#and sorry this took a little while to get to

[elia-the-bibliophile]

Hey I have this Charles x reader request in mind where they're in a backstreet relationship and someone is being rude to her while she's in Monaco? the rest of how the story goes is up to you:)

Protective Boyfriend Mode (Charles Leclerc x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count : 2,8k

Dating Charles Leclerc in secret has its perks.

For starters, Y/N doesn’t have to dodge the metaphorical tomatoes hurled by the public just yet. The judgment, the microscopic scrutiny, and the sky-high expectations that come with being a WAG? She’s more than happy to keep those at bay for now.

Y/N doesn’t mind that the world has no clue she's dating Charles. What really counts is how he treats her when they’re away from prying eyes. Who needs the world to know when she gets the best version of him, away from the cameras and the chaos?

His family, of course, is in on the secret and backs her decision to stay incognito. Honestly, Y/N doesn’t need the publicity circus that would erupt if they went public. She enjoys her peaceful, average life, free from paparazzi ambushes and social media execution.

Sometimes, Y/N can’t help but indulge in a little harmless online stalking of Charles’ exes—Giada Gianni, Charlotte Siné, Alexandra Saint-Mleux. These women look like they’ve stepped straight out of a magazine cover, and she has zero shame in admitting it. Envy is one of the seven deadly sins for a reason, and let’s face it, she’s only human.

What really gets her is trying to figure out why on earth Charles latched onto her after dating these goddesses. It’s like he stepped out of a sleek Ferrari and decided to cruise around on a humble bicycle.

She swings between feeling like the luckiest girl alive and wondering if he might need a stronger prescription for his glasses. The whole situation leaves her scratching her head and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

────────────────────────────────────

Today, everything grated on her nerves. Her hair looks like it could fry chips. Her skin is dull enough to blend into the wallpaper. The toaster has chosen today of all days to go on strike. To top it off, her co-workers keep bombarding her with Teams calls without even checking if she’s available. If she could rate this day, it would get a solid 0 out of 10.

“Can this day get any worse?” she mutters to herself, glancing at her reflection. “Y/N, you’re one bad hair day away from looking like Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Her laptop buzzes with another Teams call. She groans and answers, forcing a smile. “Hi, Harvey. Can I help you?”

“Hey, Y/N! Quick question—”

“Harvey, quick question for you: Did you check if I’m available?”

“Uh, no?”

“Exactly, so please, next time, do me a solid and check if I'm available before hitting that call button, okay?”

Just then, her phone buzzes with a text from Charles.

“Hope your day’s going better than mine! My helmet decided to play hide and seek.”

She snickers and types back.

“At least your helmet’s hiding. The toaster just gave up on life.”

“I'm really sorry about your day, ma chérie. But I promise to make it better. I'll swing by your favorite bakery and bring back a ridiculous amount of cakes just for you.”

That earned a smile out of her. Trust Charles to know exactly what she needs.

As Y/N tries to shake off the day's frustrations, she decides to distract herself by scrolling through Instagram. Among the posts, one catches her eye—a recent upload from Jasmine Tookes, her celebrity crush since forever. Jasmine looks stunning, as always, flaunting a gorgeous Yves Saint Laurent bag in cherry red that's absolutely to die for.

Y/N can practically feel the allure of the bag through the screen, and an idea sparks in her mind. The YSL boutique is just a short walk away.

“Maybe a little retail therapy is just what I need to salvage this day,” she muses aloud.

Without giving it a second thought, she grabs her purse and heads out the door.

────────────────────────────────────

As Y/N steps into the YSL boutique, she's greeted by the scent of a distinct perfume mingled with a hint of leather. The store is relatively empty, save for a few tourists browsing the shelves. Undeterred, Y/N scans the display case, her eyes searching for that coveted cherry-red bag she spotted on Jasmine Tookes' Instagram.

From her peripheral vision, she notices a couple of sales assistants giving her a once-over, but no one approaches her. She shrugs it off, relishing the freedom to browse at her own pace. Finally, she spots the bag she's been dreaming of and makes her way over to it.

“Excuse me,” she calls out to one of the nearby sales assistants politely. “Could you tell me about the stock availability and the price of this bag?”

The sales assistant approaches, but when she begins speaking in French, Y/N's heart sinks. She's not fluent in French, and she quickly apologizes, asking if they could switch to English instead.

There's a momentary hesitation from the sales assistant, who seems to be holding back an eye-roll, before reluctantly switching to English. The demeanor, however, turns chilly, and Y/N can't shake the feeling of being judged.

“I'm sorry, but that particular item is not available,” the sales assistant replies curtly, her tone dripping with condescension. “Perhaps you should try checking other stores that may be more suited to your purchasing ability.”

Y/N's cheeks flush with frustration, her jaw clenching as she tries to maintain her composure. She can't believe she's being treated this way in a store she loves. Taking a deep breath, she forces a polite smile, trying not to cause a scene.

“Excuse me,” she says as politely as she can muster, her voice trembling slightly. “May I ask what made you say that to me?”

The sales assistant's gaze hardens, her tone dripping with disdain. “Maybe you should look into a mirror and see your own appearance today.”

Y/N's eyes widen in disbelief. So what if she's just dressed in a plain t-shirt and linen pants? Is minimalism suddenly not cool anymore?

Y/N retorts, her voice edged with disbelief. “Are you seriously judging me based on how I look? Last time I checked, being a customer wasn't contingent on wearing a designer outfit.”

As she speaks, Y/N notices some discreetly filming tourists nearby, their expressions mirroring her shock and disbelief. She feels a surge of vindication knowing she's not the only one appalled by the sales assistant's behavior.

Y/N's fists clench tighter at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she struggles to contain her rising anger. The sales assistant's dismissive wave and condescending tone only serve to fuel the fire burning within her.

“Madame, this is a respected establishment,” the SA says, her voice dripping with thinly veiled contempt. “Please take your leave.”

Y/N's jaw tightens, her frustration reaching its peak. She opens her mouth to retort, to unleash the torrent of words building up inside her, but then she stops. What's the point? Arguing with someone who clearly lacks any sense of professionalism would only waste her energy.

With a deep breath to steady herself, Y/N turns on her heel and strides out of the store, her head held high despite the humiliation burning in her chest. She refuses to let this one encounter ruin her day, but she also knows she won't be returning to that boutique anytime soon.

────────────────────────────────────

By the time Charles arrived home, juggling two bulging shopping bags filled with an assortment of delectable cakes, he could practically taste the sour mood emanating from Y/N. Despite her attempts to shrug off whatever had bothered her, Charles refused to let it slide.

He set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a soft thud, his brow furrowed in concern as he approached Y/N. “Hey, bébé , what's wrong?” he asked gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Y/N forced a tight smile, trying to brush off his concern. “Oh, it's nothing, Charles. Just a little hiccup. Not worth your energy, really.”

But Charles wasn't about to let it go that easily. He could sense her distress, and he wasn't one to stand idly by when someone he cared about was upset.

Before he could press further, Charles' phone rang, signaling an incoming text message. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he glanced at the screen, seeing the name Lorenzo flashing across it. The text sounded urgent, almost concerned, and Charles felt a knot form in his stomach as he read the words: “You need to see this.”

Curiosity mingled with dread as Charles opened the message, his heart sinking as he watched the video attached to it. There, playing out on his phone screen, was footage taken by a tourist earlier at the YSL store. His jaw clenched in anger as he watched Y/N being treated with such disrespect, her humiliation on full display for the world to see.

He curses under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides as he paces back and forth in the living room. His mind racing with thoughts of how to address the situation.

Charles then gently takes Y/N's hands in his own, his expression softening with concern as he looks into her eyes. “Why didn't you tell me about this right away?”

Y/N's smile falters slightly, and he can see the sadness lurking behind her eyes, but she quickly masks it with a playful tone. “Ah, you know me, always trying to avoid unnecessary drama,” she says, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the situation. “Besides, sometimes people are just assholes, right?”

Her attempt at humor falls a bit flat, and Charles can't help but feel a pang of guilt for not being there to protect her. He squeezes her hands gently, his voice filled with determination. “You shouldn't have to deal with this alone, Y/N. I'm here for you.”

Y/N gives him a small, grateful smile, but he can tell she's still trying to downplay the situation. “Hey,” she says, her tone lightening, “at least people will think it's just a video of some random person being treated badly in a luxury brand store. They won't know it's Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, right? So, let's just let it go and move on.”

She tries to lighten the mood with a joke, but Charles can sense the underlying tension beneath her words. He knows she's just trying to protect him from the inevitable media storm that would follow if the video gained more traction.

But Charles can't shake the feeling of anger and frustration bubbling inside him. He wants to defend her honor, to make sure she never has to endure such treatment again.

Reluctantly, he nods, forcing a small smile of his own. “Okay chérie. Let's just focus on enjoying these cakes, shall we?”

────────────────────────────────────

The very next day, unbeknownst to Y/N, Charles decides to pay a visit to the YSL store. With a determined look in his eyes, he discreetly asks for the service of the sales assistant who humiliated Y/N.

Colette, the SA in question, practically beams with excitement and arrogance when she learns that Charles Leclerc has requested her personally. Straightening her posture, she approaches him with an air of self-importance.

“How may I be of service, Monsieur Leclerc?” Colette asks, her tone laced with enthusiasm.

Pathetic. Charles thought to himself.

He adopts a casual demeanor, pretending to browse the store as if looking for a gift for his girlfriend. “I'm looking for something special for my girlfriend,” he says casually, noting the way Colette's eyes light up at the mention of his romantic status.

Colette tries to contain her excitement, feigning nonchalance as she responds, “Oh, I wasn't aware you had a new girlfriend since your breakup with Alexandra Saint-Mleux. She is also a regular customer here.”

Charles decides to play along, a dangerous glint in his eye as he says, “Yes, my current girlfriend is a very private person. She prefers to stay out of the spotlight.”

Curiosity getting the better of her, Colette can't help but ask, “May I see a picture of her? Just in case she happens to come by, I'd love to be able to assist her.”

Charles smirks inwardly, knowing this is his moment to turn the tables. “Sure, why not?” he replies, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his gallery.

As he shows Colette a picture of himself and Y/N together, he watches with satisfaction as the color drains from her face, her eyes widening in shock and recognition.

Colette's apologies pour out in a torrent, her voice trembling as she stammers out excuses. “I-I had no idea, Monsieur Leclerc! If I had known, I would never have acted that way. Please, forgive me!”

Charles maintains a cool and collected demeanor, but his words are razor-sharp as he addresses Colette. “Your behavior reflects poorly on the brand,” he says icily, his tone dripping with disdain. “Perhaps they should consider terminating your employment for such unprofessional conduct.”

Charles's threat hangs in the air like a storm cloud, and Colette's eyes widen in alarm as she realizes the gravity of her mistake. She scrambles to salvage the situation. “Monsieur Leclerc, please, I assure you, this is not how we typically treat our customers. I'm deeply sorry for any inconvenience I've caused.”

But Charles remains unmoved, his defensive stance unwavering as he delivers his next line with a sharp edge. “I suggest you think twice before treating customers so disrespectfully in the future,” he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Colette can only nod, her eyes downcast in shame as she mumbles yet another apology.

Seeing the tension escalate, the store manager, who has been discreetly observing the commotion, rushes over to where they are. He offers his own profuse apologies, his tone filled with urgency. “Monsieur Leclerc, I am terribly sorry for the behavior of my staff. This is unacceptable, and I assure you, Colette will be disciplined for her actions.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Disciplined, you say? Well, I suppose that's a start. But perhaps I should take my business elsewhere, like Dior or Chanel.”

The store manager's eyes widen in alarm at the suggestion of losing such a high-profile customer. “No, Monsieur Leclerc, please, we value your patronage! I assure you, this will not happen again. Please, allow us to make it right.”

Charles offers a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate your swift action, but I do hope this serves as a lesson for your staff moving forward.”

He then gestures towards the display. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to purchase the bag my girlfriend had her eye on.”

The store manager nods hurriedly, signaling to a nearby assistant to fetch the bag. As they scurry to fulfill Charles' request, the manager returns with a bouquet of peonies wrapped elegantly.

“Please accept these peonies as a gesture of our sincere apology,” the manager says, offering the flowers to Charles. “We hope this helps to make amends for the madame.”

Charles accepts the bouquet with a nod. “Thank you,” he says, his tone clipped. “I'm sure my girlfriend will appreciate the thoughtfulness. She's far more forgiving than I am, fortunately for you.”

────────────────────────────────────

Y/N is furiously typing away on her laptop when the front door swings open. She squints at the figure entering the room, only to catches sight of her boyfriend holding something suspiciously behind his back.

“Baby, what are you up to now?” she teases, a grin spreading across her face.

He feigns innocence. “Oh, just a little surprise for my favorite woman.”

Y/N's eyes sparkle with anticipation as she eagerly stands up, her curiosity piqued. “Oh, do tell!”

In a dramatic motion, Charles presents her with the unmistakable YSL bag. Y/N's jaw practically hits the floor as she exclaims, “Oh, no, you didn't!”

Charles chuckles, unable to contain his amusement. “Oh yes, I did, chérie. And just wait until you see what's inside!”

Excitedly, Y/N opens the bag, her eyes widening in awe as she pulls out the coveted item. She tries it on with exaggerated walk, striking poses as if she's on a runaway.

Charles watches her with a mixture of adoration and amusement, his heart swelling with love for this wonderful person.

But then, amidst her excitement, Y/N's expression turns serious as she asks about the sales assistant.

Charles adopts a mock serious tone, his eyebrows shooting up in faux concern. “Well you know, she's just taking a little timeout to contemplate the error of her ways.” he replies, his gaze flickering with a hint of satisfaction.

Y/N's eyes widen in surprise, but before she can inquire further, Charles pulls her into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

“And also,” Charles adds, “they threw in some peonies.”

“Peonies? Are they trying to bribe me with flowers now?”

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, considering the ordeal you went through, I'd say they owe you a bouquet or two.”

Y/N playfully rolls her eyes. “I hope they at least remembered to include a card with a heartfelt apology from the SA.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “You mean the 'Sorry we were jerks, here are some flowers' card?”

They both dissolve into laughter, the absurdity of the situation not lost on them. It's moments like these that make even the most frustrating experiences worth it.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 #f1 blurb #f1 fandom #formula 1 x female reader #f1 one shot #formula one oneshot #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 #cl16 x y/n #cl16 one shot #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 fic #cl16 fluff

[nervoussagittarius]

y/n and matt being the hottest couple for 4 minutes straight

matt sturniolo x influencer!reader

summary: hot moments caught on camera between matt and his girlfriend

warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive, i think that’s it

★ “hey baby will you film a tiktok with me?” you asked, lifting your head off of matt’s chest. it was a simple lip sync video to ‘spin bout u’ by drake. matt replied with a small nod before ushering the two of you over to his desk chair, placing you on his lap. you sent him a smile of gratitude.

matt wrapped his arms around you pulling you deeper into his chest. his head rested on your shoulder from behind. your phone was propped up on a random drink bottle, and you could feel matt’s eyes on you as you set up a good angle. his gaze was set on your face through the screen in front of him. a slight smirk could be found on his lips.

when the sound was heard you both easily remembered the words and began to sing along.

put hands on you in the past

insecure because your body is precious

matt’s hands began to roam from your abdomen to trail down the sides of your thighs. you glanced back at him slightly to see a devious look on his face.

four words when i think about them is crusty, musty, dusty, rusty

both of your focuses were back on your phone screen for only a second before you found each others eyes.

eight words then i think about us is fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me

you looked up at matt through your lashes before your hand reached around to play with his hair. the playful look in his eyes was replaced with a seductive one, not going unnoticed by your fans.

★ today you decided to get ready and do your makeup while on a live stream. this wasn’t uncommon. you often went live when you were by yourself or bored. it felt like a facetime call with your friends. you spent a majority of the time answering questions or talking about your day thus far.

matt walked into your house and upon hearing your talking he assumed you were on a phone call. he made his way to your room to find you sitting in front of your mirror. he quickly walked to you and placed his hands on your shoulders to greet you.

his mouth found your neck soon after and began placing short pecks on it. “hi baby. i missed you.” he said in between kisses. a blush took over your face in no time. you hoped the live stream viewers didn’t catch on to the needy tone in matt’s voice.

your comments came flying in. all talking about matt’s actions. “matt. i’m live.” you got out as fast as you could.

his head quickly popped up to notice the placement of you phone only to put his head hidden back into your shoulder with a groan of faked annoyance. you laughed at his actions. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know.” he drug out, causing you to laugh even harder.

you spent the next 5 minutes covering up the red mark forming on your neck.

★ you had finally convinced matt to go to one of tara’s parties. he missed out on her one million party and you were destined to make sure he had a fun at this one.

with the help of nick and chris you were able to hype him up enough. you went as far as giving him little incentives if he reached certain time stamps throughout the night. matt wasn’t complaining about this in the slightest. what you both were unaware of though, was that tara had multiple people filming her party that night.

“will you come dance with me?” you asked matt as you slid your hands up his chest. he wasn’t going to deny his girl a dance. any chance to be close to you was enough for him.

matt kept a comforting hand on your lower back as he directed you both through seas of drunk partygoers. his hands found your waist as you both moved to the rhythm of the song playing.

“you look beautiful. i’m so in love with you.” matt had said while leaning into your ear. it was hard to hear what he was saying over the loud music.

“thank you for coming. i’m glad you’re having a good time.” you responded in the same manner. the song changed and you began to slowly grind into matt at the new tempo. matt’s grip tighten on you and you ran your hands through his hair and down his neck.

tara posted her video a week after the party and at this point most occurrences were put to the back of your head. almost instantly you and matt were being tagged in endless videos of you two throughout the night. a fan favorite was you guys dancing together.

comments:

GODDAMN

i don’t know which one i want to be atp

i think they do these things on purpose now

they have to know they’re the hottest couple out there

i must be doing something wrong.

an: a bit shorter but i think they’re cute and i love matt x influencer

taglist: @norr1ssturni0lo @recklessmatt @luvr4miya @hpyjw @unbruisable @watercolorskyy @elliewrites1 @rheaasturn @slxt4matt @mmay4ever @aurizp

#nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #mattsturniolo #matt x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic

[greg-montgomery]

the latest hotch x sunshine reader fic?

u think u ate with that?

no.

U DEVOUREDDDDDD. GRRRRRRRRRRR

part 2 now mama i love u so much

bestieee thank you omg!!!! <3 i hope you like part 2!!

part 1

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Spencer took a deep breath staring at his desk. On any other day it would be due to the amount of paperwork waiting for him, but this time it was a cup of his favorite coffee order, a muffin, and a chocolate croissant, all sitting right on top of the report he was working on.

He wasn’t ungrateful for the treats, but he would rather enjoy them if they weren’t accompanied by three pairs of wide eyes looking at him, while searching for answers in return.

Emily threw her head back dramatically. “Come on, give us something.”

“They’re on a date right now, aren’t they? That’s why he left early. I know you know,” Penelope said. “I know you do. Rossi knows too, but he won’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, “Every time we ask he says nothing and just…smirks at us.”

“Please, you’re our last hope.”

Spencer took a bite of his muffin and smirked.

“You’re even worse than him,” Emily said and pointed at him.

“Come on, girls. Let’s go hack Hotch’s phone.”

“No, wait!”

--

Was it silly to start planning your wedding on a first date?

Maybe it was; you didn’t care. Because there was no way Aaron was not your future husband.

He did everything perfectly: he picked you up from your house, got you flowers, did not let you touch a door handle, paid for your dinner date, and let you play your music during the car ride.

Aaron also smiled a lot and the sight of it made you melt into your seat. It wasn’t often that a man gave you butterflies by just one look or with the sound of his laughter.

“What are you in the mood for now?”

The last thing you wanted was for the date to end, so instead of suggesting you walk back to his car you made a different offer.

“Let’s get ice cream!”

He chuckled, but you could already tell he would not say no to you. “Okay.”

You were walking side by side and even though you were already falling in love with his warm voice it was hard to pay attention to his words. Your mind was too occupied thinking about his arm swinging next to yours and how bad you wanted to hold hands with him.

Did he want it too? Would he think it’s childish to hold hands?

What if you just…did it?

Life’s too short, you thought and grabbed his hand.

Yes, you had not been paying attention to what he'd been saying but you did notice how he stopped mid-sentence when your hands touched. Was he mad?

Your heart was jumping against your chest, afraid you did something stupid. Aaron was quick to ease your anxiety, intertwining your fingers and squeezing gently your hand.

He wanted this too.

He cleared his throat. “So it’s um…a good chance to…”

With the side of your eye, you caught him turning his head to stare at you. You hadn’t wiped the grin off your face from the sudden hand holding yet, and he saw it.

His dimples made an appearance, and as your grin got bigger you noticed he blushed.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you giggled.

The sound of Aaron’s phone ringing interrupted your moment.

“Sorry, I have to get this,” he said.

You, of course, didn’t mind. Even though he hadn’t said so himself, you knew he had left right on time – early in Hotch’s terms - from work just for your date. Perks of being best friends with your date’s subordinate was getting to have this kind of inside information.

“Hotchner,” he said sternly.

You stayed quiet.

“What? I didn’t authorize this.”

Oh.

“No. And I trust this won’t happen again.”

Oh…Maybe you liked this side of him a little bit more than you should.

“Thanks,” he said, and hung up. “I’m sorry about that.”

I’m not.

“No, it’s okay! It’s fascinating observing you being a boss.”

“You like observing people?”

“Why, are you interested in hiring me?” you teased.

“Oh, I would never.”

“Why not?” you asked, acting offended.

“I would not be able to focus on a case with you around.”

You took advantage of the fact you were on a sidewalk and stopped walking, turning your body to face him. “And why is that?”

Aaron moved closer and dropped your hand only to cup the side of your head. His thumb moved back and forth on your cheek and his eyes on yours made you feel dizzy.

“Because you take my breath away.”

And with his next move he took yours. Maybe you’d actually faint if he didn’t pull you in and place his lips on yours.

Your hands moved to his tie with the intention of pulling him even closer to your body. His kiss was heavenly and you really wouldn’t mind if you were to stay like that forever.

Yeah…there was no way Aaron Hotchner was not your future husband.

#writing hotch fluff to deal with life!! #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #ask #hotch 🪐

[zyafics]

finish line | rafe cameron

masterlist (one shot)

pairing rafe cameron x maybank! female reader

summary when your little brother has to forfeit a race against rafe, he seeks your help to replace him and win. what he doesn’t know is your own relationship with the kook prince, and what it means if you win. — reader type bitch(!), bike-savvy, intelligent, protective of jj, head-strong and stubborn, uses a dab pen!

content (10.0k words) 18+, smut, dominance play, handjob, cockwarming, oral (female receiving), spitting, face riding, unprotected p in v sex, position(s): cowgirl and doggy style, creampie, edging, bulge + size kink, lots of banters and arguments, lots of moments between jj and reader!

dedication to @sadfury for inspiring me with ur maybank! reader <3 sorry this took me ages 😭

lıllılı If We Being Reäl by Yeat and ONE CALL by Rich Amiri

You were painting your nails when JJ barged into your room.

"What?" You look up from your desk, the cherry-red polish dripping from the brush to the bottle, while your little brother fills the entryway. He's wearing a white tank top, the fabric stained with oil grease because of how much time he spends tricking out his motorcycle.

"I need your help."

"Not surprised." You hum, resuming your paint job as you reach your pinky finger.

He lets out a groan. "I'm serious."

"Heard that one before."

"Come on." JJ pouts. "You're not listening to me."

You turn, your brother slumps his shoulders and puts both hands in a prayer. "I am. Have you ever heard of multitasking?"

"Since when did you learn to do that?"

You grab the nearest object—your expired dab pen—and chuck it in his direction. It hits him square in the chest, which is odd considering he often dodges your attacks, before falling to the ground with a small thud.

"What do you want, you little bastard?" You snarl, finishing off the last coat of your polish. When you do, you twist your focus back to JJ, giving him your undivided attention.

He lets out a boyish grin. "Y'know how you're my favorite sister?"

"I'm your only sister."

"Y'know how you love me?"

"On my good days."

"Can you just be agreeable for once?"

"Spit it out." You let out a growl of annoyance, waving an impatient hand in his direction at his pathetic attempt at beating around the bush. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Classic."

"I mean, I'm not in any trouble. Yet."

The yet is worrisome. JJ is notorious for landing himself into trouble, more times than you can take him out. You gave up on telling him not to get involved in stupid activities because it's in the Maybank bloodline to gravitate towards drama. But you told him that if he continues to do so, he has to handle his own. To not rely on you too much. He listened—begrudgingly.

The first couple of times after your warning, he would contact you for any misdemeanors he caused with the local police and when you stopped answering the calls, he got the message. The only time he asks for your help is when it comes to your father and that's the only exception you make.

"I entered into a race." He begins slowly, running a hand through his blond hair, which has gotten lighter from his time spent under the sun.

You consider his words with caution. "Right."

"And y'know how they have those stupid fees for entry?"

"You mean to make a profit?"

"Yeah, that," he nods, rolling his eyes at you as if you were the dumb one. "Well, I took Luke's stash in order to do it."

"You did what?"

Standing from your chair, your brother flinches at your abrupt motion, hitting his back against your door. It's so unlike him.

There's a rule when it comes to money: don't mess with Luke's. He uses it for whatever self-mediating bullshit he can get his hands on: drugs, alcohol, even the occasional gambling bets. However, one good thing about the bastard is that he leaves you alone. Let you do whatever you want if it doesn't involve his money.

But if it does?

You're fucked.

"'Swear I was gonna win it back. He wouldn't even noticed it was missin' in the first place."

You inhale a sharp breath, staring daggers at him while you devise a solution. You could pick up an extra shift at your job to pay the difference, but it depends on the amount.

"How much?"

He hesitates before answering. "$750."

"Seven hundred—" You had to turn away. You were going to strangle your brother to death if you looked at him any longer. There's absolutely no way in hell you would be able to cover that. Not before your father notices the missing dent in his stash that he weekly partakes from.

"The payout was gonna be triple that amount. And you know how good I am with a bike, I was gonna win—easy. I thought it was a good idea."

You give him some leeway. He is a good racer, as much as it pains you to admit, and he entered in a couple of smaller bets before which he won in a landslide.

"So what's the problem?" You ask with an edge to your voice. If JJ had this entire contingency plan, the only reason he's coming to you isn't the money. Or Luke. It's something much worse.

"I can't ride."

Your expression breaks. Your first instinct is to scan his face and figure, checking for any bodily injuries. To make sure your little brother is okay. When you don't discover anything other than surface-level scratches, you turn back to him with a raised brow. "Why not?"

"I haven't gotten off my high."

"What?"

You cross the small room in two strides before grabbing his face, tipping his head backwards, and pulling his eyelids open with your thumbs. There you discover the problem: his pupils are dilated, pitch-black. “What did you take?”

“Something new at the Chateau with John B. 'Thought it was just another blunt, but it hit much harder. I can’t balance and my vision is shot. I can’t drive tonight.”

You inhale a steady breath, letting him go. “It’s tonight?”

"Yeah, and I know you don't do that anymore, but I need your help. Dad's gonna kill me if he finds out I lost his money."

"I'm gonna kill you."

"Can it wait until after you save my ass?"

A few hours later, you find yourself on an empty road with the other contestants, adjusting the headset the organizer gave you. You scan the layout of the familiar course: surrounded by dense mangroves, the road is mostly flat, layered thick with moisture from the nearby marsh, with discarded branches and leaves scattered across the ground.

You're using JJ's signature bike, helmet and donning a similar attire to what he wears whenever he races. A black jacket that cloaks your figure, dark-washed jeans and fingerless gloves that allows you to have a better grip on the throttle.

The helmet is on, hiding your hair, and the visor is tinted with a thick coat that forces you to adjust for the loss of light. You've ridden before, but each motorcycle is different. Shifting your weight on JJ's bike, you try to remember the exact curves of the machine and stabilize it as an extension of you—rather than you and the vehicle.

"Hey, Maybank!" A familiar voice calls out over the roaring engines churning out clouds of thick smoke. You turn to find Rafe Cameron—Kook prince, entitled asshole, and someone you hooked up with, once, drunk, at a party.

You hate to admit he was one of the best lays you ever had.

"Surprised to see you here. Didn't think you could afford the cover." Rafe greets, his tone dripping with condescension.

You hum thoughtlessly, adjusting the gloves over your palms. Rafe huffs at your lack of response, rubbing his upper lip with his own gloved hand.

"I saw you rocking on your bike; you scared or something?" He jeers, attempting to catch you in a moment of relapse. "I mean, your bike's a piece of shit, so I'm not surprised."

You say nothing, scoffing into the headset where you know Rafe can hear. Since the track is long and wide, it can't connect everyone on the same frequency and is mainly used to connect you to the nearest player.

Without sparing Rafe any more attention, you move closer to the start of the line.

You do a mental headcount to tally the payouts. These things vary by race and entry, but each person has to pay the same fee. The person organizing the event takes a 30% cut out of the pot, which makes the stakes heighten with more competitors. With a brief overview of the crowd, you recognize there's more than what JJ anticipated. It isn't triple. Fuck, it could be six times the amount of your initial entry.

"Don't tell me that little comment already got under your skin. I haven't even gotten to half the shit I wanna say to you yet." Rafe announces into the fuzzy audio of the headset, coming up to the empty lot beside you. "How's your sister, by the way?"

You roll your eyes. Of course, Rafe would resort to you when it comes to pissing off your brother. It's good ammunition for getting him off his game.

But you're not JJ.

You had a retort on the tip of your tongue, but you decided to play it smart. Rafe thinking you're JJ could be an advantage for you.

A girl with a checkered flag steps in front of you. She sashays across the road, earning some wolf whistles, before holding up the banner, counting down. The moment she descends into one, you speed off.

The thing about riding is that you have to know your leans. More specifically, your physics. The goal is to reduce air resistance and friction—that's what slows you down. The best way is to tuck closer to the bike, tilting at an angle that minimizes the amount of contact your wheels have with the surface, thus removing the airflow hitting your profile.

You do just that.

Despite a shittier bike in comparison to your competitors, you ride past a couple of drivers, inching closer to Rafe leading at the front. He's utilizing the edge of the curve, another trick in the books, and when he discovers you on his tail, he turns in shock.

"How the fuck did you get here?"

You stiffen a laugh, shrugging your shoulders and sparing him a short glance before you accelerate. You admit, Rafe's bike is better—a sleek red model with stronger engine power and gear shift, but you had other conditions in your favor. You had your physics, the memory of the roadmap in the back of your hand, and a riveting spite that refuses to let Rafe gain victory.

Accelerating around one of the turns, you drive closer to Rafe to gain control of the edge, tilting your bike at a dangerous angle. You knew it would be a risk that could get you injured—especially on this specifically slick road—but it cuts off your surface contact by a significant amount, allowing you to speed up ahead of him.

You hear a muffled fuck over the reception.

That's how the rest of the race works. Rafe picks up on your little tricks and tries to mimic them, but they don't replicate well because he doesn't know the foundation. You speed ahead. He speeds ahead. It's a neck-and-neck contest that can be anyone's game.

"Come on, Maybank, you know you ain't gonna win," Rafe sneers with heavy breaths through the shared audio. "You're gonna fuck up your bike at the rate you're going."

You want to talk back. Desperately. But you hold onto your anonymity.

"You really think you're gonna win against me, Pogue?"

Silence.

Rafe's goading you, but you're not taking the bait. Your concentration is sharp, your focus paid straight. He'll never admit it, but it makes him nervous.

Ditching the vocal approach, Rafe decides on action. He leans closer, hoping to cut you off. You have since taken the edge from him, utilizing it with your mechanics, and he made it his next mission to push you off the tracks.

You aren't blind, you noticed. It's not illegal in the game—since this is an illegal race itself—but it's a dirty trick. Something you pull out when you're desperate.

That gives you a reading.

Rafe's so focused on making JJ lose, he's not even trying to win anymore.

Instead of chasing a direct route to the finish line, you decide to go off-road into a thin strip that can skim a few seconds off but is more dangerous. The construction site is still up, with scattered loose asphalt and split rock thrown across the narrow path, marked by a caution sign that reads slow down.

Tough luck.

Rafe concentrates on your wheels, trying to predict your next moves. When you change routes, he barely questions it and follows. You pull to the edge of the restricted path, luring him with an opening, and just as he's about to cut through—you tuck inwards and accelerate, twisting your bike in a quick curve that leans into your centripetal gravity.

This causes a torrent of loose pebbles, gravel, and rocks to be thrown at Rafe's direction, deflecting off his helmet but forcing him to slow to a stop. You take a few seconds of respite to increase your speed and turn back around, moving out of the tightly-wounded spot and onto the original path.

The more you ride, the larger the distance grows between you and Rafe until you cross the finish line.

Pulling to a halt, you park. While you wait, you check your nails to see if anything messed up.

Not a scratch.

The familiar roar of a strong engine closes in and the red motorcycle announces its arrival with a glaring headlight. Rafe crosses the finish line—second place—and does an awful parking job before throwing off his helmet, marching over to you.

"What was that, Maybank?" He snaps, closing the distance as he reaches for the collar of your jacket, lugging you towards him till you're face-to-face with your helmet still on. His hot breath fans against your visor. "Think you could pull that bullshit and not have to pay the consequences?"

You scoff, unfazed by his aggression and move to release your strap, his steel blue eyes following your every move.

He sees your nails, the recognition dawning slowly, before you pull off your helmet.

And the look on Rafe's face is incredible.

"Wrong Maybank," you correct with a smirk while his grip around your collar loosens. You set the helmet on your seat. "And next time, if you don't wanna play dirty, don't start something you can't finish."

"It's you."

His voice is indistinct, and his expression is unreadable. You don't know if his observation is a good or bad thing. Sure, the last time you two saw each other, you didn't exactly leave on the greatest terms. You left in the middle of the night after your one-night stand. He didn't call. You didn't try either.

"Yeah?" You challenge. "And what about it?"

He doesn't answer, the only show of emotion is the subtle tick in his jaw.

"Speechless, Cameron? Come on, you were talking my ear off during the race. What happened to that guy?"

You're taunting him but it feels good to deliver him a taste of his own medicine. Does he know how many good quips were lost during your race?

He doesn't say anything, his jaw wired shut.

"Don't tell me you're a sore loser," you tease, tipping your head up to meet his hardened gaze, lifting your hand to brush a strand of his hair—when he catches your wrist. A warning. Your smirk broadens. "Don't be like that. There's some consolation in watching my ass."

He doesn't answer, and you laugh, pulling your arm from his grip. The rest of the racers make it across the finish line, the murmuring of their engines signaling their defeat. You divert your attention to the organizer, who is declaring the winner.

"Gotta go, Cameron. Have to collect my prize." You say, hopping back on your bike.

Before you leave, you glance over your shoulders to Rafe, who hasn't moved from his spot, his piercing eyes following you.

"A little word of advice, next time, you should pay attention to the hands." You declare, flashing your nails to reveal the cherry-red polish. He says nothing, not even a compliment. "Watch what they can do."

With those parting words, you ride off, flipping your middle finger as you return home with your winnings.

The following day, you replace the stolen cash in your father's hidden canister and pocket the rest. While you thought it would be the end of it, JJ's trying his hardest to convince you to split the loot.

"Come on." JJ whines, sliding into a booth in your section. You're lucky there's barely any customers today, saved for a couple of locals in the middle of their lunch. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even have the money."

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have almost killed myself trying to win." You retort, claiming the seat in front of him.

He scoffs. "Tell me about it, you cleaned out my tires."

He's referring to the fact that due to the advanced techniques you used during the race, his bike wasn't able to handle the pressure and smoothed out the ribs of the tread pattern.

"It’s your fault you didn’t invest in better wheels."

"Maybe with the money I can,"

You scoff, pulling your dab pen from the pocket of your work apron and taking a long hit, exhaling the strawberry-flavored smoke.

JJ says your name with a pout.

"No." You declare firmly, irritation bubbling in your chest. "I won it. I keep it. It's as simple as that."

"You're such a bitch," he slumps back against his seat, toying with the salt-and-pepper shakers on the corner of the table. "No love for your baby brother."

Even though he's guilt-tripping you, a part of you is considering it. Not because you want to concede to his manipulation, but rather because you do have an obligation to take care of him, no matter how annoying he can be. Before you reach a decision, the bell dings to signal the arrival of a new customer.

Rafe surveys the diner before he lands on you.

"Why is one of the Powerpuff Girls coming over here?"

You shrug, unable to provide him with a sufficient answer, when Rafe stops just in front of your booth.

You raise a bored brow, exhaling another puff. "Table for one?"

"Like I would be caught dead in a place like this."

"Yet, here you are." You wave a hand out to the open diner. "Would you like to try our takeout option?"

JJ stiffens a laugh behind his closed fist and Rafe glares at him. "Don't you have someplace to be, Pogue?"

Your brother clears his throat. "Yeah, actually, haven't you heard? I was with your mom last night—"

"Hey," you snap your fingers in front of Rafe, dragging his attention away from entertaining your loose cannon of a brother who's itching for a confrontation. You know topics about Rafe's mother are a hushed topic around the town, and you'd rather not deal with it. "That's enough. What do you want, Cameron?"

Rafe's objective was to talk to you alone, in private, but seeing as you won't be willing to move, he had to settle on the open discussion.

"I want a rematch."

"Really?" You pretend to consider the offer. "No thanks."

"It wasn't a fair race."

"For me or for you?" You turn your body to him, tilting your head. "If I remember correctly, you tried to push me off the road."

"And you led me astray and drove rocks at me," he retorts, flicking his eyes to catch a subtle peek of your short work attire. He grits down on his teeth, returning his focus back to your face. "Look, it doesn't matter. I just want another race with you."

You shrug. "I don't care."

His jaw ticks.

You would consider the deal if there were any appealing proposals he could give, but there are none. You have no skin in the game. You have no reason to engage. You chalk up Rafe's reaction as his inability to accept a no once in his life.

"Anything else?"

He doesn't respond.

Without anything substantial to add, you turn back to your brother. JJ sends a look across the table, one only a sibling can read, and you return a silent gesture that says later.

Rafe says your name.

Another customer enters the establishment and this time, it means you have actual work to attend to. With a reluctant sigh, you stand from the booth, raising a brow at Rafe's refusal to step out of your way. When he doesn't move and you're about to walk around—he grabs your arm.

"Don't ignore me."

"It's not like it's the first."

Irritation seeps through his chest. "God, why are you being so difficult?"

Your nostrils flare at the accusation, meeting Rafe's gaze head-on. "Let go."

He doesn't listen.

"If I had known you were in the race, it would've turned out completely different."

"So, what? You're saying you would've been worse if you knew you were racing a woman? Such a gentleman, Cameron." You announce, sarcasm dripping from your tone.

"That's not what I said."

"No, it's what you're implying."

He groans. You're twisting his words. Riling him up in a way that makes him incapable of explaining himself. "Don't be a bitch, Maybank."

Your brother lets out a protest from the insult but you remain unaffected. You heard worse and you learned to take pride in that label.

Rafe exhales a heavy breath, trying to regain his composure. Especially with you. "Listen—"

"JJ." You call, hearing him shuffle from his seat. Rafe glances at the blond, standing obedient and tall behind you, and once he determines your brother isn't about to ambush him, he turns back to you.

"It doesn't have to be much. We can settle for it."

"I don't want to settle. You lost. There's nothing else to be said."

Frustration creases his features, and he snaps. "Do you have no sense of integrity? Is this what it's like for all you Pogues?"

Now you're getting annoyed. "You talk a lot of shit for someone who won't accept defeat. Did daddy see you come home empty-handed and remind you of what a disappointment you are?"

Rafe doesn't respond and you knew you took it too far when his grip around your wrist tightens to a painful exertion of force. You push through the sting, refusing to give him a reaction.

"JJ." You hum in sing-song.

Rafe cuts another look to your brother, his expression unnerved by his inactivity. "Why the fuck do you keep calling out for him? He's not going to help you with this; he's too much of a little bitch."

That's enough.

"Jay." You confirm, swiftly dodging to the right as your brother comes up from behind and shoves Rafe back—hard. He surrenders his grip and Rafe knocks back against a couple stowaway chairs, startling nearby customers.

Rafe recovers and attempts to swing when JJ ducks, grabbing his midsection and tackling him to the ground.

When the brawl reaches a limit (as in you had enough), you grab your brother by the shoulder and haul him off the Kook, forcing him back on his feet. Rafe quickly rises, about to charge forward for another round, when you step in front of JJ.

He stops centimeters from your face, heaving with staggered breaths, anger darkening his expression while his sharp gaze lands on you.

"That's enough." You assert coldly, your skin pricks with charged electricity from the closeness the two of you share. You should step back, but you refuse to be the first one. "You got your little fight. It's time for you to leave."

His voice is low. "I'm not done with you."

"It doesn't matter." You declare, moderating your apathy. But when you tip your head to meet Rafe's awaiting stare, you falter slightly. "Leave before you make a bigger fool of yourself."

Rafe glances around the diner, at the terrified group of customers watching the commotion from the back, and knew it wasn't in his best interest to continue his behavior. Not in public anyways. Even if he still needs to talk to you, this isn't going to be the place to settle.

Rafe steps back.

"This ain't over, Maybank." He huffs, and this time, it isn't referred to your brother in scorn. It's you.

You wave it off, watching his figure disappear out of the exit.

When you turn back to your brother, you hold your fist out in camaraderie. JJ bumps his roughened knuckles against yours.

"You gonna explain now?" He asks, pulling a couple of chairs back on their hind legs. "Or did I just get into a fight with Rafe Cameron over some petty shit?"

You scoff at his melodramatics. "Don't you always?"

Eventually, you settle down and reveal to JJ what happened during the race, detailing everything from top to bottom. When you conclude, your brother reminds you of Rafe's closing remarks but you brush off the threat as an all-talk, no-action situation.

That appears to bite you in the ass the following weekend.

JJ decided to enter another race, with the money you sponsored to help upgrade his bike, and he made sure not to smoke anything the day of. Since you had an early shift, you decided to swing by after work to watch.

The track is different from the last. It's an open arena, barren of any trees and moss, stripped down to a dusty, dirt path with mountains of solid soil sectioned off at different areas. The only addition, made by the organizer, were heavy floodlights that marked the circuit, illuminating the way for drivers.

While you're paying a small viewing fee at the entrance, Rafe notices you. He should be running through his final inspection for his bike, but his eyes stray to check you out: from the fabric of your miniskirt that barely covers your ass to your top that leaves little to the imagination. The only consolation to the entire outfit is your racer jacket. If it wasn't there, he'd bet all the guys here would be giving you an eyeful.

He didn't need that.

Feeling the heat of a stare, you twist your head in search of the source before connecting your gaze with Rafe. It's been a couple of days, and you've since cooled off from your last interaction. Enough where you merely raise a brow in his direction, and he juts out his chin in greeting.

You roll your eyes, ignoring the little flutter in your stomach. It's such a fuckboy move and you're falling for it.

The race begins with the blow of a whistle. Your eyes follow your brother's bike, the blue-and-red motorcycle decorated with an assortment of stickers and scratches, zooms across the path by tucking into his vehicle, reducing his air resistance.

You gawk. He actually listens to you for once.

Engrossed by JJ utilizing your techniques, you didn't even notice Rafe trailing dangerously close behind. Despite having good openings to pass, Rafe forfeits them for a chance to cause trouble, roughly slamming into JJ's taillight.

The viewing crowd releases a gasp, reacting to the aggression played out on the course. You knew the organizer wasn't going to do anything about it—if anything, it ups the stakes and increases the entertainment value—so you could only hope JJ takes the time to play it smart and move out of the line of danger.

He doesn't.

He reacts—driving the side of his bike against Rafe's.

"Fuck." You mumble, leaning against the barbed fence that separates the audience from the race. The prickly edges weathered down to a dull touch and you thread your fingers through the gaps.

Rafe draws back to add distance and falls a few seconds behind JJ. You can only assume it's to regain his control over his engine power and you were proven correct when Rafe takes the last shot and revs against the back-half of JJ's bike.

It knocks him over.

The audience lets out a startled shock as you cling onto the fence, digging your palms painfully into the spikes. JJ doesn't move, his body and bike rolled out on the ground while the rest of the racers maneuvers around.

No one is going to help. He has to do it himself.

"Come on, JJ." You mumble with a bated breath. "Get up."

As if he could hear you, he wills himself off the ground and rises to his feet. A sigh of relief escapes you when JJ goes to retrieve his abandoned bike and hops back on to continue the race.

But you already knew the results.

By the time everyone crosses the finish line, you march down the racing course, heading straight for the arrogant Kook leaning against his bike. A satisfied smirk plays across his face when he spots your incoming figure.

You shove at his chest. "What the hell was that?"

Rafe feigns nonchalance. "That was me finishing shit you started."

You recognize your words being used against you. It's aggravating. You can handle it when it comes to you, and you alone, but when he puts your little brother in danger, he crosses a line.

"You son of a bitch—" You're about to lunge forward but JJ quickly grabs your waist and holds you back. You stare daggers in Rafe's direction.

He remains unaffected by your emotional outburst. Rafe can't help but revel in the fire behind your eyes, the anger coursing through you; no longer able to dismiss him with your icy demeanor.

Stepping closer to you, Rafe shoves his hands into his pockets. "Let me tell you something, Maybank. That's gonna be the least of your worries. I can always do worse."

Your jaw tightens. "Goddammit, Rafe. You're rich; what the fuck do you need the money for?"

"I never said anything about the money. I said I want a rematch."

You're heaving. Adrenaline pulsing through your veins. You haven't been this riled up since, well, the last time you spoke to him. He always manages to push your buttons, make your heart race. Even if you try to maintain your cool, Rafe always breaks it.

JJ's mumbling something in your ear, informing you he's fine, that there's barely any damage to him and the bike, but you know that's not the issue. You know he'll bounce back, he always does.

This is a whole separate conversation.

Once you calm, JJ releases you.

You consider every possible scenario. You couldn't ask JJ to stop racing, it's his pride and joy, and you don't want Rafe to hold that power over you. But, god, is that man an irritating piece of work.

Rafe watches as you mull over the finer details, your brain working overtime to produce a move. It's not going to work. Not when he has a chance.

"Come on, Maybank." Rafe challenges with a smug look, knowing he has you where he wants. "You scared?"

You scoff, refusing to stand down. "That's cute. Next thing you're gonna do is goad me into thinking I won't win against you when we both know that's not true." You scowl. The corner of Rafe's lips curves into amusement. "Stop it."

"I'm just waitin' for you to give me an answer."

He knows exactly what you were referring to but Rafe refuses to give you the satisfaction of acknowledgement. You purses your lips together. His eyes flick down to them.

"What do I get?"

The fact you're negotiating means you're willing. "What do you want?"

Your eyes glaze over to his motorcycle. "Your bike."

Without hesitation, Rafe agrees. "Deal."

"And you leave JJ alone."

He rolls his eyes at the add-on clause. "Fine, whatever."

You suck on the inside of your cheek, contemplating the meaning behind all of this. What does Rafe want from you? Why is he so determined to get this rematch? Is it pride, ego? Or something else?

It's a puzzle you can't seem to solve.

Rafe clicks his tongue, drawing you back to reality. "Not gonna ask me what I get when I win?"

You merely shrug.

Rafe scoffs and approaches you, stopping a breath away. He gives you an opening to step back, to back down, but you refuse—as he predicted. His dark blue eyes meet yours and you smell the faint scent of his cologne waft in your direction. "I get one night with you."

JJ's behind you, firmly shaking his head, refusing the deal on your behalf. "No fucking—"

"Shut it, JJ." You silence your brother before turning back to Rafe with veiled curiosity. "Why?"

He shrugs, not revealing anything, mimicking your mannerisms in a way that adds onto the allure. Fuck, now you have to take it.

"Fine," you nod, taking JJ's helmet from him and exchanging it for your jacket. A couple of wolf whistles are heard around the course, especially from the other male racers watching the interaction, but your attention is set dead on Rafe.

His eyes trail over your body, unabashedly taking you in. When Rafe hears the catcalls aimed at you, his expression sharpens, and he rubs his jaw with the palm of his hand.

"You can keep it on."

"Why? Can't handle a little skin?"

You hop on JJ's bike without another word and Rafe shakes his head at your comment, the ghost of a smile plays on his lips. As you admire the new screen your brother installed at the front of the motorcycle, which tracks your progress, a headset piece invades your vision.

"Don't forget this." JJ reluctantly offers.

You turn over to Rafe, who's since gotten on his own vehicle, adjusting the strap of his helmet under his chin. "Should I use this or am I gonna hear you bitching in my ear again?"

Rafe shouldn't tolerate the amount of disrespect you're giving him right now, especially in public, but he's too worked up with the adrenaline from you accepting his deal. He doesn't worry too much, knowing he can always punish you later.

Instead, he flips you off, and you smirk, putting on the headset.

When you pull up to the starting line, a thin strip etched across the dirt, you rock against JJ's bike to find your position. Rafe slides into the slot next to you.

"Ready, Maybank?" Rafe asks over the static channel. "You can talk. You don't have to pretend to be mute now."

"Maybe I wasn't pretending." You declare, cutting a glance over him through your helmet. "Maybe I don't like talking to you."

With a small smile concealed under his headgear, Rafe counts down. You flip down your visor, and when he arrives at one, you bolt off.

You use your tricks; Rafe takes the edge. You discovered the improvements JJ made to the bike allows you to switch lanes with fluidity, granting you the power to swerve left-to-right with little effort.

This is both good and bad because while you can maneuver better with a slight tilt of your handlebar, the dirt path of the circuit is something you're not used to. It's JJ's forte. The ground has less traction, especially with the wheels JJ owns, which means you have to be more cautious with your leans.

Rafe uses the cut of the edge to propel forward, but once you angle your bike to a safe degree, tucking in, it allows you to bypass him.

You exhale a deep breath. It felt like you almost tipped over.

"You got some good moves." Rafe compliments, just as you sprint past him.

A smile curls on your lips. "You could do better."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he twists his throttle to increase his acceleration.

Rafe tries to mimic your techniques, tilting his bike, but it leans a lot more than he intended, and he has to quickly pull back to flat surface. You notice the earnest attempt from the corner of your peripheral vision.

"You good?" You ask, sparing a glance over your shoulders as you make a wide turn.

"You worried about me?"

"Never mind."

Rafe chuckles into your headset, saying something you don't pay attention to. You know you could win this, without a doubt. Rafe is a strong rider, with a stronger engine, but he lacks confidence in his moves. He uses mediocre turns to match and, with a larger central gravity mass, it's harder to control his tilts.

The bike would be an honorable prize you can give to JJ. Or, you could use it yourself. You haven't decided.

Yet, the what-ifs hang thick in the air. You can't help but wonder why Rafe wants to spend the night with you, what drove him to make this deal, and what could happen in the quiet, intimate space shared between the two of you.

If you win, you'll never find out.

To you, your curiosity outweighs any materialistic possession.

Rafe uses a narrow opening to circumvent you, speeding ahead with the obnoxious roar of his engine. By the time you catch up, he made it across the finish line.

You park, throwing down the kickstand as you pull off your helmet and headpiece.

"Don't get too cocky." You say to Rafe, who got off his bike to approach you.

"I'm not. You will, though."

You tilt your head at him. "Still talking a big game? Remember the last time you tried that?"

Rafe scoffs but he can never say he's not entertained by you. Intrigued by you. It's one of the reasons why he wanted this bet so badly. His hand circles your wrist, gently tugging you along. "Let's go."

You don't move. "Don't you have to collect your prize?"

"I am."

Butterflies spread through your stomach at the implication, even if it's possession. You say nothing in response, sucking on the inside of your cheeks, before glancing over to JJ.

"I gotta get my jacket first," you say, hauling yourself over the seat, noticing your skirt has hitched up over your hips. Before Rafe receives a free show, you tug it down over your ass and stroll over to your brother, taking your jacket in exchange for his keys. A silent interaction shared between the two of you, knowing what's about to happen next.

“He has a faster bike.” You explain simply.

When you're about to follow Rafe over to his motorcycle, JJ catches your bicep.

"Don't fuck him."

Despite being younger, JJ still reserves a sliver of protectiveness over you. At times, it can be irritating but you knew it came from a good place in his heart. So much so, you couldn't lie.

You merely shrug.

Arriving at the familiar red bike, Rafe extends his helmet for you. You doubt he kept a spare, so since there's only one, you push it back into his chest. "You're driving. You'll need it."

You always push back on him for everything. A tick of frustration flashes through his expression. "Don't be difficult and take the fucking helmet, Maybank."

You truly despise that label. Snatching the helmet from his hands, once you adjust the strap under your chin, you wordlessly mount over the seat and wrap your arms over Rafe's waist, squeezing tightly as a form of rebellion.

When you arrive at Tannyhill, you hop off first and Rafe leads you into the empty estate. He informs you that his parents and sisters are gone for the night and he has it all to himself.

"Is that supposed to impress me?" You ask, raising a brow.

He shakes his head, dropping his keys on the designated bowl. "No, it's to let you know you can be as loud as you want."

You flush at the crude suggestion, but you don't let him see. Instead, you ascend the flight of stairs to reach his bedroom and, when you slip through the cracked door, it hits you how long it's been since you were last here.

Everything remains the same but there's an air of difference. An edge you can't put your finger on. You decide to separate yourself from the memory, taking a seat on his desk.

When Rafe walks in afterwards, he scoffs upon noticing the seat you've chosen. "You know there's a bed right there."

You shake your head, crossing your legs while you shimmer out of your jacket. The room is oddly hot. "No thanks. Don't want you to get any ideas."

"Yeah?" Rafe pulls out the desk chair from underneath you, flips it around, and takes a seat on it backwards, his legs straddling the backrest. "What ideas would those be?"

"You tell me, Cameron." You say, taking a hit from your dab pen, needing something in your system to loosen you up and calm your nerves. "What am I doing here?"

He shrugs, keeping you in the dark a little longer. It's driving you crazy, but your skin prickles with anticipation, eager to see how it unfolds.

"I expected more." You admit, leaning back against the back wall, uncrossing your legs. Rafe catches the sight of your panties underneath your skirt and he swallows hard. "I thought this would be more satisfying."

He ignores your comment. "You're doing that on purpose."

"Doing what?" You glance down, following his line of vision before a smirk rises to your lips. "Oh, that?" You spread your legs further apart, inviting the space, and causing Rafe to inhale a sharp breath. You snap a finger in front of his face, forcing his gaze up to yours. "Eyes up here, Cameron."

His jaw flexes and you notice the small tent in his pants.

"Stop teasing me."

"I'm not doing anything." You raise your hands in defense, the motion exposes your cleavage a little more. This time, it's intentional. "I'm here because I lost a bet."

Rafe stares at you, needing some sort of a distraction. With your presence in his bedroom, he can't help but remember the last time you were here. When he was inside you and how perfectly your cunt wrapped around him; he'll never admit he's been fisting himself to that image. You splayed out across his mattress. The sounds of your needy moans.

Fuck, he wants you.

And you knew that too.

"Where'd you learn to race like that?"

You chuckle to yourself, taking another hit, the weed slowly taking effect and making you feel all woozy. "You took me here to ask for some tips?"

Rafe lets out a low groan. "Can you be serious for once, Maybank?"

"Can you be honest?" You remark, closing your legs and leaning forward on the desk. "Why did you bring me here?"

Rafe stands from his seat, kicking the chair aside. He closes the distance between you, tucking a hand under your chin to meet his gaze. His voice is low. "What do you think?"

You hum in consideration, blowing out a small ball of smoke from your pen. It bursts upon his face. "I think you have terrible negotiation skills."

"Wrong." His free hand slides up your exposed thigh, tracing absent circles on the inside of your legs. "Try again."

You swallow hard, his gaze piercing and demanding. You keep your voice steady as you come up with the next excuse. "You're terribly lonely at night."

Rafe scoffs, amusement ticking at his features. His hand closes in on your aching core, brushing a knuckle against your dampened panties in a way that causes a small whimper to escape you. "I think we both know what I want." He murmurs. His lips graze against the open curve of your neck, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin. "Do you remember the last time?"

You pretend to rack your brain for the distant memory, but you knew exactly what he was referring to. A shuddered breath leaves you as Rafe plants a phantom kiss against your neck, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

You need to remain in control.

"Oh, yeah. It's been a while." You muse, your voice softer than intended. "I almost forgot. How big is your dick again?"

Rafe scoffs again. He knows you're messing with him, pulling at any strings to strike a blow to his ego, but he decides to entertain you. His hand departs from between your thighs to catch your free hand on the desk, guiding it up your exposed stomach before stopping just below your naval.

"Here."

Warmth flushes your entire body and the ache between your legs is getting harder to subdue. You are close to admitting defeat but you can't let him win. You're enjoying this little game too much.

"Hm," you lower your hand down your belly, his hand sliding along. "I remember it being here."

"You're wrong again." He shakes his head with a tsk. "We have to do something about that memory of yours."

"Yeah?" You tilt your head up, realizing how close Rafe's face is to yours. "Maybe I need a visual reminder."

Rafe smirks. "If you want to see me naked, Maybank, all you gotta do is ask."

He's giving you an opening.

"Okay."

His brows knit together. "Okay, what?"

"Take off your pants. I don't have all day."

Rafe laughs. He can't believe he's with someone like you right now; blunt, rebellious and thrives on the adrenaline of playing mind games. His type usually follows along the line of submissive, willing to do whatever he likes, whenever he wants, but he loves this cat-and-mouse game he has with you.

And only you. 

He unbuckles his belt and slides down his pants and boxers, his cock springing free. "Enough?"

"No." You shake your head immediately, salivating at the sight of his perfect cock. Truly, it's been a while and you cannot believe you've been missing out. "I forgot I'm more of a hands-on learner."

Spitting in your hand, you lean forward and wrap your manicured fingers around the base of his length. Rafe lets out a low groan as you stroke him, feeling all the thick veins underneath your palm, pumping him with increasing speed.

You feel good. Too good. The way you're touching him, he could come right there. His dick twitches beneath your hand and Rafe lets out a little shudder, squeezing his eyes shut. When you lower down to cup his balls, a bit of precum spills at the tip. “Fuck, baby.” 

You could no longer handle it.

You draw back, leaving the emptiness of your pressure and his eyes snap open. Brows drawn together in confusion. "What happened?"

"Back up." You slide off the desk, placing your hand on his chest, pushing him back. Each step of yours is met with a backward step of his. When he falls onto the bed with a soft thump, you haul him into a sitting position.

Before Rafe gets a chance to question, you push your panties to the side and sink down on his cock.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, feeling the sheer size of him stretch you apart. Rafe releases a thick groan when you straddle him, the new angle allows him to push in deeper, and your walls wrap around him with a familiar pressure. Just like last time. "God, I feel so full."

He grins. His hand lowers between you and presses down on your lower stomach, feeling his bulge. You whimper, your head spinning. "Don't do that."

"Just remindin' you."

You're tight is what Rafe realizes. He doesn't know if he's imagining it or because the last time you hooked up felt like a dream but it almost feels as if no time has passed. "Do you keep this pussy tight for me, Maybank?"

"God, Cameron, do you think I revolve my entire life around you?" You ask, throwing your arms over his shoulders, connecting your gaze with his. "Do you think I sit around waiting for you?"

His answer is immediate. "You should."

You scoff, looking away. The loss of engagement irks Rafe, so he does it again, pressing down on your lower stomach, causing his bulge to press against your sensitive walls and you arch into him in response.

Your breath shudders. "I told you not to do that."

"I guess we both don't listen to each other."

It's true. You're always arguing, bickering, doing something that rivals one another. It shouldn't work. You shouldn't be here to begin with, but the consolation has always been physical. The sex is just so much better.

Rafe's breathing is heavy, his body aches for some friction. "Are you going to move?"

You bite your bottom lip, contemplating your options, before shaking your head.

His jaw ticks. "What are you doing, then?"

"Being difficult."

Rafe recognizes his words coming from your pretty mouth and, judging from the tone, he realizes it's not meant to be a good thing. You look at him with a raised brow, challenging him to speak. And he's not one to back down.

"You are difficult."

You huff in indignation, expecting a different outcome, especially when you have his dick in a vice grip. You decide to raise yourself off his cock, inch by inch, as punishment. But Rafe's hands are quick to grab your hips, slamming you back down with a moan. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

The sudden motion leaves you lightheaded. You try to keep it together. "Thought I was too difficult for you."

"Stop putting words in my mouth." Rafe commands, frustration flashes through his handsome features. He can play your games but when it comes to an unreasonable attitude, that's when he has enough. "Why'd I put this much fucking effort to get you here if I didn't fucking want you?"

You turn away again but Rafe grabs your face. "Look at me when I talk to you."

You try to will your defiance but something in his expression makes you falter. Step back. His fingers dig into your cheeks, not to a painful degree, but as an act of dominance. "You think I forgot about all the times you mouthed me in public?" He scowls. "At the diner? The race course? You think I'm gonna let that shit slide?"

You gulp, your body flames at the way he's addressing you. The way he's handling you. You don't refute in opposition, allowing him to hold control. "Move."

You roll your hips on command, guided by his hand on your hips, and the pleasure is instantaneous. Rafe releases a moan, dropping his hand from your face to steady your movements, while you tip your head back to feel how good his cock is inside you.

"Come on, Maybank, go faster." Rafe instructs and you nod with compliance, quickening your speed. Your hands clap around his shoulders for stability. "That's my fucking girl."

While you rock against him, Rafe plants wet kisses against your open neck, sucking on the sensitive skin in a way that draws out your needy moans. The moans he's been thinking about ever since he saw you at the first race. His hand slides down between you, rubbing your swollen nub with his thumb.

"Oh, fuck, Rafe, fuck," you whimper, arching into his hand when Rafe finally captures your lips and swallows your little sounds with a drawn-out kiss. His tongue swipes over your tender bottom lip, making your head spin.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," he groans, as you rise closer to your peak. "I'm close, I'm so fucking close."

You pull yourself off.

It was with reluctance, but you knew what you needed to do. Your pussy is aching, dripping, but the look on Rafe's face almost made up for it. The loss of contact infuriates him, and as he's about to grab your arm and drag you back, you shake your head. "Take it off."

You're referring to his shirt. "Are you fucking serious right now?"

"Take it off or you're not coming."

Rafe shakes his head. "You first."

You don't protest, knowing it'll slow down the process and you're throbbing too much to let that happen. Your fingers hook under your top before pulling it over your head, exposing your perky tits. Rafe's eyes follow your movements as you remove your skirt and panties next.

Rafe easily tugs his shirt off his body, throwing it across the room, before impatiently leaning forward to grab your wrist—pulling you right back to him.

You push him onto his back. Rafe obliges as you crawl over him, your legs straddling either side of his torso, your wetness dripping all over his chest. He doesn't understand this new position, but before he gets a chance to ask, you lower yourself to kiss him.

Your hand draws up to cup his jaw, nails digging into his cheeks as you leave bruising and demanding kisses against his swollen lips. When you pull back for air, Rafe's eyes are hungry, desperately needing more.

Your lips against the shell of his ear, you ask. "Do you wanna taste me?"

He nods.

"Stick out your tongue."

Rafe does as he's told and you spit in his mouth, the string of saliva connecting you to him. "Don't swallow." You declare, rising to your knees as you hover over his head, your dripping cunt just centimeters from his face.

You try to go slow, descending down, but Rafe grows impatient and hooks his arms over your thighs, pulling you down on his face.

"Shit," you moan out as Rafe laps over your slit, sucking on your swollen nub like a starved man. Your legs tremble at the act, holding onto his headboard. "Oh, fuck, Rafe, that feels so fucking good."

Rafe Cameron can eat pussy, and you struggle to hold yourself together as you shake under the pressure he's giving you. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you're so close to coming, and Rafe recognizes that. Before you can reach your peak—and just like you did to him—he pushes you off and flips you over.

The change in position surprises you, your profile digging into the mattress while your wrists are pinned behind your back. Your thighs shaking, your cunt needy.

"Ass up." He commands, as you will your knees to follow orders, lifting your cheeks in the air. His hand admires the firm curve of your ass, before his fingers finds your sensitive and still-aching clit, teasing you with a pinch that causes you to flinch out of his touch.

You let out a pathetic whine. 

"Do you wanna come, baby?" He taunts, his cock is red and swollen, aching for some release. Your entrance is dripping and welcoming, but he refrains from doing anything until he gets some words out of you.

"Yes, yes, please."

He fucking loves that word.

Rafe lines his slick cock against your wet folds before pushing in with a hard thrust. You let out a little yelp at the intrusion, clenching around him in a way that leaves him groaning at the sensation.

He thrusts in hard and fast, pacing himself to pump out all the desperation he needed for the past hour. You moan and whimper against his sheets, slobbering at how rough he's going into you. The room echoes with the sound of skin-on-skin, the squelching of your wetness from the continuous pumps.

"You feel so fucking good, Maybank," Rafe grunts, his hips snapping against yours, skin bruising. "This is why I wanted a rematch with you. I couldn't stop thinking about this fucking pussy."

You warm at the confession. With a labored breath, you proclaim. "Fill me up, Rafe. Make me feel like it's worth my time."

He scoffs, shaking his head as beads of sweat form against his brows. "Such a fucking slut."

"Yes,” you moan, “now use me like one."

His pace is brutal, his cock sliding in-and-out of you, while you can do nothing but moan and claw behind bounded wrists. His free hand holds down your hips, keeping you still as Rafe pushes you towards your climax.

The familiar tightness coils inside of you, and you mumble your upcoming release to him, which does nothing but increase his ferocity.

You come with a scream, his name rolling off your tongue like a god. Rafe continues to abuse your sopping cunt, using you until he finishes inside, his hot cum spurting between your walls, filling you up as promised. 

When he releases your reddened wrists and pulls out, you immediately slump against the wrinkled sheets, fucked out. Rafe drops to the space next to you with heavy breaths.

You take a minute to gather yourself. Your legs are shaky and sore, his cum leaking out of you, and your eyes flutter close from exhaustion.

When you finally will yourself to get up, on wobbly knees, you move around to find your things. Once you spot your underwear, you slide your panties over your hips, searching with more confidence for the rest of your clothes.

"Maybank, where are you going?" Rafe props himself by the elbows, watching as you spare a glance over your shoulders.

"I'm going home." You say simply. "You got what you wanted."

"I said the night." 

You stop, facing him. "I assumed that was just sex talk."

“Yeah, but,” fuck, Rafe rubs under his jaw, unable to explain himself once again with you standing there, naked, waiting for him to answer. “I meant the night too.” 

You raise your brow at him. "You want me to stay the night, for real?"

His jaw clenches. "Is that not what I just said?"

"Why?"

Rafe shrugs. He doesn't answer. He doesn't know if he even has an answer for it. All he knows is that he didn't work that fucking hard to win a race just for you to leave after sex. Not again.

"Cause you lost a bet."

You roll your eyes but abandon your search for your clothes. They’ll turn up eventually. You saunter over, straddling his lap as your hands cup the underside of his jaw. You tilt his head, forcing his gaze to meet yours. 

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with me.” You tease. Rafe rolls his eyes. 

"With that attitude, it's hard to."

You feel a bit more secure. "Good. I like our fights a little too much to lose them."

"Yeah?" His arm wraps around your waist, "does it get you hot and bothered?"

"Yeah, actually," you tilt your head, brushing your thumb against his jawline, his breathing slightly hitch under your touch. "One of my favorite parts of our interactions."

"Better than the sex?"

"Nothing's better than the sex."

You end up staying the night, falling asleep in Rafe’s arms as he cuddles you. That was a surprise. By morning, you took the opportunity to use his ensuite, showering and cleaning yourself up. When you finished your routine, Rafe’s awake and offers to drive you home. 

It’s still early when you arrive back at the Maybank house, so you didn’t expect anyone to be up. Luke was knocked out on the living room couch, nursing bottles of beer, and JJ’s bike was nowhere to be seen. You assumed he spent the night at the Chateau but when you slipped through your bedroom, you were surprised to discover your little brother camping out on the middle of the floor. 

He wakes up when the door creaks.

"You're back."

“Yeah.” You hum noncommittally, shrugging off your jacket and hanging on the back of your closet. “What are you doing in my room?” 

You knew the answer was because he was waiting for you to arrive home safely. But it went unspoken. JJ shrugs, rising to his feet as he announces he had something important to share with you. 

“I checked the monitor on my bike.” He begins, as you cross your arms over your chest. “And it was… interesting.” 

“How so?”

“Well, it tracked your race with Rafe.” JJ explains, which you knew already. “But it recorded you going under the bike’s speed limit. Like, you weren’t maximizing your accelerations.” 

You press your lips together, saying nothing. 

“Did you let him win?” 

Your eyes connect with JJ’s blue ones, and he discovers the answer without you offering your words. “Why?” 

Then, it finally hits him. 

“You fucked him, didn’t you?” 

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#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader #obx smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #obx #rafe cameron x female reader #outer banks

[eideticallys]

Stay With Me

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary:  "you’ve been shot countless times, huh?” “that sounded a bit more reassuring in my head.”

genre: angst & fluff

word count: 1.1k

author's notes: almost a year of no writing, but i'm finally home (i posted a new fic)! it's been one hectic year for me. uni was crazy & i started my clinical rotations. plus, i did my thesis & it even got a distinction mark so i'll be presenting it at a research congress pretty soon (yay!). with that, i'm really sorry for ghosting ao3 & tumblr. i couldn't find the time to insert it in between uni & breaking down lol. anyway, i'll be posting a lot more while i'm on break. i hope you'll enjoy reading my first fic after a year of zzz. have fun! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

YOU CAN HEAR SIRENS AND PEOPLE SHOUTING.

They say when you are knocking on death’s door, hearing is the last of your senses you will lose. If you’re dying, you don’t know it. Nothing makes sense at the moment. It’s all just blurry hues of blues and reds and shouting—Stay with me—the smell of something metallic. The only thing you’re sure of right now is that your head hurts and it seemed like a van ran right through you with how achy your body feels right now. 

Who’s  that? You mused. Why are they yelling at me?  I’m  right here. You turned your head slightly and tried to open your eyes.

It’s quite the task.

“T-That’s it,” The person, whom you think was yelling at you, said. “Stay with me, Y/N. Don’t close your eyes.”

You groaned and gripped the person's hand tightly as if to stand up, but you couldn't. Everything ached. And the person holding you, just kept on talking, their voice a low murmur at first. But even through the haze of pain, it was starting to sound familiar. You recognized that dulcet tone, the rich, smooth sound that could captivate your attention with random facts or lull you to sleep with equal ease.

The voice, you realized with a flicker of a smile, belonged to Spencer, its familiar cadence a warm current cutting through the blossoming pain.

“Reid?” You croaked.

Your throat’s dryer than any other desert in existence right now. And you sound worse than you look—you think—you don’t know for sure, except the fact that you can’t move much.

“It’s me,” Spencer chuckled while sniffling. “I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?”

Even through the haze of pain, a new wave of discomfort bloomed in your shoulder, sharp and insistent. Before you could react and get up, Spencer's hand tightened on yours, his voice laced with a tremor you'd never heard before. "Don't move, Y/N. You've been shot."

He applied pressure on your wound—which you just noticed. The pain hit you in a delayed wave, a white-hot stab that stole your breath. You hissed a weak sound that did little to mask the spike in your heart rate. 

"Stop moving or you're gonna bleed out even more!" Spencer's voice, usually so calm and collected, was laced with a raw panic you'd never heard before.

"Easy there, tiger," you tried to joke, your voice raspy. "I've been through worse. I’ve been shot countless times. W-why are you so worried?"

The question came out in a shaky whisper, the concern evident in his voice a stark contrast to the usual intellectual debates you shared.

Spencer's grip tightened, momentarily cutting off your circulation. "Because you could have died, Y/N!" he snapped, his voice cracking with a choked sob. "You… you were…"

He trailed off, unable to put into words the terrifying image that had flashed before him when he saw you collapse, after hearing the sound of a bullet whizzing by and hitting you.

The sight of your vulnerability stripped away his usual composure, leaving a raw fear he couldn't conceal. It took him a moment to regain his composure, his voice softening as he continued, "You shouldn't be so glib about this. It was a nasty shot, close to a major artery."

Despite the pain, a warmth bloomed in your chest. You'd never seen Spencer like this, so shaken and afraid.

"Okay," you murmured, forcing a weak snicker. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, at least I got you to patch me up, right, Dr.Reid?"

A ghost of a smile glinted across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hold still," he mumbled, amused but also bothered at your dreadful timing for jokes. He applied pressure more gently this time. "You’ve been shot countless times, huh?”

“That sounded a bit more reassuring in my head” You quipped. 

A bit lightheaded from the pain, you clutched Spencer’s hand. The shriek of approaching sirens and the glare of headlights cut through the haze. You struggled to focus on the lifeline thrown in a storm of confusion.

"They're here," Spencer said, his voice tight. A sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead, a stark contrast to his usual cool composure.

"About time," you rasped, trying to lighten the mood. The effort cost you a fresh wave of dizziness, the world tilting slightly on its axis.

To which, Spencer shot you a look that was half-annoyed, half-worried. "Don't try to be a hero. You're losing a lot of blood. Any movement can dislodge the clot forming in your wound, renewing the bleeding. So, stop moving!"

"Just keeping things interesting," you mumbled, the words slurring slightly. “Wouldn’t want my last moments here on earth to be so grim…”

Spencer's jaw clenched for a moment, then he sighed, the sound heavy with relief. "You always were a pain," He muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You’re  going to be okay, he thought.

The sirens reached a fever pitch, pulling up right beside you. A flurry of activity erupted as paramedics swarmed, the rest of the team trying to make sure you were tended to and that you were going to be okay, their movements a bit panicked but practiced, and efficient. Relief washed over you, a sweet wave that threatened to pull you under. 

"Hold on, Y/N," Spencer said, his voice desperate despite the composure of his words. He kept his hand pressed firmly on your wound, his touch a grounding anchor in the chaos. “Help is here. Everyone’s here. Just… stay with me, okay?"

"Going somewhere," you slurred, your eyelids drooping.

"No, you're not," he said fiercely, his voice barely a whisper above the shouts of the paramedics. "You're coming with us."

You coughed a sharp rasp that sent a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Stats say shoulder wounds aren't usually fatal," you wheezed, trying to distract yourself from the ache.

Spencer's hand stilled for a moment, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What?"

"Yeah," you continued, your voice weak but persistent. "L-look, I get it, you're scared. But statistically, shoulder wounds aren't as serious..." Your voice trailed off as a wave of nausea washed over you.

"Maybe you shouldn't be reciting medical statistics right now," Spencer said sharply, his voice laced with a hint of panic.

“S-shouldn’t that be my line, boy genius?” You continued to joke, as the world dissolved into a scramble of flashing lights and blurry faces.

The last thing you registered was the feel of Spencer's hand tightening around yours, his touch a silent promise that resonated louder than any siren.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #mgg #spencer reid drabble #the bau team #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x oc

[kooeater]

you can be my daddy | JJK

Jungkook x f.reader

smut | fluff | slight angst

warnings: DADDY ISSUES, unprotected sex, cream pies, age gap, dom/sub dynamic, praise kink, darcyphilia, crying, slapping, choking, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, cowgirl/riding, missionary, impregnation kink, daddy kink, aftercare !! pet names, dirty talk, nipple play, tit slapping, big boobies & big dick

"Lights, camera, action." the words escape from his lips so perfectly, your doll like eyes look up to the camera in his hands. Looking the prettiest and dolliest just for him.

You bat your eyelashes a bit as you open your mouth, a lollipop entering as you get soft praises.

"good girl" "just like that" "my pretty baby" "prettiest girl"

His words fill up his private studio across from his work office, very little people know about the studio, but you sure did. His praises are all you live for, it's what you need, it's what keeps your blood flowing, in your mind your purpose in life is to please him and only him. Jeon Jungkook owned you.

"Shh it's okay baby, we don't have to keep filming" he chuckles out as he puts down the camera, his tattooed fingers coming to wipe the tears leaking from your doe eyes.

You took the lollipop out of your mouth quickly, giving it to him so he can dispose of it. Sucking on candy while looking into a camera might seem odd... but it wasn't just for anyone no, it was for Jungkook of course. No one knew of the little films you two record but the two of you. It was fun, the both of you enjoyed it heavenly.

The age gap between the two of you was large, 18 years large but you've grown to get used to it. Being 20 and him being 38 was a bit unusual but you loved it. You loved him, and everything about him. Having an emotionally absent father growing up did shit to you, Jungkook was there to restore the comfort you were so longing to receive from an older father figure. Jungkook loved everything about you too, not just your beauty and youth.

"Sorry daddy, I'll stop crying I promise." you chirp as you let him wipe the tears that just couldn't seem to stop flowing down your face.

You cried for everything; you were a crybaby. When you see him, you cry, when he speaks you cry, when you touch him, you cry, when he touches you, you cry. Yes, you cry all the time.

once he calmed you down from your little crying session, he spoke. "Come here princess, I know you've missed it." he points to the very obvious bulge in his pants. "I have" you softly say as you find your hands unbuckling his belt and getting him out of his work slacks.

it wasn't long until you found yourself looking back up that camera again, makeup running down your face, tears as well. Your knees on the hard floor of his office.

"Fuck, gag around it yes just like that." groans come from Jungkook's mouth as he throws his head back, pushing your head in a fast pace so your nose touches his abdomen when his length fills the tunnel of your throat greedily.

Your throat contracts around his big cock, you gag around it as saliva comes out from the side of your mouth dripping onto the floor. Messy throat fucking was always a great bonding for you and Jungkook, made you two more connected. The pace of his hips is unforgiving, he fucks your face quick and fast making you pull away and gasp to catch your breath.

"s-sorry, can't breathe when you're so aggressive!" you slightly whine as you cough a bit due to the pre cum stuck to your throat.

Your whining doesn't continue for long when suddenly you feel a sharp pain on the side of your cheek, but it was soon soothed by the feeling of his palm rubbing up and down against your pink cheek.

"You know I hate to punish you baby, but I know you love it. You're such a nasty dirty girl hm? Some would even say you're a little slut." he chuckles out as he totally gets into your head, everything he does and says gets into your head.

"Slut? do you think I'm... I'm a slut?" you chirped out, a bit hurt but also curious on his pov of you.

"What baby?" he pauses for a second, looking deep into your eyes that tears start to gloss up your big doe eyes. "You're not a slut right? No never, my baby is a good girl. The best girl for me, so pretty and fragile. Just for me, you're my good girl.” His reassurance was enough for you.

You smile at him, something in your mind tells you to please him again, and well you really wanted his dick. You grab his hand and guide him to a couch in his studio, you shove him down lightly as you crawled on top of his lap. You instantly start to grind on his hard clothed cock, slightly moaning at the feeling of his bulge applying pressure to your needy clit.

You rid him from his shirt, his suit pants already unzipped from the blowjob you were giving him minutes ago. It didn’t take long until he was fully naked, and you were in nothing but your pink and white thigh high socks and pink panties.

“Ride me already baby, need to feel your tight pussy so bad” his words encourage you to get to it already, sliding your panties to the side so you can rub your slit against the tip of his hard cock that was leaking with pre cum.

You both let out soft moans, the feeling of your wet slit against the tip and length of his cock making the two of you as horny as possible. You didn’t want to tease for long, you felt yourself growing more eager to have him inside you so you sank down on his length, letting out a cry of pleasure as Jungkook does the same.

It wasn’t long until you started to bounce up and down on his dick, the sound of skin clapping filling up his studio as long with the sound of euphoric pleasure. Your boobs were bouncing in his face, it was probably the best part of you riding him, besides the feeling of your warm wet tight cunt wrapped around his member, your boobs in his face was the best thing he was feeling.

Your breast were so big, he loved them. The love for your boobs that man had drove him to palm your boobs, sucking at your nipples making you ride him faster, and your moans getting louder.

“Feels so good, love your cock and mouth so much.” your dirty talk makes Jungkooks tattooed hand wrap around your neck, which made your pussy clench and tighten around him.

You feel like you’re on cloud 9. Hazy vibrations of pleasure wash over your body, the feeling of his tip hitting all the soft sweet spots inside of you has you so close to your orgasm, the pressure around your throat from his large hand adding even more euphoria throughout your body.

“I’m so close, m’ tired.” your overworked body bounces up and down his cock slowly, you’re clearly showing signs of exhaustion.

Lucky for you, Jungkook has high stamina. He pulls out quickly making you let out a cute noise from the feeling, the little pop sound from his cock leaving your tight creamy hole making you slightly giggle. He lays you down on your back so now you’re in missionary, he gets in between your legs pushing his length inside of you once again.

He bucks his hips deeply and hard into you, the sudden action making your eyes widen and mouth fall open. Your moans are loud and desperate once he starts to snap his hips into yours. He drills his length into your tight wet walls, fast and needy. He was attacking your g spot, his pelvis moving against your pink little sensitive clit.

“Oh fuck daddy please let me cum. Please please please need to so bad, fuck feels so good.” you scream out, needing nothing more but to cum around his long thick cock that you love so much.

His hand then reaches for your clit, rubbing it in swift circler motions. “Cum on my cock princess, come on pretty.”

You do as he says, you cream around his cock in pure ecstasy. You let out a final high pitched moan, thighs shaking slightly as you feel his last final hard deep thrust into you. 

“Oh shit I’m going to fill you up doll, fuck fuck fuck.” his moans are loud and breathy when he spills into your tight cunt, the suction of your walls milking him had him slightly whining in overstimulation.

He thrust his cock into you a bit more before he stops moving completely. The both of yours and his breathers heard throughout the room.

“I think I’m going to be asleep the next few days.” you say as you slump into his arms, exhausted and fucked out.

All Jungkook can do is chuckle, pick you up and take you to the tub where he’s going to shower you with all the love and care in the world. You’re the light of his life, so after fucking you like a slut, he gives you the best aftercare. Silk rich body washes in rich tubs, candles everywhere, bedsheets cleaned and everything perfect. He really is your daddy.

“You care for me so much koo.” you chirp out as you feel the warm water cover your naked body.

“I’ll always take care of my baby girl.” he kisses your cheek, pressing his chest and abs on your back. His tattooed hands sneaking across your chest, dropping your tits once again. Playing with them and feeling them jiggle in his hands.

“You’re so daddy.” you say before pushing your lips against his.

-

-

hiii I’m back with another fic, it’s been in my drafts for so long but I finally got to it and finished the smut part today. Also i don’t even know how to say thank you so much to all of you showing support, it’s the best thing ever I love all of you guys who support even if it’s just a simple like, it means a lot!! 🫶🏻🤍

- belle 🦢

#jungkook #bts jungkook #jk #jk fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jk smut #jungkook fic #request #blogging #blog #coquette #bts jk

[mattscoquette]

“ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝜗𝜚 “

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt loving his girl through a depressive episode

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mention of depression, anxiety, not eating, use of pet names, slight animal neglecting (not intentional!) no use of y/n, not proofread

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

𝐚/𝐧: i wrote this in like an hour lol all of y'all in my inbox rlly got me in my feels about matt helping his girl thru a rough patch :( i've struggled a lot with my mental health over the years so i rlly liked writing this one. if anyone ever needs someone to talk to i am always here!!!! even if we don't know each other u can always reach out to me. i love u all :)

xoxo ₊˚⊹ ୨ৎ

⋆｡˚ ౨ৎ

the white walls of your bedroom began to get all contorted and fuzzy in your vision, you remembering to blink. you shut your eyes tight, sighing, praying the heavy feeling in your chest would just go away. your eyes re-opened, the plain wall staring back at you. you weren’t sure how long you were in this position, you being in and out of sleep for the past few days, or weeks even, you weren’t sure. your memory was hazy, you unable to recall anything other than you laying in bed, staring at the wall opposite you. you had only gotten out of bed a couple times from what you can recall, but only to use the bathroom and feed your cat when she kept meowing beside your bed. you can’t remember the last time you checked your phone, it probably dead somewhere trapped in between your dirty sheets.

you been this bad in a while. every now and then you would have days where you would just lay in bed all day, the thought of even sitting up draining you. but it hasn’t been like this in a long time. you were always the type to keep your feelings in, no matter how many times people offered to talk with you. you just couldn’t burden someone like that, you thinking your problems were small and insignificant. you couldn’t help it, you’ve been that way forever. the only way you ever opened up was when someone would pry, practically spreading you apart just to get something out of you. most of the people in your life didn’t bother with that, until you met matt. you’d been dating for nearly two years now, and he knew you like he knew the back of his hand. you both instantly clicked with one another, the two of you just pairing so well together. you both had a spidey-sense for each others emotions, often times one of you sensing the other was off before they even knew it themselves.

so with that being said, when matt or his brother’s hadn’t heard from you for the last five days, he knew something was wrong. he’d last seen you when he dropped you back off at your apartment last weekend, not speaking with you since then. he knew you were feeling a little under the weather, so he thought it best to just leave you alone and get some rest. after a few days, he began to worry, all of his texts still being on delivered and his calls going straight to voicemail. so he took it upon himself to drive over to your place to check up on his girl, hoping you were okay and just a little sick.

he let himself in with the key you had given him after a few months of dating, immediately being met with the mess that was your apartment. the dishes were piled in the sink, the garbage overflowing, the plants scattered on shelves and dressers beginning to welt.

“baby?” he called out, stepping inside the apartment, your cat instantly padding over to him, nudging herself against his calf.

“in here,” you tried to yell, your vocal chords only allowing you to speak at a whisper.

he made his way back into your bedroom, his heart dropping at the sight of you. your room was a disaster, clothes scattered along the carpeted floor, your shades drawn shut. matt climbed into your bed under the covers with you, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss to your head.

“i’m sorry matty,” you spoke, your voice emotionless. you hated when he saw you like this. most of the time, you swallowed your pride, asking him to come over to try and cheer you up. this time it was bad, and you could barely allow yourself to be this vulnerable, so letting your boyfriend be exposed to you in this state made you so anxious. he had enough issues to deal with, you couldn’t possibly dump all this on him. he deserved someone so much better than you, someone who could hold their own and didn’t need to be cared for like this.

“don’t be sorry, please. it’s okay, it happens,” he reassured you, pressing kisses to your hair, “how long have you been in bed for?”

you shrugged, it being too much to even talk right now.

“okay, do you remember what you did the last time you got up?”

your eyebrows furrowed, trying to recall. everything was so hazy in your mind, you unsure what day it even was. “i think i went to the bathroom and fed luna.”

matt hummed, beginning to stroke your arm as you laid on him. you two stayed like this for a while, matt just caressing your arm and giving gentle kisses to your head. after a bit he sat up, pulling you up with him.

“let’s get you in the shower, mkay love?” he told you, the thought making you anxious. you barely had enough energy to talk, the idea of showering making you panic. matt sensed your worry, scooping you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the closed toilet lid as he ran the hot water. “you just get in, i’ll be back in a few.”

you nodded, stripping yourself of your week old pajama shirt and shorts, stepping underneath the hot water as matt left. your legs felt like they had anchors tied to them, you leaning against the wall and sliding down on the floor, curling your legs up into your chest as you hugged them. after god knows how long, matt came back like he promised, joining you in the hot steam. he pulled you up gently, grabbing you fruity scented shampoo as he squirted it into his hand, massaging your scalp gently. you sighed contently under your breath, trying your best to relax as you let matt wash you.

you felt like such a burden to him, embarrassed you couldn’t perform a task as simple as washing your own hair and body. when matt was done, he wrapped you in a fuzzy towel, drying you off before helping you slip into a fresh pair of sweatpants and your favorite hoodie of his. without even asking, matt reached into the drawer to grab your hair brush, him starting to gently untangle your hair with the bristles. “i changed your bedsheets for you,” matt spoke as he combed his way through your knots, “and i put all your dirty clothes into the washing machine too.”

“you didn’t have to do that.” you said quietly.

“i wanted to.” matt smiled, smiling at you from his reflection in the mirror. “i tidied up the kitchen as well, and i watered your plants and changed luna’s water and food bowl.”

this is what set you off, you breaking away from matt’s brushing, turning around and hugging his bare chest tightly, sobs escaping your throat as you broke down.

“i’m sorry i’m like this,” you told him as your voice quivered, “i don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“nothing is wrong with you, my sweet girl, nothing at all.” matt told you while he held you. “just let it all out for me baby.”

and so you did. you cried, holding on to matt with a grip so strong you’d think he’d slip away if you let up at all. he allowed you to cry, not caring about anything else in those moments other than just being there for you. he whispered soft encouragements into your wet hair, kissing your head every now and then, reminding you that he loved you. after some time, your broke away, your eyes bloodshot and puffy. without a word, you turned around, letting matt finish brushing your hair and braiding it.

“i love you so much, matt.” you said almost to yourself, looking up in the mirror to meet matt’s gaze.

“i love you so much more.” he smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist while he placed a delicate kiss behind your ear. “i ordered us some lunch, it should be here any minute.”

you nodded, following matt into your now clean living room. he stepped outside for a moment, retrieving the brown paper back that contained takeout from your favorite sushi place. the two of you sat on the couch, eating together in content silence. when you were done, matt cleaned up for you, coming back to where you resided on the couch. “let’s go for a drive, beautiful, okay? you need some fresh air.”

you sighed, looking up at him with sad eyes. “i can’t matt.”

“you can, my love.” matt said, sitting beside you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder, you leaning into his touch. “you did so much for me today, i’m so proud of you. when we get back home we can go to sleep, i just need you to get out of the house for a bit.”

you nodded softly, allowing matt to stand up with you as he guided you out to the car. he held the door open for you and buckled you in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. he walked around to the trunk, getting the blanket he kept in the van and tossing it across your lap.

the both of you drove around until matt’s gas light turned on, the windows down the whole time as your favorite songs played from his speakers. he had stopped to get you guys coffee and a sweet treat, this causing you to smile for the first time in days. he’d finally gotten you to talk more, the both of you conversing about anything and everything. when you returned back to your apartment, matt carried you back inside bridal style, settling you down on your bed.

he crawled underneath the newly clean sheets with you, holding you close to his chest while your legs intertwined with his. matt pulled away from the embrace for a moment, holding your face before kissing your lips lovingly.

“i love you so much, okay? you’re my girl, i’m always gonna be here for you.” he smiled, stroking your cheek with his thumb. you grinned back at him, giving him another kiss before snuggling back into his chest.

“i love you too.” you mumbled in his t-shirt, slowly and softly drifting off into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in days, your stomach full, your clothes clean, your boyfriend’s arms around you.

you still had a long way to go. you weren’t sure if you would ever be one hundred percent better one day. but all you knew was that matt loved you and would be by your side every step of the way.

Ⓒ 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 | taglist

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:

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[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Fifteen

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings: Stalking

Mafia AU

1.4K

Warnings: Smut, p in v

Series Masterlist

A guy had never asked her to move in with him before. She hadn't spent much time imagining how it would go, but she had some sort of idea.

A guy getting down onto one knee and presenting her with a key. A guy asking her after a good bit of sex. Asking over dinner, asking as they just watched a movie. Simple things like that.

She didn't imagine it like this. Didn't imagine standing by the front door of her apartment, her boyfriend looking through the peephole with one arm wrapped around her shoulders. He held her against his chest as his other hand reached for his gun.

They were silent, waiting. All the time that Lando looked through the peephole she knew that the stalker was still there, was still watching them.

Tears ran down her cheeks. She gripped his white shirt, the shirt that he wore beneath his suit, and cried.

But then Lando let go of his gun and wrapped his other arm around her. "Baby," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. "It's okay. He's gone."

"He followed me from the shop, Lan," she whispered, head against his chest.

He kept his nose against the top of her head and breathed in. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, his own eyes falling closed. It was his fault. His fault that she was getting followed home. If he'd just left her alone that night at his club, she'd be safe.

"Move in with me," he said suddenly. "My house is safe. I've got a new security system set up. It's, uhm..." He squeezed her as he searched for the words.

She wiped her tears away from her cheeks. "Impenetrable?" She suggested as she looked up at that.

Lando scrunched his nose up as he looked down at her. "Yeah, that," he said and kissed her.

He stayed by the door while she packed a bag. His eyes were on the window, gun at the ready, or he was looking through the peephole.

Emerging from the bedroom, she walked over with her bag on her shoulder. "Is that everything you need?" He asked as he took the bag from her.

She looked around her apartment, lip pulled between her teeth. Breathing deep, she nodded. "I can move out of here when I'm not being stalked," she mumbled and took his hand.

Lando held her hand. He had his gun out as he led her down the halls. The entire time they were walking down the hall, she squeezed his hand tight. But Lando didn't much care. He squeezed her back the entire way to her car.

Throwing her bag into the back, Lando drove. The car was silent, and she looked around everywhere like a startled deer. "I've got you," he said quietly, hand coming to settle on her thigh. She clamped her legs together but it wasn't sexual. No, it was just to keep him there. The way his thumb moved was so soothing, but it did little to calm her.

She hardly recognised the area Lando was driving through. She may have lived there for her entire life, but she didn't know this area in the slightest. And then they came to the grand manor house, surrounded by high gates.

They drove up to the gates and Lando pulled his hand from between her thighs. He punched the number into the keypad and the gate swung open. Lando drove through.

God, he didn't think he'd be back here so soon. As he drove towards the house, towards the garage, he couldn't stop himself from wishing for just five more minutes in the save haven of her apartment. But it wasn't a safe haven anymore, was it?

Lando parked in the garage. Her car amongst his expensive and beautiful collection looked ridiculous, but she didn't notice it as Lando grabbed her bag from the back of the car, took her hand, and led her to the house.

The house. It was beautiful, but she couldn't take that in, either. Every little noise had her jumpy. With his arm around her, Lando took her straight through to his bedroom.

Lando's bedroom was not the bedroom of a man. It was the same bedroom that he'd had since he was a teenager, with posters of actresses and race cars all over his bedroom. It was so cute and somehow comforting. It was cute. It was Lando.

"Sorry," he said and pulled at the bottom of one of his race car posters, pulling it away from the wall. "I meant to take these down but everything got a bit..."

She grabbed one of his pillows and squeezed it against her chest. "Leave it," she mumbled as she touched his duvet. It needed a wash, not desperately, but she knew that the smell was going to comforting.

Lando stepped away from his posters. He sat beside her, pulled the pillow away from her chest and took her trembling hands. "You're okay, baby," he said, thumb moving over the back of her hand. "You're safe here. 'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

She looked to the shut door and back at Lando. And then she was on him, pushing him down onto his back as she climbed on top of him, straddling him. "Help me take my mind off of it?" She asked as she pulled her shirt over her head and threw it to the floor.

Lando's hands grabbed her hips and squeezed. "Are you sure, baby?" He asked as her hips slowly began moving.

Instead of answering, she leaned forward, hands on his chest as she kissed him. Lando kissed her back. He moved his hands from her hips, cradling her against him.

But then his hands travelled down. Down over her shoulders, down to her bra strap. He fiddled with it until it gave and let his hands travel further, down her back and into her trousers. His hands settled over her ass as she opened the buttons on his white shirt.

The minute she got her hands against her skin, she dragged her nails down his chest. A groan left his lips and she pulled away from him, sitting up straight. Lando sat up with her and she pushed his suit jacket and shirt from his shoulders.

"Wanna mark you up," she whispered as she leaned forward again, pressing her lips against his neck.

She had the leader of the Norris family beneath her as she sucked dark purple marks all over his neck and shoulders. Moans and gasps and whines left his lips as she worked him, hips moving.

Even as her hips moved, Lando popped the button on her trousers and pushed his hand beneath the fabric. "Fuck!" She gasped as he felt through her folds. But her lips quickly returned to the purple bruise on his shoulder.

"I got you, baby," he whispered and pushed her trousers down with her underwear. "Need you bad."

She pulled away from his shoulder and sat back, admiring her work. "You look so pretty," she whispered and ran her nails down his chest again.

It didn't take long before Lando was naked beneath her. She held him still as she sank down onto him. A sigh left her lips and she threw her head back, eyes shutting. "Fuuuuuck, I love you," she whispered and looked down at him.

"I love you," he replied and look her hands in his own.

Lando held her hands in his own as she rode him. It was was slow and sweet, every movement sending sparks up their spines. They didn't speak outside of their 'I love you's', moans and whines filling the bedroom.

Lando's bedroom.

No, their bedroom.

Lando touch her, his hand on her clit as he tried to ensure that she came before he did. She pitched forward, whines high pitched as Lando pushed her over the edge.

He came not long after her. As soon as she had finished she stilled, energy drained. But Lando held her, moved her body on top of her as he spilled inside of her.

He didn't pull out right away, kept her held against his chest, cock still inside of her. "'m gonna protect you," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. She looked up, slowly blinked and moved her lips towards her own.

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[sugoi-writes]

Morning! I have a little silly idea for Alastor x Reader and wanted to share :D

Reader is stressed over some big event that is about to happen in the Hotel (like idk maybe they're throwing a ball or some gala to encourage more sinners to check in) and while she's giving a pep talk to everyone she absentmindedly starts fixing Alastors bowtie/coat/hair and everyone expects him to snap at you (you two were more of rivals than friends) but instead he smiles at you softly and fixes your necklace. You two only realize what you did when Angel "quietly" asks as a joke when did the two of you get married 😅

Sorry this took so long!!! I hope this is doing your prompt a little bit of justice! Please enjoy!!!

No warnings for this one, really! Just some good old fluff and pining (which I DESPERATELY need to work on, HAHA--)

♥️♥️♥️

Everything was hung in place, not a tassel or a drape awry. The decorations and accents, deep reds and lush golds, adorned every surface you could see. It was... gaudy. But it was perfect.

When all was said and done, you clasped your hands together, a triumphant smile on your face. Charlie, being the sweetheart she was, tasked you with orchestrating the grand-reopening ball. She had to admit, it was nice to throw the reigns to someone else for a while. She definitely got some MUCH needed time alone with Vaggie, who was also more than willing to take a backseat.

Your voice cut through the chatter like a knife, silence behalfing the room with your address," Alright... guys, everything looks great. The place looks perfect. Everyone is looking--"

As your eyes flit about the hotel residents, you spy a freshly-apparated Alastor, who was... off. Physically, you mean. You squint for a moment, spying three things: Hair, Bowtie, Handkerchief.

"Sh-Sharp... everyone looks sharp."

Without thinking, you marched right up to the Radio Demon, collective gasps around the room as you touched him. Looks of bewilderment, horror, and amusement surrounded you both. You were preening him, adjusting him... unannounced? With no physical repercussions? How were you still alive?

Both hands shimmied the black bowtie into place," The music is covered, thank you for the recommendations, Alastor--"

"Anytime, dear," he quipped, not flinching in the slightest. His eyes were trained forward, avoiding eye contact as you pat his chest. Charlie's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her skull as you pulled out the handkerchief, refolding and placing it back into Alastor's breast pocket. Another, resolute tap to his chest, and Angel's brain was short circuiting.

"Right-- like I was saying, everything is PERFECT. I need everyone on their BEST behavior when the doors open-- you especially, Angel. Everyone has their roles--"

Angel squinted, pouting as he shifted his weight... His head cocked to the side with a smirk, as if to say 'speak for yourself'! You strained onto your tiptoes, fluffing and adjusting Alastor's fringe, completely oblivious. There was a tinge of hair gel in Alastor's crimson, which surprised you. He had really gone the extra mile... albeit, still a little under perfect. Or maybe, you had just never noticed how much effort he put into his appearance?

"Niffty: keep an eye on the buffet and clean any and all messes. Angel, intel and vibe-checker. We have some big-wigs coming tonight, and I'm sure we could weasel our way into their good graces-- Make sure they're drinking, eating, dancing-- yknow!!! Having a good time!"

Alastor leans his head down for you, allowing easier access to his hair. You silently thank him, your tangent continuing," Charlie, Vaggie: you know the drill. Get them hooked on this place. Give them the razzle-dazzle to get them to stay. Lucifer, sir, you're in charge of the fireworks. I'm sure you have something ENTIRELY too bombastic for this, but-- just try not to scare anyone off tonight, sir???"

Lucifer, though still flabbergasted, gave you a pair of finger guns. This was his way of giving silent acknowledgement.

"Husk, of course: you're on drink detail. The more booze, the looser these guys get. The more likely they'll cave and stay the evening or become a patron--"

You blinked as warm hands were on your collarbone, adjusting your necklace. Though your face burned brightly, you didn't utter a word as Alastor finished his adjustments, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You looked up towards him, a friendly smile shot your way.

No words were exchanged, just smiles. You nod to Alastor, before turning to face the crowd. You weren't expecting to see looks of confusion and shock: everyone looked like deer in headlights. You sigh, chuckling a bit as you crossed your arms," C'mon guys, I know everyone is nervous about reopening to the public today, but we've got this!!! Seriously, everything is absolutely perfect now and--"

"If I can cut in real quick, toots-- are we plannin' a weddin'?" Angel retorts, fanning his hand back and forth between you and the Radio Demon.

"I mean-- not that I'm complainin', but y'gotta warn a guy first. I would've worn somethin' else for such a special day~"

You blink, utterly confused, before it finally clicked. You sputter dramatically, eyes wide and face heated from the implications," I don't-- I don't know what you mean, Angel--"

"Oh honey, we aren't BLIND. Admit it, you're mackin' with Tall, Dark, McNasty. And honestly, I get it. Chase your dreams or whateva. It's kinda cute~"

There were murmurs from the other crew, loosely agreeing to Angel's sentiments.You take a step forward to say something, before a hand clamps onto your shoulder. Your face only grew warmer as Alastor stepped in front of you. His pleasant smile strained, his annoyance further proven by his left, twitching eye.

"Now now, let's not lead the night with accusations and gossip-- though I'm usually a big fan myself~," Alastor mused, his grin widening.

" I'm afraid you all have the wrong idea-- I was just simply making sure everything was perfect. Just as our party host is." Alastor turns to you now, his smile softening," And that's exactly what tonight will be, with you at the helm: perfectly executed."

Angel snorts, leaning over towards Husk as he covers his mouth. A hushed whisper and an eyebrow wiggle are thrown his way," Oh, they're DEFINITELY fuckin'~"

You nearly shrieked as you cover your face with both hands, frustrated," Shut up, shut up, just-- UGH. L-Let's get to our battle stations, guys-- doors open in FIVE MINUTES," you bark. The nervous energy in the hall multiplies before dispersing, as everyone made themselves busy. It was very clear that everyone was trying to ignore the elephant in the room (and failing miserably). You do your best not to smudge your polished appearance as you turn on your heel, making your way towards the bar.

Immediately, you give it a knock, two fingers out. Husker nods, pouring you a double shot of your preferred poison. Swiftly swallowing the elixir of courage, you felt some of the embarrassment melt away. A familiar presence appears beside you, mimicking your knock and drink order. You sigh as Alastor's hand comes into your line of sight, eyes naturally following it as he swirled his drink, before downing it. You couldnt help but focus on the bob of his adam's apple, before you had the decency to look away. Alastor grinned down to you, tilting his head.

"Still troubled by their words, dear?"

You groan," D-Don't call me that, Alastor... Angel's going to feel like he's right," you reply, holding the bridge of your nose. Alastor laughs, leaning against the counter," Oh come now, I'm sure this whole mess will roll off your back by night's end~" Alastor teases, jazz hands accenting his playfuk tone. You groan again, frustrated," UGH, no, if HE'S distracted by that, EVERYONE here will be-- I just-- I don't wanna cause any unnecessary attention. 'For EITHER of us. You have your gambit for tonight, and I have mine... We need this to go WELL, not to be the talk of the town..."

Alastor leans against the counter, back pressing into it as he looks your way. Normally, he would continue to goad you into a precious, pathetic mess, but the look on your face felt too... troubled. You really were overthinking things, his eye catching the way you bit your lip.

The two shots he ingested already softened his edge, his head lolling to the other side," ...'a little advice, then?" You look over at Alastor, surprised by the change of subject.

"Sure. Might as well," you quip, resting your chin on your hand as Husk whisks away your empty glasses.

"If you walk around the room like your hair is on fire, the entire operation goes up in flames... This is commonly seen in management, but works just the same here," Alastor states, pretending to be fascinated with his talons.

"And truly, for tonight, you are the leader, the ringmaster of this event... the others will ask questions, and look to you for guidance. If you walk around like everything is going to fail, then it is destined to. So perk up!" Alastor's hand finds your chin, forcing you to look his way. Your breath catches for a moment, your eyes settling on his face. It was flushed, warm... and a hint of something you can't describe. He was being unreasonably chaste. Is this what Mimzy meant by "sweet as a kitten"?

"I think everything will go as it should, as long as you keep a cool head, dear. And if you can't, well...," Alastor grins as he knocks on the counter, each of you receiving another drink.

"--there's always liquid courage to settle the nerves."

You nod slowly, processing his words. Real, genuine advice... and, some sincerity sprinkled in? Were you really that drunk already??? Deftly, you picked up your glass, almost downing it before Alastor stops you.

" A toast, first."

Alastor grins as he picks up his own glass, clinking it against yours," To your success, my dear."

You move in autopilot as you clink back against his drink," Y-Yeah uhh... to the Hotel's future," you added, the two of swallowing your drinks hastily. Alastor straightens his posture, reaching over to squeeze your arm in reassurance. The radio in the room flicks to a new frequency, changing to a modern, catchy song that you recognized.

" Th-This is--"

"Your favorite, right?" Alastor finishes, his grin widening," Well dear, I am nothing if not accommodating. For tonight, let's have a little fun. Change things up." You nearly jump out of your skin as the front lobby doors begin to open, Alastor's eyes meeting yours.

"I expect to have your first dance. Meet me when you'd like to accept the offer."

And with that, Alastor leaves you, melding into his shadow form to flit to another spot in the room. You blink a few times, still reeling from the entire interaction. You hadn't told Alastor your favorite song. Not even once. And, you never dared to listen to it in front of him, fearing that he would disregard you or even chastise you for your taste.

You feel your heart swelling as you search for Alastor again, mouth falling open in silent protest. You wanted to pester him, ask him how he was able to know something so personal.... However, you are greeted by a sharply dressed demon, all too eager to make your acquaintance.

You allow your hand to be kissed, and pleasantries were exchanged. But ultimately... you felt your eyes constantly searching for Alastor. Maybe Angel was right, you thought... Maybe you did have something going on between the two of you. You felt a blossom that had remained so stubborn finally experience it's long-awaited bloom.

Maybe you did like Alastor. Maybe, just maybe, he liked you too... As the night grew longer, you realized that you just might be content with that.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n #alastor x oc #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel imagine #i tried keeping things pretty GN but hopefully this will suit your tastes!!! #thank you again for your request #im so sorry if this is shit #gdhdhshsjsjsjs

[ilypaigebuckets]

Can you maybe write a Kate Martin x reader fic where the reader is asked to be mic'd up at one of her games?

sorry i couldn’t think of a good title for this🙁 i hope you like this tho!

Mic’d Up - Kate Martin x Reader

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

Ever since your girlfriend had gotten drafted, the media had been all over your relationship. Even at Iowa fans had loved the two of you together, but once she was drafted into the Aces was when your love really made headlines. People admired you and Kate not only as a queer couple in media, but also as a healthy and loving couple. There were countless edits of the two of you flirting at halftime, snuggling up to each other before and after games, and overall just being a really cute couple.

You were so excited when you were asked to be mic’d up for the Aces latest game. While you were a little confused at first because you weren’t actually a player, the team’s media manager assured you the fans would love it. So there you were, standing in front of the basketball court to film your introduction before the game started.

“Hey, guys! It’s Y/n L/n here, professional WNBA girlfriend and today I’m mic’d up for the Aces game!” Suddenly Kate ran up behind you and hugged you from behind, lifting you off the ground. You giggled and Kate set you down on the ground. You turned around and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, going on your tiptoes to hug her closer.

“Speaking of girlfriend, this is my superstar girlfriend Kate!” Kate rolled her eyes are you playfully and looked away, embarrassed from your praise of her. “You ready for the game, babe?” She sucked her teeth in response to the question and held you close to her chest, absentmindedly playing with your hair.

“Uh honestly I’m pretty nervous but we’re just gonna give it all that we got and I’m just gonna try my best!” You smiled at her answered and reached up to pinch her cheeks, “Isn’t she just adorable, guys?” You asked looking at the camera.

Soon enough, Kate had to go warm up and you went to your spot. You watched her warm up and made conversation with a random man sitting next to you.

“Who are you here to watch? You see 20? That one’s mine!” You took out your phone and started taking pictures of Kate warming up. “She’s so cute. Look at her!! She’s gonna shoot it!” Kate runs and shoots the ball and makes it in the net. She was so excited when she made it and looked over at you to see if you saw it too. She ran up to you and sat in the empty chair next to you, talking about her shot and her plans for this game.

“AMAZING BABY!! Yes I saw! Focus, honey! Yes I love you too! Good luck! Yes, okay baby focus keep warming up!” You could tell Kate was nervous out of her mind for the game so you took her hand in yours, completely forgetting you were mic’d up. You reassured your girlfriend that yes, you were watching her and yes, she was doing amazing and yes, you loved her very much and yes, she did have to leave right that second and go check in because the other team had arrived and they were about to start the game. Kate nodded her head at you and stood up. It was funny, you knew she had to go but as soon as she started to get up you grabbed her hand.

“Wait,” you told her and you pulled her in for a quick peck on the lips. She smirked at you and winked as she walked back to her teammates. You laughed and whispered to yourself, “Wow I love that I get to do that.”

The game was very eventful, but the Aces were doing amazing. Your girlfriend, especially was on fire. She was making shots left and right and it was clear she was growing more confident the more she played. You watched the game earnestly as Kate ran after a player on the opposing team and she was about to make a shot. Suddenly, Kate jumped up and blocked the ball.

You couldn’t help but jump up in joy. “That’s my girl!” You raised your arms above up to cheer and accidentally hit the guy next to you in the head. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You said to him, but he was laughing so you knew it was alright. “I hope nobody caught that..” you whispered to yourself.

“Guys,” You said to the mic, “Kate looks so editable right now. Look at how cute she is. Like you know that one song ‘ and you say daddy’s home’? literally her right now. Okay let’s edit that part out. Please.”

The whistle blew and the game was over, the Aces having won 76-68. Kate was over the moon and ran over to you as soon as she finished celebrating with her teammates. She ran up to you and picked you up, twirling you around. “I love when she does this,” you whispered into the mic. She put you down and you put you hands on either side of her face. “I’m so proud of you.” You pulled her face down to kiss her forehead.

Kate grinned and stole a kiss from your lips. “I’m glad. Wanna go get ice cream now?” You laughed and nodded, rolling your eyes.

“I hope you guys enjoyed me being mic’d up! Great job to everyone tonight and to everyone watching thanks for the support I know the team really appreciates it!” You pulled the mic off your shirt and handed it back to the media manager, following Kate into the locker room.

#wlw post #lv aces #kate martin x reader #kate martin #iowa wbb #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wbb x reader #wbb #wnba #wnba basketball #wnba draft #wnba x reader

[undercoverpena]

meet me in the city where we won't sleep

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: home: a place where we feel most comfortable, loved, and protected — where we most feel at home. except javi, who has returned from colombia and feels his home is living miles away.

wordcount: 9k (i'm so sorry)warnings: childhood best friend!javi. flirting. 18+ - although just a little smutty with fingers. brief mention of drunkenness years ago. emotions (ugh) and feelings (yuk) and idiots who just don't wanna confess things but really should. javi calls you flor and you call him a pineapple. alternating times.

an: originally started for april showers, it's taken me an age to get this done because i wanted it to be perfect. i really hope it is. the biggest thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who read all of this and gave me a gold star. it would have stayed in my drafts if not for you. thank you to @rhoorl for checking my spanish.

It would have been cliche to say he fell for you in a field of bluebonnets—your dress white, face glum, hands ripping up blooms from the soil that you clutched in your hand.

Lost, aimless, both in the blue of the petals and in your thoughts as you continued to yank stems up and bring bunches to your nose, unaware of him watching from the tree. His legs swung, and a smile slid into one cheek as the leaves rustled above in the warm breeze.

It took a while before you noticed him, practically half a field’s worth in your hands, hands wound around them as your dress swished at your ankles.

“What do you want, Piña?”

He supposed, for kids, that was an insult.

“What you doing in my field, Flor?”

Javi didn’t know your name then. Now he struggled to go a minute without thinking it.

Sitting still hadn’t seemed a possibility in the days since he’d been back.

And then, that’s all he’d done for the last eight hours before he was greeted by rain.

It’s relentless, an onslaught that blurs the world into a watery haze. The kind that soaks through every layer of clothing like a challenge; the type that drips from everything, making pools in the streets and turning them into dark mirrors, reflecting the grey and full clouds from above.

Not that Javi cares.

If anything, he likes it. Finds it cleansing, like the world is being washed clean, even if he knows how untrue that actually is as his eyes follow a bead rushes across the glass of the cab.

The driver has been mumbling about the weather for the entire journey—a thing he’s barely listened to since he’d recommended waiting for a break in the weather. It was likely they just didn’t wish to drop him where he’d described, rather hoping Javi would opt for someplace warmer, most likely smokier, so that he could call it a day too.

Javi doesn't do that now—smoking, that is.

Hasn’t done since he left that apartment that never felt like his, in a city that he’d spent years in that never felt like home. Threw them in the trashcan before his Pop had picked him up, craved and wanted all the way through dinner. He’d done it once, he’d do it again.

When the cab screeches to a halt, he pays, steps out (bag in hand) and spots the phone booth all in one fluid motion. It’s barely lit, front weathered by time and neglect. Smirk curling into his cheek as he remembers you telling him about it—that on cloudless days you can see it, likes to make stories about it as you enjoy a meal-for-one or crunches down cereal.

It hadn’t been a thing he’d thought much about.

Then, it was all he had thought about.

Standing there, making a story that could become real. A gesture, kind and deserving of someone who had put up with his shit since they were children. You’d always liked those big moments in the movies—his eyes glancing over at you, finding yours big, wide and shimmering with tears that wish to glide down your cheek.

Although, that had been well over a decade ago—the two of you had remained in touch, close, or as much as he could allow. Your visit to Colombia had still felt like the sunniest day, a bright spot in a sea of dark; a day that coloured his world in shades he hadn’t known existed, that dulled the moment he’d had to bid farewell at the airport.

It hadn’t been safe for you to do another, pleading in fact to not risk it. A thing, he suspects, is not a thing he’s been easily forgiven for.

He supposes it’s why he hasn’t told you he was coming. The flight had been booked, bag packed—fingers tapping, soul hoping you wouldn’t turn him away once he’d gotten here. To the phone box over the bridge from your place—the one obscured from view by the downpour that seemed never-ending.

Because, as soon as two weeks had racked up at him being home, he found himself itching to move, to be somewhere other than surrounded by fields and the watchful stare of his Pop. Parental worry a hard thing to hide from in a home washed in memories.

Sliding open the door, cramming himself into the booth, Javi had no concern about remembering your number. It was burned into him, etched into him with a blunt tool—almost studied, committed to memory while he ticked over godfathers and the weight of right and wrong.

He remembers when you’d changed it, when your voice informed him of the move, the chance—all excited tone, a pitch closer to a squeak than your voice: no more roommates, just me, myself and I.

He also remembers the ember inside of him pleased that Tom joined the underserving list, slid under Mia and Rich as you informed him you were single again.

Sliding quarters in, finger punching the numbers—he hopes you’re home. A niggling feeling threatens to unwind inside of him as the tone drills into his skull—attempts to drown out the rain rapping against the glass booth he’s standing in.

“Hello?”

“Flor?”

It kisses his ear, your snort. Light. Sweet. “Javier Piña, what do you want?”

You sound like you did in Colombia. Having half-expected the crackle meeting his ear to be down to the distance, rather than your shoddy home phone.

Pressing the receiver to his head, a smile there—desperate to flow out across his lips and exhausted face, he moves it back. “Tal vez te extrañé.”

“Mierda. I don’t believe you.”

Even amidst the noise of passing cars and the relentless drumming of raindrops, he catches the melody of your laughter—a symphony of joy that unravels a part of his soul. It releases it, unlocks it, beckons it to be free—metaphorically makes him release his shoulders, and take a breath. The part of him hidden away, floods back through him—no longer fearful of being taken, clawed or wormed from him as he handed other parts of himself to the job, the task, the goal.

Not you, though. Javi would never surrender you.

A pocket of sunshine he’d kept close to him like your chicken-scratch letters and your tipsy phone calls when he’d caught you coming in after a night with friends.

“Where are you, Piña?”

Wiping his mouth with his thumb, he pauses. Traces his index along the hair growing above his lip, glancing out through the rain-smeared glass, the one cracked in places. Not sure if any of the lights on the other side are hers, but lingering on each just in case.

“In a phone booth on a bridge…”

He hears you swallow, loud, almost difficult.

“…right across from your place.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Smirking, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. “Are you lying to me?”

Smirking, he stares out again. “No.”

Because he couldn’t, not if he tried. Not just because you see through it, but because it wounds him to do so. Picks at him, and makes him bleed in ways that don’t ruin him in scarlet.

“Give me five minutes.”

The call ends before he can get in a bye.

The receiver placed back, bag straps cutting into his palms again as he exits, the heavens lashing against him as he slowly walks. Taking his time. Nervousness bubbling like a broth inside of him with each step, coming up to the top curve of the bridge, trying to look up, spot you—

Then he does.

Running, coat billowing behind—flapping in the wind as it breaks out over your face: that smile. The one that lit fires inside of him, the one first doing so at the time his bedroom at home had its last lick of paint, it now peeling, cracked.

Dropping his bag, Javi isn’t sure whether to brace or not—taking three more steps forward before you collide with him. Arms around him, chest to chest, your wet cheek sliding past his as your soaked clothes marry to his.

It would be odd to say it felt like home hugging you, but it does. It feels right, safe—a piece completing him as he digs his chin into your head.

“You smell the same,” you muffle into his chest.

Javi smiles, knowing the bottle on his dresser is the one from his younger years. Sun-ruined and likely faded, yet managing to linger on his skin enough to cause recollection.

Pushing past lilies, excusing himself through swarms of bodies adorned in black fabric, Javi found you sitting cross-legged between two tall stands of flowers.

Your eyes were puffy—red, swollen—and your dress was as black as his suit; your fingers were balled around a single lily and a scrunched-up tissue, the skirt of your dress skated over your bent knees.

“What d-do you want, Piña?”

But it didn’t land with the tone he had come to know.

Instead, he extended a hand you thankfully took, pulling you up from the ground before he opened his arms—letting you move in, slot yourself between them as they enveloped you close.

Letting his best friend fall apart at the back of the church, your sobs vibrated against his bones and his chin rested on your head as he whispered he had you, over and over again.

A thing you repaid when his mother passed a few years later.

Talking had always been a skill—unless he had to discuss feelings.

It wasn’t that it was easy to lie, or that he found the idea of feeling difficult—if anything, it was as though he felt too much. Guilt. Affection. Righteousness. Protection. Each one a little harder to carry, to wear.

More so around you. The walls had to be tighter, or they’d crumble into ruin, the dust spilling all his secrets before he’d confess whatever wasn’t already written over his face. But, you don’t needle him—instead, you make him a plate from leftovers, tell him about some gossip your mom had informed you of, until you offer him your shower, your sofa and bid him goodnight.

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“Not going anywhere.”

Lingering in the doorway to your bedroom, fingers playing the piano on the wood. “You’ve said that before.”

He knows he has.

It rises up in him like a storm, whipping around his organs, making his chest tighten as he lies down in comfort but stares up at the unfamiliar. He can hear the rain, how it pitters and patters—how it likely streams down the windows behind your curtains.

He should find it odd that he'd rather fall asleep here, than in his bed back where he grew up. A strange solace in the unknown here, a quiet surrender to the whispers he usually has to hear when the night comes.

But, they're not here.

At some stage, he must sleep, before he wakes to the scent of coffee and soft sunshine. His ears catch the sound of you calling in sick—a cough, a put-on voice, one all removed when you throw a throw cushion at him and ask him what he wants for breakfast.

That’s how he finds his knee kissing yours under the small table as your spoon scoops cereal before letting it drop back into the bowl. Just like when you were kids. Just like when you were all excitable, too in a rush to sit for a moment, stomach likely fluttering with agitation.

“You keep staring.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Flor.”

The thing is, you’re not wrong.

Each time he has a second, he lingers—gazes. Metaphorically pinching himself as he forgoes digging a nail into his skin under the cuff of his shirt, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. A thing he finds he’s doing now, after a night of laughing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open and a full day of exploring, you walk a little ahead before spinning on your heel to smile at him.

“I have to show you my favourite place—before you go.”

He hates that there’s an end date on this. Bought himself a few days of normal, before returning to something that feels anything but.

Scratching his jaw, brows raised and eyes wide. “You’ve replaced our spot?”

Rolling your eyes, you take his hand—fingers slotting, palm pressing against his. For a moment, a reflex, he thinks of pulling away. Thinking of what else sat as perfectly in his palm as you—a thing that took, but never gave. A thing that he held more than he had ever held a woman.

“My favourite place here.”

He expects a lot of things, maybe flowers, maybe a bar, but he finds himself inside a bookshop. One with floor-to-ceiling shelves, dark wood, the large window letting in light that barely reaches the back. He supposes it’s good they have a chandelier, one that sparkles, shines—like it’s as well maintained as the shelves.

“Books?”

“Books.”

Your finger prodding into him, facing him, body fully twisted. That smile there, the one which slides into one of your cheeks and makes his eyes flick from it to your eyes and then back.

It’s there when you turn on your heel down an aisle, it remaining when he follows—when he hovers close, so easily able to pin you, cage you in between his palms.

“Which do you recommend?”

Shooting him a look, you trail your finger over spines, over the shelf they sit on. “Didn't know you could read?”

“Funny.”

Grinning, you pull on one, handing it to him. His eyes take it in, the cover, the name, the author.

“I think you’ll like the characters,” you explain, eyes lighting up as you lean. “They're flawed but resilient.”

Chewing his cheek, he swallows. Listening, hearing you read the blurb after you lift the book in his hands so you can read it, word for word as he focuses on you. Noticing the way your eyes shine when talking about something you love, the way one of your hands begins to move as you describe the plot, and the characters. Realising, that he could listen to you talk about anything all day.

“You should read it,” you suggest, as he flips through the pages. Having never been much of a reader, time being a factor, his job has been the reason.

“Alright,” he nods, tucking the book under his arm. “I'll read it.”

Your smile brightens even more if that's possible.

“Chucho is gonna be so shocked when I tell him you bought a book.”

Frowning, he follows you, leading him down another aisle. “You talk to my pop?”

Shrugging, like it’s nothing. Like the words that are about to tumble out of your mouth don’t matter like they won’t stitch themselves to him and make him feel like pulling you to his chest.

“I check in—make sure he’s okay. Done it weekly since you left the first time.”

His face falls, descends slowly. He feels it—watches you take it in as yours slowly mirrors him. And, even if he’s been thinking it, it bubbling at the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to stuff it back down—to shove it between other regrets and unsaid words.

“I’ve really missed you.”

Each word lands, your eyes widening as your nose does a little twitch as they do, before you whisper, resting against the edge of a bookcase, “I’ve missed you too.”

Sat on the rock, the sound of a car door slamming disturbed the peace. Not needing to look, knowing that gait, that little kick of the ground as you stopped in front of him.

Hand shielding your eyes from the sun, flower tucked behind your ear.

“Hello, Flor.”

“Piña. Heard you were cursing Laredo.”

Smirking, you sat next to him, nudging him over. The two perched on a rock overlooking part of the city—as his head turned but his eyes stared at you from the corner of them.

“I give it a month and someone else will do something bad enough that people cross the street.”

Swallowing, he exhaled. “Thanks.”

“Did you love her?”

Turning his head, staring at you—eyes flicking from yours to a place on your face he shouldn’t look. “Not enough to marry her.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

A thing he only believed when your hand slid over his, hooking your little finger over his.

“It’s because you’re in love with me, isn’t it?”

Snorting, head shaking, your words washed back over him and he broke into a laugh. “Shut up, Flor.”

Nudging him, taking the flower from your hair and handing it to him. “It’s okay if you do, I know I’m a catch.”

He's embarrassed that it isn't until the second day that Javi finds the chance to really admire your place.

How it’s exactly what he imagined. So very you, all cosy, muted, with spots of colour. Plants and throw cushions, blankets and wicker baskets stuffed with things he suspects you have no recollection of.

What catches his eyes are the photographs, the memories frozen in time around your walls and on shelves. His eyes sweep over them, in a trance still from the scent of your perfume mixing with vanilla from a lit candle.

Each time he sweeps his sight over, he spots new things, remembering brief conversations, smirking to himself until his eyes land on a frame that makes his mouth part and his heart clench.

Him and you; you and him. Sunglasses far too big for your face, staring up at him as he beams at the camera. The backdrop of his ranch, his home, the one he so often left behind like it hadn’t mattered.

Done it weekly since you left the first time.

The words roll around his head now. All metal and round, bouncing against other thoughts, trying to dig his heels into the present and not wonder about what kind of calls you make—whether they’d be about him, whether you’d confess things you’d never admit to him.

Your clanging around is what pulls him to the present. The bangs of cupboards and pans clattering as he stares at it—as he notices how different his build is, how many years have passed. The occasional cursing from you is a rather nice anchor that keeps him in the present.

“Flor?” He waits until he hears you hum. “Order in again, I’ll pay.”

It’s here within the hour.

A favourite, you had told him. A quick apology that you’ll be messier than last night, that you’re dying of hunger. He reminds you he doesn’t care. Not as you slide the triangle slice out, the tip kissing your chin before it’s absorbed by your mouth, sauce lingering on your lips—dust from the crust resting on your nose.

He’s not sure what’s better, the taste of the pizza or the sight of watching you. Having the chance to watch you.

“So I have to ask.”

Grumbling, he pulls at the topping on his slice. “Here we fucking go.”

“Did you like the tie I sent you?”

Half-scowling, swallowing the mouthful of pizza—recalling the box on his desk, atop files and paperwork with a note attached: One down, three to go. Written in that same handwriting he could spot in a lineup—the one he had wished there and then would be etched into him, a mark left, a thing he could brush his thumb over when his heart ached and he felt lost.

“I was disappointed not to see you photographed in it.”

“You knew damn well I wasn’t going to wear a fucking pineapple tie to a press conference.”

Pouting, you smirk. Picking at another slice, staring up at him from the floor, all cross-legged. “Thought you might have for me.”

It’s there, ebbing—words that feel far more intimate than they should—crystallising, burning upon his tongue.

I’d do anything for you.

It’s there, unwritten, pulsating and breathing in the space between you and him, existing, never diminished. Memories where it’s been all but similar rising like lava, singeing him, threatening to burn away the walls he throws up for the sake of friendship.

Because he knows what people think. Saw it hung in his pop’s eyes at his Tia’s wedding when you came as a guest, an uninvited plus one that was welcomed like you were already part of the family. Heard it, in the wind between the grass before he’d left the first time, a farewell outdoor thing, your parents crestfallen, as though they’d assumed—like he imagined a lot of them—the two of you would have figured it out by now.

Watching you stand, hand outstretched for his plate, you take it with a smile. A shout of two options for drinks, an unsurprising one chosen by him—it bubbling in the glass when you hand it to him, settling in beside him.

“Not sure I told you, but you have a nice couch.”

“Most expensive thing in this place—probably better than my own bed,” you smirk, sipping your drink. Head rolling towards him, brows raised, eyes that bit wider. “So, are you okay?”

You’re the only one who could ask and get a reply, he supposes. Those same words were said to him a handful of times, down the phone from Murphy, over the table from Pop, even on aisles of the supermarket when he’d been staring between brands he hadn’t heard of.

“I gave you a day to tell me, and since you won’t, I’m gonna ask. Are you okay, Javier Peña?” you continue, body shifting, thigh pressing against his—heat radiating from between yours to his. “Because you’re methodical. You’re not… get on a plane and fly to a different city just because.”

“You not happy I’m here?”

Grinning, all teeth—it reaching and hanging in your eyes. “Los más felices. But, are you?”

Yes. It’s all he thinks.

Chewing his tongue, his eyes drop to his soda because he’s unsure how to say that. Not as he watches the bubbles float up and burst—the song that had been playing coming to a stop, allowing the rain to play an interval against your windows.

It doesn’t make sense, in some ways: how he’s kept you—been able to keep you close. Somehow not ruined you, twisted this thing between the two of you, made it rot, sullied it with disappointment and selfishness.

“I am now,” he replies.

Good, you breathe. Letting it sit, simmer. Paper over any cracks as your eyes sparkle and remain fixed on him, tracing him as though not completely sure he’s real.

That is, until you grab the remote, excitedly telling him about the night of television they have ahead of them. A blanket, at some stage, finds itself over him, you nestling into his side—like when they were teens before the world became a problem and narcos were all he hunted.

For a while, you catch him up, explain plots and characters. Then, you fall silent, brows crinkled in concentration. His eyes slide to the side to watch, to spot the little things you do as she settles in closer, brings your legs up, and rests almost all of yourself against him.

Between one show and another, he feels the rhythm of your breathing change, your body relaxing further against him. He glances down and finds your eyes closed, features soft and serene in sleep. Realisation dawns on him—you’ve fallen asleep. His heart does a slow tumble in his chest, a wave of warmth spreading through him. All of a sudden aware of the gentle weight of you against his side, the way your hand is loosely holding onto him. He watches, just for a moment, taking in the sight of you, so peaceful and trusting in your sleep. This moment is so intimate, so precious, he wants to freeze it in time.

What else is a guy like you gonna do…

This, he thinks. Looking at you, asleep, peaceful—curled into his side, fingers around his forearm.

Smiling, he takes the remote from your fingers, turning the volume down as he gets more comfortable—pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.

He carried a single red rose down the side of your house—nudging open the window the rest of the way, climbing in like he had done years ago.

He didn’t need eyes, didn’t fancy having to explain to his parents how he could do that to that nice girl and her family. Javi had faced enough judgement, enough stares.

The only eyes he wanted were staring at him, remaining so as he stepped close and handed you the flower with the thorns picked free. “Come with me.”

Sighing, eyes averting, you swallowed loudly in the thick quietness. “You don’t want that. Your best friend following you.”

Eyes flicking up to meet his, you took another deep breath. Fingers flexed at your side, weight shifting from one foot to the other before you exhaled—louder than before.

“I don’t want to follow you, best friend.”

Then don’t be just that, he thought, thumb swiping over the tips of his fingers as he hovered, waited. Then he took a step closer, and another. The gap closed, becoming shorter and shorter—

“What are you doing, Piña?”

“Kissing you.”

Lips pursing, trying not to smirk, you took the rose and put it on your dresser. “Don’t feel your lips on mine, Javier.”

And then he kissed you, his fingers clutching at your jaw—body pressed against yours, tasting your whine, your moan.

He felt your fingers clutch at his shirt as he told you to be quiet.

Laid you on your bed of flowers, knees digging into stitched roses and sunflowers, as you arched off the bed when his fingers slid between your thighs—like he wished he’d done a handful of times before now.

He’s not sure of the time when he wakes, but it’s dark.

A contentedness in his bones that doesn’t fade as he begins to blink, as he takes in his surroundings and remembers where he is. Feeling you, warm, pressed as close against him as humanly possible. Able to see the outline of you, before his eyes manage to paint the rest, how his knee has slotted between your legs—bodies a mess of limbs that takes him back to years ago.

Javi notices how the television is switched off as you try to move, to wiggle and escape. His shirt discarded, the cool air misting over him, pebbling his skin as he slides his arm around you, pinning you tighter to him.

Brain all addled with dreams and sleep, as his awakening state tries to remind him what he’s doing.

What door he’s trying to open all over again.

“Javi…”

Not Piña, Peña or Javier. Javi, all soft and whispery, like honey dripping into his ear as he turns his head to find your stare in the dark. Somehow finding it shimmering, fixed, more than awake.

Then you whisper his name again, and it’s heavenly, a piece of it anyway. A sound he realises he’s missed more than he cares to find words to describe as he hears you push out a breath—fingers finding his arm, stroking, sliding their warmth up and down the muscle of his arm as he swallows.

It’s slow, hand cupping your cheek as he shifts his body, and finds yours moves with him. The beginning of a partner dance, one it feels you’ve both practised in small spaces but never actually have as he slides his lips over yours. Moulds them to yours. Tasting faint mint on your tongue when you deepen it—when you pay attention, listen, taking each cue you give him from the movement of your mouth to the way your hands grasp at him to come closer.

A whimper tries to break through, to escape through messy kisses and tangled bodies, but it vibrates through him. Makes him shudder with how much he wants you, moving your knee, hooking it over his hip as he slots his waist between your thighs and you gasp at the feel of him flush against you.

Practically whine.

Nose brushing your cheek, palm flat, fingers spreading out over your hip as he feels you roll your body into him, he smiles—breathy, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Forgot how soft you are.”

You hum, head-turning, mouth latching itself back to his.

“Forgot how good of a kisser you are.”

Snorting, he lightly bites your lower lip. “Best remind you then.”

“Best do,” you whisper, pulling him by his hair back to your mouth.

You write a poem against his lips, signing it with your tongue against his as his fingers snake under the band of your sleep shorts, tasting your moan, your hiss and whimper when he touches you like he’s wanted to since he landed back in the States.

When two fingers slide slowly inside of you, curling, the sound of his name is like a fucking sin he wants to be draped in, wrapped in, even dressed in. Him seeking, searching, finding that spot that has your legs opening for him, nails scraping against his scalp.

“More, Javi. Please—”

“You’re so tight, Flor,” he croons, burying the words in your neck, the tip of his tongue swiping over your collarbone as you grab a handful of his hair. “Feel so good around my fingers.”

Your hips writhe, roll them against his hand, gasping. Making a mess, dripping, practically gushing over his hand, as he fights pulling his hand free and getting a taste.

“Be better—dios mio—around your cock—”

Smirking, teeth nipping at your neck, “I remember.”

Head lifting, thankful the night sky is clear, that the moon is draping you in a slither of milky light so he’s able to see your eyes flutter shut. Able to witness what his fingers do to you, the effects of their teasing and the languid movements as he finds that angle, the one which makes you grind against his palm, and has your chest heaving.

He moans your name against your tongue, drinking down a blend of pleases falling from your swollen lips as he plunges deeper, walls squeezing him.

There he thinks, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, as you dig your nails further into his scalp, tensing, bearing down on him to the point he hopes you’ll leave a mark, leave a cut, a signature of this moment he can run his fingers over.

“Kiss me,” you gasp, all wrapped in desperation as you pull at his shoulder.

His mouth only just pressing to yours when your cry buries against his tongue, when you flutter and arch as he continues to work you through it. His name breaks through messy kisses, it escaping effortlessly like it doesn’t wish to be buried anymore.

You don’t let him pull away, hooking one leg around him. Watching, not able to take your eyes from him as he retracts his hand—as he licks your pleasure from his fingers and you stare with a twinkle in your eye.

“You best fuck me now.”

Smirking, a low laugh escaping. “Yeah? Want me that bad, Flor?”

Lifting onto your elbows, he waits for a taunt, a tease—something that’ll bring him down a peg or two. What he finds, instead, is your fingers slowly crawling up his bare chest, around his neck, your chin tilted up.

“I need you, Javi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“And then I wanna get on top,” you whisper, dragging each syllable out, “and fuck you until the sun comes up.”

“Murphy is a nice guy.”

Eyes narrowing, he shot you a glare—watching as you shimmied your jacket from your shoulders. Bare arms, bare legs—except for the thin tank and shorts adorning your body—that had him thinking un-best friend things.

“You jealous, Piña?”

“Of a married guy? Fuck no.”

Grinning, you moved closer—boxing him in. Staring into his eyes, in a way that made him feel like he was being seen, read, and admired all at once. “Is that because you left a bite mark on my hip?”

Tracing his fingers along your neck, he felt himself smile. That flutter in his chest again, the one which had appeared one day when the two of you were teens and hadn’t gone away since.

“Ask me to stay,” you whispered, hands on either side of him—all boxed in. “Ask me, Javi.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he raised a hand, knuckles brushing over your cheek. Wanting nothing more. A week gone too quickly. Already feeling the pressure slip back over his muscles, seeping into his bones. But he knew. He pictured it, the things he had nightmares over—even when you were far away, never mind when you were asleep in the room next to his.

“Too dangerous.”

“That it? I can learn—”

“No.”

“No?”

He stared. Thought of the things he had done. The people he had already let down. The things he had let happen to people who deserved far better. It layering, and layering, and layering and—

Nodding, disappointment spread, before it was washed over in acceptance. “What’re we eating?”

When he wakes, he expects to find you dressed in corporate and apologising in a voice that’s accompanied by a pout at the foot of your bed. The place the two of you found yourself on at 4 am.

Instead, you fake another performance. Earn an Oscar over the phone before switching to the excitable one you present to him when you sit at the foot of the bed.

There’s something there. It hangs in your eyes. A secret, a thing shifted and dislodged now your mask has slipped from the few hours of sleep and the ruining of your sheets.

But he doesn’t ask, because if he does, he fears he’d tell you things in return. Alter the way you see him. Change it, taint it. Practically ruin the man you think he went to be and the one he's returned as.

It'll hurt him if you look at him with disgust. You’ve burnt him after all, left him winded, air knocked from his lungs each time he’s laughed. All but imprinted into his mind, a thing never filed but rather pinned up and forever there, like artwork on a fridge.

“Wanna get a coffee?”

Hands pulling on a pair of jeans, buttoning them as he sees the peaks of your nipples through your white tee. And he knows your face is bare and you're dressed in clothes you just pulled out without thought—yet, you are, as always, the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

A thing he thinks when he showers.

When he smiles as he scrubs the shampoo into his hair, feels the soreness at parts from where your nails had dug in. He doesn't stop beaming when he smears his palm across the glass, takes in his appearance as you open the door, a towel hung low on his hips, eyes dropping down.

“Now who's staring, hermosa.”

“Don’t be a work of art to be admired then.”

He dresses in record time, your hand swinging beside his, so within reach, so easy to grab. But he doesn’t.

None of last night mentioned, even if he knows he’s left bruises on your inner thighs from keeping them apart; even if you've left scratch marks on his shoulders from when you sunk down on him, head thrown back, jaw elongated as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

Javi doesn't even mention it when he hears you gasp at the taste of your coffee, a noise similar to when he'd licked a stripe up your pussy, when he tasted both you and him.

It was just like in Colombia.

A thing buried, hidden underneath other topics the two of you don’t discuss. Dead parents and a town you both ran from. A thing he almost wants to change, correct, but then you stop outside a flower shop.

The sign battered, peeling. Hidden between two nicer shops, yet the scent made his nose twitch.

“You should buy me flowers.”

“Should I?”

Smirking, teeth biting your lip. “Por lo de anoche.”

Head shaking, he finds himself following anyway. Unable to stop his eyes from falling to the back pocket you shove your phone in, hand reaching, palm pressing to the globe of your ass as he hears the muffled sound of a giggle—

“Piña.”

“Flor,” he whispers, practically breathes it against your neck.

The bubble expands, knowing at some point it’ll pop. Too happy, he thinks. Too settled for a man who has a solo flight back. It’s why he drops his hand, lets you move further in, watching as you scan over already-made bouquets for one he knows you won’t find.

Because they don’t know you. Not like him. There’s not years between you and this shop—this place.

His fingers lightly roll over a stem, staring at the flower, before he has pulled it free from the bucket, and then another, and then another. Not at all a florist—or someone artistic enough to make a bunch—but a person who at least knows you. Knows that in each of the pre-made bundles there’s a flower you dislike, one that’ll remind you of something, someone.

“Here.”

You blink, eyes widening as they move from the bunch in his hand to his face. “Javi…”

“There your—”

“Favourites,” you finish, eye narrowing, lips still parted. “You remembered all my favourites?”

Shrugging, aware of how close he is to real—to something that could shatter, break. A thing he’ll do, just give it time. Feeling it wrap its tendrils around his chest, around his heart, squeezing and squeezing until your hand slips in his. Palm to palm, fingers finding their way between his slowly, cautiously, your eyes not leaving his face as you do.

“Didn’t know my pussy was good enough for flowers, Piña,” you comment, voice low, a smirk there.

“You deserve more than flowers.”

“I’m that good?”

Shaking his head, hand still in yours, he presses a kiss to your forehead, swallowing. “Siempre has sido.”

“Hello?”

He heard the hiccup, the slur of his name as he smirked against the phone—finger and thumb massaging his forehead as he heard you hiccup again. “Flor?”

“Piña, did you know that I miss you?”

Adjusting the tie around his neck, staring down at the pineapples—the box open, atop a bunch of files, in the office he should have been thankful for. “You sound like you’ve had a good night.”

You howled, the laugh all high-pitched. “Maybe I have—maybe I haven’t. What I do know is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No. I love you.”

Smirking, thumb tracing an outline of one of the pineapples. “You’re drunk.”

“Still love you.”

Swallowing, he let out a heavy exhale.

“You doing okay, mi Piña?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, how to respond. Head tilting back in his office chair, the ice melted in his whiskey and the hour so late he wondered why you were still up as you extended his nickname out into as many syllables as you could.

“I am now—okay, I mean.”

It needs to be left alone.

He knows it. Reminds himself of it when it rears its head at every second he doesn't. Because, it doesn't need to be needled, or picked at until it bled.

But, Javi picks at it all the same when you avoid his question again.

His hand slides over his face, index finger tracing a line down his nose as he waits until your laugh fades. Your fork twists the spaghetti round and round, and when it falls, it simply lands on the table between the two of you—the air tinged with the scent of dinner and the flowers from the shop.

“When were you going to tell me you hate your job?”

Your smile shrinks, like the sunlight being muted by the night. Spine straightening, chin lifting. The walls coming down both literally and figuratively, seeing you prepare for war when he’s army-less and unafraid.

“Si significo algo para ti, no lo hagas.”

He snorts, resting on his arm, letting the sheets fall to his waist. Because of course, he cares, and of course, he wants to do this. Balling up the hand beside his hip, seeing the murkiness in your eyes, the joy snuffed out and hidden, as though the hatchets were coming down to protect against his storm.

Javi says your name, softly, honeyed—delicately drip-feeding the air each letter until it’s out there existing.

One by one, it happens. Your eyes avert, chin dipping down; your tongue drags across the front of your teeth and then your arms fold. “I hate my job. Happy? I wanted it so bad—and now I have it, I hate it. I hate going in, I hate doing it. I can’t tell anyone that because it’s all I wanted.”

“It’s okay.”

Snorting, fake smile sketching across your face as your eyes harden to the point they’re brittle. “It isn’t. I left. I turned my back and got as far out of there as I could, and now I’m stuck.”

It breaks him a little.

Seeing it then, the many shards inside of you that you’re trying to keep whole. The pieces that are so worn and tired from doing their best to fit, but struggling to do so.

It’s why he protests that you’re not. He tries to rationalise and says the same words he knows you’d say to him if he called—if he had told you the truth about everything when he was over there. He tries to add kindness to his words as you continue to stare at him like you wish your bed would swallow him whole.

“—You’re saying this like I didn’t say the same thing to you, and you went and did another five years.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” you spit, standing now, finger pointing and nose flared. “Because your job means more?—”

“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, Flor. You’re not.”

You mutter under your breath, curse him—a blend of poisonous Spanglish that has the heel of his palm pressing against his forehead.

Because it’s like last time.

The words surge up inside of him—except you’re both older now, both carrying more pain and hurt from a world that continues to pile on when bones are already struggling. Walls threw up, keeping him out in all the same ways—except now his mess is also between your thighs, and you aren’t half as good at hiding how his words hurt you.

“Come home with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Folding your arms, your head shaking. “I can stick it out—work my way up, it’ll get better—”

“You know it won’t. Know how well that went for me.”

Then you scoff. It blended with razors and sharpened to injure. “No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk about what happened.”

“You read about it.”

“But that’s not your story, Javi. That’s theirs.”

For a moment, he sees it. How hollow you look, how weak, sad and broken. So he repeats it, the request, the offer. Come home with me. But the door shuts, locks, a bolt thrown over.

And everything, all of it, splinters; it doing so before your mouth even opens and he sees what his request has done.

“I’m not coming home just because you’ve decided you want to play happy fucking families, Peña. The world doesn’t stop turning just because you’ve decided to run away, and it doesn’t begin turning again because you’ve come home and decided what you want.”

“That isn’t—”

“You left. You left me.”

“—Flor—”

“—and I asked you to let me stay—when I knew you were hurting. I asked and you said no—”

He whispers your name, broken—like it shatters the moment it greets the air.

“—I wasn’t good enough then. So why am I now?”

Shaking his head, legs flung from under your sheets, he stands—aware he’s half-naked, aware this isn’t the time as you step back.

You shake your head, tears dangling, resistant to fall. “I bet you’re not even staying.”

“I am—”

Head tilting, a crystal tear falling down your cheek, you scoff. Loud. Brutal. “Have you even unpacked? Or did you just get on a plane here?”

Swallowing, Javi rolls his jaw. Fingers flexing at his side, staring, urging himself to find words as his tongue thickens in his mouth. Because he’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying—

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Flor—”

“Save it.”

The door of your bedroom slamming behind you is the final sound that echoes out between you both.

It was different.

Hearing you cry down the phone—than when the two of you were younger.

When your first love broke your heart and he lay beside you on sheets covered in stitched flowers. Your head turned to him, the bedroom door open, as you teased your lip between your teeth. The tears had dried, but the rest had still been there, written in markers across your face as you sighed, staring, waiting for him to answer. “What do you want, Piña?” you’d asked, and he’d swallowed that he wanted to punch them.

Now, though, there were miles between the two of you. Distance far more than there had ever been—cities, a whole country.

“I’ll be home soon—can visit you.”

He heard you laugh, it hanging, echoing. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it.”

“You mean a lot of things, Javi.”

“Flor—”

“I wish you'd never kissed me.”

It's a whisper, the way he said your name. It cracked, snapping as it left his tongue.

“I should go shower, early morning and all that.”

He asked you to stay and he heard you sigh.

“What do you want, Piña?”

Swallowing, Javi tapped his fist on the desk—tiredness having crept over him, the last ditch at doing right in Colombia suspended over him. Tell me I’m doing good, that it's worth losing you, Flor. “Have a good day, Flor.”

It’s weeks.

Eight weeks and four days to be exact.

At some point, it becomes less of a want to get in touch and more of a need not to. Your number is always there on his fingers, but his digits never dialling it when his Pop nips out to go to the store, and he’s left alone with his thoughts and memories in a house stuffed full of them.

Javi doesn’t expect anything else.

Having woke that next morning to find a note attached to the book he had bought: Had to go to work. Have a safe flight. Speak soon—a thing he both hoped and prayed for, even as he nursed a drink on the short flight and chain-smoked at the airport before he did the drive home.

Home.

A thing it felt even less of when he arrived this final time. Pulling his truck into its place, dust swirled and kicked up around him. Staring at the house that hasn’t changed much, just the paint thinning, the sun-dyeing it.

Each day that ticks by, he thinks of you. Each week that’s collected, he fights with himself when he’s sat alone at the dining table about flying back out and apologising.

Because he knows what he did.

Did the same thing back then—assumed and foolishly acted as though your wants never mattered. But they do matter. A thing he rehearses in his head when he’s feeding the animals; a thing he runs over when he’s repairing a door here or a fence there.

One week adds up, then another, and another.

If his Pop thinks things, he doesn’t share them. Just shakes his head occasionally, not asking what is wrong, likely knowing. Suspecting he wears it like the rest of his shame, brightly coloured and decorated in bright lights.

A fool’s outfit, he thinks. A thing he is, a thing he knows. It carved into him at this point. Scratched into the skin and muscle, yet everyone else sees the word hero.

It’s eight weeks and four days when the door of the party opens, the sun streaming in—illuminating the back of a person in a dress adorned with flowers. It takes a second, the condensation on his beer dripping down his wrist as he stares, trying to place the shape and the style of the hair. Not wanting to imagine, not wanting to jump ahead of himself until he hears your mom say your name, all excitable—practically a shriek.

He’s not prepared.

Yet, it’s out of habit he moves.

Like the two of you are magnets, that realised they were supposed to be a pair. The music doesn’t quiet, and the room doesn’t hold its breath, but Javi does—and he suspects you do too.

Just as time comes to a slow stop—the hand in his watch takes an age to flick to the next second as his heart hammers into his ribs. Staring, fingers itching to reach out and ensure you’re not something he’s fabricated, not a mirage from wanting so badly and convincing himself he’d never have it.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Piña.”

It weighs heavy then—clots on his tongue. Almost shapes itself into bile and rests horridly against his tongue as he follows you around, hand close to reaching out to place on your lower back, but stops when he remembers where he is.

Home.

A thing it all of a sudden feels like when you turn your head, lift your chin and stare at him—eyes full of forgiveness, and understanding. “We should talk, right?”

Right, he thinks. Trying to stop the twist in his chest from tightening, trying to stop the dread from filling him and drowning from within. Conversations never go well. A thing he thinks over, and over as his hand strokes over his face, following, one foot after the other, until the warm sun kisses his skin and he finds himself leaning against the side of the building.

“I didn’t come for you.”

He says nothing, not sure if there are any to say.

“I quit. Moved back a week and a bit ago—” your hand comes up to halt him, half-pleading with a tilt and a raise of your eyes. “—and I needed to find things for me, first.”

Folding his arms, he stretches his legs, lets himself elongate, and tries to fill his lungs with air.

“Because I’d have resented you for being right.” Your chin dips, eyes following. “A thing I would do, because you, Javier Peña, know me. And sometimes I really hate that.”

Exhaling, he finds you do the same. Head tilting, lips rolling as you take him in, trace him with your eyes as though you can't quite believe he's real.

“Did you know that every person I’ve been with, it gets to a point where I think ‘Fuck, Javi wouldn’t do this to me’?” Meeting his gaze, you exhale. “And then, no matter how much I felt for them, it goes.”

“Flor…”

Swallowing, you offer the smallest smile. “It’s never gone for you, though. Not when you left. Not when you came back, and left again. Not eight weeks ago when I should have asked you to stay.”

Tongue sticking, flat against the roof his mouth, he grabs your hand—holds it. Runs his thumb over the knuckles as you avert your eyes.

“I live in Laredo now, further north. Did you know I’m so good at what I do, people seek me out?” you say, beaming, letting him pull you closer. “Think they’d have cloned me you if I’d asked for it.”

Dragging his knuckles down your cheek, he’s unable to stop the way it flares up in him—that joy, that ember of happiness—when you smile.

“Because I don’t think I find the idea of being yours that terrible—”

“That so?”

Shaking your head, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, he watches your smile falter—just for a moment. “Don’t do this, if you’re going to up and leave again, Javi. Because I’d have died happily not telling you what I feel for you.”

“Not doing it again to you.”

“Okay. Then,” you sigh, sliding your arms around his neck, his hands finding a home on your waist. “Well, I guess I should tell you that I really like your moustache.”

“Just really like?” he teases, swaying you as you purse your lips together.

“Fine. I love it.”

Smiling, walking you back until your back meets the wooden railings. “I love that you love it.”

Rolling your eyes, forehead meeting his chest, he feels the laugh roll through you. Rumbling.

“You owe me flowers.”

Snorting, he rests his chin on your head. “I’ll buy you a field, Flor.”

“That’s a good start.”

Thought so, he thinks. Wrapping his arms around you, keeping your head against him, rocking you, like he's wished to do so many times before now.

Home now feeling right.

#javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javi peña smut #narcos x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[xxchumanixx]

Uno pt. 2

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, mdni!, smut, pure filth I'm sorry, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), fluff, a little angst Word count: 7.937 Authors Note: Oh my holy freaking goodness. I don't even know how the hell that happened. I promised smut, this is pure filth I fear. You can read it as a standalone, it'll definitely work. I'm sorry again, I'm gonna bury myself somewhere far away now. Also, I feel like this is a bit different than what I usually write when it comes to smut, I still hope you'll like it, though! And it's not fully proofread yet... I'm sorry - but I love you guys, just wanted to say it. Read part one here

Enjoy I guess?

"We should play Uno more often."

"You think so?" you asked, nibbling at his bottom lip.

At your question he simply smiled and closed the gap between you again. He crashed his lips onto yours, giving you no chance to escape. The kiss started out as a firm, claiming kiss, but it soon turned heated and hungry. His hand on your neck held you close, while his other hand gently rested against your hip, fingers lightly caressing the skin underneath. 

You sighed into the kiss, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him, trying to feel more of him. Fingers brushing through his hair, you lightly tugged at the short strands. Your skin burned where he touched it, only fueling the fire inside of you. 

A low groan escaped him as you tugged his hair, the sound muffled as he kept claiming your lips.  

You tried to get even closer, chest pressing against his, as you tugged on his hair again, wanting to hear him make that beautiful sound again. Your hips started to move on their own accord, brushing against his growing erection repeatedly. 

Bucky couldn’t help the groan escaping him, as you brushed against his erection. One hand moved from your waist back to your hips, his fingers gripping the flesh hard enough to leave marks in the morning, helping you to maintain the movement. A dark possessiveness took over the super soldier - you’re his now, no one else’s. He kissed you harder, hungrily, demanding all of your attention. 

Your heart hammered, as your fingers danced over his neck, wandering further down, before they fumbled for his shirt, brushing underneath and over the muscles of his stomach. A dreamy sigh escaped your lips, always having dreamed about these muscles. You moaned at the way he gripped you, at the way his bulge brushed your most sensitive point.  

"Like what you feel, doll?"

Your fingers continued to slide over the muscles of his toned body hungrily, not able to stop.

Biting your lip, you took a moment to admire. "Shut up, Barnes." you said, before pressing your lips to his again. Your hands roamed his broad chest, feeling the ridges of his muscles, his skin fluttering the slightest bit under the touch. 

He chuckled at your words, but the laugh soon turned into a groan as your hands explored his chest and stomach further, his muscles reacting involuntarily to your touch. Your soft hands against his skin caused goosebumps on his body, and his breathing hitched. He pulled you impossibly closer and moved to kiss from your lips down to your neck, biting and licking his way down to your collarbone. 

You shivered involuntarily, a sigh on the edge to a whimper leaving your lips parted. You couldn’t concentrate for a moment, hips stopping their movement as your mind got fuzzy with his lips on your neck. 

He started grazing his teeth over your skin, before biting down, nipping at the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. His large, calloused hand moved to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up as his palm pressed against your side. His other hand held you close, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your side, as his thumb traced maddening circles over your hipbone. 

You swallowed, trying to concentrate again. A whimper left your lips, as he bit into the skin, breath faltering. "James." you breathed out hungrily, preferring his first name to his nickname, because it sounded so much more intimate. "Please..." 

He could hear the needy quality to your plea, and he almost growled in response, biting down a little harder on your sensitive skin. "I thought you’d never ask, doll." he replied, and his hand moved to your hair, tugging it softly until you exposed your neck to him. He pressed a gentle kiss against your skin, teasing you before biting down hard again. 

You moaned rather loudly, trying to stifle it though, in embarrassment. You didn't want your neighbors to hear, not when the walls were so paper thin. Your hips started to move again, rubbing against his growing bulge, looking for some friction. 

Bucky chuckled and bit down on your lower lip, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin before letting go again, a smug expression on his face. "Trying to keep quiet, doll?" he said with an undertone of teasing and grabbed your hips, his hands pressing into them, keeping you from moving as he wanted to make you desperate for it. He placed gentle kisses over your jaw and neck, trailing down to your upper chest, shirt tugged down. 

You breathed heavily, whimpering at him stopping your movements. "Why do I get the feeling I won't be able to be quiet?" you asked breathlessly, looking down at where his face was buried in your chest. 

Bucky pulled back just so he could look up at you, a teasing smile on his face. "Would you want to be quiet though, doll?" he asked, giving you room to answer truthfully. He wanted to hear you moan and whimper, to see you come undone for him, only him. 

"No." you breathed out, cheeks turning pinkish, swallowing. "No I don't. Make me scream, make me shout your name, whatever you want, James. I'm yours for the taking." 

A shiver ran through you, eyes fluttering closed at the prospect. You could feel the way your underwear got sticky, arousal doubling at his seductive words. And at his declaration that you’re his. "I'm yours." you confirmed, eyes opening to meet his again. His own were dark, pupils blown wide. Still, they were the most beautiful you had ever seen. 

Bucky smirked as he heard your words, his eyes gleaming with possessiveness. The way you said his name was like a spell, but at your last comment he suddenly moved you around in his lap, grabbing you tight, as he stood up, holding you against him.

He walked over to the couch, placing you down on it. He moved to hover above you, his knees between your legs and arms propping him up. "You’re mine, doll," he said and leaned down, his breath hot on you as he whispered, his lips barely brushing yours. "I’d prefer to make you scream my name, though." 

"Good." he replied, his voice a husky rumble against your skin. His hand moved to your face, cupping your cheek as his thumb slowly traced your mouth. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine as you confirmed that you’re his. When his lips brushed over yours it was a gentle, almost teasing touch. "I’d love to see you scream and moan my name, doll." he murmured and his teeth slightly bit your lower lip, before he deepened the kiss. 

You returned the kiss, only parting for a moment to breathe out "Than make me, James.", before you pressed your lips back to his. Your hands found his neck and hair, tugging him closer, as your legs tried to press him further against you, especially his lower half. 

Bucky could feel your desperation and your need, your body pressing closer against him as his tongue slid between your lips. When your tongues met, it was all soft moans and whimpers, breaths quickly growing irregular and heavy. One hand grabbed your thigh, slowly pushing it against your body as he moved closer to you. It was all heated touches and hungry kisses. 

You felt the way he tried to control himself. Your heart fluttered at how thoughtful and caring he was, but you needed him. "Don't hold back." you pleaded in-between kisses. "Please don't, James." 

Bucky let out a shaky breath when you pleaded with him, unable to deny you anything, especially when you used his first name. There was this deep growl-like sound coming from his chest, as he dived back into the kiss, his hands and lips becoming hungrier and harder. He couldn’t help the possessiveness that surged through him as he pressed himself against you, leaving no space between his body and yours. 

Moaning, your hips bucked into his, rubbing against his erection. His metal hand was a cool contrast to your heated skin, and you couldn't wait to feel it somewhere else. Your legs closed around his waist, heels digging into his back, as you tried to deepen the pressure of his erection against your most sensitive part, trying to tell him to do something. 

Bucky groaned into the kiss as he felt your legs wrap around his waist, he was barely holding onto his control as you moaned and arched your back off the couch, needing him more than anything. His fingers dug into your thighs, his right hand moving towards your lower hip to keep you still as he lifted himself up a little more. "Doll," he managed to breathe out, his voice rough and filled with need "I don’t want to hurt you…"

"You won't." you said confidently, looking up into his beautiful eyes, as your fingers traced his muscular chest. "You couldn't, even if you wanted to." 

He couldn’t help the shiver when your fingers traced his chest, and a deep sound escaped him, his head dropping down to press a kiss against your neck. All the while he pushed his hips closer against your still clothed core, his breathing growing more heavy and uneven. "So good to me…" - he mumbled against your skin, almost as if he was thinking out loud. 

You shivered in anticipation and delight, tilting your head to grant him better access, as you inhaled shakily, only to moan when his hips met yours. "More, James." you breathed out. "I need more." 

Bucky couldn’t resist your plea, he craved you just as much, if not even more. You were like a drug, one he couldn’t get enough of. He let out another deep groan, the sound vibrating against your skin, as his teeth found the sensitive spot on your neck and he bit you again, soothing the bite after with his tongue. At the same time, his left hand slipped between you, his fingers slowly finding your clothed core. 

Your breathing faltered and you whimpered, bucking into him. You grew more impatient the more time he took for his fingers to finally please you, to finally meet you where you needed them the most. 

Bucky could almost feel how impatient you became, your hips bucking against his and your breath hitching when he bit and soothed another spot on your sensitive neck. He let out an almost smug chuckle, as he lifted his head and looked down at you. "Getting impatient, doll?" he asked, his voice still raspy from all the teasing. His fingers finally touched your clothed clit, and rubbed light circles over it, his other hand holding your hip still. 

You wanted to respond something smugly, but you were rendered speechless, as his fingers finally rubbed your clit, instead tearing a throaty moan from you. Your lips were parted, eyes locked onto his, as your chest rose and fell rapidly. Unable to respond anything, you gave him all the confirmation he needed. 

Bucky let out a low chuckle, his teeth showing in a feral smile as he listened to your moans. He kept rubbing slow, light circles over your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves, but with not enough pressure to really satisfy you. His eyes were dark, pupils blown as he looked down at your flushed face, enjoying the way you looked right then. "Look so pretty like this, so needy…" he muttered, as he moved up to press a kiss against your lips again. 

You whimpered at his words into the kiss, pressing yourself against his hand, trying to increase the pressure through your jeans. You needed him more than you needed the air to breathe. 

Bucky chuckled lowly, enjoying your eagerness to feel more, especially when his name slipped past your lips, in an almost needy whine. He could feel his own need growing, just as evident through the rough fabric of his sweatpants, but he was determined to keep teasing you until you couldn’t keep begging him any longer. "Look at you," he muttered "so needy for my touch, for me…" His metal thumb pressed down, rubbing a little rougher, yet still too slow to really satisfy. 

You gritted your teeth, trying not to show him just how desperate you were for him to finally take you, claim and mark you as his. But your body betrayed you, as you jolted into his hand, whimpering and moaning his name again. "Please, James." 

Bucky could hear the desperation in your voice, and although it was a good sound he also didn’t want to make you wait too long. The super soldier leaned down until his head was hovering right next to your ear. "Please what? Tell me exactly what you want, doll." he teased huskily, teeth nipping your earlobe, before he started to trail kisses down your neck again. 

Your breathing stuttered, his breath hot on your skin, goosebumps erupting. "Please," you managed to get past your lips, as you surrendered to him fully. "Please fuck me, James." 

Bucky couldn’t help the low rumble that came from his chest, his body shivering at your words - you surrendered to him, fully, and he wanted to take care of you. His control was almost out of the window. He lifted his mouth back to yours, the kiss almost hard and punishing this time. "Good girl…" he muttered between kisses. "I’ll take good care of you."

"Please." you whined into the kiss, bucking into him needily, fingers tugging at his hair. "I want you so badly." 

Bucky lifted his head just enough to look down at you, eyes dark with lust. "Then you’ll have me," he muttered. "And you’ll take all of me, won’t you?" He leaned back down to your neck, biting down on the same spot that he had bitten down on a few minutes ago. "I need to hear you say it." he whispered, and you could feel his teeth vibrate against your skin from his words. 

You whimpered again. "I'll take all of you." you told him. "Whatever you give me, I'll take it like the good girl I am." 

Bucky let out a low groan, his teeth and tongue soothing the new mark right where he left another, your name leaving his mouth in a low moan. "Oh, you’re too perfect…" he muttered. "You will take care of me, won’t you? No one else, doll." As if to emphasize his words he bit down on the other side too, sucking at the mark harder to make sure another bruise would form, so everyone knew who you belonged to. 

"No one else, but me, James." you confirmed. "I will take care of you, but please, finally do something." 

Bucky leaned back until he was looking down at your flushed face again, lips parted, and cheeks flushed with arousal and impatience. Just the sight of you was enough to make his breathing speed up. His hands moved towards the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath and caressing the skin on your sides. "Then let’s get this off of you first so I can leave my mark on more of your beautiful skin." He muttered and slowly started to pull the shirt up, giving you time to tell him to stop. 

Instead of stopping him, though, you urged him on. "Rip it apart, if you need to." you told him. "Just get rid of it, already." 

Bucky couldn’t help the low groan that escaped him at your words, the sound almost like a growl, his eyes fluttered with lust as you gave him permission. In one swift movement, he ripped the shirt apart, his fingers making quick work of it until it was lying in shreds. Once the ruined shirt was carelessly thrown to the side, he took a moment to look over your bare torso, the hunger in his eyes increasing. 

You couldn't help but blush, suddenly feeling insecure. What if he didn't like what he saw? What if you weren’t enough? Biting your lip, you tried not to let your insecurities shine through. 

Bucky could sense your growing insecurity, though, tilting his head a little as he watched you closely, so that his next words would be believed. "God, you are so beautiful…" he muttered, voice low and rough. "The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…" His fingers moved again, trailing along the skin on your body, his gaze following the movement carefully, as if trying to commit this picture forever into his memory. 

You shivered involuntarily, cheeks reddening even more at his words. Your heart fluttered, and you swallowed. "I-" you started, cutting yourself off. "I can't express how beautiful you are, too, James." you then said, trying to return the compliment, as you watched his movements. 

Bucky’s eyes flickered from your body to your eyes; he could hear the sincerity in your voice, and yet he couldn’t help the insecurity he was feeling, too. He was just as scared that you may not like what you see once he takes off his shirt and reveals the mess that was his body. For a moment he hesitated, unsure of what to do, but he wanted you to feel comfortable. "Is it okay if I take this off, doll?" he muttered, tugging a little at his shirt. 

"Please!" you whimpered, growing more impatient. "Yes, take it off." 

Bucky let out a breathless chuckle, your impatience showing, and your eagerness for him to just get rid of the shirt, was almost endearing. The super soldier lifted himself enough to quickly take off the shirt, tossing it to the side, before lowering himself back on top of you. Now his metal arm was on display, the various scars on his body too, but his eyes were focused on your face, observing your reaction carefully. 

Your eyes trailed over his body, the various scars and his metal arm, and you couldn't help but be mesmerized by it. Your fingers traced over his chest, eyes following them. "See, you're beautiful." you said, watching his skin ripple under your touch. 

Shaking your head, you looked back into his eyes. "No." you told him sincerely. "They're proof of how strong you are, of what you survived. You're a survivor, James. A strong and beautiful survivor." 

Bucky shivered as your fingers trailed over his skin, goosebumps arising in their wake, and his breathing faltering from your touch. No one had ever looked at his body the way you were, so full of awe and appreciation, not even once had someone called him beautiful - until now. "All the scars… the arm…" he muttered lowly. "You don’t find them repulsive…?"

Bucky’s eyes flickered all over your face for a long moment, almost as if trying to find signs of lies there, but your gaze was nothing but sincere. He found it hard to believe you, it sounded foreign to hear you calling his scars - the very ones he was so ashamed of - beautiful. 

"Doll…" he muttered quietly, before he lowered his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss once again. He could feel his need to have you grow more with each second, the hunger growing more and more consuming. 

You returned the kiss, the hunger inside of you flaming up once again. You were proud that he trusted you so much, to be able to see him in all his glory, with his scars and imperfections. He was perfect the way he was. "You're perfect." you muttered in-between kisses, fingers brushing over his stomach to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging at the material. "And I'm sure what's underneath those is perfect as well." 

Bucky groaned as you brushed your fingers over his lower stomach, so terribly close to where he needed you, yet you avoided the hard shape growing in the front. He could feel himself grow more needy, your words of him being perfect and your fingers so, so close yet not close enough, making him lose any restraint he had left. He pressed his mouth hard against yours in a possessive kiss, almost as if trying to shut you up from teasing him even more. 

You chuckled into the kiss, before your hand cupped the bulge of his erection, silently in awe at how big it felt. You massaged him through the fabric, silently begging to hear his moans. 

Bucky growled into the kiss, the sound coming from deep inside his chest, breaking the kiss as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, to hide his flushed face and control his breathing. He could feel his control slipping, his hips stuttering as you massaged his cock through the fabric and a low, almost desperate groan escaped his lips, muffled by the skin on your neck. 

You massaged him harder, wanting to hear him again. His breath was hot on your neck, almost distracting you, but you kept going, before your hand slowly slipped into his boxer briefs, cupping his erection. 

Bucky’s lips parted on a strangled groan as you moved into his boxers, his hips almost automatically jerking into the touch, seeking and craving the contact. His breathing was labored, as he pressed kisses against your neck, desperately trying to muffle the needy, breathy moans leaving his mouth with his teeth and tongue. His left hand pressed into the side of the couch to support his weight, as he gave in to the pleasure of your touch. 

You chuckled lowly, proud at the way he reacted to your touch, but you wanted to hear him. "Don't hold back." you told him, tugging at his hair with a quiet moan of your own. "I want to hear you." Your fingers brushed over his erection and gathered his pre-cum, before gripping it tightly, starting with slow strokes. 

Bucky groaned lowly, his entire body shivering involuntarily with the touch and your words, the way you tugged at his hair and stroked him just like those words he whispered to you earlier. "Doll…" he muttered, trying to control himself so that he didn’t go completely mad, but you were making it so damn difficult. His body was practically a live wire right then. "You’re making me desperate." he almost moaned. 

"Good." you breathed out, stroking his cock faster. "Since you won't get feral on your own, I'll help you until you will. Don't hold back, James. Let go and do whatever you want with me - with my body." 

Bucky growled lowly, your words and touch doing things to his mind. "You sure you want that, doll?" he murmured lowly, as his teeth clamped down on your neck in warning, his hips already snapping forwards into your touch before he could stop it. "Because I won’t hold back."

"Then don't." 

Bucky’s teeth bit down harder on your neck for a moment, leaving another mark on the already abused skin, before he teared his mouth from your neck, the sound of ragged breaths leaving his lips. In one swift movement, he pushed himself off you, his hands grabbing the sides of your pants and pulling them off your legs, before tossing them away. As soon as they were gone, his head lowered again, his mouth sucking and biting his way down your body. 

Your back arched in pleasure and anticipation, eyes following his movements, pupils blown wide. Your breathing fastened, chest rising rapidly. 

Bucky’s mouth reached your core, his metal hand pressing on your hip to keep you down, as he lapped at your wet entrance, letting out a deep groan. He could smell your arousal, so deep that it was nearly enough to drive him mad. His tongue lapped at the slick that had already built up, his eyes looking up at your flushed face and parted lips, as you lay back. 

You yelped quietly, hands gripping his hair tightly, moaning at the way his tongue pleased you. Your eyes found his, and your body shivered at the intimacy with lips parted, back arching. 

Bucky moaned at your taste, his tongue exploring your depths, his breath hot and heavy as he breathed through his nose in an attempt to take all of you in. Your whines and moans were the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, your sweet taste made him nearly crazy with want and need. As his mouth took its fill on you, his eyes never left yours. 

"Fuck!" you breathed out, already on the edge, but refusing to give in just yet. Your legs quivered, his name leaving your lips in a strangled moan. "Fuck, why are you so good at this?" 

Bucky couldn’t help but groan lowly, the sound vibrating against your mound, as he continued his ministrations. His mouth and tongue took turns in pleasing you, his metal fingers dug into your skin to keep you in your place, but also to let his desire for you show. His name left your lips, the sound of it so full of moans and whines and pleasure, was almost enough to send him over the edge too. 

"I need more." you breathed out, followed by a deep moan, as your back arched again, body pushing into him in search for more. "Please, James, I need your fingers. Please!" 

Bucky let out a feral groan at your pleads, knowing he wouldn’t be able to deny you of it. Not when you sounded so pretty. Without hesitation he pushed his index finger in, stretching you out and curving it just right until he grazed over the spot that made you see stars. "There, doll?" he muttered, voice low and heavy with desire. 

You cried out in pleasure, not able to hold off any longer, as you came all over his tongue and finger, breathing out his name like a mantra, whole body shivering and quivering. You weren't even able to answer his question properly, suddenly ashamed for coming so fast. 

Bucky didn’t miss the shame in your eyes, he could sense it, and it made him pull his mouth from your core, looking at you for a moment, before crawling back up your body. His mouth claimed yours in a deep kiss, making sure you tasted yourself on his lips, before pulling back again and looking down at you with a look that was full of desire and affection. "That’s nothing to be ashamed of, doll." he muttered. "It shows me that I’m pleasing you."

"Fuck," you breathed out, trying to catch your breath. "And not too short." You couldn't help but agree with him on that. "I don't think I've ever come this fast before. You’re not only good at shuffling cards, Bucky." 

Bucky let out a breathless chuckle, his eyes dancing over your flushed face and body, still feeling that same need for you as before, but now it was mixed with affection. "I am honored." he murmured, a smile on his face. "I could make you come again if you want?" His left hand traced the skin on your stomach, the cool metal of his fingers providing a stark contrast to your overheated skin. 

"Yes!" you let out in a needy whine, eyes fluttering closed, as your body shivered. "But I want your cock, James. Please." 

Bucky groaned as you pleaded for him like that, the sound turning feral, as the words left your mouth. "That's what you want?" he muttered. 

"Yes!" you almost screamed, eyes meeting his, as your bottom lip quivered. "Yes, please!" 

Bucky chuckled; his voice almost shaky as he tried to reign in his own self-control. "You're a needy one, doll." he muttered. "Let me have you." 

You blushed the slightest bit, not able to deny his words. "Please James, take me. Do whatever you want to me." you told him breathlessly, fingers dancing over his heated skin. "Please, let go, stop holding back." 

There was something about the way you pleaded, that made something inside Bucky snap. His hand gripped your hip, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave more bruises, as he turned you onto your stomach. "Like this, doll?" 

You wanted to nod but couldn't in this position. "Yes!" you whimpered instead, lifting your ass up in his direction, trying to tease him. "Please." 

Bucky pushed his mouth to your neck, biting down on the same spot as before, adding another mark to the already bruised skin. He pulled his sweatpants and boxers down, taking out his hard cock and giving it a few strokes.  

Your body shivered in delight, anticipation making your skin tingle. 

"Are you ready, doll? Are you ready for me to claim you?" he breathed lowly into your ear; his own breath heavy. His mouth pressed a trail of soft kisses along the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

"Yes, I am, James." you confirmed, pushing your ass more in his direction. "Claim me." 

Bucky didn't hesitate even for a second, as you confirmed what he wanted to hear, slowly pushing his cock through your folds, gathering your arousal on it.  

You wanted to turn, wanted to see him, but you held back, patiently waiting for him to finally enter you, claiming you as his. 

The groan Bucky let out as he lined himself up with your entrance was guttural, as he pushed only the head inside, still a fucking tease. 

You moaned in return, feeling his tip where you needed him the most. Just the feeling of him this close, made you shiver and your heart race. 

Bucky moaned lowly in response, the sound sending vibrations through his body and straight into yours. His left hand reached up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers gently tangling in your hair, before pulling you into a deep kiss, his mouth claiming yours. 

You moaned into the kiss, feeling him slowly push further inside. He was big, thick and felt so good. You arched into him, back brushing his stomach, trying to make him push deeper. 

Bucky broke the kiss with a low groan, as you arched your back, the way your body fit against his perfectly made him unable to hold back. He pushed deeper, until he was buried completely inside of you. "You feel perfect, doll." he muttered breathlessly into your skin. "You feel perfect."

Your breathing faltered, as you felt him so deep inside of you. "You're so big." you moaned, already out of breath. "So big and perfect." 

Bucky's breathing was heavy in your ear, as he held there for a moment, taking a moment to allow you to adjust to the size. "Doll…" he breathed out lowly, before his mouth claimed your neck, kissing, sucking and biting as he slowly started to move. 

Hot pleasure shot through you, and you moaned his name, gripping his thigh as best as you could, trying to hold onto something. "James!" you breathed out. "Fuck, you feel so good!" 

Bucky didn't reply, his mind already too cloudy with pleasure to even think, but his body responded by gripping you harder and setting a harder, deeper pace for his thrusts. His mouth never parted from your neck or shoulder, as he gave you the same treatment as before, leaving marks to claim you as his. 

You moaned, your whole body tingling with the pleasure he brought you. You wanted to look at him, tried to turn your head to get a glimpse at him, and you moaned again, as he hit that sweet spot that turned your body to jelly. 

Bucky groaned as you turned your head, his mouth trailing over your shoulder and back, as he pushed his face further into your skin. The new angle had him bury further into you, his hips stuttering as he hit that spot inside you, a low and needy groan leaving his lips as his eyes fluttered shut. "You feel so good, doll." he muttered. "So, so good."

"Fuck!" you breathed out, already on the verge of another orgasm, walls fluttering around him, as your body shook with each thrust. "You're fucking me so good, James. So good." 

Bucky's grip on your body tightened, as he felt you tighten around him, the sound of your moans music to his ears. The next thrust landed directly on that spot again, his teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder to hold himself back a little longer. "I’m making you feel good, doll?" he muttered, his voice almost needy as he breathed heavily into your skin. 

"Fuck yes!" you whimpered, crying out his name, as he hit that spot again. "Yes, so good, James!" Tears burned in your eyes, tears of pure pleasure. "Fuck yes!" 

Bucky moaned lowly, as your walls gripped him tighter, his left hand reaching up to gently wipe away a tear from your cheek, before gripping your hair. "You’re so pretty like this, doll." he muttered breathlessly. "Completely undone because of me. Such a pretty doll, aren’t you?"

"Yes, I am." you confirmed, moaning. "I won't last much longer, James. I- I'm about to come!" you warned him, crying out in pleasure, trying to hold back from coming again already. 

Bucky didn’t slow down as his hips continued their pace, his moans getting more and more feral as he chased his own release. "Let go, doll." he muttered. "I want you to come undone on me again. I want to hear you say my name. I want to feel you."

Whimpering, the coil snapped at his words. You cried out his name, shouted it into the air, as you came, clenching down on him, your whole body shaking in pleasure. Your vision was blurry, mind foggy, as the pleasure continued to course through you. 

Bucky groaned as your walls clenched down on him, his thrusts got harder and harder, as he was losing his rhythm. His breaths were coming out faster and more ragged now, and he was clearly getting close himself. "There you go, doll." he groaned. "You’re doing so well. I’m almost... I’m almost there-"

"Come for me, Bucky." you said, calling him by his nickname. "Come for me, paint my walls with your seed, please. I need it." 

Bucky couldn’t stop the whimper that left his lips at your words, his body growing tense at them. Without another word his hips stilled, his mouth biting down hard on your shoulder as he came, his release painting your insides. "Doll-" he breathed out, his mind completely blanking out as the pleasure took over his senses. 

You could feel him filling you up with his spend, the feeling erupting goosebumps all over your skin. "You feel so good." you murmured, still trying to come down from your high. "So good. I love you." Your body stiffened, as you realized what you just said. You confessed your feelings to him in your hazy state, only realizing when it was too late. You silently cursed yourself, desperately hoping he was too zoned out to hear you. What if he didn't return the feelings? What if he only wanted to fuck and nothing more? Even when he said you’re his, that didn't mean he had feelings for you, too, right? 

Bucky didn’t pull out yet, still slumped over you, his breathing heavy in your ear. His mind was too dizzy with pleasure to even notice you’d confessed your feelings to him. His mouth continued its trail of kisses and bites, as he slowly started to come down from his high. "You’re so pretty." he murmured after a moment, his teeth grazing over the same spot on your shoulder that he’d bitten into before. 

You swallowed, realizing he didn't hear you. Your heart pounded faster, as it slowly started to hurt. Did you want him to know? Did you really want to risk losing him, by confessing your feelings? You didn't react to him calling you pretty, too caught up in your confusing thoughts, as your body stayed still under him. 

Bucky pulled back slightly, noticing the way your body was lying completely still. He looked down at you, the fog in his mind finally starting to clear a little. His breathing was still heavy, but just enough that he could speak without having to gasp for air. "Doll.. are you okay?" he wanted to know; his tone concerned as his eyes looked over your body. "What’s wrong?"

"I-" you started, but cut yourself off. "What does this mean to you?" you asked instead, swallowing as you stared at the wall with tears blurring your sight, the cards still littered on the table in front of it. "You said I'm yours, but what does this really mean to you? Did you just want to fuck and then go on like nothing happened? Because I can't go on after this and pretend it didn't happen." 

Bucky could tell there was something wrong as soon as he heard your voice. The tone you used made him pull back a little more, his eyes searching your face as he was starting to realize, that something was upsetting you. He didn’t answer your question and instead asked one of his own. "Doll... Where’s this coming from? What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You swallowed, biting your lip. It was now or never. "I have feelings for you, Bucky." you confessed quietly, refusing to look at him. "And if this was a one-time thing, then I don't know what to do to forget it." 

Bucky blinked, his eyes widening in surprise. He stared down at you for a long moment before slowly pulling out of you. He was still processing your confession, his mind starting to clear up a little more with the way your voice shook as you spoke. Once he was free, he gently flipped you to your back, forcing you to look at him, his expression almost nervous as he gazed down at you. "You… you what?"

You shrinked inwardly, trying to cover your naked body with your hands involuntarily, as you swallowed down the tears. "I have feelings for you, Bucky." you repeated shakily, fearing he'd reject you, regret what you just did. 

Bucky’s expression shifted into one of disbelief, his eyes still wide from shock as he stared down at you. "Doll…" he breathed out, and for a moment he was speechless. He’d expected just about anything, but not this. Never had he even thought of the possibility that you might feel the same way about him. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest and a deep blush spread across his face, as he realized his feelings weren’t one-sided. 

You noticed the way his cheeks flushed, and you were scared it was because he didn't know how to reject you, without breaking your heart. "It's okay, if you don't feel the same way." you said, biting your lip to stop the tears from falling. 

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock yet again as you spoke, your words finally snapping him out of his reverie. "Wait- wait, doll, no." he stopped you, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. "You don’t understand at all. I’ve been... I’ve been in love with you for a long time now, doll. It just never occurred to me that you might feel the same way about me." 

Your eyes widened in shock, almost matching the size of his. "What?" you breathed out, trying to process his words. When they finally hit, a tear managed to escape. "Why wouldn't I?" you asked him. "You're the most perfect being on planet earth, Bucky. I love you." 

Bucky gently wiped the tear away with his thumb, his expression so soft it was nearly melting in front of your eyes. "Sweetheart…" he muttered tenderly. "I don’t deserve you. You don’t even know what I’ve done. I’m not a good man, doll. You should love someone like Steve instead."

You huffed, shaking your head. "I wouldn't want good boy Steve, I want you, Bucky. I don't care what you've done, I don't care what people might say about you. None of what you did was your fault. And I won't ever - do you hear me - ever, blame you for it. You're the man I want, and I don't care if you deem yourself a good man or not, because I certainly do." 

Bucky swallowed, his own eyes getting a little misty as he stared down at you. You’d just spoken the words he’d needed to hear for him to feel at least a little less guilty about his past. You didn’t blame him for the things he did. You loved him despite of the fact that he’d been a cold-blooded killer. "Darling…" he murmurs again, overwhelmed. "I don’t... I don’t know what to do with all this love you’re giving me, doll."

"Inhale it and lock it in your heart." you told him, cupping his cheek with one hand, gently stroking it. "You deserve all the love one could give, and nothing less. Do you understand? And I'm willing to give you as much of that as you need." 

Bucky closed his eyes as you caressed his cheek, leaning into the touch as he let out a shuddering breath. A moment later his arms carefully wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him until the two of you were pressed up tightly against each other. "And what if I don’t ever want to let you go?" he murmured against your clavicle, as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. 

"Then don't." you told him, nuzzling your nose into his neck, inhaling his sweet scent. "Because, let's face it, you wouldn't be able to get rid of me anyways. And I need you to show me how to shuffle so expertly." 

Bucky let out a small huff at your answer, a sound that quickly turned into a breathy chuckle. He pressed several gentle and tender kisses to the skin of your neck, his hands gently caressing your back. "My perfect and beautiful doll…" he muttered. "So willing to throw your love at me without even knowing what type of man I am. How did I get so lucky?" 

You chuckled, kissing his neck, lightly sucking on the sweet skin, before answering his question. "By being yourself, Bucky. You got so lucky, because you're yourself. You don't try to be someone else for others, and I love that about you. You're so sweet and caring, even if your broody self won't always show it. Deep down you're the sweetest person on earth, ready to do everything to protect the people you love. That's why I love you, and that's why you deserve such luck." 

Bucky’s mind went blank as your sweet words hit him with full force, leaving him dizzy for a few moments. His chest felt so full of love, it nearly threatened to burst with it. He didn’t even know how to reply to your words, but his body moved subconsciously, his fingers threading through your hair to gently tilt your head back. His lips immediately found yours, kissing you with such fervor it almost felt as if he was afraid, he might lose you. 

Your other hand cupped his other cheek as well, tugging him even closer, as you tried to pour all your love for him into the kiss. Your fingers threaded through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp to show him how much you cared for him. 

Bucky groaned lowly into the kiss, his hands reaching down to grip your hips, gently kneading at the flesh with his fingers, his own way of pouring his love into you as well. A shiver ran down his spine when you reached into his hair, causing his fingers to dig into your hips a little harder, and the kiss grew more heated. 

"I love you." you murmured in-between kisses. "I love you so much." 

Bucky groaned, your breathy voice making him shiver and pull you even closer to him, his body gently pressed flush against yours. "Darling…" he mumbled. "Darling, you have no idea how much I need to hear that. I love you, god, I love you more than anything." 

You smiled, breaking the kiss to look up at him. "I will say it as often as you want to." you told him, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his forehead. "I love you, Bucky." 

Bucky let out a small groan as you pushed his hair back gently, staring deeply into your eyes. "Say it whenever you want, darling." he mumbled, a lovesick smile on his face as he gazed down at you. "I don’t mind being reminded of your love for me every second of the day. I’ll keep reminding you of mine as well."

"Good, because I won't stop, even if you can't hear it anymore." You told him with a grin, eyes locked on his blue ones. "And beyond that. I will never stop telling you how much I love you. Because I do, with all of my heart." 

Bucky chuckled a little, his gaze full of adoration as he looked down at you. "I wouldn’t want you to ever stop, doll. I need to hear these pretty words for the rest of my life." His hand came up to gently caress your cheek again, his smile softening at the feel of your warm skin under his touch. "Darling, you’re too good for me. You might’ve just given a dead man life again." 

"You've never been dead, just old." you teased him lightly, hinting at him already being over a hundred years old. "Even though you still look like a damn God, more beautiful than anything else." 

Bucky huffed in amusement at your words, a small but bright smile appearing on his face. He couldn’t deny the way his heart skipped a beat when you complimented him, his cheeks tinging a soft pink color at your words. "You’re too kind, doll." he hummed quietly. "I’m far from a ‘damn God’, as you put it. That title belongs to you and only you."

"Then we're both gods." you decided, returning his smile, secretly loving the dimples on his face. 

Bucky smiled down at you, the dimples in his cheeks deepening and making his face look even more handsome. "Then I might as well be the God of Darkness and you can be my little Goddess of Light." 

Rolling your eyes, you huffed in amusement. "Then I'll bring you the light that you deserve in your life." you told him softly. "I'll lead you the way out of the darkness." 

Bucky let out a low groan as you spoke, his chest filling up with so much love and adoration for you it felt as if it might burst. He didn’t ever want to go more than an hour without that sweet voice of yours murmuring pretty words like these into his ear. "Darling..." he muttered quietly; his eyes so soft as he gazed down at you. "You’re truly perfect to me. My precious little ray of light." 

"I love you, James." you said softly, heart swelling at his words, unable to say more. His words meant the world to you, and you were glad he accepted the love you were giving him. 

Bucky practically melted on top of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He’d never ever be going to get tired of you calling his name, never going to get enough of your affection and love. The way you said it was so tender, so warm and full of adoration, and Bucky loved it. "My heart... my entire soul is yours…" he breathed against your skin.

"Always and forever."

Tag List

@sapphirebarnes

To Ava:

Hello love, sadly I wasn't able to find you. You've put your name on my Tag List, but I don't know what's your tag (for example: xxchumanixx is my tag, even though it says C. F. Hale on my profile). I'd really like to tag you, but I simply can't find you. If you see this, please send me a message so I have your tag and can add you in the future!

Lots of love!

#bucky barnes masterlist #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #the winter soldier #winter solider x reader #winter soldier x reader

[cmncisspnandmore]

All hands on deck.

Pairings: Poly!141 X F!reader.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy complications (not in detail)

Word Count: 3209

Part 2

“Can you guys please stop screaming at each other?” You call out as you press your phone to your ear. The sounds of children yelling continued down the hallway, clearly they didn't care what you had to say. You let out a frustrated sigh, as the line continues to ring. 

Where the hell were they?

It rings another 3 times as you lean against the bathroom counter, closing the door to try to block out the sounds from down the hall. It was going to cut to voicemail soon, just like the last 3 times you called. You start to pull the phone from your ear when it finally stops ringing and a very breathless voice answers.

“Sorry Mo Chridhe, I didn’t hear my phone ringin’” Johnny breathes.

“It's fine,” you mumble into the receiver, your hip bumping into the smooth quartz counter. 

“It’s not, you sound defeated, what's wrong?” He asks, the sound of a bag clinking filters over the phone call. 

“They just won't stop fighting, they’ve been at each other's throats all day, i don't know what to do anymore.” You sniffle, your eyes filling with tears, you blink them back staring at the ceiling light in effort to keep them at bay.

“They’re just kids, Love, siblings fight. Is that really all that's botherin’ you?” 

You chew your bottom lip, “yeah I guess,” you sniffle.

There's another noise on the other line, followed by a gruff voice, “Who are you talking to Sergeant?” Price's voice is slightly garbled over the line. 

“Oh just some bonnie lass,” Johnny replies cheekily.

“Hogging the wife all to yourself?” Kyle's voice is there too.

“Ain't hoggin nothin! She called me,” Soap defends himself. There's more static over the phone call. “Hey! Gimme back me phone LT!” 

“Love?” Simon's gruff voice fills the line. 

“Hi, Si…” you whisper, as the others bicker in the background. Johnny and Kyle arguing over who gets to talk next, and Price’s firm voice telling them to shut up.

“What's wrong?” Simon asks, “are the kids okay?”

“Yeah god, sorry, they're fine, they just won't stop fighting. It's driving me nuts, I think they just miss you guys.” You sigh as there's a loud crash from the living room, followed by even more yelling. “They’re gonna destroy our house..” 

“We’re coming home,” and suddenly the line goes dead. You pull the phone away from your ear and look down at the screen. Your home screen staring back at you, it was a picture of the 5 of you. You were at the beach, Simon sitting under an umbrella with a book in his hands. You lean back against his legs, as one of his hands twirls a strand of your hair. You’re looking over at Johnny who was burying Kyle in the sand. Price standing behind them watching the whole thing with a smile on his lips. 

You remember that day like it was yesterday even though it was almost 7 years ago now. It was the day that they all asked you to marry them, they had presented you with a large round diamond ring, the band containing their birthstones, each of their initials engraved on the inside. You had sobbed hysterically when they proposed. Each man took a few moments to tell you how you impacted their life in the best way. You never imagined you would marry one of them let alone all of them. While most people didn't think it was conventional and you often got strange looks when you told people you had not 1 but 4 husbands, you didn't care. Each one of your husbands gave you something you needed, and you did the same for them. 

A child crying pulls you from your thoughts and you yank open the bathroom door. Your eyes landing on your 4 year old son, Theo running down the hall. His bottom lip is bleeding, as tears roll down his light brown cheeks. He runs to you, small arms up in the air as he wails. 

“Theo what happened?” You lean down catching his small body as he crashes into you, smearing blood, snot and tears onto your baby blue t-shirt.

“Issly hit me!” he cries, his little hands coming to wipe at his eyes. You gently pull down his bottom lip, seeing only a small cut on the inside. A frown on your face as you glance back up at the doorway in which Theo ran from. 

“Isla!” You call, picking the small child up and resting him on your hip. He presses his face into your shoulder, his messy brown curls tickling your chin. It only takes a moment for Isla to come around the corner, her blue eyes cast down at the ground. Shoulders slumped, light brown hair covering her face as she walks down the hallway towards you.

“Why did you hit Theo?” You sigh, and she looks up. She was pretty much a mirror image of Price. She had his blue eyes and nose, and if it wasn't for the shape of her lips you wouldn't think she was even yours.

“I didn't mean to hit him! He wouldn't stop climbing on me, I asked him to stop 3 times,” she looks at Theo, and then back to you. 

“Isla you’re 6 years old, Theo is 4, he’s a lot younger than you, if hes doing something you don't like and he won't listen to you, you come and tell me. You don't use your hands to hurt someone. It's not nice. Now take Theo into the kitchen and help him clean up.

“Yes, Mama,” she nods, and takes Theo from your arms, carrying him past you to the kitchen. You sigh, running your fingers through your hair as you walk down the hall to the living room. It was a disaster, couch cushions on the floor, toys all over the place. A vase of flowers knocked over. A curtain rod half pulled off the wall. 

“Seriously?” You mutter, your eyes flickering about the room and finally landing on Joseph and Kira. Kira sits on the coffee table, a book open in her lap, blonde hair pulled back into a messy french braid. Joseph sits next to her, poking her which she ignores.

“Kira, c’mon, stop reading your dumb book and come outside with me!” Joseph whines at his twin. 

“It’s not dumb, you’re dumb.” She snaps back, neither having realized you're standing in the doorway. 

“I’m gonna tell mom you're being mean to me again,” Joseph pushes her harder, and she snaps her book closed. 

“Then I’ll tell Da that you're the one who broke his Rugby trophy.” 

“You’re so boring! I hate you!” Joseph yells.

“Enough!” You snap, and both children's eyes meet yours. Joseph’s blue eyes wide as he realizes you heard their conversation. Kira’s brown eyes looking between you and Joseph. 

“Kira, Joseph you are 7 years old. Can you please start acting like it? When i tell you to watch your younger siblings i mean it, but yet somehow Isla hit Theo and gave him a split lip and my living room looks like a bomb went off. Not to mention all of you have been fighting for the last week and I‘m not putting up with it anymore!” You press your hand into your forehead, a headache starting to pound behind your eyes.  You shake your head slightly looking back at your twins. They were fraternal twins, but had two fathers. Kira was clearly Simons with her light blonde hair and brown eyes, Joseph resembled Johnny, right down to his mischievous personality. They were the first children to be born into your family. Their very existence became known on your wedding day. 

You weren’t overly surprised that it was twins either, they ran in your family. The only real shock was when they had their newborn screening after they were born and they had wildly different blood types. Kira was B- Positive, like Simon, and Joseph was O- Positive like Price and Soap. Even though it didn't matter to you who their father was, you still had genetic testing done for each child. Just in case something happened and they needed blood, or god forbid an organ. 

The doctors had called them Heteropaternal Superfecundation, an anomaly when twins have two different biological fathers. Now as you stare at Medical anomalies, you sigh. They were your oldest, the ones you counted on to help out with small things. “What is going on with you two lately?” You sit on the edge of the table.

“We miss Dads…” Kira mumbles, looking down at her book.

“We all do,” Joseph adds. 

Tears well in your eyes, “I know it's hard when they’re away, and I know I'll ask you to help me more when they’re gone. I miss them too. But I think theyre coming home, at least that’s what Daddy said.”

“They're coming home? All of them?” Kira asks, her brown eyes widening.

“I think so, I called Da, and then I heard Dad and Papa, and then suddenly it was Daddy on the phone, as he said that they were coming home.” You shrug, and your children brighten at the fact that their fathers were coming home.

“ISLA! THEO! They’re coming home!” Joseph yells as he scrambles off the coffee table. Two sets of small feet race down the hall, and soon four of your children are standing in the messy living room. 

“Theo, you pick up your toys, Isla help me put the couch back together, Joseph you can clean up the vase,” Kira turns to you, “Mama could you help with the curtain?”

“Oh so you want to clean up since your fathers are on their way?” You raise an eyebrow, and all of your children nod. 

“Please mama, They’ve been on base for a month now..” Joseph blinks at you with his big blue eyes. 

“Fine, I'll fix the curtain but it doesnt mean youre off the hook for your behaviors.” 

It only takes an hour for the living room to be put back in order, it was amazing what your children could get done if they had the motivation to do so. You walk up the stairs to the second floor of your home, and gently push open the door to one of the bedrooms. The room is dark, and cool, a sound machine humming in the corner. You peek into the dark room, the light wood crib in the middle of the far wall, a small figure sleeping in the middle on their back. Hands up by their head as they sleep. 

Your youngest, Hope, was 9 months old, she was your miracle baby. You had always wanted a large family, to give each of your husbands as many children as they wanted but it hasn't worked out that way. While you were pregnant with Theo you had some severe complications that had left you on death's doorstep. You had actually died once while in labor with him, causing him to be born by emergency C-Section. You woke up to 4 very concerned Husbands who spent the next 2 months by your side as you recovered. They had all been hesitant for more children after that. Each of them worried that your body wouldn't be able to handle another pregnancy. But after a few years you had convinced them that you would be fine, you wanted more kids. It took almost a year of trying and a few miscarriages for you to get pregnant with Hope. 

Thankfully your pregnancy had gone smoothly, no complications, and she was born on christmas day. Now she was a happy and healthy 9 month old, one of the easiest babies you had. She slept through the night almost immediately and rarely fussed. 

She stirs as you walk into the room, her little blue eyes blinking open, a smile forming on her little lips as she sees you. She gives you a gummy smile, two bottom teeth on display proudly as she turns over in her crib, pulling herself up to stand in her crib. 

“Well hi baby, did you have a good nap?” You smile at her, as she bounces in her crib. Tiny baby hands gripping the bars, as you walk over to her. You scoop her up into your arms, baby babble filling your ears as she claps.

“Your dads are on their way home! Papa and Daddy and Da and Dad, yeah, are you excited to see them?” You kiss her chubby cheek, and she laughs. 

The sound of commotion downstairs makes you pause, a chorus of voices floating up the stairs. They’re home. 

“Daddy! PAPA!” Isla yells.

“DA! DAD! PAPA! DADDY!” Joseph and Kira join in.

“Dadadadada!” Theo’s tiny voice is there too, his screeches growing louder as you get to the top of the stairs.

“Where's your mother?” Price asks, his commanding voice cutting through the excitement of the group.

“She went to get Hope up from her nap,” Joseph responds, your footsteps on the stairs. You round the corner into the front entrance of your home. Simon holds Theo in his arms as Theo pulls the skull balaclava over his head. Joseph and Isla hang off Kyle and Johnny, their arms wrapped around their waists as they hug them. Kyle strokes Islas hair back from her face as he smiles down at her. Joseph's face is pressed into Soap's stomach, as his hands gently squeeze his shoulders. John is crouched in front of Kira, he smiles at her, his fingers tapping the tip of her nose as she smiles. 

“Hi Lovie,” Simon is the first to speak. His brown eyes search your face before they settle on Hope who is in your arms, chewing on her chubby little hand, drool trailing down her chin and soaking her onesie.

“Hi,” You smile, your eyes burning with unshed tears. Your gaze trailing over each of them as they reunite with their children. 

God how you missed them.

“Joseph, Kira, Isla, take Theo and Hope to the backyard and play for a few moments. We need to talk with Mama, okay?” Kyle says softly, and the older children nod. Kira comes over and grabs Hope from your arms, she quickly walks Hope over to each of her fathers and allows them all to kiss her on the head before she brings her out to the garden. Joseph, Isla and Theo follow after them. Theo holding onto Josephs hand as he asks him to push him on the swing. 

The door to the garden closes with a soft click and the room is quiet for once. You stare at each of your husbands for a moment. Your throat tight, eyes burning, lower lip wobbling. It’s Soap who moves first, boots echoing on the tile floor as he grabs your waist and pulls you into his warm chest. 

“No tears Mo Chridhe, we’re home now,” he speaks into your hair, dropping a kiss onto your head. He squeezes you tightly before his hands come up to cup your cheeks. He gently kisses your lips, and then moves to the side. Allowing Kyle to take his place, Kyle's soft hands slip into your hair at the base of your neck as he studies your tearful eyes.

“Why didn't you say something sooner Baby?” He asks softly, his lips brushing over your closed eyes.

“Didn't want to bother you guys… I know your training recertification is important…” You sniffle.

“Nonsense,” Price grumbles, coming to stand next to Kyle. Kyle releases you and John pulls you into him. His beard tickles your cheek as he leans down to press his lips against your neck. He places feather light kisses along your neck up to your jaw and then finally your lips. “You are far more important, all you had to do was call and I would have made arrangements to do it at a later time.”

“I know.. I just.. I don't know,” you look down at the socked feet. 

“Johnny and I will go watch the kids in the garden,” Kyle says, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze. 

“Don’t forget that you’re important too, if you need us tell us. You can't shoulder everything alone. If you need a break you have to tell us Darling,” Price looks into your eyes, and you nod. “I’ll go fix us some dinner, yeah?” 

He kisses you again, before the three of them disappear into the rest of the house. You can hear the children laughing as Kyle and Johnny join them in their games. The faint sound of the radio coming from the kitchen as John starts to cook dinner for the family. Only you and Simon remain in the front entrance. 

His brown eyes study you as he leans against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. To anyone else they would think he was angry, his expression blank as he looked you over from head to toe. You shift under his gaze, and wipe the stray tears from your cheeks. You finally let out a small breath, your eyes meeting Simons. 

“How do you know everytime?” You finally ask, and the corner of Simon's mouth ticks up.

“Don't know what youre talking about Lovie,” he grumbles as he pushes off the door and crosses the room in a few easy strides.

“Yes you do, you always know when I'm at my breaking point. I said 2 sentences to you, and yet you knew I needed all of you home,” you look up at him. The height difference between the two of you forcing you to crane your neck.

“I just know you, the others do too. We all knew something was wrong after we realized we had missed calls from you. I just wasn't going to listen to you try to tell us you’d be okay. They’re far more considerate of your wishes than I am.” Simon muses, his hand coming to brush a strand of hair from your face. 

“What about your training?” You ask, leaning into his palm.

“Laswell will take care of it. We have more important things to take care of.”

“Simon…” You start to argue but he cuts you off, his hands coming to your waist as he yanks you closer, his lips on yours, silencing your argument. 

“I was given orders to prepare you a hot bath,” he pulls away. “And then we’re all going to eat dinner together. Your husbands will bathe and put the older children to bed as you feed Hope her last feed, and then I’ll put her to bed. While i put her to bed, the others will be taking care of you. Okay?”

“You don't have too… you’ve all been bus-” 

“Lovie, enough. We might be busy at base, but youre taking care of the most important things in our lives everyday. Without break. We work a lot, but you never get to stop. Your job is never ending, let us take care of them for tonight. Let us show you how much we appreciate you. Besides, we’ve missed you… so please, let us.” Simon cups your face, his thumb brushing your bottom lip.

You give a small nod. “Okay.”

Part 2

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #x reader #cod #cod x reader #task force 141 #141 x reader #poly relationship #poly!141 x reader #fluff

[diettwistup]

HALF OF YOU

PAIRINGS: tashi duncan x f!oc, art donaldson x f!oc, patrick zweig x f!oc

SUMMARY: No matter how bright Tashi Duncan shined, her best friend, Milan Mikaelson, wasn’t far behind. Though seeming second best, Milan would never let that define her career. Holding as much fame as Tashi, Milan encountered Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. Would this encounter change the trajectory of her life, and would it completely alter her relationship with Tashi Duncan?

WARNINGS: challengers spoilers, reader is milan mikaelson, sexual situations, language, angst, plot alterations.

WC: 5.1K

NOTES: hiiii!!! hope y’all enjoy this next chapter cuz it’s not my fave thing ever LOL. was also too lazy to proofread so sorry if there's errors. i’m also gonna be going on vacation with no internet for a little over a week so next update will be after that! thanks for reading luv u 💋

READ BEFORE THIS: INTRO and ONE

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE TROUBLE

CHALLENGERS TOURNAMENT, NEW ROCHELLE - 2019, 1:00 PM

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I gripped my dress as Tashi got up and cursed before walking off, disappointed with Art’s performance. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going.” I shot and grabbed her wrist, eyeing her up as I took my sunglasses off. 

Shaking my grasp off of her, she bent down and spoke dangerously close to my face. 

“If he’s not gonna play tennis, then I don’t wanna see shit.” She seethed and walked off, brushing off her dress with each stride. 

As I watched her go, I could feel a pair of eyes on me. Darting my attention back to the match, Art was already looking my way. 

Shooting him a sad expression, I put my sunglasses back on, huffed, and sat back in my seat. 

All he did was shake his head and rub the sweat off his face while Patrick smirked proudly. 

He sure seems to love this. 

Sighing, I raised one hand to my mouth to bite my nails, the nerves of the match taking over my entire being. 

At the next serve, I carefully watched the strategic movements behind the boy’s every motion. They have always been outstanding players, and I furrowed my brows as I thought back to the first time I saw them play against each other. 

The stupidity of Tashi and I, dumb enough to pin two best friends against each other. We should have never stepped foot in that godforsaken hotel room. 

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes. The crowd's roar echoed around me as I thought back to the night that started it all. 

The night that ruined it all. 

THE BOY’S HOTEL- 2006, 12:00 AM

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” I exclaimed to Tashi as we made our way to the boy's hotel room. “Why the fuck would you let them come down when you knew I was there?” I shot at her as I smacked her arm. 

Tashi smacked me right back, making me let out a hiss and shoot a cold glare at her. 

“I don’t know why you're acting like you don’t have a game. You’re the best at playing hard to get.” Tashi responded and shrugged as if it was as simple as adding two plus two. 

“You’re a bitch.” I muttered and rolled my eyes as the hotel came into view. “What do you even plan on doing with these two.” I raised my brow at her and studied her expression to gauge what was going through her mind. 

“What we usually do,” she responded, smiling at me. Hypnotize them with our charm and have a good time, of course,” She said proudly as if this was second nature for us. 

I won’t say that Tash and I haven’t had our fair share of fun with boys, but something like this, with two boys who knew their way around the game themselves, was certainly daunting. 

“Fine, but you should have heard how they talked about us at your match. It was disgusting.” I pretended to gag and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Perfect, we already have them locked in then.” She nudged my arm before leading the way to the room.

Rolling my eyes, I smacked her again before following behind her.

On the way to the room, I got lost in my thoughts. How did we get ourselves into such a situation? I hope Tashi doesn’t expect us to have a foursome of any sort because I don’t have the patience to deal with a whole ordeal like that. 

Approaching the door, Tashi stopped to let me walk ahead of her. 

“Perfect, Mila, you can see your ass poking out of your shorts.” She smirked and gently patted it until I swatted at her hand with a laugh. 

“Fuck off, let’s go,” I scolded, waiting for her to catch up, as she knew which room to go to. 

Once we reached the door, Tashi knocked and softly bit her lip. Scuffling was immediately heard behind the door, signifying that the boys were startled by our appearance. 

I moved to press my ear to the door with a slight smirk which Tashi returned as she did the same. 

“They’re crazy…” I whispered to Tashi, to which she responded with a nod and a soft hum. 

When we removed our ears from the door, it swung open so quickly I couldn’t make out the motion. 

The boys stood at the door, looking extremely disheveled. Patrick wore boxers and an unbuttoned linen shirt that looked like it had been shoved in his tennis bag and forgotten. Also wearing boxers, Art wore a beater t-shirt that looked like it had never been in the wash and dryer a day in his life. Both of their hair was ruffled and unkempt, making it look like they had just gotten out of bed. 

Raising an eyebrow, I was the first to speak. “What, did you two just get done fucking?” I questioned as I looked between them and placed my hands on my hips. 

Patrick just burst out into laughter while Art spoke up. 

“No…fuck no…” He muttered with a laugh as he patted Patrick on the back. 

Drunk as sailors. 

I nodded at this before resting my eyes and glancing at Tashi, who smiled fondly at the two, but I knew she was plotting. 

“So, hi,” Tashi spoke calmly with a smile that immediately brought the boys back to Earth as they moved aside to let us in the room. 

I had to stop myself from covering my nose as we entered the room. 

Reeks of beer and cigarettes…typical boys.

Two beds pushed together were messily made. Beer cans, cigarette buds, and clothes were everywhere, though it looked like someone had tried to tidy up a bit. 

That explains all the noise. 

Patrick mindlessly spoke to Tashi as I continued to scan the room, not noticing that Art was eyeing me up. Turning my head, I caught his stare, which didn’t make him falter. He only continued to stare before coming up to me and handing me a beer. 

“Didn’t know you were gonna come.” He spoke as he looked down at me through lidded eyes. Tipsy eyes. And, of course, he had a smirk, but it spoke I’m glad you came, really. 

I continued to study his expression as I let my guard down a pinch. I shrugged nonchalantly as I took a long swig of the beer, knowing I would need it to get through the night. 

“Had nothing else to do. Figured why not.” I spoke calmly as I let my eyes rake over his entire figure, drinking up his messy look which he really really pulled off. Never would I ever admit that for him to hear. 

Or me. 

“Well, glad you’re here.” Art said as he took the beer can from my lips and sipped it while he stared into my eyes, flickering to my lips for a moment.

I kept my eyes trained on his as I refused to back down in this staredown, showing that I couldn’t be swayed that quickly just because he was extremely attractive. 

“You two, come sit,” Patrick spoke up from the ground by the bed where he sat with Tashi. 

Nodding at this, I waited for Art to take his eyes off mine before I made any movement to sit. After a few seconds, he nodded and placed a hand on my lower back to walk me to where everyone was sitting. 

I shivered slightly at this as I softly bit my bottom lip, hiding this motion from him, but I knew Tashi saw it by her smug little smile that said I told you so. 

We haven’t even done anything, and I suddenly feel like I’m in the trenches. 

The next couple minutes were used to discuss how Patrick and Art met each other and how Patrick, predictable enough, taught Art how to masturbate, all while we all took sips from the beer can that Art had given me when we first got here. 

“Y’all are weird as fuck.” I snorted, a bit tipsy, wiping my mouth from my last gulp as I looked between the two boys who had red cheeks from a mix of alcohol and embarrassment, and can’t forget, two big smirks. 

“No, Mila. I think it's a cute story.” Tashi nodded with a smile in an attempt to reassure the boys jokingly—a tactic she used to fully reel them in. 

I rolled my eyes at this and fake glared at Tashi. “Only if you’re fucked in the head!” I laughed again while the rest of them laughed with me. 

“Don’t tell me you two haven’t done anything weird like that,” Patrick said, making me whip my head to him before glancing back at Tashi.

“Yeah, you two have known each other since the womb. There’s no way you haven’t done nothing.” Art added and took a long swig of the beer can before passing it to Patrick, eyes trained on me for longer than I would have liked. 

I shook my head with a small laugh before looking back to Tashi, who gave me an eyebrow in return, signaling something.

You ready?

…

I’m ready.

We nodded at each other before standing up and looking down at the boys. 

“You guys aren’t leaving-“ Patrick started but stopped when he saw the two of us moving to sit on the edge of the bed. 

My eyes locked with both of them briefly as I flashed the most innocent smile I could muster. 

Here we go. 

“Patrick, come sit by me…” Tashi spoke and patted the space to her left. 

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He sprung up so fast he spilled the beer can everywhere on the carpet, but he couldn’t give a fuck. 

As he sat down next to Tashi, my eyes locked onto Art’s. I did not need any words to tell him to sit by me. 

He took the hint immediately, got up almost as fast as his best friend, and sat beside me, thigh already touching mine.

I turned to face him with lidded eyes and a small smile. I could hear his breath hitch as Adam’s apple bobbed, signifying that he took a small gulp. I softened my eyes to let him know it was okay to relax and that he could be comfortable around me. 

Even though Tashi wanted to play with these boys like putty, I felt a little different about the situation. 

As I tilted my head at Art slowly, I saw his face contort into a grin that radiated his comfort and need. 

Leaning in slightly, I placed my hand on Art’s chest, noting how firm it felt through his thin shirt. Art mirrored my leaning in but instead placed a hand on my thigh. As I neared his lips, I teasingly pulled away as I felt Tashi pat my back. I smirked slightly at this and turned around as my lips met hers instead of Art’s.

It was an innocent kiss, a tactic to get these boys right where we wanted them. This action certainly answered their questions about us, and I hope it was worthwhile.

Once again, I could feel Art’s eyes piercing the back of my head, so I moved my hair off my shoulder and tapped the side of my neck so he would know what to do. 

Almost immediately, his lips were latched onto my neck. I wondered for a moment if he was a vampire because of the way he was sucking on my neck. I figured he was searching for a blood vessel. Poor baby must have been deprived of any female touch, but the way his lips sucked profusely on my pulse point, I could tell this wasn’t his first rodeo.

Tashi and I pulled away from our innocent kiss and shot each other small smirks when we noticed that Patrick and Art were too lost in our necks to give a damn. 

I tapped Art’s thigh so he would know to stop, which he reluctantly did. His lips were a bit swollen, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. Biting my lip, I reached up and brushed a finger across his bottom lip. As I did this, Art grabbed my hand and studied it before gently kissing my finger where my nail had broken. My eyes widened at this as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest. 

Keep. your. composure. 

Shaking out of my daze at his action, I smiled softly once again and leaned in slowly to connect our lips, hands on the back of his neck, threatening to tangle in his blonde curls.

Pillows. His lips feel like pillows.

The kiss was soft until his hand moved from my thigh to my waist. He pushed forward a bit until my back fully hit Tashi and tried to part my lips by biting my bottom one, but I pulled away before he could get that far. 

Too easy.

Licking my lips to taste him, I turned back to Tashi, who placed her hand on my cheek to kiss me lightly again. As her lips melded with mine, I gingerly placed a hand on the base of Art’s jaw and slowly pulled him towards Tashi and me’s kiss. Immediately, I could feel Art’s lips meld with Tashi's, mine, and then Patrick’s, knowing that Tashi had done the same with him. 

Now, the four of us were all kissing, making me slightly clench my thighs. Only slightly. 

After about five seconds, I felt Tashi tap my back to signal me to pull away slowly. 

As we both pulled away, Art and Patrick were full-on making out, not noticing that the two of us had abandoned the kiss. I glanced at Tashi with a smirk as she watched them in satisfaction. 

It took everything in me not to giggle as I watched the two continue to eat each other's faces fervently. 

Specifically Art.

After a beat, Tashi spoke up. 

“Okay.” She said, which made the boys freeze and pull away from each other. 

Immediately, they both looked at us in shock. 

Got ‘em. 

I tilted my head at Art as I gently reached my hand out to trace shapes on his thigh while he looked down at me like I had three heads. 

“That was cute…” I mouthed to him with a soft smile as he continued to eye me up in shock mixed with a bit of awe. 

“Well, we should get going before our parents freak out and wonder where we are,” Tashi says. I sit up as I follow suit, cutting any tension in the room.

Standing up from the bed, I chuckled to myself as I brushed off my clothes and fixed my hair. “It’s been fun,” I said, aiming my comment at Art. Thank you for having us,” I finished with a small, innocent smile as Tashi and I left. 

“Wait!” Patrick said which stopped us in our tracks. 

Turning around, Tashi and I shared matching grins that we quickly hid when we faced the boys. 

Art spoke up next as he looked right at me. “What about your numbers?” He asked as he stared at me like a puppy deprived of dinner. 

I crossed my arms and shrugged. “If you win tomorrow, I’ll give you my number,” I said plainly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. 

“And I’ll give you my number if you win tomorrow,” Tashi said to Patrick just as plainly as I did. 

Both boys shot each other smirks before nodding in agreement. 

Tashi and I said our goodbyes before leaving the hotel room. When we were out of earshot, we both started laughing. 

“We have them wrapped around our pretty little fingers!” Tashi exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around my shoulder. 

I laughed at this and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I really hope Art wins,” I said in a dreamy tone of voice as I thought back to his face, lips, chest, everything, really. 

Tashi shook me back and forth with a smile as she exclaimed, “I’m just ready to watch some good  fucking tennis!” She laughed, knowing that the two boys were really going to battle it out with this new prize put into motion. 

STANFORD UNIVERSITY - 2007 5:00 PM

As I slowly trudged from the tennis court to the dining hall, I felt my arms giving out. 

“Fuck this damn bag,” I whined and went to a nearby bench to take a breather and bask in the California sun. 

Today’s practice was by far the worst of the semester. I worked with my coach on my serve to prepare for my upcoming match, where I would face an opponent ranked decently high in the state. 

Closing my eyes and throwing my head back to catch the rays of the warm sun, I let out a groan. I probably looked like a corpse to every passerby, but just like Tashi, they knew me, so hopefully, they would just smile and wave. 

“Rough practice?” An extremely familiar and captivating voice snapped me back to reality. 

Opening my eyes, I was met with my favorite pair of light blue eyes—something he would never know. Of course, a smirk adorned his features, and his blonde curls were tucked into a backward red cap, most certainly saying “Stanford” on the flip side. 

“Art…” I spoke almost breathlessly as I sat up, brushed a piece of hair out of my face, and used my other hand to block the sun that Art’s head almost blocked. 

“Hey, can I sit?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, and nodded to where my bag was on the bench. 

Quickly moving it to sit in front of my feet, I patted the empty seat next to me. “Sure.” I smiled at him and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. 

Over the summer, I would never allow myself to be so forward with Art Donaldson. I couldn’t speak for my present self, though. Since Patrick won the match, he and Tashi started dating after he scored her number. I, of course, was too upset to act like I didn’t give a damn about not being able to give Art my number. Tashi insisted that to keep their passion and drive for tennis alive, I keep up my end of the deal and don’t give Art my number. Hesitantly, I agreed as I knew how easily a stimulus like that can create great results. Since the match, Art and I have never spoken except for the occasional hello when passing by each other on the tennis court or dining hall. This moment was the first time I could speak with him since everything, and since I may have developed a slight…crush. 

“So,” He started and turned his body on the bench to face me fully. “How have you been?” He tilted his head and tapped the back of the bench while studying my face. 

Inhaling a sharp breath, I turned my body to face him fully, bringing one leg up and letting the other drape off the side of the bench. 

“Do you want an honest answer?” I chuckled softly as I moved my hands to remove my hair from its braids. 

In turn, Art laughed gently while smirking at me. His stare narrowed as he studied my face, acting like I was an old friend he had known for years. 

“Well, if the honest answer is terrible and cruel, then I’m not so sure.” He responded and immediately matched my energy. 

Damn you, Donaldson. 

“Hey.” I softly laughed as I moved my dangling leg to kick his gently while I finished taking my hair out. 

I wondered for a beat how I wanted to summarize months of memories, feelings, and experiences into one sentence, and this made me sigh. 

“It’s been rough. Majoring in biology and the grueling tennis schedule makes me wanna rip my hair out.” I spoke in a low tone as I ironically and subconsciously began to play with a strand of my hair. 

“I feel smothered.” I finished and silently cursed myself for acting so vulnerable. 

That was three sentences, Milan. Not one. 

As I stared at Art almost helplessly, his eyes softened. 

“I feel the same way, trust me.” He chuckled softly before removing his hat and running a hand through his hair. “It really sucks, but it’s gonna be worth it,” He ended his thought before putting his hat back on. 

“Fuck, and I thought I was the only one. Quite naive of me.” I laughed before looking back up at the sun. “It’s whatever, though. You’re right, and everything will come into place and be worth it.” I continued as I looked anywhere but at Art’s piercing stare. 

Silence. He didn’t respond. He didn’t laugh. He did nothing except stare. Stare in a heavy silence that brought me back to the night in that damn hotel room. 

After a few beats, I returned to my senses, slowly stood up from the bench, and brushed my skirt off. 

“Well, I didn’t mean to stay here for long, so I’m gonna head off.” I went to pick up my bag as I spoke disappointedly. 

I couldn’t allow myself to fall into the trenches. I needed to focus on my studies and tennis. Hard work makes everything worthwhile, and a boy isn’t part of that everything right now.

“Wait, Milan,” Art spoke up and grabbed my wrist, his grip as firm as it would be if he held his racket. 

This made me freeze in my tracks. What the hell did he think he was doing? 

My eyes slowly met Art’s as I parted my lips to speak, but nothing came out, so he spoke for me.

“It’s been months, Milan,” he started, his grip on my wrist still firm, his eyes scanning my face for any hints of discomfort.  

“I know we only really talked with each other that one night and had no time to get to know each other, but I would like to get to know you better.” He didn’t falter. Not once. I don’t even think he blinked. 

My lips had gone dry, and my voice, for some reason, grew hoarse. 

“Art…” I slowly began as I looked down at his hand, gripping my wrists. “The four of us had a deal…” I made sure to tread lightly with a severe tone. 

Two feet and ten toes on the ground. Don’t falter. Don’t give in. 

“They’re a happy fucking couple, Milan. I doubt they give two shits.” He stated matter-of-factly as I felt his thumb rub up and down on my wrist. 

How naive. 

Biting my lip in thought, I began an internal battle with myself. I wanted this so bad. And I could tell Art wanted it just as bad as I did—possibly more. 

I deserve a win other than tennis. 

Sighing, I removed my arm from his grasp and moved to my tennis bag to look for a piece of paper. Instead, I found a piece of muscle tape and a small pencil. Quickly scribbling down my number, I could feel Art trying to see what I was doing. 

“Here,” I said with slightly red cheeks as I stood back up and handed him the piece of muscle tape. “Don’t go blowing up my phone now,” I playfully scolded before picking up my bag and walking past him, glancing at the triumphant smile playing on his perfect features. 

Perfect? …yeah. 

Before I began my trek to the dining hall, I touched Art’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. 

“I didn’t want to admit it, but I really wanna get to know you more, too.” 

NEXT DAY, STANFORD DORMS 11:00 AM

MEET ME IN THE DINING HALL FOR LUNCH?

My eyes stared at the text in utter disbelief. Art certainly didn’t take any time once he got what he’d been craving all summer. 

“Why do you look so shocked?” Tashi laughed from the foot of my bed as she hit my leg. 

Fuck. 

My eyes looked to her as I shut my phone, put it next to me, and picked my computer back up to pretend to look at my study guide for an upcoming biology quiz. 

“My mom sent me a weird text,” I laughed awkwardly before covering my face with my computer. 

“Are you fucking with me?” Tashi laughed as I heard her moving up towards my side of the bed. 

She shut my computer to look at my face, which was for sure red as a tomato. 

“You’re lying,” she smirked before sitting on her knees and clapping her hands. What is it? A boy? A girl?” She persisted as she grabbed my leg and widely smiled at me.

I rolled my eyes at this before clicking my tongue. “Why are you so dead set on the fact that I was texting someone romantically?” I crossed my arms and bit the inside of my cheek, probably a dead giveaway. 

Tashi’s face fell as her brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms, mimicking me. 

“You’re joking, right?” She started before studying my stern expression. “We’ve known each other for what, eighteen fucking years?” She used this as a tactic to crack me. “I know your every expression and what it means. I could write a thesaurus on you if I wanted to.” She stated as she sucked on her teeth, brows still furrowed. 

I stared at her sternly for a few beats before sighing and turning my head to look anywhere but at her. 

“Fine, you got me…” I trailed before uncrossing my arms to fumble with my fingers. “but this is the first time I’ve received a text, so it’s not important.” I put my hands up and looked at her as an explanation as to why she shouldn’t ask questions. 

I should know better. 

Tashi’s annoyed face instantly turned into a happy one as she bounced on the bed and continuously hit my leg. 

“Who is the lucky guy? or girl…” She tilted her head with a goofy smile, which she would only show me. 

“It’s a boy…” I sighed before turning my head to look at my closest, as it suddenly looked very interesting. 

No matter how long I had known Tashi, I couldn’t gauge how she would react to this. She’s a very pushy person who likes everything to go her way, but I’m hoping that since it’s me, she will react differently. 

She shrieked and shook my legs back and forth with a giggle. 

She’ll be so disappointed. 

“Who is it? Is it that cute boy I caught you practicing with the other week? Or that one boy that you sometimes study with from your Chemistry class? Or maybe it's that random guy from the baseball team I saw you talking within the dining hall last week?” She fired off in a millisecond as I stared at her in utter disbelief. 

“Okay, first of all, how did you know about all of those? And second of all, the first guy is gay, the second guy has a girlfriend, and the last one was giving my pencil back to me after using it for a quiz we took in statistics.” I responded as I rolled my eyes so hard I thought the whites of them would turn permanent. 

“I’m your best friend. I know everything.” She spoke eerily with wide eyes before breaking into a smirk. “So, come on! Tell me who it is!” She bounced repeatedly on the bed and shook me back and forth until I finally had enough. 

“Fine!” I exclaimed and threw my hands up in the air.

Fuck it. 

“It was Art, alright.” I threw my hands up as I bit the bullet and came clean. 

Tashi’s face dropped almost instantly as his name fell off my lips. She wasn’t happy. Not at all. 

“What the fuck do you mean?” She laughed in disbelief as she shook her head and moved her hands from my legs. 

I immediately sat up more and moved towards her. 

“I saw him after practice yesterday, and we got to talk,” I explained as I bit the inside of my cheek in anticipation. “He asked for my number, and I figured since everything happened months ago, there would be no issue…” I trailed off and looked her straight in the eyes with a pleading expression. 

Tashi just stared at me and shook her head slowly. 

“We had a deal with them…” She stared at me with an accusatory face. 

“Tash, I know,” I exclaimed and grabbed her hands. “But you knew I liked him more than what happened in that hotel room. Plus, you and Patrick are happy, so why should it matter?” I asked and shook my head as I gripped her hands. 

She stared at me as if I kicked her puppy and gasped in her throat. “Um, to keep their passion alive? To ensure they both strive for better and strengthen their relationship with tennis?” She spoke as if it was plain as day. 

Furrowing my brows, I slowly shook my head and parted my lips, shocked. 

“Is tennis all you care about?” 

I shouldn’t have said that. 

My words echoed in my mind as I retracted my hands from Tashi’s and bit my lip, feeling defeated. Her stare pierced into my soul as she looked away from me and placed her hands on her thighs. 

“If this is what you want, go ahead. I can’t and won’t stop you.” She spoke slowly before eyeing me. 

Fuck, I messed up. 

“But never think for a second that I care about tennis more than you.” She choked out as she looked at the picture of us in fifth grade sitting on my bedside table. 

At this, my eyes widened, and I nodded slowly as a single tear slid down my cheek. Moving towards Tashi, I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her. 

“Pinky promise?” I whispered into her neck while she returned the hug. 

“Pinky promise.” She responded and grabbed my hand to interlock our pinkies.

#challengers #challengers fanfic #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan #tashi duncan x reader #zendaya #mike faist #josh o'connor #fanfic #best friend relationship #romance #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #oc #challengers x oc #art donaldson x oc #patrick zweig x oc #tashi duncan x oc

[luvymelody]

NAME : katsuki bakugou + shoto todoroki, boku no hero academia

SONG : moment , vierre cloud

SUMMARY : todoroki and bakugou find out they like the same person. thus, turning into a rivalry. wc : 1.6k

you can read part 1 here!

(guys i just realised they r in dorms. IGNORE TGE NO DORMS IN THIS AND THE FIRST PART)

(not the exact vibe i wanted for y/n but like.. whatevas)

(tried to make it as quick as possible 4 u guys 😭 sorry if it's bad)

“would you like me to walk you home, y/n?”

“okay!”

it had been a few months ever since y/n transferred to ua. bakugou’s hatred for todoroki was fueled even more now as he listened to todoroki’s and y/n’s conversation, his eye twitching.

“do you wanna get tanghulu nearby?”

y/n asked, holding her bag on her shoulder as she stood up.

“can we also get-“

“i’ll walk you home, y/n.”

todoroki and y/n turned to bakugou who was treading towards them.

“you have cleaning duty, icy hot. remember?”

todoroki turned his head towards the board, seeing his and midoriya’s name under ‘cleaning the classroom today!’.

todoroki pursued his lips, turning back to the two.

“sorry y/n..”

“it’s okay! we can go tomorrow.”

y/n smiled brightly, gripping onto her bag strap as todoroki smiled as her expression. bakugou groaned, grabbing onto y/n’s forearm.

“let’s go angel!”

“hey katsuki- bye shoto!”

“bye y/n.”

todoroki smiled as he waved to the waving girl. y/n whipped her hand side to side until bakugou pulled her out of todoroki’s view.

“so rude, katsuki!”

the winged girl teased, bumping into bakugou’s side slightly as she smiled and he grunted.

“don’t care.”

-

y/n stopped, turning to bakugou.

"well, bye then, katsuki."

they finally made it to y/n's house. y/n was rambling about the homework that she hadn't started at all, bakugou nodded to every word she said, pitching in comments about the work and how stupid she was.

"bye angel."

bakugou said, nodding his head at her as his hands were shoved into his pockets, he took extremely slow steps, watching y/n get her keys out her bag and opening her door, not leaving until he saw her go through her front door, and close it.

bakugou stretched his arms, turning and walking back towards the train station. it's not like bakugou's ever gonna tell anyone that his house is nearly 40 minutes away from y/n's house, she would tell him to not walk her home then.

-

y/n sat on her desk, softly drumming her fingers on the desk while she studied, reading the sheets that ectoplasm handed out in class. then, she heard a buzzing sound, her silenced phone as she stood up, picking it up and seeing the caller id, 'shoto!!'.

"hi shoto!"

"hi y/n, i just wanted to know if you got home safe with.. bakugou.."

"ah! yeah, i'm okay. did you get home safe?"

"mhm, also, i'm coming over."

"what?"

y/n blinked, hearing keys on todoroki's end of the phone.

"wait what are you doing"

"i'm bringing tanghulu. and boba."

y/n felt her heart squeeze, grasping her chest in awe.

"awww, you're so sweet, shoto!"

-

bakugou scrolled through insta, bored out of his mind as he was laying on his bed, one hand behind his head and the other on his phone.

a second later, he got a notification, 'y/nl/n has posted!'. bakugou pressed on the notification, finding a series of photos of y/n and todoroki, eating tanghulu together.

y/n posted a lot of things, her friends, family, places she went to. bakugou told her a lot that she shouldn't be posting everything but y/n just said that 'no one else will see the beauty of life though!'.

bakugou rolled his eyes at the sight of todoroki looking at y/n with a lovestruck expression, holding a hand over todoroki to cover just him and just admiring y/n.

it was a little hard to though, while y/n was in the photo, todoroki’s arm was wrapped around her waist, her arm around his neck as she winked at the camera, holding a stick of tanghulu near her mouth in pose.

-

“this is super sweet shoto!”

y/n munched on the tanghulu, sitting criss-cross on her couch with todoroki sitting right next to her, who was drinking boba.

“is it? i asked the vendor to make it extra nice, just for you.”

y/n smiled brightly as she chewed, a hint of red covering her face but todoroki wouldn’t know. y/n’s eyes lit up, as her hand darted for her phone, opening it up.

“let’s take some photos, i wanna post on insta.”

“okay.”

todoroki smiled at the girl, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. y/n leaned into todoroki, as he held a hand on her hip to steady her from falling. he put up a peace sign, as y/n had told him that in photos, he should put up a peace sign to make it less awkward.

y/n wrapped her arm around his neck, giggling a bit.

“don’t be shy!”

she exclaimed, squishing her face against todoroki’s as his left side started to feel warm, a little hot actually.

“smile!”

todoroki let out a small smile, which made y/n happy as she took the photo.

-

"angel."

"hi katsu-"

bakugou dropped a small box on her desk, standing next to her.

"what's this?"

y/n questioned, turning towards bakugou with her head.

"open it and you'll see."

bakugou grunted, his hands in his pockets as he looked out the classroom window. y/n looked down at the box and bakugou's eyes quickly went down towards y/n when she wasn't looking.

the girl opened the box, seeing her favourite limited edition chocolate. she gasped aloud, holding her hands over her mouth in shock.

"no you didn't, katsuki!"

"oh yes i did."

bakugou smugly smiled, while y/n's smile became wider and wider as she shot up from her desk, wrapping her arms around bakugou's neck as bakugou slipped one hand on her lower back to keep her stable while she was on her tippy toes.

"thank you katsuki!"

"you're welcome, angel."

bakugou said, his eyes trailing towards todoroki who sat in his desk in the back of the classroom. as he suspected, todoroki was staring right at them with a piercing glare.

y/n heard a pencil snap behind her, her arms slipping from her grasp around bakugou's neck.

"what was that?"

"dunno angel"

-

"okay, everyone pair up with whoever you want to!"

midnight said, handing out papers to the people in the first row to hand to the people behind them. as y/n turned to give the papers to the person behind her- which was bakugou, he grabbed the paper, looking into her eyes,

"you're working with me."

"wha-?"

bakugou turned before she could give him an answer and she just shrugged turning around. chairs scrapping the floor as people hurried to the person they wanted to pair up with. y/n sat in her chair still, grabbing a pen out of her bag.

when she straightened up, she found todoroki and bakugou infront of her.

"tell icyhot you're with me."

"tell bakugou that you have a choice."

"who said she didn't have a choice!?"

"literally you, just now."

they stared daggers at each other, then turned their head towards y/n.

"who do you want to be with?"

"hey! don't copy me!"

"i'm not copying you, bakugou."

todoroki and bakugou continued arguing, getting into each other's faces as denki put his hand up for midnight.

"miss! can we have two teams of three? i'm gonna be with kirishima and sero!"

"alright, fine with me!"

midnight said with a thumbs ups, and todoroki turned towards the two.

"great, we can all be together."

todoroki had a pretty, sarcastic smile on his face. annoyance ticking away at him as his eye twitched slightly. bakugou flexed his jaw in anger, gritting his teeth and y/n covered her face, looking out the window as she noticed that the class was staring at the three of them.

-

"your answer is wrong, bakugou."

"what?!"

bakugou clutched his paper in his hand as todoroki and y/n sat together, working together as bakugou was too stubborn to work with them, working on the questions by himself.

"i said, it's wrong."

"fuck you mean it's wrong!?"

"i mean it's wrong."

y/n sweated under bakugou's and todoroki's gaze, stressed from the both of them arguing.

"can you guys not argue for two seconds?"

"if icyhot wasn't so shit at explaining, maybe we wouldn't be arguing right now."

"if bakugou wasn't so bad at listening to people once in a lifetime-"

"what did you say?!"

bakugou banged his hands on the table as he stood up, distracting the class and making them look towards them.

"you three, outside!"

-

todoroki, y/n and bakugou stood outside of the class in a line, bakugou's head was high as his head rested on the wall, todoroki was straight, zoning out and looking out of the window, while y/n was standing between them, blankly blinking.

"okay, can we.. like address something?"

y/n questioned, her eyes looking at the two boys as they looked at her.

"what is it, y/n?"

"are you guys, like in love with each other or something?"

y/n asked, looking at bakugou as bakugou's eyes looked up at todoroki, todoroki's expression becoming a face of horror.

silence was filled between the trio, them bakugou started laughing aloud, pointing at todoroki while todoroki was blinking, a gagging feeling of vomit starting to lace his throat.

"me?! like that half-and-half bastard!? in his dreams!”

“i wouldn’t want you to like me in my worst nightmares either.”

bakugou didn’t hear him, doubling over and holding his stomach in laughter. todoroki looked at y/n seriously, holding y/n’s shoulders tightly,

“y/n, i don’t like bakugou. i like you.”

“say what”

y/n’s eyes widened, bakugou’s laughter stopped, a stomping sound appearing as y/n’s shoulder was grabbed, bakugou’s hands pulling her back and into his chest.

“i like you more than him, angel.”

“no i do, y/n.”

y/n’s head started to spiral as todoroki got closer to them, his footsteps echoing through the hallway as y/n was then squished between bakugou and todoroki.

bakugou had one hand on the side of her waist and one hand on her shoulder. todoroki held both of her hands tightly with one hand and the other on the back of her neck.

“i like her better than you.”

“who said, icyhot?”

“i did.”

“go and die.”

“no you.”

“the fuck?!”

y/n blushed between the two guys, wanting to run and cover her face.

“g-guys, can we talk this out-“

“y/n, i only put up with bakugou for you.”

“when the fuck? i put up with you for her!”

the two boys glared at each other, their hold on y/n tightening just a bit.

“go away, you’re bothering her.”

bakugou said, tugging her towards him.

“no, you’re bothering us.”

todoroki argued, tugging her back towards himself.

“guys i’m not an object..”

the two boys quickly let go out her to make her happy, but were still death staring each other like there was no tomorrow.

‘what the hell man..’

y/n cried in her head, imaginary tears falling down her face.

#GUYS IS IT BAD I CANT TELL #female reader #fem!reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #todobaku #mha #bnha #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shoto

[freyaphoria]

Ateez Reactions: When You Use Safeword (Maknae Line)

TW: fingering, public (i really hate but), oral, cramps :,( , bondage, using safeword obv

hyung line

San

"You're doing very well, darling. Can you hold on a little longer?" You actually couldn't, but you shook your head so as not to disappoint your boyfriend. You were still a little shy since it was the early stages of your relationship. San increased his speed inside you. He was laying on you while fucking you so much that you started to feel overwhelmed. It had gotten so hot you couldn't focus on the pleasure. "Sannie…" He increased his speed even more. "What happened? You want me to speed up?" You took support from his hair because you wanted to hold on somewhere. "Sannie, slow down" He continued to fuck you without slowing down because he liked to tease you a little. "San please... Slow down!" He couldn't hear you anymore or your voice wasn't coming out. You're starting to get dizzy from the heat and San. "Yellow!" As soon as you said this, he slowed down his speed instantly and looked at your face with a worried look. "What's the matter, dear?" You took a deep breath. "I'm just overwhelmed and everything feels so hot. Can we slow down a bit?" He placed a kiss on your lips. He was still slowly moving in and out of you. "Of course, darling. As you wish."

Mingi

"Huh? Do you like it when I finger you like this?" You didn't know how many fingers he put inside you, but it was definitely more than 2. "Am I doing a good job? It must be so since you're clenching around my fingers." You didn't know how many orgasms you had. You didn't know anything. Your brain was like mush. You could only whine. He changed the position where he had you trapped between his legs and buried himself between your legs. When he started licking your juices, you realized that you couldn't take it. You couldn't handle another orgasm. You wanted to push his head, but he didn't move so you tried to close your legs. "Don't hide from me, kitty, let me take care of you." He grabbed your legs and spread them wide. Your legs are starting to get hurt because you were not very elastic. Suddenly you got a cramp in your left leg. "Agh Mingi stop!!" Of course he thought that your scream was from pleasure and continued. "Strawberry!!!" As soon as he heard your safeword, he moved away from you and you pulled your leg towards you and started whimpering. "What happened? What did I do? I'm so sorry." His eyes widened with concern as you shooke your leg so that the pain will go away. "Did you have a cramp?" You shook your head. His panic seemed very endearing to you. You smiled and caressed his cheek, not wanting him to get any more worried. "Yes, it hurt a lot but it's over now. Don't worry." You winced as you shook your leg because your body was still sensitive. "I shouldn't have opened your legs that wide, kitten." "No Min it's okay. Just give me 5 minutes and then we can continue okay?"

Wooyoung

He was starting to exaggerate being a brat tamer. OK agreed; You had been teasing him in front of his friends all day long, but that does not mean that he will tie you to the bed for an hour, insert a vibrator inside you and sit in front of you, like watching a very exciting show. You had turned into a shaking mass. He loved this helpless state of yours. He headed towards you with a whip in his hand. "Do you realize how angry you've made me, or do you want to stay like this for another hour?" Your brain was blurred and you couldn't understand the words; you didn't understand what he said, you only heard the sentence "one more hour". You couldn't see where he was because you were blindfolded, but you quickly shook your head towards where the voice was coming from. He hit you on the chest with a whip. "Where did your words go? You were talking so well in front of them." He grabbed you by your hair and brought you closer to his face. Even though you couldn't see him, you could hear that sarcastic tone in his voice. "Oh, if you don't want to talk to me, maybe you can talk to San. Like you did at morning." You instantly panicked because you didn't want your best friend to see you like this and Wooyoung always followed through on his threats. "No! Master please-" Your orgasm, which had been waiting to be released for a long time, suddenly released because you panicked. “Hah, looks like you're impressed, bitch. I should definitely call San then." You felt him move away from you. Even though your ears were ringing from post-orgasm, you could still tell what he was doing. He had trained you very well to understand what was going on around you while you were blindfolded. You heard the sound of his phone's screen unlocking. "Master stop! I don't want!" He laughed sarcastically and approached you. "Being the attention-seeking slut that you are, I thought you'd enjoy his attention?" You took a breath when he stopped the vibrator. "Wooyoung stop, really! I don't want that!" "I'll give you 3 seconds to shut up-" "Violet. Untie me." Your voice was very harsh. Wooyoung panicked and untied you. He felt he had crossed the line. "You didn't really think I'd call him, did you? You think I'd let someone else see what's mine? I was just playing doll."

Jongho

You didn't know what happened to Jongho. Normally he would never do such things in public, he would rarely even hold your hand. But now, he was fingering you under the table in front of his hyungs. You were trying not to squirm but he was so good at his job that you had a hard time. You were trying to hold his hands and stop him. Even though your orgasm was so close, you didn't want to cum in front of them. “Jongho stop it.” you whispered but he neither looked at you nor seemed to hear you. He was trying to find a name for the new kitten that Yeosang would adopt. While fingering you. How cute. "If you don't stop, i will-" You didn't even hear your voice but he leaned over and said "then cum for me, love." As you were about to come, Hongjoong asked you something about the cat's name. "Huh? What name?" "Cat's name, what do you think?" he asked you again. You said your safeword both to stop your boyfriend and to make sure it wasn't obvious that you weren't listening to his hyungs. "Peach." Jongho moved his hand as soon as he heard your safeword as a reflex. "What kind of cat name is that?" Wooyoung laughed "Uh, since I'm actually adopting an orange cat, her name might be peach!" While Yeosang was happy to finally find a name for his cat, Jongho gave you a guilty look. "Are you okay? Did I go too far?" "No I just wouldn't be able to hold myself if you didn't stop" you both whispered to each other.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #kpop imagines #kpop smut #jongho #mingi #wooyoung #choi san #choi san smut #mingi smut #jongho smut #wooyoung smut #song mingi x reader #choi san x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #choi jongho x reader