kissing me passionately. He gently pushes me back, laying me back on the desk, his lips trailing down my body. He stops when he gets to my breasts squeezing them softly and leaning down to capture my nipple in his mouth sucking and flicking with his tongue. I moan loudly, my back arching, pushing my breast further against his mouth. 

He groans sucking soflty and then swithing to give attention to the other breasts. He shoves up my skirt, bunching it around my waist, and then fumbles with his zipper. 

“I can’t wait be inside you,” He moans. I gasp as I feel the thick head of his cock brush through my folds

“My love, please, I need to feel you filling me. Make me whole.” I beg. With a feral growl, he surges forward, sheathing himself inside my tight heat. He lets out a groan, giving me only a moment to adjust before he sets a punishing pace. 

“Fuck,” He moans. “You’re so tight, so perfect, darling. Is this what you needed, my sweet? To be filled and taken. Reminded who you belong to?” I nod and let out a breathy moan. He pulls my leg up around his hip and drives into me deeper. The angle allows him to hit that perfect spot deep within me. My eyes roll back, and I feel myself climbing to my high. 

“My perfect girl,” sherlock praises his as he brings his thumb between us to rub my clit. My body shakes beneath him as he captures my lips in another searing kiss.” Thats it, my love. Let go,” he coos. “Let me feel all your pent up desire and love as you cum for me.” he encourages. I feel my pussy spasming on his cock and he growls “Good girl,” With those words I tumble over the edge my toes curling my head falling back gushing on his cock as my body trembles with pleasure. 

“Sherlock!” I cry out as my orgasm crashes over me and he fucks me through it. I feel his hips start to falter and he takes my hand pinning my wrists to the desk as he fucks me, his breathing ragged as he lets out a string of incoheart praises. 

“Yes,.. fuck.. You’re perfect, my love. Gonna fill you with my seed… such a good girl for me. Take it all, darling.” He growls in my ear, his body going stiff as he releases inside me. His hips jerk softly as he works himself through his orgasm. 

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies connected and whole. With a soft groan, Sherlock stands and slowly pulls out of me. He takes my hand, helping me sit up on the desk. He cups my face and peppers it with kisses, pulling back and searching my face for any sign of discomfort. “Are you alright, my love?” He asked, his voice soft and tender. I nod a satisfied smile on my lips.

“Yes darling, I’m perfect.” I giggle. “I am sorry for being such a brat when I’m being needy.” I blush, ducking my head to tuck myself against his chest. Sherlock chuckles. 

“I know you are, my sweet. the truth is.” He says with a slight smirk in his voice. “I quite enjoy it, I was finished with my work hours ago. But I do so enjoy watching you squirm.” He winks.

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