#What you can expect to see the morning after

[pupyuj]

→ “your colorful secrets.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.

— weeks after the event which you call "the weirdest thing that's ever happened all year", wonyoung approaches you about your 'strange' behavior towards her in the most 'wonyoung' way possible...

word count: 10.6k

dynamic: dom!mean girl!jang wonyoung x sub!nerd!reader.

content warnings: smut, fingering, clit play, nipple play, masturbation (for like, a minute lmao), overstimulation, mommy kink, degradation.

requested? : kind of!

a/n: well, we finally made it ya'll! 😭😭💞 i feel like i'm gonna say this about every fic i write here from now on but PHEWWW THIS QUITE LITERALLY TOOK FOREVER?? but i was more than happy to flesh this little universe out more and revisit our favorite mean girl and her awkward nerd <33 just like you guys, "magic words" is one of my favorite things that i have written so even though this kinda took me wayyy too long to finish, I WAS SO HAPPY THAT I STILL DID IT UEUEUE MEAN GIRL WONY MY BELOVED 🥺💓 anyhow, i really, really hope you guys enjoy this and here's to more mean girl wonys in the future hehehe

p.s. i hope ya'll don't get bored too easily bcs wow there's a shit ton of talking in the first half of this fic—

previous: magic words.

jang wonyoung was late. 

to class.

which wasn’t exactly all that surprising considering she thinks she can do whatever she wants. but she was never late to class. you would know—you were always waiting until she entered the room. it was like you were never calm until she appeared, but that was because you have had the biggest, lamest crush on her all year. even the professor took a pause when he called wonyoung’s name for attendance and nobody was there to respond with “i’m here, professor~” and a cheeky smile. you stared at the empty seat in the middle of the classroom, wonyoung’s seat, and wondered what could’ve been in her way for her to— 

“just hold on for mommy, ‘kay?”

you dropped your pen, covering your red face with your hands. your seatmate gave you a brief look before going back to reading her notes. did you really have to think about that first thing in the morning? well, it wasn’t as if it was all you have been thinking about for the past two weeks: wonyoung’s lips on yours, her hands all over you, her sweet voice soothing you, and her eyes looking at you like you were her last meal… you still couldn’t believe that entire thing even happened!

ever since then, things have been really weird. a lot of people looked at you more when before wonyoung fucked you, you were usually ignored which you liked. and you knew everybody whispered about you and wonyoung too. neither of you were being discreet in that room in the library that day so you heard all sorts of things from your fellow students the day after. usually about how they didn’t think you were that kind of girl, or how they never thought wonyoung would ever consider fucking ‘someone like you’. see, other people would be mad if they heard some strangers say all those things about them but actually, you agreed with them.

everything about that day went against a lot of things that you thought about yourself. well, you weren’t planning on staying a virgin forever but you really didn’t expect for it to be taken by jang wonyoung of all people!

“come on, baby. give me a show.”

you squeezed your thighs together, your heart hammering inside your chest. god, it almost felt like wonyoung was right up against your ear—talking to you and berating you for thinking about her 24/7 after she fucked you. you felt your core clench upon remembering how warm wonyoung’s hands were, how her fingers felt ramming inside you… god, you wanted it all again. but there was no way she would agree to that, right? knowing wonyoung and the kind of girl that she was, that would be the only time she would fuck you, right?

a pink jacket catches your attention, making you look up from your thighs. jang wonyoung has finally arrived. she was talking to the professor as she sat in her seat, all smiles and giggles as usual. she throws a brief glance over her shoulder, sharp eyes meeting yours. you didn’t miss the way the corner of her mouth lifted up, smirking at you as she eyed you down. you didn’t even know how the fuck she was able to do that within a millisecond of looking at you, but she did it anyway and it only made you squirm in your seat.

oh, how pathetic you were. you’ve been feeling all sorts of things after wonyoung fucked you, but you never knew what to do about them. for now, you just wanted to get through another day of being in wonyoung’s presence despite everything that’s happened. she hasn’t spoken much to you since that day and you doubted that anything was going to change—she’s jang wonyoung after all. you were probably just another hook-up to her, something she’s bound to forget about in a week or so.

(see, that was just all kinds of wrong because right at this moment, all the nosy people who were staring at wonyoung can clearly see how she spared your pitiful figure by the window little glances every other minute with a sly smile on her face. she didn’t make an effort to be discreet. she never does. when jang wonyoung likes something, she is going to let people know—she has to! or else they’ll all just think you’re up for grabs.

no. wonyoung was going to show them only she can really pull all the nice girls in this school. especially you—(y/n) (l/n), the campus’ adorably awkward bookworm who’s very endearingly clumsy despite her well-put appearance. god, how wonyoung had become obsessed with you and you had absolutely no idea.

but it was more than just your character too. for a while now, actually ever since she fucked you, something about you has been bothering her mind. it’s made her unable to stop thinking about you and truthfully, it fucking pissed her off so much that she had to brainstorm a plan, a solution, for it. which became the reason why she was late today. will wonyoung actually execute it? who knows! for now, she can stare at you scribbling on your notes and laugh to herself because she knew, oh she so knew, that every time you paused, shut your eyes, and shook your head—you were thinking about her.)

thankfully, the class ended after another hour and a half. halfway through it all, you got bored and opted to stare out the window. so much so that you didn’t realize class was over until the familiar scent of money and local fame wafted into your nose—wonyoung had walked past you, and she winked at you. you found yourself freezing up in your seat, so fucking pathetic. nobody seemed to notice what wonyoung had just done which was fortunate for you! with bright red cheeks and ears, you packed up our belongings in record time and swiftly power-walked your way out of the classroom.

the attention that was put on you as you walked along the hallways of the building was annoying, for the lack of a better word. it seems like everybody was looking at you as if this was the very first instance of a loser somehow ‘getting’ the popular girl to sleep with her. sometimes, you wish it never happened. as good as it felt, the aftermath was almost not worth it. you’ve heard cruel things being said about you after that day and to save your enrollment, you kept yourself quiet and pretended like you were unaware. except that you weren’t, so every time you make eye contact with someone and they start whispering to their friend or something, it only adds up to that pool of anger that was slowly building up from the pit of your stomach.

still, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame wonyoung for it all. you were part of the act as much as she was but you also can’t say that you brought all this attention and rumors to yourself. you blamed the other girl’s stupid reputation, actually. but it’s not like you can rewind time and make yourself leave that goddamn room when you thought wonyoung was never going to come. there was no point in dwelling on it now. it happened and you have to live with the consequences. being talked about isn’t half as bad as the threat of your scholarship getting revoked anyway.

you were right on the other side of the building when you realized you had no idea where you wanted to go. you just wanted to get out of that classroom, away from wonyoung’s sights so she can’t have you acting up in front of everybody. not that you would actually be able to make stable eye contact with her anyway. naturally, you found yourself marching towards the washroom. you were nearing to the door when you heard a few girls chattering lively.

you entered the washroom and there stood in front of the mirror were kim jiwon and shim jayoon—your acquaintances and wonyoung’s super smart best friends from one of the science programs. they were the last people you wanted to see face-to-face and for good reason! as soon as they saw you, they squealed and grabbed your arm, yanking you to stand in front of the mirror with them. “there’s the woman of the hour!” jiwon teased, lightly pinching your cheek.

“more like woman of the week—literally nobody is shutting up about you! this must feel like heaven.” jayoon nudges your arm, firmly believing that you liked all of the attention you were getting when you really didn’t. you would do anything to be invisible again.

“is this really what it feels like to be popular? i hate it,” you grumbled, earning a sigh from jayoon. “i don’t know how you guys ever manage.”

“you have an outdated opinion about all of this, baby girl! don’t you like having everyone’s eyes on you? now they’ll see how much of a pretty little thing you are—it’s great!” jiwon said. no, she was not very successful in convincing you that this wasn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened in your academic life so far. but you decided that you wouldn’t fight her on it and instead, stand idly between the two girls while they gossiped and twirled and played with your hair.

you were completely signed off from the conversation; the only thing in your mind was the feeling of wonyoung’s hands in your hair while she kissed you. unconsciously, you touched your lips with your fingers. fuck.

“oh, you’ve got it bad, huh?” jiwon teases.

“hey, don’t blame (y/n)! wonyoung’s a good kisser—i’d miss her lips too,” jayoon sighs dreamily. then she gasps and grips your forearm tightly. “do you want to fuck her again?” she asked with shiny eyes.

“w-what?!”

“where’d you get your information from, jayoon? wonyoung fucked her.”

“oh, right!”

you covered your face with your hands, “please stop talking.”

jayoon forcefully pries your hand off your face, “listen, gaeul-sunbae is having a party next week and we’ll be there with wonyoung! you should come! we’ll make sure to get you guys a room.” jayoon says with a wink. god, they’d let the two of you fuck in a house full of your schoolmates?! that would just add onto your world of troubles.

“i’m not going to any party and i’m never sleeping with wonyoung again, okay? i just—i want this all to end. i hate it when i’m looked at.” you gently wiggled yourself out of the two girls’ hold and once again marched towards the door.

“you shouldn’t have fucked her then.” jayoon says with a shrug as you reach for the handle, making you pause.

“she fucked me.” you corrected your friend before swinging the door open and exiting the washroom.

“yeah jayoon get your facts straight!” you heard jiwon laugh as you bolted out of the washroom. you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, and glaring at the first person you saw in the hallway. the person in question raised an eyebrow before turning to talk with his friend, eyes lingering on your leaving figure.

gosh, this school was a nightmare.

nevertheless, you survive the long walk back to your classroom without sparing another person a glance. did you bump into people because you absolutely refused to look up? yes! did you care? not at all. it was much, much better than dealing with the scrutiny in everyone’s eyes. apparently, sex was only a problem when the girl who wanted nothing to do with it actually did it. every time you remembered how everyone in the library looked at you after you and wonyoung left that private room, you wanted to scream. literally. all of the negative things that came after the event made you forget about the sweet stuff. like the way wonyoung insisted on driving you home, how she walked you to a bus stop when you refused to ride with her, how she patiently and wordlessly waited for your bus with you, and how she gave you a kiss on the cheek when your bus did arrive.

but what good was having wonyoung’s attention if everybody was also going to look at you, but in a worse light?

you knew it probably wasn’t fair, but you grew a tiny bit of resentment towards the popular girl.

you entered your classroom after a deep breath—eyes glued to the ground and hands hidden under the straps of your backpack. it felt like you were back in high school all over again. this sucked so bad. but unfortunately, getting to your seat was only a bumpy road! all you had to do was not look up and start reading material once you’ve sat down. it should be so easy. of course, fate had other ideas.

wonyoung had bumped into you while walking towards her own seat, forcing you to tear your gaze from the ground to look at her. oh, she was so pretty—no, (y/n)! “sorry.” wonyoung says with a cheeky smile. (she was excited that she finally got you to look at her. and as expected…) you blushed, merely looking away from the other girl before rushing to your seat. you heard a few giggles behind you which only confirmed your suspicions—it was definitely planned. it didn’t help that your cheeks and ears were flushed red… gosh, even your neck felt warm. you know what also didn’t help? how wonyoung’s intense gaze didn’t leave your figure for a while. you could feel her staring at you like you were some piece of meat for her to devour and you weren’t even exaggerating by saying all that!

it was the same kind of look she was giving you right before she kissed you that day. despite your resistance, you met wonyoung’s stare. you noticed that she was surprised to see you raise your head, but it looked like it pleased her more than anything. wonyoung tilts her head and smiles slyly at you while her eyes travel from your hands, your exposed thighs, to your legs… now who knew jang wonyoung could be such a pervert? you squeezed your thighs together, glaring slightly at wonyoung who merely giggled before finally turning around and facing the front.

things like that—wonyoung’s attention, her interest, her affection—were the only good to come out from that hook-up. the rest? the side-eyes, the rumors, the whispers, the unwanted popularity spike? you wanted nothing to do with it. but, again, it wasn’t like you could reverse time.

so, you were going to do what you’ve always been good at: hide yourself to the point of invisibility. it’s never failed you before, and it shouldn’t now.

the only challenge was jang wonyoung herself—will she let you out of her sight?

you didn’t want to think about the most obvious answer. instead, you tried your damned hardest to not think about her at all for the rest of the day. you poured all of your attention to the lectures, the coursework, and the notes. basically anything just to avoid hearing her voice in your head again. at least it wasn’t as bad as the first few days after she fucked you. during those times, you quite literally replayed the entire thing in your head every minute. it wasn’t surprising that you ended up failing a few small quizzes around that time.

when you’ve put every belonging you had in your backpack, you practically rushed to get up from your seat and headed to the door. avoiding every eye that latched onto your figure. you successfully passed wonyoung’s seat without trouble until…

“ah, (y/n)! finally, i can talk to you.”

ms. lim, the professor for your last class of the day, calls you. you turned around with a tight-lipped smile on your face, reluctantly walking closer to the teacher’s desk while most of your classmates walked out of the door. wonyoung was still in the room. she was staring. fuck, why is she always staring?!

“i wanted to thank you for all the help you gave last week for jiyoung’s little… ‘art for amateurs’ club.” ms. lim sighed at the name (she has always hated it but ms. kim jiyoung, her fiancé, loved it too much to change it) and smiled up at you.

“no need for thanks, ma’am. i was passing by the art room that day and i just thought i’d help.” you hear a few people shuffle behind you. more students walking out. a flash of pink walks by behind you. wonyoung. you blinked and smiled at the professor, acting as normal as you could.

“if you don’t mind, i need you to do another favor for me,” ms. lim opens up one of her drawers and carefully takes out a lunch bag from it. the professor smiles sheepishly at you. “i hate to ask my students to do little chores like this. but i’m going to be preoccupied with grading and lesson plans for the rest of the day and that idiot jiyoung forgot to grab her food from me.”

you chuckled lightly, “hard to imagine ms. kim of all people would forget about her food. i’ll take it to her, no worries.” you carefully held the lunch bag in your hands and smiled at your professor.

“thank you, (y/n). she’s been all over the place lately! worrying about this one special pupil of hers that she’s practically begging to put up a piece of her work in the walls of the art building. it’s a whole thing, i won’t bore you about it. run along.” ms. lim waves you off with a laugh. you bowed to the professor before happily exiting the classroom with ms. kim’s lunch bag in hand. when you left the room, you saw that the hallways were still quite full with students lounging about—looks like it wasn’t going to be an easy walk to the fine arts building but oh well.

the first hurdle was squeezing through a crowd of jocks from different teams creating a ruckus in the middle of the hallway. the second struggle was nearly getting picked on by said jocks when they just so happened to notice you sneaking by. thankfully, a nice cheerleader with red hair diverted their attention so you could slip away. it was a quiet and pleasant walk along the school courtyard towards the fine arts building from there, with only the wind and soft rustling of leaves accompanying you.

the building was quiet, save for your own footsteps. usually, the hallways would be filled with sounds of casual chatter and the muffled voices of instructors and students alike. you had to say though, you much rather preferred the silence. it was comforting. you were usually surrounded with a lot of yelling, hollering, and laughing which sometimes wasn’t all that bad but considering everything that’s been happening the fast few days… yeah, this was preferable.

it didn’t take long for you to reach ms. kim’s classroom, and there you were met with a vast empty room littered with half-finished paintings and beautiful illustrations created by the students and ms. kim herself. there was a backpack and a big canvas set near the back of the classroom but you pay it no mind. it was common for students to stay after school hours just to kill time or work on their projects. you put down the lunch bag on ms. kim’s desk, all the more ready to turn around and leave when a particular painting caught your eye.

it wasn’t anything special by any means. in fact, it was buried behind more colorful paintings and you could only see half of it. you approached the painting, looking around the other canvases just to see it in full. it didn’t look finished, but then again maybe that was part of the appeal. the painting was that of an arrangement of beautiful flowers in a jar, they were wilting. or maybe they were just coming to life, looking at the soft streams of sunlight that shone down on them.

regardless, you didn’t have the luxury to analyze the painting any further when you heard shuffling behind you. alarmed, you turned your head quickly and… well, fuck.

“wonyoung…”

the tall girl clad in pinks and blues smiles at you. it wasn’t a very comforting smile.

“the one and only,” well, that sounded familiar. you watched as wonyoung threads the ends of her hair using her dainty little fingers. a smirk dances on her lips while she stares you down, very much liking how she has rendered you speechless with her mere presence. a bit of a dramatic statement but it was true! “how’d you like my work?” wonyoung asked, eyes quickly flickering over to the flower painting behind you.

you followed her stare, but quickly looked back at her in shock. “you painted that?” you gasped.

“you make me sound like i’m just a stupid bimbo,” wonyoung sighs dramatically. “of course, i painted it. would anyone else’s work look as gorgeous?” ‘charming’ as ever, wonyoung flips her hair over her shoulder with a smug look on her pretty face. you turned away, very quickly rolling your eyes before settling them back on the painting. you were impressed. you wouldn’t have guessed that wonyoung of all people would have that kind of talent, but then again, she is one of the class-toppers and nobody knows who she is exactly.

“it’s beautiful.” you admitted. you heard wonyoung chuckle, but she doesn’t say much else. you don’t look back at her, choosing to stare at her painting instead. again, something stopped you from looking further into it. wonyoung stood beside you, briefly looking at her painting with a somber look on her face before quickly covering it up with her usual cheeky, queen bitch smile. it was dead silent. did you even want to speak to her? for two weeks, you’ve resented all the attention that was given to you because of her. you’ve glared at the back of her head, cursed her in your mind whenever some students whispered about you… but somehow, you’re the one who’s tongue-tied now that you were actually alone with her.

it was confusing—feelings, that is. hell, the last real face-to-face interaction you’ve had with her was on that day. when she kissed your cheek before you got on your bus.

“wasn’t expecting you to be here, (y/n),” wonyoung unzips her pink jacket, slowly taking it off before putting it on an empty seat. you watched her from the corner of your eye, she was taking deep breaths and you could hear her. then she fixes her hair and turns around wearing a glowing smile. “but this is just perfect.” she steps towards you and instinctively, you jolted backwards.

“i-i just dropped something off for ms. kim… from ms. lim, i mean. i should get going.” well, it wasn’t going to be easy! what with wonyoung being inside your personal bubble and your heart beating so fast that you can’t quite hear your own thoughts. it didn’t help that she towered over you, and again, her perfume was a fucking weapon—rendering you immobile.

“don’t be like that, (y/n). i’m upset with you.” wonyoung says with a pout. cute, but you really shouldn’t let your stupid crush on her stop you from just getting the hell away! wonyoung was fascinated with the way your eyes wandered. she knew that no matter how angry you were with her, she was always going to have the same effect on you. and it was delicious. being able to have that much of an impact on someone. 

“you never called or texted me. i was waiting, especially after i sent you home,” wonyoung stands even closer and for a second, you actually saw some kind of emotion in her eyes. dissatisfaction, perhaps. “didn’t know you were like that, (y/n).”

“i d-didn’t even think you’d want me to contact you after… after all of that.”

“i wouldn’t have given you my number if i didn’t want you begging for more of me over the phone, dumbass.” wonyoung bumps your shoulder with her own as she walks past you. the way you looked (confused and… so fucking stupid) must’ve made her pissed, judging by the way she started dragging her equipment around with her eyebrows furrowed and eyes glaring at you every now and then. you stood there awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of your uniform. you should really leave. you had things to do at home! this wasn’t a time to waste with someone who was mad at you and someone you were mad with.

all it takes was a period of silence to remind of how much wonyoung affected your life. and suddenly all the anger was back. the longer you stood there and looked at her, the more it boiled up and threatened to tip over. but you were going to be mature. you were going to leave the classroom and go on with your life, leaving it all (wonyoung) behind.

“i have a few ideas on how you can make it up to me though.” wonyoung averts her gaze from the empty canvas in front of her to you.

given the way she was looking at you—or rather, has been looking at you, wonyoung was up to no good. and if you wanted any chance to redeem the little reputation you had in this academy, you had to be strong and not get swayed by her and her pretty little face and those soft lips and that mesmerizing pair of eyes. you shook your head, “i am not fucking with you again, wonyoung.”

the taller girl laughed, “what? did it look like i was going to make you do that? gee, (y/n), it takes one hook-up to corrupt you, huh?” wonyoung laughs, a smirk making its way to her face when she sees you glaring daggers at her. “you’re going to be my muse.” she says, crossing her arms and scanning you up and down. gosh, she didn’t even bother to hide the lust behind her stare… but you could tell that her statement wasn’t a joke.

“you’re… going to paint me?” you asked. wonyoung hums, staring right at you as she pulled her hair up to a ponytail, quietly anticipating your answer while you stood idly by the windows.

“only reason i’m here is because ms. kim has been begging for me to put something of my own up in the hallways. usually i would just refuse but the lady’s been nice to me since i stepped a foot in this school so why not? plus, what’s a better subject than my latest and possibly most popular fling?” wonyoung gives you a very sarcastic smile that makes you roll your eyes. you seriously needed to get out of here.

you were more than ready to leave until you remembered the way wonyoung’s eyes looked when she confronted you about the silence you gave her. then a pang of guilt hits you the more you think about her actions after the two of you hooked up. the walking together, the waiting together, and the kiss on the cheek. maybe attempting to cut her off was a dick move on your part…

“okay.”

wonyoung’s face visibly lights up. adorable.

“where do you want me?” you asked, blushing at the sight of the cute look on her face. all of your activities can wait. you wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself knowing that you were potentially hurting someone. albeit unintentionally and the person in question being your best slash worst nightmare.

“just sit in front of me and we’ll figure it out from there.” and so, you and wonyoung get to work. well, of course it was mostly her doing the work while you just sat on a stool and listened carefully to whatever she told you. 

oddly enough, the weight of her stare wasn’t as intimidating or nerve-wracking like it usually was. wonyoung had a certain softness in her eyes as she studied your features closely, and every time you figured that she saw something she liked, something would sparkle behind those beautiful brown eyes. watching wonyoung in what seems to be her natural environment… well, ‘unexpected’ would be the understatement of the year. you figured it would be parties and social clubs and outlet malls but then again, nobody really knew wonyoung.

getting so much as a glimpse of the untouchable popular girl was truly something. and despite everything that’s happened you find yourself feeling the way you did the first time you laid eyes on her on campus during freshman year. awestruck, with your heart nearly beating out of your chest as you desperately tried to look at something that isn’t her but ultimately failing. wonyoung gives you a smile, and it wasn’t her usual cheeky-teasing one. she looked… bashful? and is that a hint of pink on her cheeks?

it was strange to see, but you ended up smiling a little at the sight of a rare cute wonyoung. the tall girl’s cheeks show a deeper shade of pink as soon as your lips curled up in a smile, making you giggle a little. not a lot of words were shared between the two of you after that as wonyoung completely immerses herself in her work. and during that entire time you just stared at her, admiring her focused state. you wondered if she was concerned at all about making a mistake—her hand moved skillfully across the canvas with the attitude of someone that was sure about their abilities. you would hear an occasional tut partnered with a quick hum and followed by a quiet, satisfied laugh, giving you the impression that wonyoung was confident about the picture she was painting of you.

you��ve never been more curious in your life. you wanted to know how wonyoung sees you. it would be from an artist’s perspective but maybe you’ll see even a spot of how wonyoung truly sees you deep inside. especially after everything that has gone down between the two of you, and especially after her reaction to you forcing yourself to forget her existence for two weeks. it’s not like you were looking for any chance of the popular girl returning your feelings, you just wanted to know if you were anything to her at all. maybe you’ll get to know it here.

“(y/n),” wonyoung snaps you back into reality. she beckons you over with a proud look on her face. “come over here. see if you like it.”

soon enough, you were standing beside wonyoung, staring at the most impressive painting in the room. it was you; sitting on that stool wearing a gentle smile, but almost half of your entire form was covered by a slightly see-through curtain and the tiniest streams of sunlight. at first glance, the painting looks incomplete or rather, abruptly finished but it looks perfect in your eyes. and on wonyoung’s eyes too, judging by the way she looked at her own work with approval.

“it’s beautiful, wonyoung.” you said with a grateful smile.

“mhm. it’s y—” wonyoung pauses, and clears her throat. “obviously.” she said, chuckling awkwardly and flipping her hair over her shoulder with less flair than usual. you did not know what the hell that was all about. (“it’s you.” wonyoung wanted to say. but she bit her tongue real quick. why? well, jang wonyoung was not one to try to woo a nerd of all things like that! but really though—it’s you. of course it’s beautiful.)

you were admiring the painting some more and the longer you did, the more you noticed just how many details wonyoung put into it. from the slight crinkle of your eyes while you’re smiling down to that tiny little scar you had on your right cheek. amazing.

“w-wait, you’re going to put this up in this building?” you asked, now blushing wildly. it’s not even that you were embarrassed of having your face put up in the fine hallways of this campus (there have been many instances of your face being plastered everywhere because of your very impressive achievements as an honor student). it’s the fact that wonyoung was involved in all of this that makes it all complicated.

“no.”

surprised, you looked at wonyoung with slightly widened eyes. she worked hard for this painting for the sole reason of putting it up, and now she won’t? maybe she sensed your discomfort at the thought of putting up a painting of you made by wonyoung, which you know would just repeat the never-ending nightmare of being surrounded by rumors all over again. you would ask the tall girl to give you a reason why, but you noticed that she was standing closer to you now, eyes darkened and very much drawing you in.

just like last time.

“for my eyes only.” wonyoung says quietly. she was referring to the painting, sure, but she was looking at you the entire time. the implication makes your face heat up, and suddenly you’re finding it hard to do anything else except to just stand there. obnoxiously close to wonyoung with your eyes constantly flickering up and down from her eyes to her lips. you remember what those lips taste like, how they feel moving against yours. what you would give to feel and taste them all over again.

“i need a break,” wonyoung’s gaze pierces through your own, inviting you in. “don’t you?”

and all it took was the slightest nod of your head for wonyoung to lock your lips in a searing kiss with her own.

god, it felt like your chest collapsed within itself. your hands immediately cup wonyoung’s cheeks, and having learned a few things from the last time you kissed her, you were much, much better at keeping up with her despite your heartbeat running a mile a minute. wonyoung’s own hands were on your hips, pulling you closer until she started undoing the ribbon on your uniform. then, she unbuttoned your shirt, forcing herself out of the kiss and putting her lips on your neck as she did so. it was hard trying to keep yourself quiet with the way wonyoung nibbled and softly sucked on your skin… which was why you just stopped trying.

“ahh… mhm, wonyoung…” your moans were met with a hum from the taller girl, whose kisses now reached your chest.

“you missed me, didn’t you?” wonyoung whispers against your skin, leaving a mark just below your collarbone where she likes it best. she tilts her head up, lips hovering over your own, only touching slightly. “you missed mommy?”

fuck, that was gonna do you in.

too embarrassed to truly admit it all, you nodded, which earned you a pout mixed with a glare from wonyoung. “i’m gonna let that go once. you’re lucky i missed you more.” eventually, you found your waist pressed against a lone desk while wonyoung continues to kiss you. you were topless now, what with wonyoung discarding your white shirt somewhere on the floor.

“w-what if ms. kim comes in…?” you asked when you felt wonyoung’s hand sliding up your thigh. surely she won’t be as careless as last time, right? the two of you were barely hiding! the curtains didn’t leave much to the imagination and the door was only halfway closed… if you weren’t careful with your mouth, some unlucky soul passing by will catch the two of you and you really don’t know if you can handle more of that. maybe you were naive to expect wonyoung to change within two weeks, because right after you asked your stupid little question, wonyoung had pulled down your panties and unclasped your bra from behind. goodness, she works fast.

the tall girl decided not to waste time and completely disregarded your question. “up.” she taps your hip, urging you to sit on top of the desk behind you. as you were getting yourself settled, wonyoung takes the opportunity to stare at you. you were as cute as ever—flushed cheeks, messy hair, lips quivering, and pretty eyes glossy with anticipation, even though you tried to disguise it with uncertainty. wonyoung couldn’t believe how easy it has been to knock down your defenses. she was so sure that even she, the jang wonyoung, was going to get rejected and embarrassed for the very first time in that library, given your reputation as a hardass.

but alas, she always gets what she wants in the end. as she should!

you pull wonyoung closer, eager to feel her lips on yours again. then she allows you to kiss her, doing the same exact thing as last time—staying still and letting you do what you want. wonyoung noticed that your kiss was softer, more careful. you were holding her face so gently, caressing her cheek with your thumb before letting your hands fall to her shoulders, giving the control back to her. it warmed her heart in a way that took her by surprise, but that was nothing compared to the pure amusement she felt when she caught you untying her ribbon.

“you’re brave today, hm?” wonyoung whispered with a smirk. she doesn’t stop you, though! she holds your stare as you let her ribbon drop to the ground, and then you start unbuttoning her shirt so excruciatingly slow. you stopped halfway through, only getting to see a little bit of wonyoung’s crimson red bra before putting your lips on her neck. and finally, for the first time, you heard her whimper.

you couldn’t see it as you were busy kissing her neck, but wonyoung was a blushing mess. she never whimpers! but with your sudden courage and the way you left the softest and sweetest kisses on her neck, wonyoung couldn’t hide it. “are you… marking me up?” wonyoung asked with a giggle.

immediately, you stopped, staring at her with half-widened eyes. “is that okay…?”

wonyoung would’ve called you stupid if the sound of her own loud heartbeat didn’t render her speechless. “don’t tell me you’re going to ask for permission if you so much as want to put your hand on my waist or something.” wonyoung said. she can imagine it clearly in her head, actually! you were too polite for your own good.

“well, consent is important—”

“yeah, yeah. how about you use that pretty mouth of yours for something worth my time, dummy?” wonyoung urges you to kiss her again, craning her neck to give you access. and you did it happily! you were so obviously excited that even wonyoung thought it was endearing, laughing lightly as you gently sucked on her soft skin. you did that for a while. how could you stop, anyway? the mix of wonyoung’s sighs, feeling her thin, dainty fingers smoothly threading your hair, and her other hand laying still on your thigh, squeezing ever so often when you do something she likes… well, suffice to say that it was almost impossible to stop.

leaning back, you stare at your work. the sight of your marks on wonyoung’s neck only made your core buzz, making you not-so-subtly close your legs. wonyoung regains her composure, eyes darkened once again before she forces her legs open, one hand slowly sliding deeper up your inner thighs while the other keeps your legs apart. “since you’ve had your fun… naturally, it’s my turn now, correct?” and of course you were nodding your head eagerly like an obedient pet, just how she likes it.

your breath gets caught in your throat when wonyoung cups one of your breasts in her hand, her face dangerously close to the other one, more than ready to pleasure you. “i was thinking of being nice since i missed you… but you made me upset with your stupid tantrum over the last time we fucked,” wonyoung feigns a smile and a shiver runs down your spine. “so, to truly make it up to me… you’re going to take  everything i’m giving to you today.”

scary. terrifying even, but how could you say no? the (y/n) of two hours ago would be really disappointed of you but fuck it. wonyoung’s got you wrapped around her finger once again and you’re going to let it happen again.

only moans escape your lips as wonyoung’s warm mouth closes around your nipple. a new sensation, and it was wonderful. you found yourself hugging wonyoung’s neck, pushing her face impossibly closer while she licked and sucked as she pleases. your cunt clenches around nothing, and you buck your hips slightly just to urge wonyoung to touch you down there even a little bit but you should’ve expected that she wouldn’t care about that. her hands were rather busy! one played with your other nipple while the other held your thigh in a grip so tight that it almost hurt.

wonyoung releases your nipple from her mouth, her lips now attacking your chest area with little bites. you weren’t opposed to it. in fact, the frustrated look on wonyoung’s face was a delight to see! “should’ve known you were going to be a pussy about it all… wouldn’t have waited up all night for your text if i did.” wonyoung tightens her grip on your thigh, making you wince. but the pain was quickly overshadowed by pleasure as the tall girl pulled on your nipple.

“how was i supposed to accept that you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore…? you were screaming my name so sweetly in the library… and i was in your head after all of that, right?” wonyoung briefly lets go of your thigh to pull your hair down, forcing you to meet her eyes. “i know you did… in the end, the campus’ smart goody-two-shoes is just a fucking slut in the making, isn’t she?”

wonyoung’s eyes shine with excitement upon seeing you look at her so desperately. she knew that you’d never take any insult if you were in your right mind… and it only turned her on when you said nothing to her, your head so clouded that you’d allow wonyoung to say anything she wants to you. the tall girl spreads your legs apart, staring at your glistening pussy before her hungry eyes pierce back into your own. “and to think that you wanted to leave when you’re all drenched like this! what would you have done if i let you go? surely not touch yourself,” wonyoung laughs, but it was a cold and mocking one. your cheeks flush with embarrassment since she was right—you can’t bear to touch yourself, which is why you’re so desperate to have her fuck you already. “you need me, and i want a pretty doll i can play with however i like. let’s help each other out, (y/n)-ah.”

wonyoung doesn’t wait for you to say anything (of course she doesn’t) and starts massaging your clit with her thumb. you gasped at the sensation, holding onto her arms and almost closing your legs up. you try to control your sounds this time around, all that left your mouth were the usual pathetic whimpering and panting but at least you weren’t loud! wonyoung didn’t like that, though. she presses her thumb harder against your clit, making you whine loudly. “that’s more like it.” the tall girl muttered under her breath. the longer she pleasured your clit, the sooner you were losing control of yourself. and eventually you were just giving into what your body wants—grinding against wonyoung’s hand, pulling her closer so you can kiss her…

you gasped sharply as wonyoung plunged her two fingers inside your cunt, and she was giggling at how you were wrinkling her shirt up due to how tight you were holding onto her. fuck did it feel good to be filled up. when wonyoung curls her long fingers inside you, you clamped your hand over your mouth, afraid of alerting anyone who may be lurking around. annoyed, wonyoung swats your hand away, “come on, i don’t want to punish you so early.” none of what she was saying went through to your head. and it wasn’t even because you were trying to be a disobedient brat but because of her pace.

she snaps her wrist with each thrust, enough to make sure that you feel every inch of her fingers inside you before pulling out. it was hard to focus on anything, even more so when wonyoung’s pretty brown eyes were raking all over your body, getting familiar with your features once again. it wasn’t everyday something catches her eye so easily, but when she entered that secluded room in the library and had the luxury of staring at you while you were asleep, she was charmed. not even she thought that she would have you on top of this table merely two weeks later—writhing under her touch and moaning her name, but wonyoung quite liked this outcome.

why, after you were so good for her the first time she fucked you, you’ve been on her mind!

“a-ah..! wonyoung…” your sweet voice snaps the tall girl back to reality. you’ve completely wrapped your arms around her neck now, how precious. wonyoung puts her lips to work, wanting to taste your skin once again. and that she does! giving you kisses from your cheek, to your jawline, to the crook of your neck and all that the way down to your chest. conveniently, the desk was long enough for wonyoung to be able to pull you down so you’d be lying back comfortably. she towers above you, a grin on her lips as she watches you try to hold on to your climax.

it was so glaringly obvious that you were close. with the way your walls clenched around wonyoung’s fingers, a few more thrusts should do it. and that made wonyoung way more upset than you can imagine. there was no way you were going to make this so short, right? but she feels it. not only have you dug your nails on her free wrist trying to hold onto her, you’ve also started whining very loudly. wonyoung, annoyed, wriggles out of your painful hold and shoves her thumb inside your mouth, effectively shutting you up. drool starts dripping down along your jawline—wonyoung wasn’t going to let you off easy judging by how she pressed her thumb flat and hard down on your tongue.

“we’re gonna make this last, baby,” wonyoung says. she sees the tears pooling in your eyes and it only makes her feel warm inside. she was getting so excited to have her way with you, and a few tears wouldn’t stop her. “and everyone’s going to know again. i know you don’t like that but this time… they’ll know you’re mine.”

wonyoung didn’t plan on saying that last part out loud but thankfully enough, you were way too busy moaning her name to even hear it. a knot tightens in your stomach and you gasp, the sensation becoming all too familiar with you now. wonyoung pulls her thumb out of your mouth and slowly slides a third finger inside your cunt—and then there it was.

“aww…” wonyoung cooed as you came all over her hand. but she doesn’t stop any of her movements. instead, she leans down, catching one of your nipples with her mouth and continuing on fingering you through your orgasm.

“f-fuck..! wonyoung, w-wait…!!” you clawed helplessly at her back. amidst your hopeless whining and moaning, wonyoung just giggles. her eyes flicker up to get a brief glance of your face, her own core clenching at how tight you’ve closed your eyes, how you’ve bitten your lower lip to the point of it hurting. she absolutely loved getting to see you undone piece by piece… even more so when you allow it to happen. which is what you finally do as you bury your hands in wonyoung’s hair, pushing her further down your chest and whimpering sweetly at every flick of her tongue on your nipples.

wonyoung wasn’t letting her hand rest, however. she keeps fingering you in a semi-fast pace, hoping to edge you closer to another orgasm. clearly, she was taking advantage of your dazed state and in all honesty, of her own adrenaline-driven state. in her right mind, she would have let you cum the first time and stop there since she knew you can’t handle too much of what she can really give you but god… wonyoung just has to see you fall apart completely under her.

“someone learned a few things from last time, hm?” wonyoung teased as she gently massaged your clit in circles with her thumb. “you’re taking it so well. good.”

you gasped loudly as she plunges her fingers knuckle-deep inside your walls again, now thrusting faster than ever. wonyoung completely gets lost at the feeling of your warmth around her fingers. with her towering above you, she was distracting enough for your mind to wander elsewhere. every so often you’d notice the way she slightly bit her lower lip, whimper quietly, and huff as she fucked you… and as your eyes trail down lower (as low as you could, anyway), you saw that the tall girl had been clenching her thighs together. gods, wonyoung looked so hot being desperate like this.

it made you blush, how much she wanted to feel as good as she was making you feel good. next time, you are going to make sure to return the favor. it was what she deserves, as much of a pain in the ass she was.

“are you okay, (y/n)…?” wonyoung, concerned that you have spaced out, asked. her thrusts have slowed and her eyes are now softer.

you nodded meekly, “yes, mommy.” the nickname slipped out so naturally that it caught wonyoung off guard. and was she… blushing? flustered, even?

(wonyoung wouldn’t even know where to start if someone were to ask about the hold you have on her. it almost sucks that you don’t know about it, but wonyoung’s pride wouldn’t let her admit it outright. not yet, anyway.)

“we’re almost done.” wonyoung regains her composure. she completely pins one of your wrists down with her free hand, the other ramming inside your walls out of control, and her forehead nearly touching yours while you moaned helplessly. with your one hand, you clutched the edge of the desk, refusing to hurt wonyoung any further because you knew you would make her blood had you decided to hold onto her with the way she was abusing your pussy. wonyoung chuckles slightly at how smoothly her fingers went in and out of you—her hand was completely drenched in your cum and wetness. she was practically drooling at the thought of getting to taste you.

wonyoung would rather do it from the source, but she knew you wouldn’t be able to handle her mouth. not at this state. and not with all the things she wants to do to you with her tongue alone.

she feels you clenching around her again, and she watches as tears squeeze out of your eyes. she kisses them away, whispering some comforting words in your ear before she thrusts her fingers knuckle-deep inside you. wonyoung intertwines your fingers since she knew you’d need it as you came all over her hand once again. unlike last time, wonyoung makes sure her hand is still, only pulling out as you’ve started to calm down a little. your eyes wandered all over the ceiling, still trying to get a sense of things. you could feel wonyoung’s eyes on you though, but you couldn’t tell what she was doing.

so ‘surprised’ would be an understatement when you feel her clothed, wet cunt pressed against your knee. wonyoung smiles bashfully as she slightly grinds her clit on your knee. hell, she nearly fucked you into unconsciousness—she shouldn’t have anything to be afraid of doing now. even if she has to become this spectacle for you.

“j-just need to… do something about this.” wonyoung says. her voice was a bit higher from her whines, obviously feeling so good that she can’t help but show this new side of herself. underneath her, you were a bit rattled but completely flustered and quite confused as to what you should do. not that you could do anything, anyway. you couldn’t really feel your legs and your head was still getting itself situated. you were basically watching wonyoung grind herself into you… and it was heaven.

wonyoung meets your stare and grins, “liking the show, babe?” she teased. she giggled when you covered your face with your other hand, you were so red. but you were brazen enough to raise your knee slightly and pressed it against her clit, making her moan out loud for the first time. a smile of satisfaction spreads on your face—you finally heard wonyoung make that kind of sound!

“cheeky little doll.” wonyoung says before leaning down and kissing you. she stops her grinding, having had enough for now and slowly pulls you to sit up, carefully.

much like the last time this happened, nothing much was said afterwards. you were merely hugging wonyoung while you recovered, and you’d smile every time you felt her leave feathery-light kisses across your shoulder and draw random circles on your lower back. wonyoung allowed you to hold her for as long as you needed, never worrying about how the sky has turned orange or the supposed project she was assigned to start today for ms. kim. a gust of wind seeps through the slightly open windows and you shiver. 

finally, wonyoung pulled away. “let’s get you dressed up. ms. kim should be on her way anyway.” she helps you stand on both feet and picks up the random pieces of clothing scattered around the area, almost scolding herself for throwing them around haphazardly. wonyoung was the one who buttons up your shirt, makes sure your skirt is all nice and tidy, ties up your ribbon perfectly, and styles your hair as if it was never a mess. and then she decides that you would look cute with a bit of lip tint—but also because you needed a good excuse to give people if they so happen to ask you why your lips were so red and fucked up.

you stayed still as wonyoung dolled you up. it was strange though, because at this point, she has fucked you three times and you’ve bravely looked at her in the eye then but now you can’t. every time her eyes flicker over to yours, you blink and set them elsewhere. you can’t tell her about how your pussy clenches under her gaze. you can’t tell her that if she does something so simple as this, helping a fellow girl to look presentable, it turns you on. and it probably wasn’t even because nice-and-friendly wonyoung was a rarity! it was because of that damn crush. and how you can still feel her hands all over you but ugh, you’re so tired of coming to that conclusion. 

you get it: you are morbidly obsessed with how wonyoung makes you feel! god, can i be any more pathetic?

“you’ll text me this time, right?” wonyoung asks after she is done. she has also gotten herself look as perfect as she always does. 

“i can’t exactly escape you now, can i?”

“mhm! glad you’re aware of that.” wonyoung puts on an exaggerated smile, but really, she was excited. 

you then pulled out your phone and sent wonyoung a simple ‘hi’ text message. “there. happy?” you mimicked her fake smile.

“ecstatic, actually.” wonyoung replied with a straight face as she stared blankly at your useless message. she saves your number and suddenly snaps a quick photo of you without warning, setting it as her contact photo for you. when you tried to sneak a peek, wonyoung moved away from you with a laugh, and saved your name as ‘dum’ on her phone, even waving it all over your face and laughing even more at your disgruntled reaction. how mature… and endearing.

when silence started to fill the air, you almost wanted to ask wonyoung a few things about this whole… thing. whatever it was. as much as you liked the whole doll talk earlier, you didn’t exactly understand it. were the two of you going to be friends-with-benefits now? well, more like barely-acquaintances-with-benefits. was wonyoung going to make a habit of cornering you at some isolated place and fuck you? because really, you‘d prefer a small warning before she starts using you. confused as you were, you didn’t let a word slip. you just stood there, watching wonyoung as she put up an empty canvas on the easel.

“is it okay if i rest for a bit before leaving?” you asked in a quiet voice. wonyoung nods as she pulls her hair up for a half-ponytail, only briefly looking at your figure as you walk past her to sit on the instructor’s chair at the front of the classroom.

“i’d insist on taking you home but you seem to adore public transportation.” wonyoung quipped from behind her canvas.

“you’d only find some excuse to touch me again in your car so yes, maybe i prefer taking the bus rather than that.” you replied. attempting to avoid thinking about wonyoung’s hands all over you while you sat on the passenger seat of her car was futile, thank goodness she was focused on whatever project she was working on.

“thanks for the idea.” oh you just knew wonyoung had a stupid smile on her face thinking about it all. that pervert!

although you would be lying if you said you weren’t into the idea, but that was something the two of you should save for much, much later.

for the rest of your time there, you merely sat on ms. kim’s chair. sometimes you watched wonyoung even though you couldn’t see much of her face. occasionally, however, she would peek from above the canvas to check on you and you wouldn’t look away like you usually would. you would hold her gaze, smiling softly before gazing at the setting sun outside. the only thing that was on your mind was how everything has changed now. whether it was for the better or for worse, you couldn’t tell yet.

there was no use dwelling on it. you simply have to see where things go. one thing was for sure though: jang wonyoung wasn’t going to be out of your life so easily.

you pondered on that chair for a while before you finally decided to leave. you promised wonyoung that you would text her as soon as you got home, and you knew that even though she barely gave you a glance since she was so focused, she was happy that you promised that. while you headed for the door, you felt wonyoung’s eyes follow you until you were completely gone. but even as you walked through the empty hallways once again the hair on the back of your neck stood on end and you found yourself stopping in your tracks completely on top of a flight of stairs.

“that… really all just happened. again.” you mumbled. ugh, your ears felt hot. your cheeks too. matter of fact, your entire body was just warm.

“what happened?” a chipper voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. ms. kim has suddenly appeared beside you. you hadn’t noticed that she was already there when you turned to the corner.

“o-oh! ms. kim, hello,” you greeted, hand clutching your chest. “ah, right. i dropped off your lunch bag. ms. lim said you forgot it earlier.”

“really? thank you, (y/n). she must be very busy if she couldn’t visit me herself. i’ll make sure to tell her that you did well delivering my food.” the art teacher pats your shoulder. her smile was striking and infectious—no wonder ms. lim always looked so lovesick around her!

“no need. it’s no problem at all,” you glanced at the giant clock on the other side of the wall and felt panic rise from the bottom of your stomach. “my bus should be making its way to the stop now. have a good day, ms. kim!” and so you were off to running as fast as you could to catch your ride, leaving the art teacher baffled but quite amused at the stairs.

“never seen (y/n) a bit loose in the head like that before.”

inside the art room, wonyoung has gotten busy. the tiniest specks of paint decorated her face, her hands had become quite the mess but what mattered was the picture she was creating. she was quite surprised with herself. only earlier did she feel that familiar rush of creating something with efficiency—when she was painting you. she was feeling it again, and it was great. it has been quite some time before she felt that rush. as rich her mind was with concepts, wonyoung found it hard to materialize them in a painting for some reason. maybe she was just lazy. maybe the pictures in her head just weren’t clear enough.

but somehow you of all people—of all things, really—made it all so very clear.

“ah, the things a good pussy does to the human mind.” wonyoung laughs at her own words. she couldn’t wait to bother you all night long later.

“i knew it!”

once again, ms. kim has surprised a student. fortunately enough, wonyoung didn’t make a mistake and only flinched slightly. “hello, ms. kim.” the tall girl greeted. she doesn’t take her eyes off her canvas since she knew that the teacher was already sauntering towards her with that contagious energy she always has.

“wow. i half expected you to be struggling for inspiration as usual but you actually got somewhere!” ms. kim pats wonyoung’s head, very much satisfied at wonyoung’s progress with her work. oddly enough, wonyoung found herself blushing deeply letting ms. kim look at a personal piece from her so freely. not that she gave a fuck about keeping up her reputation even with the teachers, but jang wonyoung was nothing if not so stubbornly prideful.

because no! she cannot bear being teased about painting (y/n) (l/n) for the second time in the same day!

“is that…”

wonyoung’s blush get deeper. here it comes.

“she did say she came by this room… i see!” ms. kim laughs and nudges wonyoung’s arm, teasing the girl as if she was some kid who was having a crush for the first time in her life. incorrect, by the way! because jang wonyoung doesn’t do crushes. 

the art teacher leans back and allows herself to fully take in her student’s work. it was a beautiful painting of you, surrounded by orange and yellow colors, looking lost in thought as you gazed out the window. your face was slightly obscured by the curtain, similar to the previous painting of you that she has done. perhaps a clue as to how wonyoung truly sees you.

“never thought you’d want a muse, wonyoung! but she’s not just that, is she?”

wonyoung settles her palette and paintbrush on an empty stool, exhaling and stretching her sore shoulders. now, she wasn’t the one getting fucked but damn, did you exhaust her too! it was in the good way at least, so wonyoung can’t really be mad at you. with you in her sick little head, wonyoung offers a mischievous smile to her teacher, “my cute little secret is what she is.”

#ive smut #ive x reader #ive imagines #ive x fem reader #ive scenarios #jang wonyoung smut #jang wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung x fem reader #jang wonyoung imagines #jang wonyoung scenarios #wonyoung smut #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung imagines #wonyoung x fem reader #wonyoung scenarios #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #girl group smut #girl group scenarios #girl group x fem reader

[synthetickitsune]

Petty ✧ h.js

Pairing: Joshua Hong x gn!reader Genre: angst/fluff Summary: Joshua can be a bit petty when he's tired and feels wronged. Even if he's at fault all along. Word count: 2.3k A/N: please get me out of here, i've been in shua brainrot since january and this is once again @hanniedream's fault >:(

Joshua has never hated your bedroom more than he hates it at this moment.

The room is too big. The walls are the wrong color. The windows are too big and it feels like the whole world can see him and laugh at him. The bedroom should be the only room in your house. It wouldn’t be so empty then.

The bed is too big to be sleeping in it alone. It’s cold. The sheets feel like ice around him, no matter how tightly he wraps himself in them, and his arms are empty even though your scent lingers on your pillow. He won’t be as pitiful as hugging it to sleep, he refuses. 

Where are you anyway? 

Pout pulls on his lips without his permission as he strains his ears but he can’t hear a single sound. He checks the clock again, then checks one more time that he’s not seeing wrong. You should be here by now. He accounted for everything - how long your night routine takes, a little snack if you felt like it, the time you’d need to be away from him after the fight, the time you’d waste on thinking whether you should hang onto the resentment or not. You should be here already. You should’ve been here ages ago. So where are you?

It goes against his pride that he gets up and makes his way to the living room where he expects you’d be sulking. And you are there - sleeping soundly.

He huffs in disbelief, hands on his hips as he watches you sleep while he can’t even keep his eyes closed. Does he mean nothing to you? How can you sleep without him?

He has half a mind to wake you up - he walks up to you and leans down, still undecided whether he should do it. What would he say? He can’t admit he can’t sleep without you, so he’d just look like a dick. Besides, you sleeping here means you’re still upset, so you wouldn’t come to bed anyway. Then he notices the dried tears in the corner of your eyes. 

He frowns, any thoughts of waking you up gone from his head. Were you actually mad? The argument wasn’t long or, in his eyes, that big of a deal. True, he was also quite exhausted, so it’s kind of foggy and he knows he was a bit too harsh. He also admits he was in the wrong, a fact he realized during the first two hours of his tossing and turning when he remembered that the events happened differently from what he initially thought. But it wasn’t a big deal anyway… You don’t usually cry over petty arguments. And he knows better than to hope for any sleep now.

Joshua leaves for the bedroom quietly, sighing once he lies down in bed. The pout tugs on his lips again. He feels wronged too. You could’ve just told him instead of immediately getting defensive and calling him wrong when he just didn’t remember at the moment. Why would you cry? Was he really that mean? He doesn’t think he was. He tries to sleep, but over what remains of the night, he can’t get more than a couple minutes of sleep at the time.

Safe to say it didn’t exactly help his sour mood that he didn’t rest at all. As soon as he decides to get up for the day, he struts into the kitchen and starts on boiling the water for his coffee and taking out things to prepare himself breakfast.

“What the fuck, Joshua?” you groan from the adjacent room, voice dripping with annoyance and hostility. Of course the noise would wake you up. And now he can’t exactly explain why he thought he’d get his usual morning greeting - well he didn’t think at all, but now that the routine is broken and not one nice word is spoken to him, he pauses. He swallows uneasily thinking of how it usually goes - waking up with you in his arms or you hovering above him, wishing him a good morning with the sweetest kisses. Not this.

He snaps out of his, his pettiness wavering a little, but not enough. He was in the wrong, but you could’ve explained that to him more yesterday. Not like he was in a state of mind to listen to you, but you could’ve tried… He’s too tired for this.

So he keeps doing his thing, taking out the vegetables to cut. He notices you disappearing into the bedroom, to change and freshen up he supposes. It doesn’t feel great to have you walk away from him without another word.

He’s cutting vegetables when you return. At this point he doesn’t expect much, but he also doesn’t expect you to walk straight past him, barely stop the cupboard door from hitting his head when you take out your mug. He also feels something die inside him when you pour the boiling water into only one mug, making a drink for yourself despite there being enough water for both of you.

His focus is more on you than the knife in his hand, which is not the safest thing when he’s trying to cut the carrot, but he needs to be ready and catch every word you’ll say. Because you need to say something, right? Wrong, apparently. You’re just sitting there sipping your coffee and scrolling on your phone without paying any attention to him. Does he not matter to you?

He wants to get angry, wants to heave a long and angry sigh, slam the knife down and confront you - but that’s not him. It does cross his mind, he just can’t do it. It’d scare you and it’d make him feel like one of those stereotypical angry husbands and that’s the exact opposite of what he wants. Opposite of what he should do if he wants to ever have the chance to call himself your husband.

He closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. This situation was ridiculous. He can’t go another day without a proper sleep and he doesn’t think he can get through breakfast with you ignoring him. Was Joshua’s pride really more important than you? No. Of course not. Especially not when it was all so stupid and ultimately his fault. 

“I was wrong,” he sighs, he finally puts the knife down before he can cut his finger off, “I’m sorry.”

He turns around, and after what feels like eternity you’re looking at him. You sigh too, rubbing your eyes. Properly seeing you now, he notices you must’ve had a restless night just like him. It makes the last remains of his pettiness dissipate. He opens his arms cautiously, hoping, wishing… You get up and hug him back, let him hold you as he wraps his arm around your middle and cradles your head with the other one. Finally he feels like he can breathe.

“I’m glad you apologized,” you rub his back, and fortunately you don’t flinch away when he kisses the side of your head. He hums sheepishly, squeezing you a little tighter. “I was really frustrated with you. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, you could’ve already apologized yesterday.”

“I know,” he acknowledges. Looking back, he shouldn’t have brought out the issue out of nowhere in the first place. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad, just frustrated,” you repeat, “It’s fine now.”

He nods, letting you go just enough that he can kiss you properly. His morning feels much better immediately. You smile at him and he’s wondering why would he ever do anything to threaten that smile. He doesn’t want to let you go now that he has you back in his arms, but he’s hungry and he thinks you must be too. “I’ll make breakfast for us, hm?”

You free yourself from his embrace rather than him allowing you to pull away. His reluctance shows in his hands taking hold of yours and bringing them to his lips, lingering. You give him a reassuring smile and only then does he let go. 

What you notice before going back to your chair, before moving from the spot, is Joshua looking at your cup on the table in a way that you can only describe as a puppy watching his favorite toy spinning in the washer. You don’t think he noticed you saw, or that he meant for you to see at all, and it takes a lot not to start laughing. It does give you some satisfaction, though, to know that the argument and his own mistake didn’t leave him unaffected. His shoulders are still slumping and he looks so down you’d think you didn’t make up already. 

“Joshua?” you call his name and he quickly turns his head towards you as soon as he puts the knife down again. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder. “Should I make you a cup of coffee?”

“Yes please, thank you,” he beams at you, eyes turning into crescents when you kiss his cheek.

You pull out a mug, conscious of his eyes following your every movement. Something about your choice of the piece of ceramics must be not up to his standards if his displeased grunt is any indication. However when you look at him, he only gives you a small smile.

“What’s wrong?” you cross your arms over your chest. He grows timid, looking away. You roll your eyes. You’re almost sure you’re being played for attention, but you will give him the benefit of a doubt this time because he seemed genuinely sorry for the fight. It’s cute how he melts into you when you hug him from behind, your hands resting on his stomach. 

“What about the matching ones we got for Christmas instead?” he mumbles almost too quiet for you to hear.

“I already have my own cup though,” you frown.

“You need to make a new one,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world

“Huh?”

“We’re gonna restart this morning,” he explains calmly, “I won’t be an asshole and we’ll have a nice breakfast together with our cute matching cups.”

“You called them cringy before.”

“Don’t ruin the vision,” he warns playfully. You hold his gaze, hoping he’ll cave but he doesn’t. You break first.

“What am I supposed to do with the other cup though?” you laugh at your ridiculous boyfriend, but he’s not done being unreasonable.

“Bring it to me,” his tone is suspicious, so you have no idea why you listen. You get to watch as he downs the rest of your morning drink in a few long gulps and puts the cup in a sink. “There, problem solved.”

“Joshua Hong, you’re insane,” you sigh. You’re smiling though - so it’s his win anyway. He won and now he’ll get to watch you boil more water and prepare coffee for both of you, because you need to match one hundred percent of course. It’s still not the safest to cut vegetables when he’s so distracted but his fragile heart is practically jumping off his chest when you take out the very cheesy matching Christmas cups and set them down. “Stop staring.”

“I need to make sure you’re doing it right,” he teases. He’s happy that everything is fine, happy that his morning returned to normal and happy that-

“Do you think I can’t?” you quirk a brow at him, pausing the preparations. 

He swallows and nearly trips over his over feet closing the distance between you and cupping your face in his hands. 

“No, baby, I’m so sorry,” he frowns, kissing your forehead and lingering there, waiting for your verdict. He hears you sigh and his chest feels thigh.

“You’re so cute, Shua,” there’s a smile in your voice and his heart skips a beat when he hears his nickname, “I’m not upset, I’m just playing with you.”

“Don’t do this to me,” he whines, burying his face into your shoulder. His arms wrap around you and you’re stuck between his body and the counter, trapped in his hug. All you can do is hug him back and press some kisses to his neck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you smile, “How about I finish the coffee, hm? Then I can hug you and cling to you to make up for it.”

“I made you upset first,” he mumbles. You roll your eyes at his sudden self-awareness. He pulls away to look at you, a slight pout on his lips. “But you took advantage of that. I think I deserve a kiss as well.”

You should’ve known it was all a manipulation tactic.

But knowing or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you kiss him and smile against his lips as you do when you feel him smile too. He doesn’t let go until he’s had his fill, until he leaves you breathless and chasing after his lips. 

“I missed you,” he whispers, coming back for just one more kiss, “Hurry up with the coffee.”

You should scold him. You should remind him that he is the reason why your morning is so messy.

But you don’t. 

Instead you do exactly as he told you and enjoy having him close again once the coffee is done. And you enjoy as Joshua feeds you the first piece of breakfast for a taste test, and you enjoy him pulling out a chair for you, bringing you your plate, and holding your hand the entire time you eat.

Most of all you enjoy his warm embrace when you lay down for a nap that won’t make up for the cold and lonely night, but that feels heavenly nonetheless.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader #joshua scenario #svthub #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #joshua angst #svt angst #svt x reader

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson #challengers #challengers smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x fem!reader #challengers fanfiction #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x you

[emjayewrites]

The Princess & The Race Car Driver | LH44

SYNOPSIS: Lewis meets Princess Tiana and he falls under her spell.

PAIRINGS: Lewis Hamilton x black!femOC Ariel Park (faceclaim is Coco Jones)

WARNINGS: flirting, discussion of sex/sex jokes, corny!Lewis, eventual romance?

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @omgsuperstarg @certifiedlesbianbaddie @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @motheroffae @hrlzy @sinflowersugar @vile-harlot @xoscar03 @blveeeeee @everywherea11thetime @blckgrl-sunflower @whoreforjjk @blowmymbackout

A/N: Please comment & reblog! I don't know if this will be a mini-series or not....we shall see.

disney and 3 others

liked by arielpark, lewishamilton, pharrell and 1.3m others

disney: Check out these brand-new behind-the-scenes stills from #ThePrincessandTheFrog, only in theaters this August! 👸🏾 🐸

If some of you are attending next week’s F1 race in Melbourne, be sure to say hello to #PrincessTiana herself, arielpark! tagged arielpark, princessandthefrogmovie

view 1,234 comments

arielpark: ah!! so happy! looks so good! 💚

⤷ disney: arielpark you look good #ForeverOurPrincess

mercedesamgf1: so excited to have arielpark at the race! she’s going to enjoy the hot lap!

⤷ arielpark: mercedesamgf1 what’s a hot lap? 🫤

⤷ lewishamilton: arielpark 🏎️💨

⤷ user: lewishamilton what is this, lew? not you trying to make her guess with emojis 🙄

user: so excited!! my two worlds are colliding!! arielpark you’re gonna love it!

Toto Wolff called for everyone's attention as the morning team meeting at the Mercedes AMG Petronas Formula One Team garage began. Once the chatter ceased, he launched right in.

"Today we have a very special guest joining us for the race weekend - Ariel Park, the actress set to play Princess Tiana in the upcoming live-action remake of The Princess and the Frog."

A buzz of excitement rippled through the room. This was a lucrative sponsorship deal with Disney that Toto wanted to ensure went perfectly.

"I want Ariel to have an amazing experience," he stated firmly. "This is an important partnership, so I expect everyone to be on their best behavior." His gaze landed on Mick Schumacher. "Mick, you'll be taking her out for a hot lap later."

Lewis Hamilton's hand shot up. "Actually, I can do the hot lap instead if you'd like."

Toto's brow furrowed slightly but he nodded. "Very well. Lewis will be Ariel's driver."

It was no secret that with Lewis' planned move to Ferrari in 2025, Mercedes had been sidelining him from some promotional duties lately. But Lewis had his own motivations for volunteering - he was quite interested in getting to know their lovely guest better.

At twenty-seven years old, Ariel Park was making waves as an up-and-coming actress with an impressive resume. After graduating from Penn State, she had carved out a nice career on Broadway before landing her huge break with the Disney role. And from the images Lewis had seen, she was absolutely gorgeous - ebony skin, wide hips, and a beautifully curved backside that was hard to ignore.

A few hours later, Ariel arrived at the Mercedes garage just before Free Practice. Even amidst the controlled chaos, Lewis couldn't take his eyes off her as she approached. She was utterly stunning - ebony skin glowing like polished onyx, wide eyes fringed with lush lashes, luscious lips curved in a warm smile. Ariel was introduced to the drivers - Lewis, George Russell, and reserve Mick Schumacher - exchanging friendly hugs with each of them.

When Lewis' turn came, her lithe body pressed flush against his own, soft curves molding to the hard planes of his chest. An intoxicating blend of exotic floral and rich vanilla washed over him. He breathed it in deeply, committing the hypnotic scent to memory.

As they parted, Lewis let his gaze leisurely trail over her, taking in the striking features he'd admired in photographs - gorgeous face, radiant skin, and an hourglass figure to leave anyone's mouth watering. Her wide hips flared temptingly above sculpted thighs, backside a work of art that even her slim-fitting jeans struggled to contain.

"You smell incredible," he murmured appreciatively, flashing her his most charming smile, as he went in for another whiff of her scent. "What perfume is that?"

Ariel seemed momentarily flustered by the compliment, cheeks warming as she smiled at him adorably.

"Oh, it's actually a blend of an Arabian perfume oil layered with vanilla body butter and wash."

Lewis hummed in approval, allowing his gaze to linger overtly on her luscious mouth. "I like that." In his head, he added, A lot more than I probably should.

This woman was a goddess, pure and simple. Her siren call was already working under his skin in a way he didn't expect. As if he needed another incentive to look forward to driving her around the track later.

As the drivers made their way to the pre-practice briefing, Lewis found himself stealing glances at Ariel from across the room. She looked equally alluring when standing still - those curves on full display as she chatted animatedly with one of the PR reps, gesturing expressively with her hands.

He watched the way her rose-tinted lips moved, briefly mesmerized by that bright smile. A few stray tendrils of her dark, glossy curls had escaped her updo, framing her heart-shaped face and accentuating those high-sculpted cheekbones.

Good lord, she was a vision. Lewis had to tear his eyes away with an internal shake before his thoughts wandered any further down that dangerous path.

The meeting mercifully provided a short reprieve from Ariel's tantalizing presence. But all too soon, it was time to give her the full VIP experience with a hot lap around the track. Lewis tried his best to tune out the heated rush of anticipation flooding his veins as they headed toward the sleek Mercedes AMG GT he'd be driving her in.

Up close again, the warm, spicy vanilla notes of her perfume caressed his senses like a lover's breath against his skin. He caught himself leaning infinitesimally closer, unconsciously drawn into her intoxicating orbit.

"Ready for the ride of your life, Ariel?" he murmured.

She nibbled her full lower lip - whether consciously or not, he didn't know. But the simple, seemingly innocent gesture nearly undid him right then and there. Heat punched low in his belly as those plump lips instantly became the sole focus of his world.

"More than ready," she replied, her tone taking on a husky quality that had his heart kick-starting into a heated gallop.

As she ducked under his arm to climb into the low-slung sports car, the swell of her ample breasts brushed ever so slightly against his chest. Every nerve ending across his body stood at rapt attention. Lewis sucked in a sharp breath through his nostrils, forcing himself to regulate his breathing.

Get a fuckin' grip, he scolded himself sternly. No doubt, this woman was a bombshell, but he needed to conduct himself like a professional, no matter how enticing the temptation.

With a herculean force of will, Lewis slid into the driver's seat, allowing the familiar environment of the powerful car's interior to re-center him, yet even as the twin-turbocharged V8 engine roared to life, he couldn't resist one last look over at his stunning female companion. And what he saw in her heated gaze threatened to shatter what little restraint he had left.

Lewis could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he tore around the track in the powerful Mercedes AMG GT. He risked a glance at Ariel in the passenger seat, taking in her wide-eyed expression with amusement.

As he drifted hard into a corner, her startled scream pierced the air.

"Oh my god!" She clutched at the door frantically, thankful for the sturdy seatbelt keeping her firmly in place. Even so, the brutal g-forces threatened to tug her luscious body sideways.

Lewis chuckled darkly. "You might want to keep those gorgeous eyes open, love. You'll miss everything."

He doubled-clutched and downshifted aggressively, the fat rear tires breaking traction with a squeal of protestation. Ariel yelped again, hands flying up to cover her face as Lewis powered them sideways in a perfect drift around the next bend.

"Want me to do a donut?" he called over the roar of the engine.

Through her fingers, he caught the frantic shaking of Ariel's head. Lewis wasn't having it. "Oh come on, that's the best part! Please?"

He knew he was pushing her limits, but he couldn't resist laying on the puppy dog eyes, unleashing the full force of his most devastating pout. Eventually, Ariel relented with an exasperated sigh.

"Hell yeah!" Lewis crowed triumphantly. He stamped the accelerator, pitching them into a frenzy of spinning rubber and screaming cylinders as he whipped the car through a series of tight donuts.

When he finally let off, Ariel slumped back against the seat, chest heaving. "Thank you, Jesus," she gasped, making the sign of the cross over her heart.

Lewis drank in her disheveled appearance hungrily. Those exotic features were even more alluring flushed with adrenaline and fear, pouty lips parted enticingly. He reached over to place a calming hand on her trembling thigh.

"Deep breaths, love," he murmured. "In…and out. Like this."

He exaggerated his own inhales and exhales until Ariel regained her composure. "Thanks," she managed shakily.

Lewis gave her leg a reassuring squeeze. "Of course. I didn't mean to terrorize a Disney princess. Don't want the Mouse coming after me."

The quip had the intended effect - a bright peal of laughter escaping those luscious lips. Lewis grinned, mesmerized.

"I like that," he admitted frankly.

Ariel arched one sculpted brow. "Like what?"

"Your laugh."

Her eyes danced with mischief. "Well you seem to like a lot of things about me, Lewis."

He shrugged innocently, his whiskey-brown eyes trailing over the tempting swell of her cleavage. "What can I say? You're a beautiful woman. Kind of hard not to find attractive."

Ariel's full lips curved into a coy smile as she cocked her head accusingly. "Is that what that is? Are you flirting with me, Mr. Hamilton?"

Suddenly serious, Lewis met her gaze directly. "Because I am." He paused, heartrate spiking at his own boldness. "Let me take you to dinner to make up for terrifying you."

Ariel's fingertip toyed idly with the fraying of her jeans, the action drawing Lewis' eye inexorably to her shapely thighs. "Alright then," she agreed easily. "I do like to eat."

Lewis bit his lower lip as he lingered over those lush curves. "I can see that…"

@arielpark • posted a story 15 minutes ago

story comments:

user: ahhh!!! this has to be lewis!!! he looks good from every angle!!

mercedesamgf1: reposted the story someone’s having fun 👀

lewishamilton: reposted the story The Princess is in the building! 👸🏾 🐸

On the way inside the restaurant, Ariel ducked into the bathroom to call her best friend and assistant, Tiffany. She felt uncharacteristically nervous energy thrumming through her veins.

"Tiff, I need your advice," she whispered urgently. "This date with Lewis…I don't know what to expect."

"Girl, that man is fiiine!" Tiffany gushed. "And from what I've seen, he seems like a solid guy too. Just enjoy yourself."

Ariel chewed her lower lip, recalling Lewis' intense yet playful demeanor. He was undeniably gorgeous with his chiseled features, soulful brown eyes, and physique sculpted by years of intense training. How his tight shirts hugged those broad shoulders and outlined the ropes of muscle across his chest made her mouth water.

And the borderline predatory looks he'd leveled her way, sweeping over her body like he wanted to devour her whole? Her thighs clenched instinctively at the memory of that heated appraisal.

"I don't know, Tiff," she fretted. "It's been so long since I've been…intimate with someone. What if I'm rusty?"

Tiffany cackled on the other end. "Then let Mr. Hamilton be the one to knock some cobwebs off that pussy! You need to get laid, sis."

"Tiffany!" Ariel hissed, cheeks flaming even as laughter bubbled up despite herself.

"I'm serious," her friend insisted, voice taking on a softer tone. "You work your ass off, Ari. You deserve to cut loose and have some fun for once, even if it's just amazing rebound sex."

Ariel rolled her eyes but couldn't contain her grin as she emerged from the bathroom. Lewis was waiting, looking like a delicious snack in those designer jeans and a fitted yellow shirt. He flashed her a panty-melting smile that she felt straight down to her core.

"Ready, love?"

She swallowed hard and nodded, falling into step beside him. Over a vegan dinner that surprised Ariel with its deliciousness, their conversation flowed easily.

"So you're an environmental activist as well as a racecar driver?" Ariel asked with an intrigued tilt of her head.

"Among other things." Lewis nodded, spearing a forkful of vegetables. "It's a cause I'm incredibly passionate about. I want to use my platform to raise awareness and drive real change."

"That's really admirable." Ariel found herself leaning in, captivated. "What kind of initiatives are you working on?"

As Lewis launched into an impassioned explanation, complete with expressive hand gestures, Ariel marveled at the depth of his convictions. Her eyes were inevitably drawn to those long-fingered hands - strong and capable, yet with an undercurrent of gentleness.

"…so that's the plan for the upcoming sustainability project," he concluded. Those soulful eyes crinkled at the corners with his warm smile. "But enough about me for now, love. Tell me more about this Disney role that's making you the next big star."

Ariel ducked her head, cheeks warming at the genuine interest and admiration in his gaze. "I don't know about that. It's just such an incredible honor to bring Princess Tiana's story to life."

The night passed in a blur of tantalizing conversation, with Lewis' delicious sense of humor and cheeky banter constantly catching Ariel off guard. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so enthralled by a man's mind as well as his obvious physical attributes.

Between Lewis' attractive principles, quick wit, and the electrifying chemistry simmering between them, she found herself all too eager to extend their time together. Each time their gazes met and held, the heat and tension built exponentially until she could barely focus on her food.

"Would you like to get a drink somewhere?" Lewis asked once their plates had been cleared, dark eyes dancing with suggestion.

Desire curled low in her belly as Ariel bit her lip, giving him a slow once-over from across the table. "I'd love to."

Ariel shifted restlessly in her seat at the paddock club, unable to keep her mind from replaying the previous night over and over. She and Lewis hadn't gone all the way - he was an absolute gentleman, never pushing her further than she wanted to go, but oh, the heavy petting and heated make-out session they'd engaged in…

She squeezed her thighs together as desire pooled low in her belly, recalling the electrifying feel of Lewis' strong hands roaming her body. The way his chest hair had tickled her palms as she'd mapped every ridge and plane…

"Get it together, Ariel," she muttered under her breath, fanning herself lightly.

In her mind's eye, she could still see Lewis hovering over her on the hotel room's plush sofa, all coiled power and masculine intensity. His full lips had been swollen from kissing, eyes dark with want as they'd raked over her trembling form.

"You're so gorgeous," he'd rasped, dipping his head to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. "Smell incredible too…"

Ariel had arched into him with a shameless mewl, fingers buried in his braids. Every nerve ending had been alight, skin blazing under Lewis' skilled touch.

"Lewis…" she'd sighed his name as his hand found her breast, kneading it reverently.

The sudden blaring of the race announcer's voice jolted Ariel from her lascivious reverie. She startled, blinking rapidly as she refocused on her current surroundings at the track.

All around her, the other VIPs were cheering excitedly as the cars took their formation lap. Heat bloomed in Ariel's cheeks - had she really been daydreaming about Lewis so salaciously in public?

"Come on, 44!" she called out, caught up in the infectious energy. Her eyes locked on Lewis' sleek Mercedes as it purred past the stands, heart jackhammering with a combination of adrenaline and lingering arousal.

The race passed in a high-octane blur of sound and fury. Ariel was on the edge of her seat every heart-stopping moment, fists clenched in a white-knuckle grip whenever Lewis made an aggressive overtaking move.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted over the radio communications and her breath hitched. No…it couldn't be. As the commentary confirmed her worst fears, she collapsed back in her chair with a dismayed groan.

"Lewis, no!" she cried in dismay, watching in shock as his crippled car rolled slowly into the pits to retire from the race.

Disappointment and worry for his safety warred within her as the pit crew swarmed around him. Ariel's fingers twitched with the overwhelming urge to go to him, to wrap her arms around his strong frame and check for herself that he was unharmed.

Instead, she stayed frozen in place, lips parted on a silent prayer as she willed images of their passionate tryst from invading her mind again. She was in far too deep already with this man. God help her if anything happens to him.

Ariel's anxious vigil was interrupted as the race commentators confirmed Lewis had been forced to retire due to a terminal power failure, not a crash. She exhaled a relieved sigh, slumping back in her seat.

Thank goodness he's okay.

Still, her heart ached for him as she watched Lewis climb dejectedly from his stricken car, ripping off his helmet and tossing it aside in frustration. He ran one large hand through his sweat-dampened hair. Even from a distance, she could make out the taut lines of tension in his broad shoulders and clenched jaw.

He has to be devastated.

Unbidden, memories of the previous night resurfaced - the unguarded vulnerability in Lewis' warm brown eyes as he'd gazed down at her, the tender path his fingers had carved along her skin. Ariel shivered despite the sweltering pit-lane temperatures, recalling how content and cherished she'd felt in his arms.

She had to go to him. Whatever this undeniable connection between them was becoming, she needed Lewis to know she understood his pain in that moment.

"I'll be right back," Ariel murmured distractedly to her publicist, already rising and slipping away through the crowd.

Making her way down to the team's cordoned-off area was like swimming against the tide of a raucous sea of fans. Ariel kept her head down, focusing on her goal of reaching Lewis' side.

When she finally broke through the mass of bodies, she spotted him bent over the workbench, forearms braced as he studied the telemetry readings with a stormy expression. A few of his crew members hovered nearby, clearly giving the gutted driver a wide berth.

"Lewis?" she called out hesitantly as she walked toward him.

His head whipped up at the sound of her voice and Ariel's breath caught at the naked disappointment burning in those soulful eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, wishing she could erase that haggard edge of defeat weighing on his features.

Lewis let out a harsh exhale. "Yeah, not a good day..."

His admission struck her like a physical blow - laid bare, haunted by the echoes of countless past heartbreaks and near-misses.

"Do you want me to leave—"

"No," he interrupted, albeit too harshly at first. Clearing his throat, he gave her a small smile. "Stay."

"Okay," was her response as she sat next to him on the bench. "At least Verstappen is out too. I heard from my publicist that there's beef between your teams?"

He let out a hearty chuckle at her words as he nudged her softly. "You don't know a thing bout F1, do you gorgeous?"

"Not a goddamn thing," she quipped with a giggle. "All I know is that the cars go very fast around the track and, of course, the drama."

"Fair enough," he concurred, eyes traveling down her frame. "It seems like I have to teach you a few things..."

"It seems like you do."

arielpark and 4 others - Melbourne, Australia

liked by lewishamilton, f1, f1paddockclub, mercedesamgf1 and 978k others

arielpark: This past weekend was so much fun! Thanks for having me! tagged lewishamilton, georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1, f1

view 2,459 comments

lewishamilton: arielpark pleasure meeting u...should definitely get together again 💕

⤷ user: so we're not going to address the fact that you and arielpark were spotted having dinner together?

⤷ lewisfanclub: he irks me, i swear! we all have eyes and it's all over the internet, lew lew. 😒

⤷ user: he irks me too 😫

comment liked by lewishamilton

⤷ user: not him liking this message! lewishamilton throw us a bone!! 🦴 😭

georgerussell63: arielpark nice meeting you, your highness 👸🏾

mercedesamgf1: arielpark the pleasure was all ours!

landonorris: arielpark thank you for saying hi to us! next time, we gotta get you in mclaren orange 🧡

⤷ lewishamilton: nah...never that, mate

⤷ user: and i….oop 🤭 you’re not gonna beat those allegations now sir

⤷ lewisfanclub: if they get together, i will never live it down & i’ll be running to change my username

With Ariel in London working on the album that will accompany the movie, she and Lewis had kept in regular contact after the Australian Grand Prix, occasionally exchanging friendly texts and calls. There was some gossip buzz about them potentially dating, but Ariel's team worked diligently to shut down any relationship rumors.

While Ariel was on a break from recording sessions, she received a text from Lewis hinting for her to come visit him in Tokyo. Part of her was tempted by the opportunity to see him again after they had hit it off so well, yet another part of her couldn't help but hesitate.

Scoffing at the message in disbelief, she then yelled for Tiffany to come over. Tiffany entered the lounge and gave Ariel a worried look. "You good, sis?"

Ariel showed her the message, causing Tiffany to squeal in delight. "Girl, this is your chance! Shit, if you don't get your ass on a plane to Tokyo and ride this man like a rodeo, I swear on our Lord and Savior, I'll beat your ass."

"Tiffany!" Ariel exclaimed. "You're crazy. I barely know this man, I can't just go off to Tokyo."

"And why not?" Tiffany said, crossing her arms.

Ariel gestured around them with a sardonic laugh. "I mean…do I need to explain?"

Tiffany gave her a dismissive eye-roll. "Please, this album is ninety percent finished. Go get some dick and stop being afraid of it. Have you been doing those pelvic floor exercises I told you about?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Good," grinned Tiffany, "because judging from the pictures I've seen of him, old boy has a third leg."

"Oh, fuck me!" groaned Ariel with a facepalm.

"Exactly!" Tiffany said, already pulling out her phone. "I'm looking up flights right now. When can you be packed?"

Suddenly considering her friend's point, Ariel felt herself starting to warm up to the idea of a travel adventure…

#the princess and the race car driver #sir lewis hamilton #emjayewrites #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton x black oc #f1 x black!reader #f1 x reader

[sailorholly]

Between Us Pt. 7

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst. Pregnancy. A tiny bit of smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist here

Part Six

Spencer ended things with Ashley. It was a huge fight. She didn’t want him to leave her. She knew it had something to do with you. So she resented you. She would bring the greasiest pizza for lunch for the whole team after you mentioned the smell made you sick.

She would comment about how much weight you were gaining. She made you feel so insecure, it was becoming a problem. Your face was swollen today, you couldn’t do anything with your hair, and you felt too nauseous to do your makeup this morning. You walked in to work, hoping Ashley wouldn’t be there.

“You look awful. Pregnancy doesn’t suit you.” She says the moment she sees you. Your hormones have been all over the place lately. Your first instinct was to grab her by the throat, but then you thought about her words, and all her petty behavior towards you. Tears filled your eyes, streaking down your cheeks.

“Why do you think it’s okay to talk to someone the way you talk to me? I would never say anything like that to you. What’s your problem with me anyways? You have hated me since the day you started here. I haven’t done anything to you.”

The tears keep falling, you can’t help it. She was cruel. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Reid wouldn’t even look at me because of you. You had him wrapped around your finger, then you blew it! I finally had my chance, but he was still obsessed with you! He wouldn’t sleep with me because of you. He barely kissed me! Then you got pregnant on purpose to trap him.” She walks right up to you, pointing her finger accusing you.

“Ashley, I did not get pregnant on purpose! I had nothing to do with your relationship.” You try to explain, but she interrupts again. “Save it! I don’t believe you. You’ve got him right where you want him now. I just don’t understand why he would want you, when he could have me!” She places her hands on your shoulders, shoving you backwards.

The back of your legs hit a desk. She is still screeching at you when Spencer pulls her away. “Ashley, get off of her! What are you doing? You could hurt her and the baby!” His cheeks go red, dark eyes flashing. You’ve never seen him this angry before. He looks you over, inspecting carefully for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?” You nod, you’re a little shaken up because you didn’t expect her to put her hands on you.

Hotch comes out of his office, his face stern as he calls Ashley to him. Spencer tells him you’re both taking the day off. He agrees, as he shuts the door behind her. Spencer took you to his apartment, where you spent the day watching your favorite movies and cuddling.

You would normally protest the affection, but after the morning you had it was welcome. As the evening approached, Spencer ordered your latest craving, and you watched one of his favorites, some Russian movie with no subtitles. You had watched it three times with him before, so you knew what was going on. You didn’t stop him when he leaned over to whisper the translation in your ear. His hot breath sent goosebumps down your arms.

It was getting late, so you stood up telling Spencer you needed to go home. “You can sleep here. I’ll take the couch.” You think about it, but not for long. You really do want to stay. You were comfy here and it had started storming. Spencer knew you were terrified, that’s probably why he offered. So you accepted, you took a shower while he laid out one of the few t-shirts he owned for you to sleep in.

You tossed and turned, the thunder was so loud it felt like it shook the apartment building. You had tried to sleep, but between the storm and what happened with Ashley, you couldn’t. You were so angry with her for putting her hands on you. She’s lucky you were pregnant and caught off guard. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have a job to go back to tomorrow.

You thought of how Spencer stood up for you. He had never been hotter. This new protective side of him was something else. You feel the familiar ache between your legs. If your hormones weren’t making you cry, they made you horny. You slipped your fingers into your panties, trying to take care of yourself. Three hours could have passed, and you wouldn’t have known. You were getting no where. You were hot, and so desperate for release.

You should have went home, at least you had your vibrator there. You stand in front of Spencer’s sleeping body on the couch, debating on waking him up. You decide to turn around and go back to bed, but he wakes up.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He sits up, wild eyed and panic lacing his voice. “Um, I -I” You stutter, suddenly feeling ashamed. He stands looking you over for visible injuries. “What is it?” He was concerned and probably scared something was wrong with the baby. “Everything is okay - with the baby.” You finally manage.

Spencer rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Something’s wrong with you then?” You put your hands on your hips, his shirt raising on your thighs. His gaze lingers on the newly exposed skin for longer than they should. “It’s embarrassing.” You confess.

“Y/N, you know you can tell me anything.” He grabs your hand, rubbing soothing circles by your thumb. You let out a deep breath. “I’m so horny, I think I might die if I don’t get off. I tried to do something about it myself, but it’s not enough.”

He looks at you, confused. “What do you want me to - oh!” Realization sinks in. He runs a hand through his messy brown curls. “Are you sure?” He asks so softly, you’re not sure if you really heard it. “Yes, I’ve never been more sure of anything. Spencer, I need you.”

Spencer pulls you to him on the couch, your legs spreading on either side of his sitting form. He presses soft kisses to your lips, but you need more. You deepen the kiss, hands traveling down to lift his shirt. He helps you, tossing it over his head, kissing down your neck. His long fingers trail along your torso, toward your breasts. He takes your nipples between his fingers, pinching lightly.

You moan, loving how sensitive they were because of the pregnancy. It makes everything more intense. Spencer gently moves you off him, to a lying position on the couch. He lifts the t-shirt he let you wear over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He looks at you with a softness you've never seen before. Suddenly, you feel very self-conscious.

You try to cover yourself. You weren't thinking about how differently you looked now. Your breasts were swollen, your stomach wasn't close to being a baby bump yet, but you were bloated. Spencer had to notice too. What were you thinking? He was only doing this to fulfill some kind of obligation he felt for you. He knocked you up, so he had to help you out. That's how Spencer was, he would always take care of you. But you couldn't take advantage of him like this.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, noticing the sudden change. "I'm not in the mood anymore, but thanks for helping." You force a small smile, but he notices. He was very observant. That's what made him such a good profiler. "You're soaking wet. Why are you trying to stop this?" He runs a finger down the seam of your panties to prove his point, your arousal soaking through the fabric, wetting his finger.

"I just look so differently than the last time we did this. I get it if you're not attracted to me right now. I just don't want you to be doing this out of pity." You gesture to your exposed body. "I think you're even more beautiful than before. Your body is changing to make a comfortable home for our baby. I'm so lucky I get to have you like this."

Spencer takes a nipple between his lips, large hand dipping under the waistband of your panties. He hooks an impossibly long finger inside you, his thumb swirling soft circles against your clit. Any worries you had about him not being attracted to you, fade as he works you with his fingers. You feel the pressure building low in your stomach as his tongue swipes at your nipples. He was always so talented with his mouth. You shatter around his fingers, as he removes his lips from your breasts. "You did so good for me." He praises, kissing your stomach.

You yawn, the force of the orgasm and all the craziness from today finally allowing you to rest. "You need to rest, come on." Spencer helps you off the couch, leading you to his bed. "But what about you?" You ask, motioning toward his erection. "I'm fine, really. Tonight was all about you." You open your mouth to protest, but another yawn slips out. He tucks you under the blankets, kissing your forehead before walking back to his makeshift bed on the couch.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @134340ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lover-of-books-and-tea @maybe-not-this @drewsandsebastianswife @lamentis-10 @lizzyk137 @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @rosylnsworld @amortencjja @ah-blossom @dreamsarebig @khxna @diasnohibng @nommingonfood @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @isakslilsmile @lavvylove @creaming4daddy @justdianaz @aubs444 @im-this-girl @xblueriddlex @spencerreidsgf420 @witchsbitchestime @lovelygirl8 @chonkybonky @prentissesredtanktop @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @ilikw @theoraekenslover

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #between us #spencer reid au #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!readr

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 7

Pairing: The Grid x Reader, Lance x Reader

Summary: reader in a crash, book club dads worried af abt her

requests open masterlist

——————

You felt nervous going into Spa, a feeling that you just couldn’t shake. You had talked to Kimi about it and even crashed the Haas garage to talk to your best friends, but nothing could shake the pit as you climbed into the pit as the light rain started. Max looked at you and gave you a thumbs up before getting into his car.

You’ve never done great at Spa, the only reason you are P4 is because of the rocket ship that is you car. That was one lap, this is 44 laps. You release a shaky breath and focus on the lights above you. Not even 10 laps later the pit in your stomach increases due to the increased rainfall. You can’t get rid of the feeling despite your intense concentration on driving.

My tires aren’t going to last much longer, I’m losing grip.

Copy, Y/n, push one more lap then we will bring you in.

By the time you reported the tire conditions you were already mostly through sector three. You resteel yourself and push the car as hard as you could while managing the tires.

It’s when you enter sector two that you panic a little. You are losing grip faster than you thought and have begun fighting the steering.

GUYS SOMETHING IS HAPPENING

Y/n?

Y/n? Are you okay? Y/n!

Your wheels lose grip to the track and send you into the wall. It’s a nasty crash that immediately red flags, the debris across the track plus the rain increasing was enough for the FIA to red flag it. Your head is pounding and your vision a little blurry. Only when your ears stop ringing do you hear the radio.

Fuck, yeah I’m okay

You slur the words and pull yourself out of the car, immediately collapsing when you stand up as everything fades to black.

Lance, slow down, red flag, red flag.

Andrew? Who was that, don’t tell me it was Y/n. Fuck, is my wife ok?

It was her, no word back yet. Nothing over her radio from what we can tell.

Andrew, I need to know. Is. She. Ok.

She just said she was ok over the radio. There is debris across the track, stop the car and a marshall will get you back to the garage.

Shit, that’s bad. Andrew, what are you hiding from me?

Lance stops the car and gets out when it is safe to do so, as indicated by the marshal, but his heart drops when he sees you being put into ambulance.

“Mr Stroll, please let me at least let me get you back to the garage,” the marshal senses that he wants to fun over to the scene. Lance reluctantly goes back to the garage where he immediately pulls out of the race and goes to the hospital where they are taking his wife.

Max, Y/n crashed behind you, red flag.

Shit, is she okay?

No confirmation yet, make your way back to the pit lane.

Max feels his heart drop. He knew how uncomfortable you were going into the race and he would do anything to go back and time and tell her not to race. The red flag ended the race, and every driver had a similar reaction to Max and Lance. Max felt sick that that’s how he won, and he said as much in the post-race interviews. It was visible how much he and the paddock cared about you. Every one of your grid dads, as you affectionately called them when talking to Max, came over to him asking for updates, hoping Max would know more since he was your teammate.

“Lance, take a seat, pacing won’t help,” Kimi tells Lance, equally worried and frustrated at the lack of information as they wait in the hospital. Kimi was already on his way after the phone call this morning, this wasn’t what he expected when he touched down. Half the grid is sitting in the room, their legs bouncing or anxiously conversing.

“Mr. Stroll,” a nurse says, causing the both of them to hop up and walk to the desk.

“Who is Mr. Stroll?” she asks and Lance slightly raises his hand.

“I am, this is her father,” Lance says, the nurse motions for the two of them to follow.

“The doctor is in the private room waiting for you,” she closes the door behind Lance and Kimi.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Janssens. I have a bit of good and bad news. Good news is that Y/n only has a mild concussion, some whiplash, sprained wrist, and a small hairline fracture of the wrist. Bad news is that she’ll be out of racing for at least a month,” both Kimi and Lance cringe at the news.

“That’s all? It was a nasty crash,” Lance asks a bit skeptically, looking at your sleeping figure.

“Based on tests and scans, we have ruled out any head, neck, and back breaks. We have her pain meds, which is why she’s sleeping. She will likely be under observation for another day or two,” the doctor says, trying to relay the information in a delicate manor.

“Thank you,” Kimi dismisses the doctor, a hand resting on your shoulder. He and Lance sit in silence for a minute, gathering feelings and thoughts.

“She looks so peaceful,” Lance says softly, holding his sleeping wife’s hand.

“I’ll give you a moment while I talk to Christian and the drivers. Think about when you want to make a statement. I may hate the media, but you don’t want them to be hounding the hospital,” Kimi says before stepping out. Kimi and Christian quickly come to an agreement about the seat, the later not wanting to lose out on his second driver. The grid takes the news relatively well, but they all know how lucky they were, especially you. Pierre and Charles may have been handling it the worst.

“Kimi, will you look over this statement?” Lance asks, knowing the older man is an expert in saying things vaguely.

All-

We want to thank you for your support following Y/n’s crash. She is currently in the hospital under the care of great doctors. We are thankful that she is okay and look forward to a smooth recovery.

- The Räikkönens and Strolls

“Looks fine to me, I will take care of the outside stuff. You focus on our girl,” Kimi goes into Dad mode, sending the message to Red Bull and Lawrence. He posts the statement first on his account, Red Bull and Lawrence following shortly afterwards. Red Bull edited it slightly to reassure fans that you still had your seat waiting for you.

“Lance? You ask as you wake up, wincing from the pain. The room is dimmer, as to not strain you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he says softly, brushing hair from your eyes.

“Everything hurts,” you groan.

“Going into the wall will do that to you, you got lucky,” Kimi says from beside Lance.

“Dad? What did the doctor say, when can I get back into the car?” your vision slightly blurry as your eyes adjust to being awake.

“You have a concussion, whiplash, wrist sprain, and a hairline fracture. You’ll be out for about a month,” Kimi says, heart aching.

“Some of the guys are here? Want me to bring them in?” Lance asks, doing his best to distract you from the amount of time you will be out.

“Yeah,” you verbally confirm, not able to nod your head due to the neck pain. Lance leaves the room to grab the grid.

“I’m sorry, crashes like this are the worst,” Kimi tells you, clearly still affected by your crash.

“Thanks for being here, you didn’t have to leave everyone for me,” you says softly, thinking about your family back in Finland.

“They want to know that you are ok, and you are still my daughter, of course I will be here,” he replies, his softer side showing.

“I didn’t mean to scare everyone. Robin, Rianna, and Grace weren’t watching, right?” you panic a little, scared for their young minds.

“No, they know you are hurt, but they think it’s just a boo boo,” Kimi reassures you. The grid comes in and sufficiently distracts you, happy to know you’re okay.

You spend the next month in Finland with Kimi and your family, working back to 100%. Kimi takes you karting when you are almost fully recovered, getting you back to normal. Lance visits when he isn’t racing.

“Sissy, why do you have to go?” Robin asks, you tested in F1 cars again and got the green light to race again.

“I have to go drive in circles really really fast, just like Papa used to,” you crouch down to his level. Your sisters equally sad at your departure.

“What if you get a boo boo again?” Rianna asks, and you pause, thinking about how to explain it well.

“Do you stop going to the park even after your fall and get a boo boo there? Sometimes we get hurt, but that’s ok,” you don’t promise that you won’t get hurt, that’s not a promise you can keep. Rianna nods, understanding but sad you aren’t staying.

“Will Lancie come back next time?” Robin asks, not wanting to let you go.

“He will, I’ll be back in a couple weeks, it’ll fly by,” you give you siblings one last hug. Kimi hugs you goodbye as well, he spent the past week going over the track with you and talking about strategies.

When you get to the track, you are stopped by every driver, asking how you are and saying how much they missed you.

“Welcome back,” Fernando greets you when you walk into the club meeting.

“I listened to the audiobook, let’s get this party started,” you smile, happily listening to Lewis and Daniel fight about some symbolism. Your boys pampered you for your return. George brought you coffee from Mercedes, Logan brought you a pastry that he picked up from a bakery. Valtteri gave you some home remedies for your sore muscles that he swore works wonders. Kevin and Nico just hugged you but that was enough for you.

“Max was freaking out, he chewed out the Red Bull team for not pitting you earlier,” Daniel tells you, having filled in for you while you were hurt.

“That’s nice of him,” you smile to yourself. Lewis had also been vocal in interviews about how your crash could’ve been prevented if the race had ended sooner due to the rain.

“Y/n! Have a second?” a reporter asks and you nod.

“See you later, Danny,” you wave goodbye to him and approach the mic.

“Thanks for joining me, I just have a couple quick questions. First off, how are you feeling?”

“I’m really good, a little sore, but itching to get into the car again,” you reply, not giving away more than that regarding your injuries.

“You certainly seemed to scare the grid when you weren’t responding after the crash. How has your welcome back been?” the reporter pushes for more information.

“They’ve been great, they all came to the hospital to visit and have taken great care of me today. I obviously feel bad for scaring them, but they are the best competitors I could ask for,” you smile, before leaving the interview.

“Welcome back, kid,” Max hugs you when you walk into the Red Bull motorhome. You sing Super Max when you see him, having spent the last month listening to the silly songs that have been written for the drivers

“Thanks Maxie. Who is the better teammate, me or Daniel?” you grin, putting the dutchman in a tough spot.

“Daniel, for sure,” Max jokes. Your jaw drops and you turn around, leaving to go to another motorhome. You find yourself in McLaren, singing Let’s Go, Lando, with Lando himself who was happy to join in with your under-the-breath singing. Oscar wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh at or murder the two of you.

“What brings you to our home?” Oscar asks once you both stop singing.

“Max said he liked Daniel more than me as a teammate,” you pout, not revealing that you knew he was joking.

“Right, I’m texting Lance,” Oscar shakes his head with a laugh, leaving you and Lando to chat.

“Y/n, love, you just healed, let’s not get hurt by forcing McLaren security to kick you out,” Lance laughs when he sees you and Lando bonding.

“Noooo, we were just becoming friends, she never hands out with drivers that are her age,” Lando whines. You give him an ick face.

“For good reason, you are all icky,” you quickly turn to Lance, “not you, baby,” you smile and turn back to Lando, “why would I hang out with you all and party after races when I can spend time with the older drivers whose company I prefer,” your eyebrow quirks.

“Say what you want, I’ve seen you at our parties. You have more fun than Lance,” Lando grins.

“Alright Lance, let’s go,” you get up, Lance assisting you since you are still a little slow due to the aches still in your muscles. He walks with you hand in hand back to Red Bull where your trainer helps work out your neck muscles and tape your neck and wrist.

“Let us know if you are feeling pain, if you have to pull out of free practice early, pull out. There is no shame if you are hurting,” Christian tells you, before you get to your car.

“I know, I’ll let you know,” you smile, feeling good in the car. After FP1, all of your grid dads found you after weigh ins, checking you over.

“Mi hija, are you okay? Does anything hurt? How is your hand,” Fernando asks, filling his usual position as the overprotective grid dad.

“A little sore, yeah,” you groan as you roll your shoulders.

“Don’t do that, let’s get you to an ice bath, then some heat,” Kevin says. Lance and your trainer don’t bother checking in on you.

“Let’s have a, well what your would call, a girls night. Help you recover,” Lewis suggests. And that’s how you spend the next few nights, in pajamas, with fluffy blankets, alternating cold and heat on your neck, watching movies of books you had read with the club.

“Petition to make this an occurrence each race?” Valtteri proposes at one point, getting eight voices in agreement back. They did a wonderful job of helping you recover, and the encouraging phone calls to Kimi helped you feel more than ready to race when race day approaches.

“IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO! GREAT START FROM RÄIKKÖNEN!” The announcer yells into the mic as you gain a few places, toe to toe with Max.

Can I race?

Permission to Race, give em hell, Y/n

You end up winning the race with a 1-2 finish, pulling a Carlos Sainz and Ferrari after his appendix removal. Your first F1 win.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid #george russell #logan sargeant #max verstappen #valtteri bottas #kimi raikkonen #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #lewis hamilton #nico hulkenberg #kevin magnussen

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 38]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.3K

"We should take it to the vet tomorrow." You said as you and Yunho hovered over the kitten. You placed some wet cat food onto a paper plate and he was so quick to eat it up. Yes, you also learnt that the kitten is a boy.

"We should but the only free time we have is between morning and dinner service. Plus it's Friday so we're going to be busy." Yunho said.

"I'll do it after the morning shift then." You smiled.

"And by 'I', you mean 'we'." Yunho laughed and pressed his forehead against your temple. Instead of hovering, he sat on the floor and pulling you to sit on his lap.

"There, we can watch him like this." He said, resting his chin on your shoulder with his arms around your waist.

"It's late, you still have to drive back." You stood up. Yunho nodded in agreement.

"You can handle the little one?" Yunho chuckled. You hummed, smiling softly as you looked over at the kitten that was rolling all over your rug, happy to have a full belly of food.

Although Yunho wanted to ask to stay the night or thought that you would offer him that option, he didn't want to overstep so he willing got his coat to leave. Maybe you just wanted the house and your bed to yourself since you had all 8 of them over last night. He understood that you needed to recharge.

"Goodbye. I'll see you again tomorrow." Yunho said, gently stroking the kitten's head with the back of his finger.

"Thanks again for tonight." You said, looking up at him as he got ready to leave.

"No need to thank me. Have a good night, I'll see you tomorrow?" He tilted his head. You nodded and tip toed to give him a goodbye kiss before he headed out the door.

"Alright, let's set you up for the night." You said to the kitten. You cleared the used plates and brought the animal crate to your room.

"Here." You placed some blankets inside, making sure it was warm and comfortable before placing the kitten inside.

"There, all comfy for you." You chuckled. You didn't buy a cat bed because you didn't know if the kitten will be permenantly staying with you so you just grabbed a crate to ferry him around.

After making sure the kitten was settled, you went to remove all your makeup and take a shower. However, mid shower, you didn't expect a little black shadow to push open the bathroom door and enter. He let out a loud meow to establish his presence.

"Geez! You scared me!" You jumped slightly, placing a hand over your racing heart. But he just sat there, staring back at you with a tilt of his head.

"Don't be clingy like a golden retriever." You said, snickering. Once you stepped out, you changed into comfy home clothes.

"Hey, Hwa... I'm home." You said to Seonghwa with the phone on speaker as you did you skincare.

"Hey, sweetheart. I was about to call you. You don't have to come in for morning shift, you know? You can go home and rest after your morning session. We understand."

"I know but you guys can't keep giving me all these exceptions, it's not fair and unprofessional of me." You sighed.

"It's not exceptions. We're friends, practically family. We do it for anyone that needs it."

"I know that... And I'm really grateful for the 3 of you being so supportive. But it's fine, really. I'll be okay. Working would serve as a good distraction rather than just laying in bed." You said, finishing up your nightly routine of skincare. You took the phone with you as you did your laundry.

"But-"

*meow*

"D-Did you just meow at me?"

"What?! No, that's not me. I have a... house guest." You turned the call to a video call, turning the camera to show Seonghwa the kitten that was now curled by your feet.

"I thought you were only having dinner with Yunho's family! When did you get a cat?!"

"It's a long story. He's just staying with me until I can get him to a vet tomorrow and decide what to do with him." You informed.

"It's actually really funny, (y/n). You compare Yunho to a golden retriever every chance you get and now, it's like I'm seeing two of you. Can barely tell the difference."

"Very funny, Hwa. You'll be glad to know that Yunho's been making fun of me the whole night, comparing me to the kitten. That's utter nonsense, I am not a black cat or like one." You scoffed, stroking the kitten as it sat on your thigh.

"Sure~ Like how Yunho denies that he's an overly excited golden retriever puppy."

"You know what, see you tomorrow, Hwa." You scoffed and hung up while he was busy laughing at you. You picked the kitten up and placed him in his crate.

"Stay here. I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight." You stroked its head and went to bed.

-

When Yunho arrived at the restaurant the next morning, he looked at his phone. He had sent you a morning text and asked about the kitten but you haven't opened the message.

"Maybe she's busy." He shrugged, it was a Friday morning after all. You probably didn't even have time to look at your phone like always. But when he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see your crew already working without you there. Yunho went to the locker room but you weren't there either.

"She's coming in late. Had something to attend to." Seonghwa spoke as he mixed the cake batter.

"Oh... Okay, thanks." Yunho frowned slightly, scratching his head as he went to the front. You didn't mention this to him last night. Did something happen to the kitten during the night?

"Sorry, the number you have dialled is-"

Yunho chewed on his bottom lip, you were not answering your phone or your texts. He straightened up and went to call Seonghwa out.

"What's up?" Seonghwa asked with raised eyebrows as he leaned against the counter.

"Hyung, (y/n)'s okay, right? It's just, I was with her last night and she didn't mention that she had anything on this morning that would make her late... So I'm just worried..." Yunho rambled.

"She's fine, Yunho. There's not much I can tell you... But rest assure, she's okay. But she's not contactable." Seonghwa placed his hand on Yunho's shoulder to give it a light squeeze and gave the taller a small smile. Yunho nodded his head slowly.

"As long as she's okay. Let me know if you guys need any help in the kitchen." He forced a smile.

"We will. And yes, she's okay. If she wasn't, I would have told you. She should be coming in soon." Seonghwa nodded and headed back to the kitchen to continue baking.

"What's up?" Wooyoung tipped his head at Seonghwa when he saw the older come back in.

"Asked about (y/n). You know she's uncontactable and he's worried because she didn't tell him that she'll be late today." Seonghwa said.

"Oh... No wonder he's worried. Wait, she hasn't told him yet?" Jongho asked as he took the cookies out of the oven. Seonghwa shook his head with a soft sigh.

"It's her decision to tell him. We all know how private she is..." Wooyoung reminded.

Just then, you walked into the kitchen, yawning with two big cups of coffee in your hands. Not even saying hi to your team, you went to the locker room to put your things down first. You leaned against the shelves, taking long sips of your coffee. You needed coffee immediately so you bought two cups.

"Hey." Seonghwa popped in.

"Hey, Hwa, sorry. I'll be right out." You grabbed your apron and tied it around your waist. He hummed and went back to the kitchen to wait for you.

"(y/n), are you okay?" San tilted his ehad when he saw you come out, setting your cups of coffee aside.

"Morning, San. Yes, I'm fine. Thanks for stepping in to help." You chuckled and went to wash your hands. With you around, you were able to take over and San went back out to the front.

"They don't need you anymore?" Mingi asked as he filled the machine with more coffee beans.

"Nope. (y/n)'s here so I think they got it handled." San informed.

"(y/n)'s here? Like here in the kitchen?" Yunho blinked. San raised an eyebrow at his question but nodded his head slowly, with much uncertainty and confusion. Yunho put his things down and went to the kitchen.

"Jagiya~" Wooyoung was hugging you from the back, rocking you from side to side with a smug smile on his face. You were unbothered, cutting up something in front of you.

"Woo, this isn't very safe when I'm using my knife." You said but of course he ignores you.

"We should discuss the dinner menu for tonight so I can get started on prep." You told the rest of the team.

Throughout the time he has been with you, Yunho has been learning how to read you. You were functioning and speaking fine to your team but there was exhaustion on your face.

"Kicking it old school, tonight's pasta is bolognese." You smiled and the boys clapped.

"Traditional style, of course?" Jongho asked and you nodded.

"For fish, let's do a mi cuit salmon with microgreens, buerre blanc, potato puree and pickled beetroot." You said, waving your hand to get your thought processing out. (Mi cuit is French for half baked. Salmon is sous vide at a low temperature until firm but still has the texture, look and taste of raw salmon)

"I think we should do a wet brine for the salmon before putting it into the sous vide." Seonghwa suggested and you wrote it down.

"We should do pork chops with stewed apples and blue cheese sauce." Wooyoung raised his hand.

"Alright. We can throw the pork chops into the sous vide machines. If we have the sous vides going, let's do some chicken breast for classic caesar?" You tilted your head.

"We still have those smaller, thin cuts of beef... What can we do with them?" Jongho reminded.

"Let's leave it for tomorrow." You said.

Yunho quietly observed how you continued to lead the discussion on the food menu for dinner. Like the professional you always are, you didn't let whatever was bothering you affect your work.

"Dessert, let's do sticky toff. It's been a while!" Seonghwa was quick to throw his suggestion in.

"I question the personal motive behind that suggestion but I do agree that it's been a while. So we're doing individual sticky toffee puddings with caramel sauce and vanilla custard? Or should we do ice cream?" You chuckled.

"Ice cream is better since we already have caramel sauce." Wooyoung said. You wrote down everything and pinned it up.

"Alright, let's finish up here and start on some prep work. Then I'll continue after you guys leave." You said. They nodded and you got to work right away.

"We'll do the cleaning." Seonghwa and Wooyoung did it while Jongho assisted you with prepping.

"Hey." Yunho came in.

"Oh, hey." You smiled. But of course, Yunho wouldn't just greet you with a smile. He came over to hug you tightly, quickly planting a kiss to the top of your head.

"You want a coffee?" He offered. You shook your head, nodding over to the two cups of coffee you had brought in with you.

"Is it okay to be drinking so much coffee at once?" Yunho tilted his head.

"Nope!" Seonghwa answered for you, making you roll your eyes. You scoffed loudly to show Seonghwa you were ignoring him and patted Yunho on the hip before going back to help Jongho with the prep. Having already missed the morning stuff, you didn't want to lag behind, you wanted to make up for the work that you didn't do.

You noticed that Yunho was strangely quiet but you couldn't put your finger on it. Usually, he was loud and excited when he sees you but today, he greeted you and left obediently.

"Is Yunho okay? Did something happen when I wasn't around?" You asked Jongho.

"Nothing happened but Yunho hyung was worried when he didn't see you this morning. Didn't know where you were..." Jongho informed.

"Oh." You replied, continuing your prep work.

"Fridge?" Wooyoung came over, seeing the containers of prepped ingredients that you were done with. You nodded and he helped you bring them all to the walk in.

"You guys should head off soon, I"ve got it covered here." You said, checking your watch.

"Don't stay too long. We'll see you tonight, princess." The boys all left without argument. Wooyoung hugged you tightly and gave you a big kiss on your cheek, to which you scrunched your nose. Jongho gave you a brief hug.

"Don't overwork yourself, sweetheart, hmm?" Seonghwa stroked your head. You hummed and he hugged you before patting your head with a soft smile.

"The crew just left?" Yunho came in.

"Yeah, I'm finishing up on the prep. After that, we'll go back to mine to pick up the kitten for the vet?" You asked.

"Sure. Do you need help in here?" Yunho leaned against the metal counter.

"Help me fill the big bins with water? I'll need to clamp the sous vide machines and get it heated." You pointed. Yunho helped you do that while you cooked the caramel sauce for the dessert.

"What else is there to do...?" You thought out loud and went over your list of things that you could prep.

"(y/n), why don't I pick the kitten up from yours then we can bring it to the vet from here?" Yunho suggested.

"Oh, sure." You were surprised at his suggestion but you weren't against it. You gave Yunho the key to your place and he left to pick the kitten up. Now you were worried, Yunho and you were always together, given the opportunity. It was odd for him to suggest he go ahead and pick the kitten up first.

"I'm done with my duties." Hongjoong came in, finding you alone. Honestly, he thought he would find Yunho in here with you.

"Can you bring that tray of meats to me, please?" You requested. He brought over the vacuum pack sealed pork chops for you to dump into the heated sous vide water.

"Where's Yunho?" Hongjoong asked, continuing to help you were he could.

"Oh, he went to help me pick something up from my place. He'll be back soon." You informed.

"Are you alright, (y/n)? Is something bothering you?" Hongjoong noted how you were slightly distracted as you were doing whatever you were doing.

"I'm probably overthinking it but Yunho's just acting a little weird today so I'm wondering if everything's okay." You shrugged.

"Hmm, from what I know nothing happened today in the store and he's been fine... You know, the usual Yunho... I'm sure it's nothing, don't be too worried. We all have our off days, even energetic puppies." He gave a comforting smile.

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Hongjoong." You laughed in agreement, it was funny to hear Yunho's friends refer to him as a puppy too. Subsequently, the other boys came in to offer help too.

"All these in the fridge?" Yeosang checked.

"Yeah. But keep the trays separate, they're portioned according to the different dishes." You said.

"Sure." He and Mingi brought it whatever you were done with. With their help, you were done relatively quickly. Just in time, Yunho pulled up to the restaurant.

"Bye, thanks guys. See you tonight." You waved to them before hopping into Yunho's passenger seat.

"Thanks for going to pick him up." You said.

"You're very welcome, love. Are you tired?" Yunho softened, reaching over to cup your cheek. You shook your head, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. You let out a long exhale.

"Shall we talk after the vet?" He asked. You hesitated for a while before nodding, even if your heart was pounding nervously against your chest. With that, Yunho drove to the vet clinic where you had made an appointment for the kitten this morning. He helped you carry the crate with the kitten.

"Hi, I have an appointment?" You went to register at the receptionist counter. Yunho watched your back as you signed the kitten in.

"At least just now when I went to pick him up, he wasn't trying to maul me." Yunho said to you as you took the seat beside him to wait for your turn.

"Maul you? I highly doubt that tiny kitten can maul someone so much bigger like yourself." You laughed.

"He's opening up to me. See? I have that effect on black cats." He coughed, sending you a mischievous grin and side eye.

"I'm not a black cat." You scoffed, picking up the crate and looking at the kitten inside. It let out a small meow and pressed his nose against the gate to try and sniff you.

"Cutie. I hope you slept well." You giggled. He clawed at the gate to show his frustration of being locked up. So you caved and let him out of the crate. However, instead of putting him in your lap, you set him down in Yunho's.

"Since you claim he's comfortable with you now." You laughed, leaning against his arm.

"I said he didn't try to maul me, I didn't say he's comfortable with me." Yunho rolled his eyes but watched as the kitten tried to get comfortable, curling up in his lap.

When the nurse called you, you held the kitten in your arms while Yunho held the crate and entered the vet's office.

"Good afternoon. What can I do for you today?" The vet smiled. However, her smile seemed to grow bigger when she saw Yunho walk in.

"We found this kitten last night in the park, abandoned in the box. We're not sure how long he's been there. So we just want to make sure he's fine." You explained.

"Oh, sure. That's so nice of you to take him in, I'll just do a general check of him." She said, staring at Yunho as she spoke. You raised an eyebrow of amusement at her behaviour and her suddenly flirtatious smile, she was obviously very taken to Yunho's good looks. I mean, who isn't?

"Thank you, doctor." Innocent and ever-so kind Yunho smiled back with bowed his head. He came to stand by your side as the doctor examined the kitten.

"From what I see, judging by his posture, he's about 4 weeks old? But he's malnourished." She said.

"Good that you cleaned him and fed him." She smiled at Yunho.

You were not jealous and you knew how Yunho was. He wasn't deliberately flirting back with her, he was too kind and gracious to anyone he meets. He can't help his golden retriever tendencies.

"Actually, my girlfriend did it all, she's amazing. The kitten isn't too friendly with me yet." Yunho grinned.

"Oh..." The vet cleared her throat awkwardly at the mention of the word 'girlfriend'. You had to purse your lips to stop yourself from laughing at her expression.

"Let me just do some scans and bloodwork. You can wait outside, we'll call you again when we're done." The doctor said a little more uncomfortably now. You nodded and headed to the exit but Yunho quickly grabbed your hand, making you give him a look.

"She kept smiling at me, I felt oddly violated." Yunho whimpered softly to you.

~

Series masterlist

#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop series #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez series #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #yunho ateez #yunho #yunho scenarios #yunho series #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #jeong yunho #jeong yunho scenarios #jeong yunho series #jeong yunho x reader

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 14

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 5371

Ao3 Link

Summary: Party plans are coming along, and your hard work is rewarded, but it seems like secrets keep on growing.

Author's Note: I am so jealous of our numbers girl 😭

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Fluff, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Degradation, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there), Bondage, PIV Sex, Large Cock, Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Comeshot, Dom Mihawk, Dom Crocodile, Switch(?) Buggy, Death Threats, VERY Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

So many hands and lips on your skin, yet all you could feel were the weight of those words.

“You would… ”

“I’ll cut them down for you,” Mihawk whispered, rubbing his face along your neck and ear until your back arched for him. “We’re the only ones that get to make my little rabbit cry. What are their names?”

Crocodile let out a low hum as he settled closer to you, kissing across your shoulder while Buggy smoothed his hands over your legs.

“I don’t…” you choked out, closing your eyes against the dizziness that spun through you. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” Crocodile soothed as he pulled you against him. “Let’s get some sleep. You can write up your kill list in the morning.”

A dream. This is all some crazy dream.

A soft whimper left you as the hot tears staining your cheeks were caught just in time, and you knew it was Buggy’s fingers wiping them away. You sputtered, breathing too fast as you tried to gulp down air, to swallow the overwhelm. Mihawk touched your cheek before letting Buggy join his hands, sliding his body between yours.

“Hey, pretty star,” he soothed, stroking your hair while you clung to him. “I’ve got you.”

~

“How’s my girl?”

Dreams of stormy seas pulled away as that deep voice warmed the back of your neck. 

“Good,” you hummed, Crocodile’s body pressing in behind you. Opening your eyes, you saw Buggy still asleep, having rolled away from you onto his back. Mihawk’s amber eyes shined at you, and your lips parted to see him curled around the clown, resting his head against the other man’s chest while he stared at you. 

“Good. It’s been ages since I had a decent hunting trip. None of your enemies happen to be swordsmen, do they?”

Buggy tensed awake, his body frozen like he was playing dead, while you just gaped at Mihawk. Their offer came rushing back into your stormy mind, and you had no idea what to do with it. 

I can’t.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

All the bodies on the mattress went still.

“You trust us, don’t you,” Crocodile rasped, his voice somehow toeing a line between soothing and threatening. “You can tell us what you want.”

“I told you what I want,” you mumbled, breath catching in fear yet again. Buggy’s hand found your arm, and his warning grip on you was the only movement on the massive bed.

What am I doing?

“Why don’t we get some breakfast,” Mihawk offered lightly. “I prefer discussing murder after my espresso anyway.”

~

There was such a strange tension while you prepared for the day, while Mihawk carried you to the balcony, while they all stared at you over their plates. Chewing the inside of your lip as you tried to eat, you felt their gaze like a weight over your shoulders.

You realized why the tension felt so strange. It felt like the air in a room after a couple’s spat. 

I’m not afraid they’ll hurt me. I’m afraid they’re mad. 

“I’m sorry,” you spilled out, eyes wide as you looked between them all. “I trust you, I’m just not ready to talk about my past right now. Especially if you want me to focus on the party. I don’t want to be distracted.”

You’d expected Buggy to react the best to your apology, but he kept a hint of worry, maybe even hurt in his eyes as he smiled. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” Crocodile nodded, lifting your chin toward him. “But I like secrets just about as much as I like lies. We can wait until after the party, but my patience won’t last forever.”

Mihawk chuckled softly as ice slid down to your gut, and it was only his prodding that got you to eat a decent amount of your meal before you were carried to your desk, your notebook and transponder snail pushed toward you. 

I hate this. I fucking hate this.

Falling into work mode, you schmoozed with your contacts as if you’d never left your old life. That itchy feeling crawled up your spine during every moment of silence, your loud, guilty thoughts only dulled by your work.

It was a long day.

You gratefully accepted a glass of velvety wine as you sat on the couch, Buggy across from you on that green chair. He had a pad of paper on his knee, twirling a pencil in his fingers with a silly amount of flair. He looked so fucking cute like this, his brow creased in thought while he looked up at the ceiling, quirking his lips before jotting down notes. Crocodile and Mihawk had very reluctantly put him in charge of the entertainment, and he was taking it quite seriously.

“We have a full list of attendees, and most will be arriving with a plus one. Here’s the details for the three backers I confirmed today, they’re donations will more than pay for the event,” you reported, pride pushing away some of that tension. “They will expect VIP treatment, of course, but that–”

“Amazing work, sweetheart,” Crocodile praised as he lit a cigar, puffing it a few times while you smiled up at him. 

“You really are a treasure, aren’t you,” Mihawk purred, flipping through your notes. “I’m curious though, what does this, “U,” mean?”

He set your list of contacts in your lap, flipping through a few pages to point out the clients you’d marked with that letter.

“All of your other descriptors are highly detailed, and not a single contact with that letter was invited to the party. Surely we should expand our list of potential backers as much as possible.”

“Let me see,” Crocodile huffed, grabbing your notes to toss on the coffee table. He leaned over them, flipping through the pages before pushing them aside. You let out a yelp of surprise when he grabbed you, but didn’t resist when he sat you on the table to face them both. 

“You just told us the invite list was full, yet you didn’t call any of these people with the letter, “U,” next to their names. Explain.”

His scarred face was like a force of nature, like looking into a sandstorm that you knew would swallow you whole. 

“It means un-unreliable,” you gasped, feeling the heat of their scrutiny against your skin. Your next words were hurried, but steadier. “I can call them if you want me to, and I would have if we hadn’t confirmed so many guests. But they talk too much, and they run in circles that could cause issues for the guild. A lot of them have connections to the Marines. I should have explained, I’m sorry.”

It’s not a lie. It’s not a lie. It’s not a lie.

“Why are you so afraid, little rabbit?” That whispered taunt made you shiver as Mihawk took your wine glass, before lifting one of your hands to his lips. “Did you just remember who we are? Only a few days of spoiling you, and you already forgot that you answer to us now, not some failed party clown.”

Crocodile leaned toward you, his hand on your thigh while he studied your face. 

“That idiot didn’t listen to your work, but I expect full reports from now on. You’ll tell us everything you’re doing and why you’re doing it, you got that?”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded, gratitude flooding you. 

“Good girl,” Mihawk teased, pulling you back onto the couch. “I would hate to punish you over a misunderstanding. That’s all it was, right?”

“Yeah,” you chirped, catching Buggy’s wide eyes. He looked away quickly, staring at his notes, but his cute thinking process was gone, the pencil not meeting the paper again. 

Thank gods for wine.

A few bottles amongst the group left the awkwardness behind, until nothing but their skin on yours remained. No need to hide on that bed, no need to be anything but theirs. 

That thought tugged you out for just a moment, but you smiled as you gave yourself to these three bad men, yet again.

I chose to be theirs.

~

The tension of that day faded, replaced by that comforting, delicious danger you were always in. They carried you from room to room for the next few days until a shipment arrived. Trunks were carted into the suite after dinner, and Buggy’s floating hands started to open them while you sat nude on the bed. 

“Get your grubby hands off her clothes,” Crocodile ordered lazily, pointing to the trunk on the right. “Bring that one here.”

It was hard to keep your eyes open while Mihawk kissed the back of your neck, long fingers leaving circles on your thighs, until Crocodile leaned down to kiss your cheek.

“Open this one.”

His deep voice was so soft, and you hummed as you reached for the clasp, lifting the heavy lid.

What the fuck?

“Well,” he asked, tapping the contents with his hook. “Do you like them, or should I send for something else?”

“N-no, I love them,” you squealed, grabbing a book from the pile, and running your fingers over the dragon on the cover. You flipped the pages, that lovely scent making you shiver. “Fantasy books…”

You laughed to yourself as you remembered that dinner on the balcony when he’d asked you what you like. Crawling onto his lap, you kissed up his neck while he let out a low chuckle. 

“Thank you, daddy.”

“Mm, anything for my sweet girl.”

“Yes, bring it to the door,” Mihawk ordered into the transponder snail, pulling your attention for a moment, which the scarred man pulled back when he fisted his hand into your hair, sucking marks onto your neck. 

The movements and voices in the room didn’t distract you this time, until a very particular sound rang through the air. 

A meow.

“Really,” Crocodile asked dryly when you left his arms, searching for that sound. 

Mihawk stood by the door, a smug smile tugging at his lips before he met your eyes.

“Would you like to hold him, darling?”

“Why…”

“You like cats, don’t you?”

Your brain paused, the cognitive dissonance these men kept putting you through making it hard to think. 

But another meow from the little brown tabby in Mihawk’s arms shook you loose, and soon you were sitting on the plush carpet, laughing while Buggy floated a gloved hand around like a toy for the cat to chase. 

“Look at all of our pets on the floor,” Mihawk laughed, setting a hand on Crocodile’s shoulder, removing it at the larger man’s narrowed eyes. “Come now, you’re not a fan of animals?”

“I prefer scales to fur,” he grumbled, meeting your smile with a sigh. “And I was hoping not to have to share Y/N’s attention with anymore men.”

You giggled, the furry man in question already bumping his head along your legs, and climbing onto your lap. 

“Does he have a name,” you asked, grinning as your new cat tried to crawl up to your shoulders, rubbing his face along your chin. 

“Not that I’m aware of. He was a stray.”

The image of Mihawk hunting the island for stray cats was too much, so you put it out of your mind while you searched for a name. 

“Adam.”

All three men repeated you, each with a hilariously different tone.

“That’s the least flashiest name ever,” Buggy pouted, scratching behind Adam’s ears. 

“Surprisingly, I agree,” Mihawk chided, tilting his head like a hawk about to fly down to steal the poor cat from your hands. “Why–”

“Why Adam?”

Crocodile’s interruption made everyone but Adam go silent, too much weight in the simple question. Heat rushed to your face, and you blinked up into his serious eyes. 

“It’s from a story my dad used to tell me,” you confessed, closing your eyes as you smiled at the memory of his voice. “About a magic tree that survived endless wars. People kept coming back after the island was destroyed, and they’d rebuild around that invincible tree, the—”

“The Jewel Tree Adam,” Buggy asked, his blue eyes shining as he scooted closer. “It’s not just a story. I sailed on a boat made from a Jewel Tree.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, stealing a kiss from those red lips before anyone could stop you. 

“That wood’s been sold on the black market. It’s rare, but it’s real,” Crocodile asserted. Once again, your mind stopped functioning, Adam bringing you back again, this time with his paw reaching toward your face. 

“So it is a flashy name,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at Buggy.

“Barely,” he rolled his eyes as Mihawk sighed in defeat. 

You helped Buggy arrange Adam’s things in the suite, until Mihawk pulled the cat away from you. 

“Don’t worry, darling. I had my old suite set up for our furry friend. He’ll be across the hall in his own little castle while we rip you apart. I’m sure you wouldn’t want the poor thing to see what we’re about to do to you.”

“You set up…” 

“I’ll show you the cat paradise tomorrow,” he huffed a laugh, petting Adam as he lounged comfortably in his arms. “Now be a good little rabbit for me, and I’ll try to convince Sir Crocodile to let the cat sleep in here when we’re done.”

“Not happening,” Crocodile drawled, hanging up his robe before sitting on the edge of the bed, patting his knee. “Why don't you finish thanking me, since we were so rudely interrupted earlier?”

His satisfied smile made your skin flush as you moved toward him, and you saw his cock twitching beneath his boxers, growing as he watched your bare skin. It made your mouth fall open with need, and with caution that you didn’t think would ever go away. 

“Mm, is my sweet girl still scared of her daddy,” he taunted, palming himself through the thin fabric. 

“But what about...” you started, turning around as Mihawk returned to the room. “I didn't try on any of the clothes.”

“It’s too late for that now,” Mihawk laughed, walking toward you until you backed up against Crocodile, those large thighs surrounding you. “It looks like your daddy wants to check how well you fit something else, isn’t that right?”

“I know she’ll fit just fine. Huh, babydoll,” he pulled you to him, moaning softly at your desperate noises, and your instinctive writhing when your ass rubbed against his hard length. “Did you like daddy’s present?”

“Mhm.”

“Not as much as she li–”

“Why don’t you go sleep in your little cat paradise,” Crocodile cut Mihawk off, his shifting attention keeping you from relaxing into him. 

“I’ve got another pussy in mind for tonight,” the swordsman quipped, and you gasped as a floating hand grabbed yours, tugging you out of reach. 

Buggy wrapped himself around you from behind, so you were caught in his warmth as you both looked at the frightening men in front of you.

“When you fight, she wants me.”

Buggy’s words made you feel too many things at once. They felt sweet, and sad, and territorial, and you didn’t know how to react.

“Is that true, little rabbit,” Mihawk asked, danger growing in his voice. “Do you want the clown?”

Oh, that sounds like a punishment waiting to happen. 

But I can’t lie.

“I do.”

Buggy’s soft noise made you melt against him, until you pressed against that heavy need of his, both of you reacting to the touch.

“Do you see this, Crocodile,” Mihawk gestured toward you with a wicked smirk. “It seems she didn’t like either of our gifts. Would you rather have what this clown can give you?”

You’d started to shake just a bit, not knowing which direction you should turn. Mihawk’s words always seemed to twist you where he wanted you anyway. 

Crocodile took pity on you, clearing up the question. 

“Sweetheart, would it make you happy to fuck that stupid clown?”

Buggy let out another squeak, but he pulled away from you slightly, so you wouldn’t feel how much he needed you. 

“It would make me happy.”

As if he couldn’t help it, Buggy pressed against you again, making you gasp as he rubbed his clothed cock along the meat of your ass, pretty little noises leaving his throat. 

Mihawk charged toward you, and you couldn’t help but noticed the hard weight of his cock through his silk pajama pants. He gave an evil little smirk as he looked down at you, grabbing your cheeks to tilt your face.

“Such a spoiled little rabbit. We give you so many things, so many gifts, but that’s not enough, is it? My precious little slut needs another toy. Needs another cock, even when she’s all stuffed up. What do you think, Crocodile? Does she deserve another gift tonight?”

“Maybe my sweet girl hasn’t realized she’s grown out of her old toys.”

Mihawk’s laugh was sharp, too pleased, and your breath caught when he kissed you, and then Buggy on the cheek. 

“Good point, sandman. Alright, little treasure, we showered you with gifts tonight, and now you get to play with your old favorite toy. Let’s see if it’s still as much fun to play with after we’ve been spoiling you so much.”

You were frozen when Mihawk gestured toward the bed, but Buggy picked you up, floating you to the center of the mattress before crawling up your body, caging you in. 

“This okay, star,” he whispered, barely audible. It woke you up, and you nodded with a smile before he kissed you.

“Just a moment, pets,” Mihawk called, bringing your eyes to him. He and Crocodile pulled the couch all the way up to the bed, staring with hungry eyes that made you shiver. “We want to see if your old toy is still worth playing with. Croc, what do you think her minimum is with us?”

“Four. Minimum,” he said, voice rough as he pulled his boxers off, his massive dick like a looming threat. 

“That sounds about right,” Mihawk agreed as he followed suit, stripping before lounging on the couch, his thick cock drawing your eyes as it twitched slightly. “Let’s see if this toy can pull four orgasms out of our little whore, since she wants to keep it so badly.”

“What if he can’t,” Crocodile asked, his voice full of more dangerous humor than he usually had with Mihawk’s games. 

“There are so many pretty holes on that bed,” Mihawk threatened, his eyes raking over your skin, and Buggy’s as the clown stripped. “If she’s wrong about him after going against our wishes, I think we should break her, and her stupid toy.”

“You hear that, sweet girl,” Crocodile rasped, fingers moving lightly down his shaft, then pressing upward until you noticed that lovely bead of precum start to spill down the side. “Daddy keeps telling you to get over that pathetic clown, but you don’t fucking listen. This is your one chance to prove he’s worth it. If he can’t fuck you properly, then I’m gonna ruin you. Daddy’s cock is gonna tear you into pretty little pieces. You got that?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whined, back arching while Mihawk laughed at you. 

“Should we roll dice to see which hole gets destroyed first,” he smirked, seeming absolutely giddy watching you writhe. His hungry eyes flicked to Buggy as the clown crawled back to you, holding himself above your body. “I suppose it’s show time isn’t it. Go on, clown. Make my little rabbit scream, unless you want to be a useless toy for the rest of your life.”

The insults still made you cringe, but Buggy smiled at you, that gorgeous, blue hair falling down around you like a curtain. 

“Will you be my flashy girl,” he rasped, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes. “Will you put on a real good show for me?”

“Yes, captain,” you breathed, moaning as he swallowed your smile with a needy kiss. 

“She’ll get that paint all over her,” Crocodile grumbled, but that was the last you heard from them as Buggy left trails of kisses and soft bites down your body, leaving your skin tingling while you laughed.

A gloved hand teased around your face, fingers pressing between your lips until you bit the fabric. He kissed your knees, grinning as you pulled his glove off with your teeth, like you had so many times before. He mirrored you with his other hand, tossing them off the side of the bed like a strip tease. 

Your breath caught when he positioned himself between your legs, so very close to where you needed him. 

“Want me to do that thing you like,” he asked, the heat and confidence in his words making your head tilt back before you could answer.

“Please, Bugs, I need you… ”

“Of course you do,” he agreed, tracing his face down your inner thigh until his breath teased your core. “No one can make you feel how I can, huh, baby?”

Dangerous words. 

Dangerous truth.

“No one, Buggy, please.”

“I’ve got you, gorgeous,” he purred as his hands pulled yours above your head, leaving one hand to trap yours there while the other caressed your body, toying with your chest. “Sing for your captain.”

Sloppy kisses to your clit made you squirm for him, whining as he sucked and teased, until you begged for more.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear ya down here. Whatcha need, dollface?”

“Gods, your tongue, your nose, Buggy, please.”

“Mm, your pretty pussy missed me that much?”

He chuckled as you whined for him, then tilted his face down to rub that perfect nose over and around your sensitive clit. Part of you heard voices, maybe laughter from the couch, but you were too busy pouting, still begging for more. 

“Your nose feels so good, baby. Give me more, please,” you pleaded as you shifted your hips, fighting for more friction. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he winked, shoving his face into your dripping cunt while you cried out his name. 

It always felt like he was designed for this, that round nose giving the perfect pressure as he tasted you. You could feel him rutting against the mattress, his needy movements adding to the rhythm. 

That floating hand massaging your chest focused in, and the teasing pinch to your nipple was enough to push you over the edge. He kept that rhythm and pressure to your clit while you came, and you laughed when he yelled “one,” before returning to his work.

“Do you want me deep?”

His eyes were dark, and heavy with need as he checked in. The sight of his drenched, messy face made you moan, taking a few breaths before you could answer.

“I want you so bad, Buggy, please. You make me feel so good,” you praised, gasping as that teasing hand wrapped fingers around your throat, warning, but not squeezing yet. 

“Want me–”

“Choke me, Buggy, fucking take m–”

So many sensations at once. That lovely hand around your neck pressing tight, his face diving into your core as his nose circled your clit again, and his tongue going deep. 

He licked and tasted you, like he was licking his plate clean, but that wicked tongue went further. 

It had freaked you out a bit when he first tried it on you, but there was nothing in the world that could compare to Buggy’s tongue sinking all the way into you, that thick muscle tasting parts of you that no one could touch. It circled around inside you on its own until he found that sweet, spongy spot.

His tongue fucked into that spot, and tears streamed from your eyes while you screamed his name through his choking grasp. He didn’t let up as you rode through that orgasm, just released your throat to raise two fingers toward the couch. 

“Gods, oh fuck, Buggy. It’s too mu–”

His hand clamped over your mouth, and he lifted just enough to shake his head, his tongue too busy for him to reply. He released your face, that hand teasing along your body while he kept up his attack, until he pressed his palm against your lower stomach.

The pressure of his tongue ramming against you from the inside meeting his hand felt like being hit by a fucking train. Your hands almost broke free as you spasmed, the sheer force of pleasure turning you into nothing but twitching, desperate flesh while you came on Buggy’s face.

Your vision came back slowly, sweet hands smoothing over your skin. The feel of his tongue sliding out of you to return to its rightful place arched your back, aftershocks rolling through you. 

“Three,” Buggy bragged, leaving kisses on your arm. You hummed, hardly able to open your eyes.

“Ah, but the goal was four,” Mihawk taunted, his voice tensing through Buggy’s body beside you, “and it doesn’t look like Miss Y/N is able to finish the show. What do you think, Crocodile?”

“She knows what’s gonna happen to her,” he growled, and you rolled your head to the side to watch those frightening gray eyes. He looked at you like you were the last bit of food on a desert island, and his hand fisting over himself made your eyes roll back. 

“The show must go on,” Buggy laughed nervously, his well earned confidence already floating away. 

You reached out to him, your arms shaking until he crawled up your body. You returned his little smile, goosebumps rolling over your skin at the feel of him with you, and all he’d done. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered, voice hoarse from him. He looked you over, eyes pouring over your features, until he gave you another smile, wide and wicked. 

“Anything for my star.”

He wasted no time, his thick cock pushing into you easily with all the work he’d done. He let out little whimpers, and you clenched around him, wanting him so fucking bad. But he shook himself, rolling his hips into you as he brought a thumb to dance along your clit. 

“You like putting on a show,” he asked, his voice a bit strained as he fought himself. “I knew you were a star, and you’ve got the audience wrapped around your little finger, huh? Look at how hard their cocks are just for you. Give them a show, baby.”

Buggy’s breathing went rough as he fucked into you harder. He grabbed your cheeks, your lips pressing out as he made you look at them. 

Oh fuck.

Crocodile and Mihawk both had their cocks in their hands, jerking themselves off at the sight of you.

“Buggy, I’m–”

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking perfect…”

He held you close as you fell to pieces together. His racing heart, his ragged breaths, and the scent of his skin felt delicious. Even with the twitching of his cock as he spilled his come into you, even with the orgasm that rocked through you, the overwhelming feeling you had in Buggy’s arms was comfort.

“You feeling good, gorgeous,” he asked softly, kissing along your jaw.

“So good,” you hummed, gasping as he twitched inside you, your body clenching around his. 

“Well done, toys,” Mihawk praised as the weight on the bed shifted. “Now, open wide.”

“You looked so pretty for daddy,” Crocodile praised while Mihawk pulled Buggy off of you. “Be a good girl, and tell me where you want it.”

He bit his lower lip while you stared at his veiny cock, so fucking close. 

“My face. Come on my face, daddy, please.”

“Fuck, gods damn,” he groaned with a breathless laugh. “You are such a good girl. Mm, lick the tip for me sweet– fuck.”

You could already feel his come dripping down your skin when you reached out to taste him, his last shuddering moan making him thrust lightly against your mouth. 

“Look at you,” he purred, tracing his thumb over your lips after you licked them clean. 

“Our pets have been very well behaved today,” Mihawk praised, moving close beside the larger man before gesturing toward Buggy’s come-covered face. You let out a giggle, then tried to apologize when he met your eyes. 

“Not the matching face paint I was thinking of, but I’ll take it,” he interrupted with a wink, earning very subtle, but real chuckles from the other men on the bed. 

Crocodile pulled you against his chest, and you realized that in this moment you felt comfort with all three of these bad men. You grinned to yourself at the thought of what home meant to you while you watched Mihawk play with the come that had spilled down to Buggy’s chest. 

“Let’s get cleaned up, pets,” he said brightly, managing to crawl gracefully out of the bed. “We can’t have Adam curling up on these sticky sheets.”

“No cats on the bed,” Crocodile ordered, frowning at your pouting lip. “Don’t you start.”

“Sorry, daddy,” you laughed as you rolled away from him. 

Buggy grabbed your hand, and you laughed your way to the bathroom, leaving the other men to argue about the new furry roommate. Buggy tossed you a washcloth, and you both wiped what you could of those men off of your skin before he started the shower. He pulled you in to press you against the far wall. 

“There’s something I didn’t get to tell you before…” he whispered, tilting his nose away so he could be closer to your face while the water drowned out his words. “Can I tell you now, pretty star?”

His deep blue eyes seemed deeper than you’d ever seen, and your breath caught in your throat. 

Why am I tense? 

“Okay,” you managed to whisper, waiting to breathe properly again. 

He nodded a few times as he looked down, before cradling your face, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks. 

“I know things are– well you know how it is, but…” he trailed off, scanning your face as if watching every movement. 

“Buggy…”

“I love you, Y/N,” he confessed, his brows lifting high as his breathing seemed heavy, heavier as he waited for you to reply. He stared at your parted lips until more words hurried out of him. “I loved you before, and I still love you now. You’re my pretty star, no matter what, right?”

The worry in his voice broke you out of your stupor, and you wrapped your arms around him. 

“Buggy, I–”

He pulled you under the water, the heat making you gasp as the door to the bathroom opened.

“Here you are, pets. Sir Crocodile’s list of expectations if Adam is to stay with us.”

Mihawk dropped a pad of paper onto the counter, cocking his head at you both while Crocodile followed close behind. 

“Why haven’t you started on that hair? It’s late enough as it is,” Mihawk tutted, and you couldn’t keep your mouth from falling open as you watched Mihawk take Buggy’s long hair into his hands. Buggy’s eyes fluttered shut at the swordsman’s touch, but his words kept ringing in your ears, even as Crocodile smiled at you, hunching down to rinse his hair. 

Adam wasn’t allowed in tonight, so it was just the four of you climbing onto that giant bed, four of you pressed in so close. You and Buggy curled in against each other’s chests, with Crocodile around your back, and Mihawk curling around Buggy to lay his long fingers somewhere along your side. 

Tonight Mihawk’s fingers teased along your ribs, his thumb almost tickling as it played down your stomach. Crocodile kissed the back of your head, and your comforting sleeping arrangement was complete. 

Something about the way Buggy held you felt different. 

Is it different? Or did I just not notice it before?

His breathing was slow, and the way he stroked your hair and pressed his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss should have been comforting. 

You should have fallen asleep by now. 

Instead, you laid there as the three men around you fell asleep. You laid there in the most comfortable, most comforting position you’d ever been in. 

But you couldn’t fall asleep. 

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: BUGGYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!! 😭🤡

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Part 15

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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#cross guild smut #mihawk smut #sir crocodile smut #buggy smut #one piece smut #cross guild x reader #mihawk x reader #sir crocodile x reader #buggy x reader #crocodile x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #x reader #one piece fanfic #buggy fanfiction #dracule mihawk x reader #smut #use of y/n #turtletaub fics

[c00kieguy]

hai :3c (regarding your long distance argenti post; i got lazy at the end sorry huhu)

imagine, one day, he doesn't reply all of a sudden.

imagine one day, late in the evening, you're waiting for argenti's usual goodnight message—either in the form of honeyed, poetic words that could be translated into ballad or the sound of his smooth-as-velvet voice that you could listen to for hours on end.

imagine, falling into uneasy sleep as you can no longer force your eyes open trying to stay awake awaiting your lover's fleeting words reserved for you and only you.

imagine waking up in the morning, immediately turning on your phone in hopes that argenti was perhaps too occupied to send you a message (or, messages) last night—in the past, he has, so hopefully this was one of those cases.

imagine, after a very long day with zero replies from your one and only, there was still radio silence on his end, your messages growing ever more frantic.

a day grows into two, then three, then four, then five.

and then five days becomes two weeks.

at this point, you may as well be growing grey hairs from all the stress you've accumulated worrying about what the hell happened to your boyfriend. he's warned you about the possibility of not being able to contact you for periods at a time due to "certain circumstances"... whatever they were.

but there was also a slim chance of the other possibility of him embarking danger on his journeys out across the stars. you know him—he can be overdramatic, corny.

and reckless.

you perish the mere thought as the doorbell rings; once, then twice.

you slowly cross your abode to the entrance, confused. you aren't expecting anybody today, nor did you order anything. thinking none of it, hoping for a well-rounded distraction you twist the knob open only to be met with a bushel of familiar bright red hair and the scent of roses.

motionless you stare, slack-jawed and silent as you take him in.

you now see that his red hair is ever so unkempt, mussy and tangled; his fragrance of roses shrouded by the odour of blood that stains some of his and dirty scuffed armour. a million questions race through your head among the lines of 'what was so urgent to warrant him not cleaning up when he arrived at your doorstep', or 'where the fuck has he been'.

you almost don't notice him take your hand in his—so gentle, so unlike a knight who has faced countless battles—as he bows down to give yours a tender kiss, you almost wish it was on your lips instead. almost.

it's unfair, really, even with his unkempt appearance you rarely see if ever—he still looks so handsome. he glances up at you with his sparkling eyes, still bowing, answering your unsaid question with an apologetic look.

"my sincerest apologies. my phone had been swallowed by a sting."

("where's my jumping hug you usually bestow me whenever i visit, my dear?" he almost pouts, as if unaware of his uncouth appearance.

"you have bug guts and blood on you."

"but i missed you. :("

"go take a shower, argenti."

you gave him plenty of cuddles and kisses once he and his armour were all cleaned up, and even considered purchasing a backup phone for him in case his new one got swallowed. again.)

ANON THIS WAS SO???!?! I LOVE YOU

ofc his phone got swallowed by a sting. I'd like to imagine he doesn't actually have any important things on his device for this very reason. Every single picture he takes, every important document or any other kind of information he wants saved, he just sends it to you lol. You have a separate folder called 'Argenti's Stuff' (right next to the folder with all the selfies he sends you) (there're like 500+ pictures in it at this point)

"Next time you lose it I'll cuff the damn thing to your wrist."

Ohh and taking care of him afterwards too. I bet he's exhausted from his….endeavors. Imagine running him a bath and helping him wash off all the gunk from his hair >> I got a little carried away hehe, holding him 🤲

Taking in a deep breath you steel yourself against the gruesome state of his hair. Beautiful red locks, once so soft and lush, now matted and sticking to his neck in wet patches. As if that wasn't foul enough, you were sure the tiny clumps of flesh scattered on his hair were just that, flesh. Not to mention the small remnants of the sting's carapace sprinkled on top of everything.

You shake your head and continue, undeterred by the sight in front of you.

Argenti sighs as soon as the warm water hits his head. The heat from the water running down his back like a cozy stream envelops him and alleviates his fatigue as he sinks further into the tub. Holding the shower head with one hand you use the other to carefully work on cleaning up the mess in his hair.

The knight melts into your soft touch, your fingers feel like magic the way they easily untangle his messy hair. The grime and gunk that covered his hair form a bloody river that runs into the drain as they slowly get washed away.

Once you were certain that everything from his hair was cleared out, you move onto the shampoo. Argenti grumbles as you apply a generous amount of the cold gel to his head, clearly disgruntled at the stark contrast in temperate. You disregard his silent complains and start massaging his scalp with both hands, rubbing the foam around his head and adding more shampoo when needed. You swore your bottle felt half as empty by the time you were done.

Rinsing out his hair was a harder task that you thought. Just the sheer volume of it was enough to hold so much soap, you had to spend a considerable amount of time just to wash it all off.

You repeat the whole process just in case, after all, it's hard to tell if there's any blood left when the hair in question is also red…

By the time you're done he's fast asleep and he looks so impossibly cute that way. Just seeing Argenti so visibly relaxed and dozing off made you feel sleepy as well. So you carry him back to the bed and fall asleep next to him <3

(yea I also got lazy at the end lol. it just be like that..)

#honkai star rail #hsr argenti #argenti x reader #x reader #hsr x reader #I've read this like THREE TIMES #genuinely anon wtf #just coming in here and dropping a banger and leaving?!?!! #blood and guts covered Argenti.... #consider me a dead man #ask #anon #I'm gonna be thinking about this for the next few weeks.... #c00kie.writes #hsr

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Hi! So I was just wondering if you could to an angst to fluff one-shot with either James Hetfeild or Duff Mckagan?? (Whichever era and whoever you pick:>. And only if you want to, if not totally fine!)

Basically, just whoever you pick to write for comes home late from the studio on him and readers anniversary and had completely forgotten until he saw reader asleep with dry tears on her face. And the next morning they do everything they can to make up for forgetting their anniversary and ends up succeeding:)

(Hope that makes sense)

A/n: This is quite possibly my favourite angst prompt to exist. When I saw the request I planned to write for both but then I got ever so very carried away with it, I hope that's ok :'3 Also sorry for the shitty ending lol think I could've done better with that one.

Warnings: Angst, I don't know what warnings to add for angst so if you find anything please let me know :'3

Guns N’ Roses had just come back from tour, just in time for yours and Duff’s anniversary. It had been a few days since they got back and he was exhausted, sleeping in late, staying out even later. When the date of your anniversary finally hit you reminded him over and over again up until he left to not be late.

It hurt when he didn’t come home.

You made his favourite meal, got him gifts and put on your favourite outfit to impress him. You expected him home before food was ready but he was nowhere to be found even after you finished setting the table. You decided to do what you could to keep the food warm and wait for him.

11:00 pm rolled around and still no sign of Duff. You told yourself he just lost track of time, you didn’t need to eat together anyway since you ate together every other night as well. You got yourself a plate and ate alone, getting everything else in the fridge for leftovers.

12:00 pm and still no Duff. You decided to just cut your losses and go to bed. You got into something more comfortable for sleep and crawled into bed.

It wasn’t long before you felt tears trickling down your cheeks and you started softly crying into your pillow.

Duff came home much later. He was ready to crash, his body hurt and all he wanted was to crawl into bed with you, but first he needed food so he went to the kitchen and dug around a bit.

In the fridge were his favourite things, all freshly made. Well, freshly made-ish. They’d been in the fridge a while, still good for eating though. He got himself a plate and he could swear that first bite sent him to heaven.

He was eating at the kitchen table and noticed some bags in the corner so he went to investigate. He found a jacket he’d been wanting, shirts and records of his favourite bands, even a new watch he’d seen a while back and mentioned he’d liked. He stared at all of it in confusion, why’d it all suddenly appear? Why was it here?

He thought about it good and hard and finally landed on the reasoning. He forgot your fucking anniversary.

Duff ran into your bedroom to see if you were still awake and of course you weren’t. He kneeled beside you on the floor, pushing your hair out of your eyes to reveal dried tear streaks from puffy, red eyes. “Fuck.” He sighed. He kissed your forehead but you pulled away from his touch. He had to mentally beat himself up after that one.

He saw that the apartment was a bit of a mess and wanted to clean it up but he was just so tired. He made the decision to wait until tomorrow and then he’d get up and do whatever he could to make it up to you.

Duff crawled into bed, tossing and turning a bit. He reached out for you to pull you in so he could hold you but you seemed like you would wake up so he stopped, not wanting to disturb you.

The next morning Duff woke up slowly, groggily rolling over to check the time. The clock on the bedside table read ‘1:34 pm’ and he was filled with panic, suddenly wide awake. He sat up and looked to see your side of the bed empty.

He got out of bed to go look for you. The apartment was suddenly spotless and you were sitting on the couch, peacefully folding laundry while the radio was going. He sat beside you and took the shirt you were folding from you. “Let me do it.”

You stared at him for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do laundry.” You said, watching his chopping folding skills. “Let alone offer to do it.” Duff stared at the shirt in his hands, disappointed in his own skills, or rather lack thereof. “And now I see why.” You reached for the shirt back but he refused, holding it away from you.

“No! No, I-I’ll get it.” He unfolded the shirt so he could try again. You went to grab another piece of clothing to fold but he stopped you. “I can do it just-just go do something else.” You were confused at his sudden behaviour but decided not to question it. You went to the kitchen to clean some dishes instead.

Duff stood up when he heard the water running and went over to you. “What are you doing?” He asked as he took the plate from you.

“The dishes?” You answered, starting to get a little frustrated with what he was doing.

“No, just do something fun.” He said and set the dish down and turned the water off.

“Something fun?” You repeated, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah! Just, like, I don’t know, go read! Watch TV, hell, take my card and go-go shopping, buy whatever you want!” He urged, just wanted to do something for you.

“Something fun?” You repeated, your sadness from the night before and frustration now boiling together. “Something fun I wanted to do was have a nice night with my boyfriend on our fucking anniversary, but I guess we don’t always get what we want, right?” You glared at him for a moment before taking the plate back and starting the water again.

Duff paused and reached for the plate again. “I’m sorry, really, I completely forgot.” He started washing the plate for you and you tried to grab it back.

“Just forget it, alright? It’s fine.” You mumbled and went back to washing it. Duff grabbed it back again.

“Don’t say it’s fine when it’s not.” You grabbed the plate again but Duff didn’t let go. “Let me take care of things today, alright?”

“Duff, I can do things myself.” You stated.

“I know you can because you always do and I’m trying to be nice so please just let me do it!” He pulled on the plate and it slipped out of both your hands, shattering on the floor at your feet. Duff froze, looking between the broken glass and your hurt expression. “I-I’ll clean it up.” Duff said and went to get a broom.

He returned to find you on your knees picking up the little pieces of porcelain. He dropped the broom and rushed over to you, taking your hands away from the broken shards. “What the hell are you doing?! You can’t use your... hands...” He realised what plate it was that broke. A piece of your parents china from their wedding.

Instinctively he went to hold you. “Fuck, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, pushing him away.

“We can fix it, I promise.” He picked up two pieces and tried putting them together like a puzzle.

“Duff, just stop!” You yelled. He put the pieces down and looked at your face, seeing tears starting to leave your eyes again. He knew if he went to hug you you’d push him away again. He just didn’t know what to do.

So, he got up and went back to the living room, leaving you to cry alone in the kitchen while you pick up the pieces. He knew the only reason the plate needed to be cleaned in the first place was because you used it for what was supposed to be a special occasion, your anniversary.

He tried folding the laundry again, he sucked at it but it didn’t have to be good so long as he could get it done and put away. Anything to help you, even in a small way. He listened to your soft sobs from the kitchen, knowing he couldn’t do anything about it.

He brought the clothes to the bedroom and put everything away where he thought it was supposed to go. He turned around and saw the bed wasn’t made so he started on that next. Afterwards he went back to the kitchen, thinking you’d still be picking up the pieces. Instead you were hiding in the corner, knees pulled up to your chest as you cried.

He didn’t care if you tried pushing him away, he’d never seen you so broken, you could have a gun to his head and he’d still try to get to you in this state.

He pulled you onto his lap and held you close, kissing all over your face. “Baby, what’s wrong?” At this point you didn’t have the energy to push away from him so you just accepted it.

“I-I c-can’t fix it.” Your voice was weak and shaky as you spoke. Duff held you tighter to him.

“It’s ok, just gotta give it a minute.” He whispered. “I’ll help you, alright?” You shook your head, which hurt Duff but he wouldn’t tell you that, you didn’t need to hear that right now. “We could bring it to a professional or something.”

“A professional plate fixer?” You asked. Duff wasn’t sure if you were joking or not.

“I mean, I’m sure we could find someone.” He tried wiping your tears and you stood up. Your legs were shaky under you and Duff went to hold onto you “Where’re you going?”

“Bed.” You muttered. “I just- I want to go to bed.”

“Here, let me-” Duff tried to pick you up but you stopped him.

“No, just- stop.” He did as you asked and let you walk away to the bedroom, watching the door closed behind you.

Duff paused for a moment, trying to think of how he could possibly fix this. He started picking up the pieces of the plate and put them in a plastic container before heading on his journey to find someone to fix it.

He looked around for ages, it was getting dark and he was running out of options when he saw a china shop. He figured if they couldn’t fix it they could at least find him a replica or something.

“Hi, sorry, are you still open?” He asked as he entered the shop. Inside was a Japanese man and his daughter.

“We’re about to close.” The daughter said. Duff let out a heavy breath and placed the container on the counter.

“Can you find me a replica of this? Please?” He asked. The man opened the container and looked at the pieces for a moment before shaking his head. He said something in Japanese, of course Duff couldn’t understand so he looked to the daughter for a translation.

“There isn’t a replica but he said he can fix it.” Duff let out a sigh of relief at that.

“Even better, um, how do you do it?” He asked the man to be respectful even though he knew he wouldn’t understand the answer.

“Kintsugi, it’s a Japanese artform to fix pottery and such.” The daughter explains in a simplified way. Duff nods in understanding and thanks them both before heading back to your shared apartment, hoping he did a good thing.

He made one last stop on his way back home to get your favourite snacks from a convenient store. It’s not much but he wanted to do something, he’d bring you shopping tomorrow and get you more.

“I’m back!” He called as he stepped into the apartment. He carried the bag of snacks into the bedroom where he assumed you still were. Sure enough you were there, under the covers. He went to check if you were sleeping since he thought it was a little early for bed.

“Hey, darling, I got you snacks.” He kneeled down beside you, just as he’d done the night before. There was no response. “I’ll just leave them here for you, alright?” He whispered with a sad, tired smile. He stood up and left but not before giving you a kiss on the forehead. “I love you.” He muttered before closing the door behind him.

He made a makeshift bed for himself on the couch, a thin blanket that didn’t reach his feet, it barely reached his knees, and a small, flimsy throw pillow under his head for some form of comfort.

He managed to fall asleep not long after, only to have a dream of you walking out on him. He awoke in a cold sweat and ran into the bedroom to find you still asleep. He thought about crawling in with you before realising that you could just as easily leave if he was there with you than if he wasn’t.

In front of the door was his solution. He brought over his pillow and blanket and got uncomfortable laying there, now if you wanted to leave you’d have to move him.

You woke up and found the bag of snacks he’d gotten for you, all your favourites of course. You got out of bed to find him crashed on the floor. Thinking he’d overdosed or something you ran over to him and started shaking him awake.

“What, what is it?” He grumbled, slowly sitting up.

“Jesus Christ.” You sighed and hugged him. “I thought you fucking died!” Duff paused a moment before processing it and hugging you back.

“No, I’m fine.” He mumbled, moving his face into the crook of your neck. “You would’ve come to me like that if I died?” He asked with a soft chuckle.

“Fucking idiot, of course I would!”

“Even after everything, you still love me..?” He asked in a much softer tone. You pulled away for a moment.

“First of all, me seeing if you were alive had nothing to do with love.” You stated and pulled him back into a hug. “And of course I still love you, but I can love you and be pissed at you at the same time.” He chuckled at that.

“I found a place to fix your plate, by the way.” He said.

“Is that where you went last night?” He nodded and explained the whole thing to you.

“I was thinking we could hang out today, go shopping and get you some late anniversary presents?” He offered, he was taking you whether you wanted to or not but he wanted it to seem like it was your decision. You nodded and went to get ready.

#guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses angst #gnr fanfiction #gnr #gn reader #duff gnr #gnr x reader #gnr fic #duff mckagan fanfic #duff mckagan x reader #duff mckagan #duff mckagan gnr

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 4/34 - phone battery

[Read on AO3]

After a bit of a drought of decent cases, their latest, honest to goodness X-File was a welcome distraction. It hadn’t taken too long to wrap up either, which was a double win for Scully, who could only handle so many nights in a dilapidated motel room in a row. With the case now solved, more or less, all that remained for the morning was a bit of paperwork and a drive to the nearest airport to get back home.

“Your mom called me last night,” Mulder says, sitting in the driver’s seat of their rental car.

“Last night?” Scully asks, furrowing her brows. “What for?”

“It was when we got back to the motel, after your phone battery went dead. I told her to give it a few minutes and try again, give you a chance to get it charged.”

Scully doesn’t respond immediately, and when Mulder turns to look at her, he sees a puzzled look on her face, a crease forming between her brows.

“She didn’t call you?” he asks, matching her expression and turning his attention back to the road.

“No,” Scully answers, concern marring her features. “What did she say?”

“I think she was going to ask you something about Christmas, figuring out plans or something,” he says. “I did mention we were on a case, maybe she decided she’ll just call when you get back and aren’t busy.”

“Probably,” Scully says, then sits back in the passenger seat and gazes out the window at the passing scenery.

He steals another glance at her, thinking about the heavy weight that hung over his brief conversation with his future mother-in-law on the phone the night before. It really had been a short talk, with her asking if he knew where Scully (rather, Dana) was, and then how he’s been doing since his unwitting brain surgery. 

He made polite conversation, of course, but keeping such a gigantic secret from a woman like Margaret Scully has a way of making one feel guilty for things they aren’t even guilty of. If the call had gone on much longer, he fears he would have started confessing like a Catholic over the phone, and he couldn’t have that.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “You think we should tell her about us?” then quickly corrects, “I mean– the adoption, eloping…”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Not yet,” she answers.

He shoots her another glance—only for a moment—but to be honest, that wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. 

“I know you said you don’t want a big wedding or anything, but if you want to tell her, you can. I doubt she’d give you any real trouble for it,” he reasons, having a hard time believing Mrs. Scully would be anything but supportive once everything has been explained to her.

“It’s not that. I just—” she struggles to explain. “With Emily, it was so stressful and confusing for her. I don’t want to put her through more of that unless…”

Ah.

He reaches over and places his hand on top of hers, which rests on her knee.

“Unless you’re absolutely sure this is going to work out,” he finishes, and she nods, grateful she doesn’t have to conjure the words herself.

“There are so many variables at play here, Mulder. Any one of them could go wrong,” she says. He knows she’s mentally making a list, calculating how likely each factor is to throw a wrench in their plans. She’d be here a while if she wanted to plan for every possibility, but that won’t stop her from trying, he knows.

He squeezes her hand once. “I hope you know that whatever happens, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going anywhere.”

That earns a small smile, and she looks down at her lap in that way that she thinks hides her blush from him. Thankfully, it does no such thing. 

“No, the Mulder variable is one that I have on good authority is fairly constant,” she says, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Oh? And are those findings available in a peer-reviewed journal article, Dr. Scully?” he teases back. “If you don’t cite your sources, I’m afraid your claims may be dismissed as unsubstantiated by the wider scientific community.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” she says, “I’m still working on gathering all my evidence. Research takes time, you know.”

“Maybe run some more tests,” he suggests.

She reaches out, running a hand through his hair, gently brushing over the place where his head had been drilled into.

“I’ll try to keep it less invasive than your previous experiences,” she teases, a small smile pulling at her lips. 

He breathes out a laugh, forcing his focus back on the road instead of on the feeling of her nimble fingers tousling his hair.

-.-.-

Their discussion picks up again on the plane, perhaps serving as a distraction for his partner who isn’t all that fond of flying.

“You agree with me, don’t you?” she asks.

He gives her a look, his best impression of the Skeptical Scully Brow.

“Is that a blanket statement? Because in general, no, I think that would be factually incorrect, Scully, that’s kind of our whole thing.”

“I mean,” she says, rolling her eyes, “that we should wait to tell people. At least my family.”

He turns toward her. That she’s bringing this up again shows that it’s something she’s really worried about. If it’s reassurance she needs, he’s happy to give it to her.

“Sure, Scully. You know them best.” Really it isn’t his place to decide this, but if she’s asking, maybe she wants it to be. They will, in a way, be his family too if all this works out.

She takes a deep breath, her usual flying anxiety momentarily forgotten in favor of whatever new kind of anxiety this was. “I just mean– If we even get approved, and if we get matched with someone… there’s always a chance the birth mother changes her mind at the last minute,” she says, talking through the scenario aloud. “This will be hard enough with just you and I to worry about. I don’t want to have to think about protecting my mother from heartbreak on top of everything else.”

He has to suppress a sigh on hearing her pessimistic view of what he’s hoping will be a very joyous process. But then again, this is what he loves about her. She’s the yin to his yang. The day to his night. Together, they cover all their bases, leaving no stone unturned in their search for the truth. Why should this be any different? He won’t get very far on nothing but blind hope. She’s here to ensure they are prepared for everything, come what may. Unfortunately, that means her taking on an extra burden of worry, one he hopes he might help alleviate.

“We can wait to tell them,” he vows, hoping that will put a stop to her spiraling. “I’m with you on this, don’t forget. We’re a team.”

She leans back, her head resting against the back of her seat, a sign he knows means she’s relaxing a little.

Success.

Still, the idea of telling no one at all feels dangerous. They need to have someone in their corner besides each other, for a whole slew of reasons. Character witness, taking time off work, filing necessary paperwork so that everything looks totally above board when they make it official… Really, there’s only one person he feels they have to tell, and that’s—

“What about Skinner?”

She turns her head to look at him, confusion playing on her face. “What about him?”

“I think we should tell him. Sooner than later.”

Maybe he should have planned out his pitch a little better. He can tell she’s not immediately drawn to the idea. He should have made up a list of reasons why it is a good plan, not just blurted out his half-formed thought before it was ready.

“But Mulder, what if they split us up?”

He turns in his seat, his attention intensifying. “That’s why we only tell Skinner. Ask him to keep it quiet in case things don’t work out.” She’s gonna need more than that. Think! Tap into those persuasive skills! "But, Scully, there’s going to be times we might have to take an afternoon off for a meeting or something. It will be easier if he knows.”

His focused gaze implores her to consider it. 

“I won’t let him split us up. It won’t happen.”

He can’t promise that, she knows, but they know Skinner well enough by now, don’t they? Sure, there may have been times when their trust in him wasn’t so strong, but it has been years now. Surely he would keep this to himself if they asked, right?

“Okay. You’re right…” she says tentatively, turning over his proposition in her head. “Just Skinner. No one else?”

His pinkie finger finds its way to hers and nudges it playfully. When she looks up at him, he smiles.

“Just you, me, and our big, bald boss makes three.”

~~~

SURPRISE - that was a short chapter, so here's another to make up for it

Chapter 5/34 - rulebook

“Hold on, go back to the IVF,” the follically challenged Assistant Director says, his hands tented in front of him. His brows furrow in concentration, and he breathes deeply through his nose, looking up at the two agents across the desk from him. “In vitro fertilization, right? So you’re saying—”

“Agent Mulder and I attempted to conceive a child through scientific means last year, yes.”

Scully’s answer is straightforward, perhaps hoping it will be like ripping off a band-aid. Judging by his stoic reaction, his pursed lips, the vein popping out of his forehead… her nonchalance does not really soften the blow.

His gruff voice returns after a moment of staring at them, his expression unreadable. “Right. Okay. Just wanted to make sure I was understanding.”

“It was unsuccessful,” Scully offers, continuing. “The ova that were fertilized unfortunately were not viable, probably due to the inconsistent storage conditions in which Mulder found them.”

“Yes, that– that’s where you lost me. The part about your abduction and then the cancer…” He sets a hand on top of one of the files Mulder had brought him, as if any of the words in that folder made a lick of sense to him.

“Believe me, sir, it’s just about as confusing to us as it is to you,” Mulder says.

Skinner clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Well, I’m very sorry about what happened to you, Agent Scully. I suppose that also explains the existence of… well…”

Emily. A story he never had fully explained.

“Yes, Emily was somehow part of all this. She was an experiment, never meant for me to find.”

Skinner balls his hand into a fist, tamping down the rage he feels bubbling up inside. “These men need to pay. What they’ve done to you– to you both… ”

“With all due respect, sir,” Mulder breaks in, “we’re not here to talk about revenge. We’re just trying to move forward.”

That’s… a surprisingly healthy outlook, coming from Mulder. What had Scully done to him? Whatever it was, the man owed her a heckuva lot more than whatever her last birthday and Christmas gifts had been. 

“Of course, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “So, what is it that you were asking for?”

The two basement-dwelling agents glance at each other, words being passed unspoken between them. It’s unnerving, the way they do that. Downright spooky.

Evidently, they come to the decision that it’s Mulder who should say the next part.

“Well, since we’re looking into adoption, sir, we thought it might be easier if we got married.”

Silence fills the room, an inadvertent staredown commencing between all parties.

“Married.”

Mulder nods. “That’s right.”

Scully is sitting bolt upright in her chair, a picture of professionalism on the surface, but in conjunction with the topic of discussion, it feels distinctly forced. Mulder, on the other hand, is bouncing his knee so severely that it’s a wonder he hasn’t worn a hole in the carpet below him yet.

“We just don’t want there to be any issues here on the bureaucratic side of things, if at all possible,” Mulder adds. “In fact, we’d prefer to keep this quiet, at least until we know if this will work.”

Skinner presses his lips together, shifting his gaze between them once again. 

“Well, your personal relationship will have to be disclosed to HR at some point. I can pull some strings—”

“Sir—”

“Although it would have been good to know a little earlier on. Say, around the time you were making some pretty serious medical decisions that may have affected your ability to do your jobs…”

“Sir, I—”

Mulder’s attempts to interrupt go unnoticed. 

“You know, I have to commend you. You’ve really kept up appearances around here. I had my suspicions, of course, but you continued on like normal, I almost wouldn’t have guessed—”

“Sir, we’re not actually… together.” Finally, Mulder is able to get the words out, leaving an awkward hush in their wake.

Skinner leans forward, turning his ear toward the younger man as if he hadn’t heard him the first time. “What do you mean?”

A pink tinge blooms on Mulder’s cheeks. “We’re not– Sir, this marriage is a formality, to make the application process easier and hopefully give us better chances of getting approved.”

“A formality,” Skinner repeats.

“Yes. We– We’re just trying to do whatever’s best to improve the odds that this works out.”

One of these days he’s just going to disappear to Cancún. Seriously, he’ll do it. This can’t be good for his health. He suppresses a groan, storing up a massive eye roll for whenever these two idiots leave the room. Only they could think up something like getting married and adopting a child platonically . Not to mention everything else they’d evidently been doing when left to their own devices.

“Right. That’s– Okay, sure. So then, the IVF…”

Scully pipes up. “I asked Mulder, and he agreed to help me.”

“As a friend?” He feels like this bears clarification.

“Is there something against that in the rulebook?” Mulder asks challengingly.

The look he gives them in return is withering. “I don’t think there’s a rulebook for all the insane stuff you two get up to, but I might have to make one, after this.” The two of them have the decency to look chastised at this, though he knows from experience it will do no good in the long run. “You know this is not normal, right?”

“Come on, Skinner, when have I ever been referred to as normal?” Mulder laughs.

“ You , I might expect this from,” he says, pointing a finger in his direction. “It’s Agent Scully that surprises me. You’ve really done a number on her, haven’t you?”

He takes a little solace in the fact that all this IVF business happened under Kersh’s watch, not his own. Imagine if it had worked…

“Will you help us or not, sir?” Scully asks, impatience beginning to make her uneasy in her seat.

He waves a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah. I thought this day might come at some point, but… definitely not like this.” His mind is wandering already, thinking back to any signs he might have missed, things that may have gone wrong in his career to lead him to this exact moment. “You have my blessing, or whatever it is you came to get from me. You need anything, just ask.”

Scully lets out a sigh, and her shoulders visibly relax.

Mulder moves to stand without another moment’s hesitation, bouncing up with far more energy than a man of his age should have. “Thank you, sir. I promise, this is the last time we ask you to cover for us.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Agent Mulder,” Skinner warns, though his words contain no malice. If anything, he’s resigned.

As much as these two make him tear his hair out (what little he has left), he holds a certain fondness for them that is undeniable. 

“And, hey– I’m happy for you. Seriously. The things I’ve seen you go through over the years, everything you’ve lost… You deserve this. Even if I don’t understand it.”

Mulder holds out a hand for him to shake. “Skinner. Thank you. Really.”

He nods. “Good luck with everything. And if you need any advice on adoption, my ex-wife’s sister has gone through it before. I can get you in touch, if you want.”

“We’d really appreciate that.”

They’re gone before he knows it, heads bent toward each other in secretive conversation before they’re even out of sight. 

Skinner lets out the eye roll from earlier, leaning back in his desk chair in exhaustion.

They’d figure it out sooner or later, of that he is certain. It’s just taking a little longer than he expected, that’s all.

-.-.-

"I want to get married Christmas Eve."

The proposition comes out of nowhere on a Thursday afternoon, and Mulder nearly spills his coffee mug all over his desk instead of setting it down gently like he was trying to do.

"Next week?" he sputters, the burning liquid nearly going down the wrong pipe.

She purses her lips. "...That's when Christmas is, yeah Mulder."

"I knew there was a reason that guy on the street corner with the bell was dressed as Santa Claus," he jokes, wiping a few splattered droplets of coffee from his tie.

"Mulder..."

"Okay, okay,” he says, dropping the jokester act. “But don't you want to spend the day with your family?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Maybe.” Her eyes are locked on the desk in front of her, pointedly avoiding his concerned look. “I'll go for a little while, but they don't... understand me like they used to. Maybe it's just me, but when I'm with them for too long, I get this sense that they're... afraid of me. Or somehow uncomfortable around me. Ever since Emily..."

He stops her. "That's their problem, Scully. I'm sure they don't mean it."

"I know, it's just... hard."

He bites down on his bottom lip to hold back the slew of words he'd like to say to Bill Scully, Jr. He knows that's not what Scully needs right now, as much as it would make him feel better to have a go at him.

"Is that why you went ghostbusting with me last Christmas?" he asks, his heart softening at the thought. 

"I don't know, maybe a little,” she shrugs. “It helped get my mind off things." She looks embarrassed to admit such a thing, but it only serves to make his heart twist in his chest. 

"Well, too bad we don't have more time to plan. Could have had a Christmas Eve wedding in a haunted house," he deadpans.

This succeeds in getting her to look at him, and she emits a nervous giggle he doesn't often hear. "Absolutely not.”

He grins, leaning back in his chair and twirling a pencil between his fingers. "Come on, don't you think Maurice and Lyda would like to know we’re getting married? I'm sure they'd have a field day with all our issues from the past year."

"Stop it, that didn't really happen."

"Well even if it didn't, I found it enlightening."

"Good for you. No, the courthouse will be fine."

They fall silent, the jovial atmosphere settling.

"And you don't want to invite your family?” he asks, clarifying. "Since they'll be in town?"

She shakes her head. "No, I think it should be just us."

Just us. He likes the sound of that. But still, one problem remains—

"Alright, so let me get this straight... you want to get married—to me—the one day a year your brother is in town? Are you trying to get me killed?"

Her lips quirk up at the corners. "He won't find out, Mulder."

"You like the danger of it, don't you?” he teases, leaning toward her. “You're a rebel at heart. I knew it. Probably snuck out every night in high school to run around with Johnny from the football team."

She stares at him unwaveringly, not dignifying him with a response. "Is it a yes or a no?" she asks, arms crossed in front of her.

He sobers, meeting her eyes with startling honesty. "I'll marry you any day of the year, Scully,” he says, and it's the truth. It has been the truth for years now. “Just remind me to wear a cup in case he figures it out."

"You're ridiculous."

-.-.-

The next week passes in a blur. Arrangements are made, paperwork acquired, work winds down for the holidays, and for once, Mulder isn't bored out of his mind this time of year.

"I was thinking… for tomorrow..." her voice crackles over the phone.

"Not having second thoughts, are you?" Mulder asks, his tone light and teasing despite the tinge of genuine concern he tamps down.

"No, of course not,” she assures him. “I was thinking, I'll need an excuse to leave Christmas at my mom's."

"No problem,” he says with a shrug. “I'll give you a call and make up some case we have to work."

He hears her sigh and gets the distinct impression that his suggestion was somehow wrong. "I can't ask you to do that,” she says. “They already blame you for last year."

"Gee, that's reassuring,” he chuckles, leaning back on his leather sofa. He adjusts the phone cradle on his chest, stretching the power cord to its limits.

"Not all of them, but, you know—"

"Bill."

"Yeah."

He waits for a second, but when she offers no further thoughts, he asks, "Then what do you suggest?"

She waits a moment more before responding. 

"Before you say anything, just listen to what I have to say…”

Oh boy.

"Why does that not give me a good feeling?" he muses aloud, his fingers twirling and tangling with the cord on the phone.

"The only way for you to be in the clear is if you're... with me, when we get called away."

"Scully—"

"We can just leave straight from her house, it's closer anyway."

"All excellent points, except for one thing..."

"Skinner can call us in."

Silence. He wants to argue but he can't.

"He already knows what's happening, I'm sure he'd be happy to help us," she reasons.

"I'm not gonna be able to talk myself out of this, am I?" he asks, a wry smile on his face. He's all out of excuses. 

"Mulder, if this works out... Well, there's a chance that by this time next year, we'll be a... family... of some sort, anyway. You might have to get used to it."

The word family sends a thrill right through him. He never thought he'd have one of those again. Never in a million years.

"You're right,” he says regretfully, running a hand over his face. “And it's not that I don't like your family, Scully, it's just I'm not sure they like me back."

"My mom loves you,” she says decisively. “And we'll only be there a few hours anyway. The courthouse closes early for the holiday."

He closes his eyes. He can't believe he's about to agree to this.

"Alright, I'll go. Just so you can get your thrill in doing something wildly irresponsible and rebellious right under your mother's nose."

She protests, "That's not why I—"

"I know you, Scully,” he teases. “You're not as strait-laced as you like to pretend."

After they hang up, Mulder stares up at the ceiling, lost in thought. His stomach flutters with nerves, unrelated to his worries about crashing a family gathering in the morning.

‘I am getting married tomorrow,’ he thinks. To Dana Scully.

It's a Christmas miracle.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

The Pull Of You - Part 1

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes

Soulmates - Feeling the pull between each other indicates a bond. A kiss confirms it.

Summary: You meet Steve and Bucky on a Tuesday. Steve ignores the soulmate pull, Bucky can't. There's something about you that neither can shake, even when you're wearing one of Clint's t-shirts and your unicorn slippers. After weeks of slipping into your bed Bucky decides he can't hold back anymore. He's telling you after the mission, whether Steve is all in or not. When you don't come back from the mission, they are both ready to burn the world down and the team have the matches to help. But is everything as it seems and have they been betrayed by someone on the inside.

Chapter Summary: You hate it when people make you get your head out your ass and realise what's right in front of you. Especially when it's involving a certain two super soldiers.

You're antsy on the way home. That's what Clint calls it anyway. He's eyeing you as you flip a knife between your fingers and it doesn't take him long to notice it's Bucky's knife. One given to him during his time in Wakanda. He's pulled away as Nat, his own soulmate calls him to the back of the jet, a worried look on her face. He goes to speak but Nat puts her fingers to her lips and signs instead.

"Did she say anything?"

Nat and Clint had dropped you in France to assist French intelligence with a high level threat that involved Chitauri weapons being smuggled through the Paris tunnels. The S.H.I.E.L.D agents had clashed with the French authorities so Hill had asked you to step in, smooth things over and take the lead. Nat and Clint had picked you back up as they passed by from their own mission in Spain. You'd been your usual self when they'd left you but you were definitely not yourself when they picked you back up.

Clint shook his head in response to her question, he paused for a moment and signed back.

"Maybe something happened."

"I already checked the first reports coming in and her body cam, I'm not seeing any issues, apart from Agent 17 being an asshole."

"Well, that's nothing she can't handle."

"Is it me? Am I being too overprotective? Is she still mad at me?"

"No, my love." he signed back, "maybe she's thought about what you said."

Nat lowered her eyes, still disappointed in herself at how she'd lost her cool when you'd try to avoid the conversation about Steve and Bucky, and speaking to them about your feelings a week earlier. She'd slipped into bed with you in the early hours of the morning following your heated conversation an apology on her lips.

A muffled "Fuck off Romanoff" had come from the lips buried in your hair. Bucky. You couldn't look her in the eye as he pulled you back towards his chest, his metal arm around your waist. You didn't look up until his soft snores were heard, expecting her usual smug expression, but you were met with a sympathetic one and the lump in your throat that you'd been fighting since that morning was back and tears ran down your face. She stroked your cheek and kissed your forehead, holding you as much as she good without disturbing Bucky. It took a while for you to stop and when you did she realised it was because you'd cried yourself to sleep.

Your door opening brought another guest and she'd half expected one or both of her soulmates to peek round the door, but it wasn't Bruce or Clint. It was in fact a 6ft 6" blonde super soldier. Well he definitely wasn't one of hers. She couldn't hold it in this time and smirked as she slipped from the bed.

"Don't say it." Steve whispered.

"I don't know what you mean Rogers, I wasn't going to say a damn thing."

"Liar."

"It was Castle wasn't it, he got under your skin."

"Goodnight you damn know it all."

Nat quietly left the room as Steve took the vacant spot in your bed.

Back on the jet Nat and Clint watched as you huffed and placed the knife back into the sheath built into your suit. You pulled out a tablet from the charge point on the wall of the jet and started to type furiously.

Maybe something had happened on the mission.

TAGLIST

@imdoingbetternow

#steve rogers x reader #avengers au #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #avengers #steve x reader x bucky #soulmate au #avengers soulmate au #steve rogers x reader x bucky

[blazingstar400]

Incorrect Scarlet and Violet Quotes Part 4

Even after all the quotes I wrote I still have so much more.

Kieran: When I woke up this morning, I meditated, did 50 pushups, drank green tea, and went for a 30 minute walk.

Juliana:

Juliana: When I woke up this morning, I spent a whole hour just waking up—

Drayton: Hey, what's up?

Kieran: I've been having heart pains lately.

Drayton: Seriously! When did this start?

Kieran: The pain started since Juli—

Drayton: No, not the pain, the part about you having a heart. Forgot you had one.

Kieran, who is so done with everything: Is it rude to kill yourself in the middle of class?

Nemona: You need to raise your hand and ask first.

Florian: You might need a hall pass for that.

Penny: You should've killed yourself in between classes. If I let you kill yourself now, everyone will want to kill themselves.

Juliana: How about we just don’t kill ourselves at all???

Carmine: Drayton sneezed earlier and I accidentally said ‘shut up’ instead of ‘bless you’.

Juliana: How do you accidentally say ‘shut up’ instead of ‘bless you’?

Florian: I can't believe Unovans don't call car parks, car parks.

Juliana: Is that where you bring your car on weekends so it can play with other cars or something?

Kieran: No, you idiot! It's where you park your freaking car!

Arven: Almost like an area of land, a lot if you will, for parking cars. A parking lot.

Penny: ...I keep imagining little Hondas on swing sets.

Florian: ....It makes me sad to think when I die, there's going to be thousands of books with stories I'm not able to read because I died…

Nemona: WHAT ABOUT TV SHOWS—

Penny: AND ALL THE FANDOMS YOU CAN'T BECOME A PART OF—

Kieran: And the people you won't get to see die.

Kieran: You're the strongest person I know.

Juliana: ....I believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.

Kieran: Don't get me wrong, you're still really annoying.

Kieran, writing: Dear Diary, how are you? I'm doing fine.

Kieran:

Kieran: Okay, you got me. I'm not fine. Geez, you're good…

Juliana: Are you still mad at me?

Kieran: Twinkle Twinkle little star.

Juliana, confused but sings along: How I wonder what you are?

Kieran: Wish I could hit you with a car.

Juliana: Okay, you're still mad.

Arven, holding a video camera: Penny, I want you to play the role of my mother.

Penny: I don’t want to be your mother.

Arven: Perfect you already know your lines.

Carmine: How long did you sleep?

Kieran: Eight.

Carmine: Hours?

Kieran: Minutes.

Nemona: I’ve been expecting you, Juliana.

Juliana: How did you do that without turning around?

Nemona: Let’s just say the first few people I did that to were not you.

Juliana: Can I go ride my bike outside?

Rika: Do what you want. I’m not your mom.

Rika: *rushes after her a few moments later*

Rika: NOT IN THE FREEWAY—!

#pokemon #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #pokemon kieran #trainer kieran #rival kieran #champion kieran #pokemon carmine #rival carmine #trainer carmine #pokemon nemona #trainer nemona #rival nemona #pokemon penny #trainer penny #rival penny #pokemon arven #trainer arven #rival arven #pokemon juliana #trainer juliana #pokemon florian #trainer florian #pokemon rika #elite four member rika #elite four rika #pokemon drayton #elite four member drayton

[kynimdraws]

Fellas is it gay to travel together to a dude's homeland

Yone design ref for this verse can be seen in detail here

To see the story drabbles check this tag, or if you want general Yosante Runeterra works go to this tag!

Again story rambles under the cut lol

Their travel from Navori to Bel'zhun was uneventful, the worst thing being Yone's initial seasickness at the start of the trip. Despite that Yone was quite thrilled to see the world outside of Ionia. He often wondered if this was what his brother had seen years before their last encounter. It waa also nice that K'sante recalled a few of the things he had seen in these stops (a day in Bilgewater, three days in Piltover/Zaun), so it was not a wild whirlwind of him getting lost or stranded in strange lands.

The other man grounded him, made him feel...safe. The feeling reminded Yone of how he felt at home back in his more innocent childhood days, just a little.

As they finally reached Bel'zhun, K'sante eagerly brought Yone up on deck so both could see the Shurima harbor city coming closer and closer. Unlike the elegantly branching city of Navori (Ionia being famed for melding with their arboreal environment), Bel'zhun had a different kind of structural beauty carved from the harsh wind and sand.

"We still got a long ways to go before reaching Nazumah, but welcome to my homeland!"

Yone smiled. The morning heat was overwhelming and the lack of spiritual energy, a presence taken for granted in Ionia, was very different but not unwelcome. This was the lands that shaped K'sante, and he did join him because he wanted to know more.

In Bel'zhun, they take a few days to prepare for travel. K'sante even takes Yone to a bazaar where he sees a Nazumah cloth merchant selling their wares. There he buys Yone a travel cloak as a gift. Yone immediately wears it, feeling less out-of-place in his Ionian garb. He noted that the cloak's weight was heavy enough so it would not be blown too easily away by the strong desert wind and gave him decent protection from the sun. It was also...much thicker than what he expected for desert wear. Werent they supposed to be lighter to be cooler? In fact, K'sante kept wearing his thick gear even in the heat...

"Wouldn't your clothes be a hindrance while we travel out through the desert?"

K'sante laughs.

"Daylight is ideal for short hunts and trips. Longwr travel is done when the sun is low. Trust me, the desert isn't all heat."

Yone inwardly chastises himself for assuming, and nods.

After their prep, the two set off to the southwest with several other travelers going in and out through Bel'zhun for various businesses. And just as K'sante said, the desert certainly was much colder at night...and the cloak was perfect in keeping Yone warm. By day they would take shelter in the shade produced by the ruins or crags of rock that stuck out in the dunes. All were apparently remains of ancient wars and civilizations, according to K'sante.

It was hard work trekking the desert. For Yone, the best part of traveling was around dawn, when the sun would rise and they would settle for the day. No matter how tired the two were, K'sante would talk about some folk tale or a story he had related to the area they were at. He was very expressive during these moments, pointing out to the skies, the landmarks, or just making gestures to emphasize his narration. Regardless of what he did, Yone would listen, and quietly place his hand over the other man's own whenever K'sante used it to bring Yone closer to him. This often happened when his storytelling got intense. Initially K'sante would apologize about it, but over time the two didn't even bring it up.

After all, they felt like they belonged, being together like this under the vast sky as life went on around them.

#k'sante #yone #yosante #hunter and the mask verse #Hunter and the Mask verse story #kyleeart #league of legends #k'yone

[azucarmorena97]

Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.10)

Pt.9

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

Recap: The panic attack that could not come to fruition this morning has now returned with a vengeance, and you are doubled over, sturggling for oxygen.

Cuts. Cuts everywhere. All over the skirt of the dress. Deep, angry slashes.

- Knock. Knock. Knock.

You're snapped out of your thoughts, head lifting up and looking toward the door, "Come in," You say, your wavering voice just loud enough to be heard from the other side. The door opens slowly, and you expect to see B/f/n or maybe your mom, but instead, Jungkook walks in, his expression soft and solemn as he closes the door behind him.

"Hey, Y/n."

His voice brings your tears to a halt, your bottom jaw hanging slightly. There he is. In the flesh.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know you weren't dressed," He lowers his gaze and brings his hands together, "I overheard B/f/n telling our moms about the dress and I...I wanted to come see if you were okay."

You dont even know how to respond...are you okay? No. You're really freaking not okay.

"You don't have to worry about me- I'm okay," You lie. Though this time, you're not lying to be petty or to prove a point- you genuinely don't want to be a burden on him. Not today.

"Y/n..." The way he says your name makes your heart ache. He sees the way your tear-stained face never leaves the floor to meet his eyes. He sees how in pain you are...how in pain you've been. Without another word, he walks over to you and right when he comes only a foot away from you, he brings his hand to your chin, "Look at me."

Your eyes water again, finding warmth in his beautiful, dark brown eyes.

"I've missed you so much..." His voice is so gentle, melting you down to your core until you begin sobbing again. Desperate, weary sobs- like you've been walking through a desert holding a heavy pack and you've only just tossed it off of your back.

He brings your arms up so you're hugging his waist and lets you cry into his stomach, his hand stroking your hair softly.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come see you sooner. I was...a coward. I was afraid you'd be mad at me so I just avoided you. I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay...I was avoiding you too..." You say, pulling your face away and looking up at him.

He stares down at you for a moment, admiring the fact that, even after crying you're makeup into black streaks under each eye and managing to have smeared your lipstick, you are still so beautiful.

But he doesn't say that; instead, he leans forward and presses his forehead into yours, "I want you to listen to me, okay?" "Mhm."

"Dress or no dress, we're getting married today. This is not about our parents, not about the company, not about anything but you and me. We are partners in this. So i want you to clean off your face, get yourself dressed," He glances down at your exposed cleavage, swallowing hard, "And I'm gonna send the makeup team back in here. They're right next door doing touch ups on some of the girls."

"Okay..." You let out a deep breath.

"I'm gonna see you out there, okay? No running away. We're in this together."

You nod, closing your eyes, "I'll be there."

"You better be."

For a moment, you think he might kiss you goodbye- and he does think about it- but instead, he lightly pinches your cheek and pulls away, walking out of the room and closing the door behind himself.

Maybe there's still hope yet...

You hear the rumble of voices as the ballroom fills up. You got your makeup redone only minutes ago and now you pace back and forth in the suite, checking your Applewatch every so often to make sure you don't have any missed notifications from B/f/n or your mom. "Where is she...?"

Just as you begin to grumble, the door swings open, B/f/n carryinga garment bag and your mom running over to you. "I'm sorry we're late, honey. It took a lot of calls and pulling strings for us to get you this one but it'll be just as good as the other gown- better even." "Okay, let's just get it on me."

You struggle undress quickly and then step into the gown, B/f/n and your mom pulling it up and then lacing you in. Once it's snug against your body, you walk over to the mirror. Seeing yourself completely ready is so surreal. You can hardly believe it's you in the mirror...or that the moment's finally come. The moment you've waited for for so long...

"Wait, you're missing something," Your mom says, coming up behind you. You turn and look down at her hands. "Mom..." You gasp, your heart fluttering at the sight of her wedding veil; the one you'd always begged and begged her to let you play dress up with (though, of course, she never let you). "It's yours now, my love." You lean down a bit and let her place it atop your head, the sheer fabric covering your face in a most elegant way. There...now youu're ready.

"You look so beautiful," Your mom whispers, her eyes threateing to spills over with tears. "Mom, we both just got our makeup retouched, we cannot keep crying," You say, holding back more tears- though these are very much happy tears. "Oh, I know, I know," She says, fanning her eyes, "I'm just so happy for you, my love. Your dad and I are so...so proud of you." Her words catch you by surprise; you know your parents love you and you do assume they're proud of you, but you're all always so preoccupied and busy that you rarely take the time to really express it to each other. It's nice...

"I love you, mom," You say, pressing your forehead against hers, much like Jungjkook had done to you earlier. "Y/n, it's time," B/f/n says, checking her watch and smiling at you.

"Okay, my love. Let's boogie," Your mom says, causing you to laugh.

Of course, the laugh is short-lived, as your humor is quickly replaced with raging butterflies, all darting violently in your stomach.

You stand with your eyes fixed on the ground, trying to keep your heart steady as couple by couple, the bridesmaids and groomsmen walk through the big double doors and into the main part of the ballroom. "Get ready, beautiful," B/f/n whispers to you before it's her turn to walk out by herself. You take a deep breath and clutch onto your dad. "I might pass out," You mumble. "If the bride can't pass out at her own wedding, who can?" He says jokingly, trying to put you at ease. Suddenly, you hear it- the wedding march. This is it. No turning back now. As the doors begin to open, revealing just a sliver of the other side, you get that same feeling as when you're at a roller coaster's peak; when you can do nothing but wait for it to drag you down to its depths.

But when they finally open fully, you see that, all the way at the end of the aisle, Jungkook is waiting for you.

And then the feeling changes...it's the same feeling you got at the bridal shop the other day. When you'd seen the dress ruined earlier, you were devastated because you thought that that dress was singlehandedly responsible for this beautiful feeling; yet here you are, standing at the entryway to the rest of your life, your heart bursting at the seams with anxiety to finally get to him. It was him all along.

"Ready?" Your dad whispers. You look up at him and nod, "Ready."

You take the first step, then the next, then the next. Each move bringing you closer and closer. You can see that the ballroom is decorated beautifully, thanks to your mothers and B/f/n's input. People are smiling and clapping, some take pictures, and others whisper to each other. But all you can do is look at Jungkook. His eyes are watery, jaw clenching tightly to keep himself from crying...God, it feels good to know he's as nervous and excited as you. Contract, merger, and Lisa be damned- You want to marry this man.

You stand at the end of the aisle with your dad, who is looking straight ahead at the priest, trying not to cry himself.

"Who gives this woman to this man today?" Asks the priest. Tearfully, your dad nods, "I do."

Jungkook walks forward and he and your dad lock eyes, a secret, wordless understanding between the pair of them as they hug, and then your dad is grabbing your hand and passing it into Jungkook's.

You're crying again, of course, but you try to contain it as much as possible as you've already ruined your makeup once today.

Jungkook looks at you, his eyes indescribably soft toward you. You. His bride.

His.

He leads you forward so that you're a at the bottom of the platform steps, the priest standing at the top behind a podium.

The priest begins his speech, a string of words you can't even comprehend right now- all you understand, all you know, is that you can't wait to kiss him.

"I, Jungkook...take you...Y/n M/N L/n...to be my wife, to have and to hold...from this day forward... for better, for worse...for richer, for poorer... in sickness and in health... Until death do us part."

Now, a gentle stream of tears falls on his cheeks and he chuckles at himself.

"I, Y/n M/n L/n..take you...Jeon Jungkook...to by my husband, to have and to hold...from this day forward... for better, for worse...for richer, for poorer... in sickness and in health... Until death do us part."

"Will the ring bearer please present the rings for us?" Namjoon steps forward, his dimples accentuating his handsome smile, a pillow in his hand with the two little rings.

You each grab your rings and then look at each other. The moment is coming for you to finally speak.

"Now each of you, take your ring in your hand. Jungkook, say 'With this ring, I thee wed.'"

"With this ring, I thee wed." Jungkook smiles ear to ear, sliding the ring easily onto your finger.

"Y/n, grab Jungkook's hand and say, 'With this ring, I thee wed."

"With this ring, I thee wed," You echo, matching his smile.

"With that said, I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs.Jeon. You may now kiss the bride!"

Suddenly, it's as though the world was set to slow motion; Frame by frame, you watch as Jungkook lifts your veil, the last barrier between you and destiny.

He wraps his arm around your waist and brings you closer to him until your faces are centimeters apart, "To the ride," He whispers, drawing back to the night where you both shared a toast at the bar. "To the ride."

His lips collide with yours and eventually, you don't know where you end and he begins- as now, and forevermore, you are but one flesh.

A/N: Sorry this was a short one but I couldn't wait! I really wanted to give you guys a little something as I'm seeing a lot of you guys are really loving the series. Hope you all enjoy <3

Tag List: @ttanniett

#bts #jungkook #jin #namjoon #suga #bts imagine #jimin #bangtan sonyeondan #angst #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #kookie #bts imagines #bts x you #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts au

[hotmessmaxpress]

Today during the podium celebrations with the VR46 team I thought "damn it must be hard for Luca to see that from P17 and a different team" and then I thought "they should have sex about it".

So here's some Bezz/Luca

🏍️

Luca knew that the transition with Honda would be a challenge. He wasn’t stupid; Vale may hate him, but Marc Marquez is one of the best riders in the history of the sport. If he couldn’t tame the bike, Luca isn’t arrogant enough to assume he’d be able to get on it and succeed immediately. 

He hadn’t expected it to be this bad, though. 

P17, only because everyone below him had DNF’d. The most consistent thing about the bike seems to be riding it into last place. 

Bezz is on the podium. A triumphant P3, behind Pecco and Marquez. Luca can hear the celebrating and cheering as he goes through his post-race motions. He’s not next door to Bezz anymore– no matter how much he wants to appear in his box and wrap him up in a prosecco-soaked hug, he can’t. He’s a Honda rider now; he has team debrief and responsibilities. 

He keeps himself cool and professional as always, giving practical feedback and reaffirming his confidence in the team’s ability to turn things around. He’s exhausted by the time he’s finally done with his responsibilities, and he can tell by the noise level that the celebrations have made their way from Bezz and Pecco’s respective boxes to some other location. 

He checks his phone and finds a drunken flurry of texts from Bezz, and suddenly the emotion of everything hits at once.

He knows Honda was the right move. He knows in his bones that it was right for him to move on, out of Vale’s shadow and into a team that he can make his own. 

That doesn’t make it easy. VR46 was home; the team were an extension of his family. Hell, Uccio has known Vale longer than Luca has been alive. Everyone involved with the team was comfortable and warm and loved him. 

Luca tells himself that he can love Honda but also miss his family. It’s like moving away from your childhood town to work in a big city, he thinks. 

He misses Bezz like a limb. He wants desperately to celebrate with Bezz, to feel his face tucked into his neck the way he does when he’s so happy. He misses the sound of his laugh and the little gap between his teeth when he smiles. He wants to dig his hand into Bezz’s hair and rub his head like he’s a puppy. 

Bezz facetimes him when he’s back at the hotel. Luca debates about answering, too busy allowing himself an evening to wallow before he wakes up and heads back to the track for testing in the morning. 

When he does answer, he’s surprised to find that Bezz isn’t at a bar. He also doesn’t appear to be drunk, in the way Luca expected. He wonders if Vale’s presence looming over the team made them a little more cautious with the partying the night before a testing day. 

Bezz is in his own hotel room.

“Luca,” he whines. “You didn’t tell me I did a good job.”

That startles a laugh out of Luca. 

“I’m sorry. Good job,” Luca obliges. Bezz huffs, and Luca smiles at the pout on his face.

“I don’t like that you don’t tell me after races now. Although I guess I haven’t been doing a good job this season until today,” he rambles. 

Luca laughs again.

“You’ve been doing great, Bezz.” That he himself is the one who hasn’t been doing great is left unsaid. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you every race, now. I’ll have to remember to text you.”

Bezz shakes his head. 

“No, I want you to tell me in person.”

“You left,” Luca says feebly. “Before I was done with Honda.”

Bezz seems even more annoyed by that, and Luca gets the feeling that everything he’s said so far is wrong. 

“What is your hotel number?”

Luca laughs, but then he sees Bezz is serious, 

“Bezz, it’s late. We have testing tomorrow.”

“I don’t care,” he argues. “I just want to see you. Please? I got a podium today and I want to see you.”

Longing squeezes Luca’s chest and he quietly gives Bezz his room number. Bezz hangs up and appears five minutes later at Luca’s door. Luca lets him in, and he barely has the door closed before Bezz has wrapped himself around Luca and tucked his face into his neck. 

Luca relaxes into the hug, happy to have Bezz in his arms. He missed him so dearly. It hasn’t even been that long; only a few months of racing on different teams. It feels like they’ve been separated for a lifetime.

If Luca really thinks about it, this is the first time they’ve been alone together since they both raced on the same team. Since announcing he was riding for Honda and changing his training routine, he had seen Bezz mostly with the other academy riders. 

Neither of them are in a hurry to let go.

Luca is the first to pull away, but only to force Bezz to kick his shoes off and climb onto the bed with him. Bezz seems happy with that plan, and he grabs the television remote before pushing and pulling Luca into a position that he’s happy with. Then he flops down on top of Luca. 

Luca’s heart is racing at the feeling of Bezz’s body on top of his, even as Bezz finds some Spanish show with English subtitles that he knows neither of them have the brainpower to follow. 

Bezz seems content to tuck his face into Luca’s neck, and Luca can’t help but smile.

“Bezz?” he asks. 

Bezz sits up. Their faces are too close, but neither of them move apart.

“You did a good job today,” he breathes, unable to take his eyes away from Bezz’s. 

Bezz grins, toothy and happy, then he leans up, pressing on Luca’s chest hard enough to knock the breath out of him, and presses his lips to Luca’s mouth. 

Luca pushes back against Bezz, taking the weight off of his chest, and he rolls Bezz so he’s laying on his back. He leans over Bezz, bracketing him with his arms, and continues kissing him. He’s not entirely sure where this came from; why Bezz decided to do this now. 

He can’t say he’s never gotten the impression that Bezz could be interested in him; they used to spend hours and hours together, and there were many times that felt like they came close to something. 

Apparently all it took was one Bezz podium for them to finally overcome their hesitations. 

Bezz tastes and smells amazing, and now that Luca has experienced it he’s not sure he will ever be able to let him go. He sucks a mark on Bezz’s neck, and bites at his collarbone. 

He thinks of their matching scars. 

“Luca,” Bezz groans. 

Luca smiles against Bezz’s neck. 

“Yeah?”

Bezz rolls his hips up, demanding attention, and Luca tuts.

“Impatient,” he teases.

“I got a trophy today,” Bezz whines. “I deserve an award.”

Luca laughs and kisses him. 

“You deserve the world,” he says. It’s corny but he means it, and judging by Bezz’s grin he understands. 

Luca decides it’s imperative that he immediately get his hands on Bezz. He sits up to tug at Bezz’s clothes, and there’s an awkward few moments of shuffling and laughing as they both manage to get out of their clothes. They’re both out of breath and laughing, and Bezz basically tackles Luca onto his back on the bed. 

He straddles Luca, and Luca pulls him down to kiss him. Bezz wiggles happily on his lap and Luca laughs into the kiss, teeth knocking together. 

Bezz presses his face against Luca’s cheek, and they both laugh. 

Luca reaches down, wrapping a hand around Bezz’s cock. It startles a choked moan out of the smaller man, and Luca grins in satisfaction. 

Luca knows they won’t have sex tonight; not with a lack of lube and with the responsibility of an entire day of testing tomorrow. Still, his brain is dominated by desire to make Bezz come. 

The angle is off, but he spits in his hand and starts pumping Bezz’s cock while he uses his other hand to tug Bezz’s mouth back to his. 

Bezz adjusts his position, and Luca is able to take his own cock in hand with Bezz’s. The feeling of rutting against Bezz, breathing into his mouth, smelling him around him, is nearly enough to make Luca come immediately. 

He manages to hold off for a bit longer, but neither he nor Bezz last long. Soon they’re both spilling over Luca’s hand, gasping into each other’s mouths. 

Bezz immediately starts laughing, and collapses to the side. Luca wipes his hand on his chest, catching his breath and joining Bezz in his giggles.

“Let’s shower and sleep,” he suggests. 

Bezz whines but allows Luca to tug him into the bathroom. Luca delights in soaping Bezz up, running his hands across his body and lapping water from his collarbones. He loves the way Bezz laughs, and they spend too much time messing around in the shower.

When they finally get out and dry off, they tangle themselves together back in bed. 

Bezz lays down and holds his arms out, and Luca lays down on top of him, face pressed into his neck. 

“I’m proud of you,” he mumbles into Bezz’s neck. 

“Thank you,” Bezz breathes, running a hand through his hair. 

They drift into easy sleep together soon after.

#marco bezzecchi #luca marini #what is their ship name? #mb72 #lm10