#after a terrible day and desperately needing a pick-me-up

[roosterr]

love you from afar

note: this has been in my drafts since MARCH. can't decide whether i like it or not lol. @wetsocksinbed angsty fic is up next >:)

pairing: john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader

wc: 9.5k (oops)

summary: you receive a series of mysterious gifts from a mysterious admirer.

warnings: longing, yearning, pining, best friends to lovers trope, idiots in love, heavy on the idiots part, tooth-rotting fluff

ao3

over the last two weeks, you’ve noticed some odd things happening around you; a good kind of odd, the kind that left you thoroughly confused, but was heartwarming nonetheless.

after going back and forth with it in your mind, you've come to the conclusion that you have a secret admirer. it was odd, and a little hard to believe, but it was the only option that made any sense to you. in all honesty, it was probably just your hopeless-romantic heart clouding your mind with optimism, but one can dream.

the first incident was harmless enough, a small inconspicuous gesture that was so subtle, in fact, that you barely paid it any notice at first.

it was the dead of night, and you’d just returned from a particularly gruelling solo mission, uninjured but bone tired and desperate to collapse into your bed and finally sleep. before you could fall into the blankets, however, you noticed through the darkness of your room something strange.

resting neatly on your pillow, illuminated by the dim light of your phone screen, was a single bar of your favourite chocolate. you didn’t remember buying it, and certainly didn’t remember leaving it there, but it was exactly the kind of pick-me-up you needed after the day you’d had. at the time, you’d chalked it up to you simply being forgetful, devoured the chocolate in record time, and promptly knocked out.

over breakfast the next morning, you'd recounted to the others the mysterious appearing chocolate as a funny anecdote; the five of you had laughed about your terrible memory, and you'd moved on. but now you weren’t on the verge of blacking out, you couldn’t help but think of it as weird.

for the life of you, you couldn’t remember buying the chocolate bar, and it didn’t make sense that you would leave it on your pillow like that. what did make sense, however bizarre it may seem, was someone else leaving it for you – but you had no idea who would do that for you, or why. either way, you didn't imagine that anything else would come from it.

the next incident happened three days later.

during training that afternoon, you were in the middle of running laps around base, when you’d – stupidly – tripped over a ditch in the ground and rolled your ankle pretty badly. it hurt too much to put any weight on it, so you’d sat there in shame with no choice but to wait for a few minutes until gaz and soap caught up to you.

as they rounded the corner, you'd reluctantly waved them over with a grimace at how your ankle was throbbing in your boot. johnny was immediately crouching by your side, abandoning the idea of training to focus completely on you.

"christ, what happened?" he fussed, worry creasing his face and making your own heat up under the attention.

"i tripped…" you mumbled, dragging a hand over your embarrassed expression. it was bad enough that you'd made such a simple mistake, but now the man you were crushing on, hard, was lifting your leg so gently and untying your laces and you were certain you were moments away from cardiac arrest.

he'd ushered gaz away to continue his run, telling him he'd accompany you to the infirmary with a tone that left no room for argument. not that gaz would've, the knowing look he sent you as he jogged away told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.

after making sure nothing was broken, soap had pulled you to stand with an arm around your waist, supporting you with his solid frame when you stumbled. 

"sure y'don't want me to carry you?" he'd teased, earning a laugh from you as you wobbled in his arms. as you chuckled though, you noticed a hint of what seemed like sincerity in his eyes. you'd felt your face burning again at the implication that he really would carry you, if that's what you'd wanted, and quickly started dragging him along with you in an attempt to hide your flustered state. 

he'd kept his arm around your waist the entire way to the medical wing, only releasing you when you were sat in front of the doctor, which did absolutely nothing to calm your racing heart. to your dismay, he couldn't stay with you – you were still in the middle of training, after all. 

"you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" he'd asked as he left, and the concern in his eyes almost finished you off. you were almost glad he didn't stick around to see the effect he had on you.

luckily, after a quick inspection, the doctor concluded that you only had a minor sprain, and you'd be good as new in a couple of weeks. she'd sent you on your way with an ice pack, a crutch, and strict instructions to stay off your feet.

you would've gone back outside to watch the boys (mainly soap) finish the rest of their exercises, but honestly, the embarrassment of what happened had you wanting to curl up with a pillow over your face for the rest of the day; so that's exactly what you found yourself doing.

you must've drifted off to sleep at some point, because once you finally sat up again, the sun had painted the horizon a bright orange, and your stomach had begun to rumble.

as you went to walk out into the hall, you heard the crinkle of plastic under your boot, pausing you mid‐step. when you looked down, you were stunned to find a bundle of three beautiful white flowers – gardenias, you'd found out after googling them later. an incredibly warm feeling blossomed in your chest, and despite your best efforts, your eyes had welled up with tears. you couldn't even think of the last time someone bought you flowers. there was no note attached, meaning you had no way of knowing who had left them for you, which sent your mind back to the chocolate bar from a few days ago.

so i'm not going crazy, you'd thought to yourself, someone really did leave it for me. but still, you had no clue who this mystery gift-giver could be.

you'd carefully picked them up, being mindful of your ankle, and turned back around to put them in your room. there wasn't really anywhere to put them, so you just set them on the ledge of your windowsill and made a mental note to find a vase for them at some point.

when you eventually made it to the mess hall, there were very few people left, leaving the room unusually calm. ghost was sat by himself at one of the far tables, so you hobbled over on your crutch to sit with him while you ate.

you sat down opposite him, and he'd looked up, gave you a subtle nod, and gone back to eating with his eyes fixed on the table in front of him. the two of you ate like that for a while, sitting quietly in each others presence.

ghost had been the first to break the silence, asking you, "how's the ankle?" as he pulled his balaclava back down to cover his mouth.

"just sprained," you'd replied, looking up to meet his eyes. another beat of silence fell over you, before you continued, "did you see who left me those flowers?" you'd asked him; it was worth a shot, you figured not much gets past ghost. to your dismay, he simply shook his head, standing and mumbling a goodbye as he left.

you were only more confused now. if ghost didn't know who it was – and, granted, you wouldn't actually be able to tell if he was lying, but you trusted him – then who would know? the next day, you'd asked the other boys, but they'd all said the same thing, even the captain. so you were left with nothing to do but wonder who on earth could be leaving you these gifts.

after that, it was another four days until your secret admirer struck again.

you'd been in and out of briefings and debriefings and meetings all day, your mind was beginning to numb with all the information that had been unloaded. you were tired; not quite the same exhaustion you'd felt coming back from your mission earlier in the week, though, this time you were at the end of your rope mentally. there hadn't been a moments peace since you got out of bed, and once that excruciatingly long day was over and you were relaxing in the common room, you'd had no energy to actually engage with your friends.

you were nestled into one end of the sofa with gaz next to you, ghost on his other side, and soap in the armchair with a small book in his hands. they were all chatting, with you occasionally saying a thing or two, but you were mostly just zoned out with their conversation serving as white noise in the background.

occasionally, you'd look up and catch soap already watching you, but he'd quickly turn his gaze back down to his book. his attention caused you to be equal parts flustered and confused. if you'd been any more awake, you probably would've asked him if something was wrong, but you were already having trouble keeping your head up as it was.

once you felt your eyes slip closed one too many times, you'd decided it was time to turn in for the night. with a quick 'goodnight' to the others, you'd made a beeline straight for your room – but it was more of a hobble, since your ankle still required you to walk with a crutch.

that night you'd slept like a baby, waking up early the next morning feeling well rested, and thankfully your ankle had even started to feel better. though you still couldn't join the team's training sessions, you had other responsibilities to fulfil, so unfortinately you did have to get up at some point.

you'd just finished lacing up your boots when you noticed it; a single sheet of paper on the ground by your door, folded once in half so you can't see what's written on it. from where it lays, you conclude that whoever left it must've slipped it through the gap under your door while you slept. you'd picked it up and sat back on the edge of your bed to unfold it, your curiosity certainly piqued. it make you wonder, though, what reason someone could have for leaving you a note.

except, when you'd lifted the page it wasn't a note at all. on the slightly wrinkled paper were a number of beautiful pencil drawings – drawings of you. the surprise of seeing your own face staring back at you nearly stopped your poor heart.

the jagged edge on one side of the page indicated that it must have been torn out of a sketchbook, which had interested you even more. you couldn't think of anyone you knew who could draw, let alone who would have a sketchbook dedicated to it.

whoever made this, it was clear that art was a passion of theirs – these drawings were really good. your hair, your eyes, the subtle expression on your features, every line was expertly crafted. it was incredibly flattering, and admittedly boosted your ego a little with how good those sketches made you look.

as you sat there smiling to yourself, you'd glanced up to the three flowers blooming on your nightstand. like the gardenias, the drawings were from your secret admirer, there was no other explanation; and an admirer they were, it was abundantly clear from these sketches that this person had an appreciation for you, if only from afar.

the drawings had been your favourite so far, but unfortunately, it was almost a week until your admirer made another move.

it had been long enough for you to start walking properly on your ankle again, and so you'd been slowly easing back into your workout routine, starting with your morning run. you'd taken it slow with lots of breaks to rest your muscles, but still decided to call it early, which had you back at your locker earlier than usual. as you were rounding the corner to the locker room, you'd heard the door slam closed and a set of heavy footsteps racing down the corridor. you'd only caught a glimpse of whoever it was as they dashed around the other corner, quick enough that you weren't able to see who it was.

you'd been concerned at first, whoever it was had been in a terrible rush, but you'd quickly shaken it off – it wasn't uncommon for people to be rushing around base, especially first thing in the morning. with your own meeting to get to, you'd decided not to dwell on the strange almost-encounter, and carried on with grabbing your towel from the bench and showering.

as you opened the door to your locker to fetch your clean clothes, sitting front and centre on top of them was something you definitely hadn't left there; a bag of your favourite hard candy, unopened, in the space that had been empty not half an hour before. how did these get here? you'd asked yourself, and you stood there confused for a moment or two before the answer came to you.

of course, your secret admirer. you'd felt the familiar giddy excitement bubble up in your chest at the revelation. it had been a while since the page of drawings had been slipped under your door, and it pained you how the gardenias had begun to wilt already. honestly, you'd been slightly worried that they'd given up, or something had happened to them. thankfully though, they seemed to be doing just fine, and you were too with such a pleasant start to your day.

it wasn't until you were sat in the meeting room, munching on your sweets and waiting for the others to arrive, that you realised.

the person, the one who'd been in a hurry as you got back from your run, it was them; that person was your secret admirer. they had to be, you'd concluded, the sweets weren't in your locker when you'd been in there earlier, and you did cut your run short, so they probably hadn't expected you to return so soon – that's why they'd been in such a rush to get away.

the revelation had butterflies swarming in your stomach, the idea of being so close to finding out who it was that held such fond affection for you sparking giddy excitement in you; but at the same time, it filled you with a sickly apprehension.

the problem was that you already knew who you wanted it to be – you had from the beginning – and you worried that uncovering their identity would only lead to disappointment; because there was no possible way john mactavish could feel the same way you felt about him.

soap had always been nothing short of kind and respectful of you, never stepping over the unspoken line if being your closest friend. sometimes, you can fool yourself into thinking he treats you differently – when he checks in on you after missions, when he always saves you a seat next to him in meetings, when he'd practically carried you to the infirmary, all of it ignited a warm feeling in your chest. but then you think about it a little more, and remember that all those nice gestures, that's just who he is. he wormed his way into the heart of ghost, for fucks sake, it was almost impossible not to like him.

you'd been so lost in thought, that gaz sitting in the seat next to you had startled you back to reality.

"gonna share with the class?" he'd asked with a teasing smirk, gesturing to the sweets sitting on the table in front of you. he'd reached out to grab one, but you'd pushed his hand away and snatched the bag to your chest.

"no way," you'd said with a playful glare, sending a quick smile to soap who'd taken the seat on your other side, "these are from my secret admirer, get your own."

gaz paused. "...your fucking what?" he had an incredulous look on his face, and you'd forgotten that you never actually told the others about it. "soap, you hearin' this?"

soap looked almost panicked when you'd turned to him, but he didn't have time to respond, as that was the moment price had walked through the door and announced the start of the meeting.

"i'll explain after," you whispered to gaz, who gave you a pointed look that said 'you better' and turned his attention back to price. you'd stifled a chuckle and looked back at soap, expecting him to have a similar expression, but he was already facing forward. you'd frowned at this; you and johnny would always whisper back and forth during meetings – a way to keep eachother entertained, as well as an excuse for you to sit close to him – but today his face had an odd air of seriousness to it. oh well, you'd thought somewhat downtrodden, just have to talk to him after.

and that's what led you to the present, where you'd been explaining to the boys everything that has happened over the last two weeks. well, you were mostly telling soap and gaz, ghost honestly didn't seem that interested, though the captain did have a rather amused expression as he listened.

"so you have no idea who it could be?" gaz had turned sideways in his chair, leaning forward slightly with his eyebrows raised. he looked to be in disbelief, and you were almost inclined to feel the same.

"nope, not a clue." you sighed, turning from gaz to look at the others around the table. price was standing with his arms crossed, giving you a similar disbelieving look, and ghost had that familiar unreadable look in his eyes.

"someone went in your room while you were gone?" ghost's low voice caught your attention, "bit creepy, innit," he grumbled, his gaze darting between you and somewhere next to you. he did have a point, you supposed, it was a bit weird.

"well… maybe a little, yeah…" you trailed off. perhaps he had a point, but you found yourself not wanting to believe it; all of the mystery person's gestures had been so sweet, thoughtful, it was hard to think they had any ill intentions.

that, and your heart has already made up its mind about who it should be.

"don't be like that, lt., whoever it is meant well, didn't they?" gaz chuckled, the grin evident in his voice.

"christ…" ghost mutters, shaking his head in exasperation.

"it may be a slight invasion of privacy…" you begin; and it's true, but after the first incident, it didn't appear that anyone had been inside your room again. "but it was only once. and it was just a chocolate bar, it's harmless. besides, are you really telling me you've never been in anyone's room when they're not there?" you continued, earning only an eye roll from ghost.

"and you haven't tried to figure out who it is?" price asks from his position standing opposite you, across the table.

"no, i wouldn't even know where to start, it could be anyone…" you try to think of anyone to suspect, but your optimistic mind only draws one name; the object of your affection, who happened to be sitting directly next to you. unfortunately, the two of you were strictly friends – no matter how much you longed for something more.

"i think you should investigate," gaz's smile makes you think for a moment that he knows something that you don't, but you brush it off. he didn't even know about your admirer until you told him, how could he? it wasn't like they were leaving any hints. "whoever it is obviously really likes you."

"you think?" you unwrap another sweet and pop it into your mouth as you consider his words.

"yeah! and, we could even help you investigate," gaz gives the others a hopeful, if slightly suspicious, smirk.

"speak for yourself…" ghost leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest, the picture of uninterested, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"could be a good bonding exercise," price had the same entertained tone in his voice as he looked between the four of you, "any thoughts, soap?"

you hadn't realised until the captain brought attention to him, but soap had been uncharacteristically quiet during all this; since before the meeting, actually. he hadn't said a word to you yet today, which had you a little worried. usually the two of you couldn't shut up when you were together. you turn to look at him, and find him looking wide-eyed back at price.

"i don't– ah, maybe…" he stuttered, looking between price and the table rather than meeting your concerned eyes, "...they're just shy? don't want to be known yet?"

"oh, y'think, mate?" gaz fully laughed at that, sharing a look with both ghost and price that held something you couldn't understand. now you're thoroughly confused.

"well, maybe he's right," uncertainty laced your voice, their reactions throwing you for a loop. "if they wanted to be known, they probably would've shown themselves by now, right?" you turn to soap, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else – but he meets your gaze with a tiny smile.

"so you're not going to investigate?" you look back at gaz, who has that incredulous look back on his face, and from the corner of your eye you see price and ghost both shake their heads.

"they can show themselves when they're ready, i don't want to push them." your mind was made up; if your secret admirer wanted to reveal their identity, then they would, it's as simple as that.

"but–" gaz tries to argue, but price quickly interrupts him.

"right, enough, you lot, clear out, you've all got work to be getting on with." he gestures for you all to stand, and after grabbing your sweets, you follow the others out of the room.

for the rest of the day, you endured endless amounts of teasing from gaz, and he even got some of the people from other units in on it. it had your face burning when they cooed over how romantic your 'mystery lover' was. you could only pray that they got over it soon, in the back of your mind you were slightly worried the attention might scare off your admirer, and you certainly didn't want that. but although you told the others you'd wait for them to reveal themselves in their own time, you'd be lying if you said you weren't practically dying to know who it was.

✹✹✹

"hey sarge," a voice sounds from beside you, drowning out the din of the mess hall around you. turning your head, you see it's a private; one you don't really know, but you give her a polite smile anyway. "i've got a message for you." she continues, producing a folded piece of paper from behind her back.

"a message? who from?" you ask, taking the paper from her when she holds it out to you.

she giggles, giving you a sly smile, "a secret someone," and with a suspicious wink, she turned around and left.

with the note in your hand, you look to gaz and soap, a baffled expression on your face. "does she mean my… admirer?" they both shrug at you, sharing an equally perplexed look between themselves.

"go on then," gaz says, "what does it say?"

you unfold it, and scan the neat handwriting of the message. soap and gaz watch as you read it, their curiosity overwhelmingly present in the way they leaned forward to try and see.

your face falls, and you frown. the note was signed – 'your secret admirer' – but you couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in your heart.

"what's up? what does it say?" gaz notices the change in your expression, standing up from his chair and leaning fully over the table to read the note himself. you hand it to him, your good mood from this morning completely soured.

"apparently it is from my admirer," you begin, not bothering to hide the dejection in your voice, "telling me to meet them outside in five minutes."

the pair don't say anything, too stunned to form words as they continue to frown at the words in front of them. this can't be right, it just can't be, your mind laments, if johnny is sitting here, that that means he's not–

"seriously? just like that?" gaz interrupts your thoughts. he sounded annoyed underneath his shock, and you find yourself feeling the same way. "sorry, but i find that hard to believe – they didn't even leave a card with the flowers, did they? it just doesn't feel right to me."

you look to soap, who has yet to say anything on the matter. he doesn't meet your eyes, boring holes into the table with the anger in his gaze. your frown only deepens at his expression, the look on his face so unlike him it almost has you forgetting all about the cause.

"who knows," you sigh, plucking the note back out of gaz's hand. "this probably won't take long, i'll–"

"wait, you're going?" soap interjects, the frown on his face set much deeper than your own. his sudden question caught you off guard, paired with his irritated expression, and you almost thought he was angry with you.

"yeah, i mean, what's the harm, right? might as well just get it over with." you stand as you respond, folding the note back up. even if you were setting yourself up for disappointment, you still wanted to at least hear this person out; even if it wasn't him.

"what's the harm?" johnny scoffs – at you or at very idea of all this you aren't sure – and joins you in standing up, throwing his arms out with such annoyance, it catches you off guard. he gestures sharply at the paper in your hand, "this– whoever that is, it's pure shite! you can't see that?"

now it's you who scoffs at him; where is this hostility coming from? yesterday he seemed as though he couldn't care less when you were telling everyone about it, and now all of a sudden, he thinks he has all the answers?

"how would you know?" you shove the note into your pocket, your earlier sadness quickly morphing into annoyance.

as you move to walk away, johnny looks like he wants to say something more, to stop you, and you hesitate. you want him to; whoever your admirer was, whoever that note was from, none of it meant a thing if it wasn't him. all you wanted was for him to look at you the same way you look at him. gaz is looking at him too, subtly gesturing for him to do something, but he doesn't speak, doesn't meet your eyes as your face drops again.

"exactly, you don't. i'll be back in a minute." you huff, and without another word from either of them, you turn on your heel and make your way out of the mess hall.

it's safe to say your mood had swiftly and effectively been ruined. the disillusionment of realising that your secret admirer was someone other than johnny was one thing, but his sudden attitude towards you was the final straw. your face was decidedly sour as you trudge through the corridors, still with a slight limp which was only fuelling your annoyance for how your day was going. 

the cool air of the courtyard makes your skin bristle as you push the door open, taking a moment to survey the area as you stand in the entryway. to the left stands a lone figure, and you recognise his face, but – like the private from earlier, who you assume is his friend – you can't remember ever having spoken to him. with a deep sigh, you blink away bitterness in your expression and make your way over to him.

his grin is wide as he shamelessly checks you out while you approach, and you instinctually cross your arms over your chest. you come to a stop in front of him, frowning in a look that you hope screams uninterested.

"hey, sarge." he has an overly confident air to him as he speaks, shuffling closer under your scrutinising stare. of course he wouldn't take the hint.

"so it's you, then?" you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion. you just wanted this to be over with, but it seemed luck just wasn't on your side today.

"it's me," he confirms, the blinding grin still plastered to his face as he inches even closer, "you surprised?"

"yeah, actually. i didn't know you were an artist." you reply, voice flat, and you watch him blink once in surprise. you raise a brow at his bewilderment, your patience already wearing painfully thin. he chuckles awkwardly in an attempt to hide how you so obviously caught him off guard.

"ah, yeah i uh–" he stutters, but you cut him off before he can make too much of a fool of himself.

"in fact, i don't actually know you at all. i couldn't recall your name even if you held a gun to my head." the hiss in your voice reveals just how over this whole situation you are. he opens his mouth to spout something else you have no interest in hearing, the sleazy grin falling from his face, but you hold a hand up to silence him. "so i'd really appreciate it if you left me alone."

"but–"

"and stay out of my room, and my locker, too. if it happens again, you're getting reported." you spit the final words at him, and turn on your heel to leave. before you can take another step, he grabs your elbow and spins you back around to face him, causing your ankle to twist awkwardly, which sends a fresh jolt of pain up your leg. you hold back a groan and fix him with a deadly glare instead.

"hey, c'mon, don't be like that!" you wince as he practically demands, getting much closer to you than was necessary, even with you arching backwards to put some space between you. "at least gimme a chance,"

"just leave me alone." you hiss, pulling your arm out of his grip and before he has the chance to do or say anything else, you hurry back the way you came, your limp noticeably more pronounced than earlier. thankfully, the private – jackson, you’d just about been able to read on his jacket – didn’t follow you back to the mess hall, which proves that he has at least half a brain. you hoped that he’d take the hint to stay away from you, but somewhere in the back of your mind you were preparing yourself to be hassled by him in the coming days; he certainly seemed the type.

you were gone less than ten minutes, but in that time most of the lunch crowd had cleared out, leaving the room a lot quieter than it had been. as you shuffle towards soap and gaz, still sitting at the same table, they both turn to look at you, and you can tell by the way both their expressions drop that they sense something is off.

"what happened?" gaz asks as you take your seat across from them, trying to hold back a wince when you put too much strain on your ankle, "your face says it didn't go well."

you sigh, looking between both of them, lingering on soap who’s already watching you with an intensity that has your face heating up. "it didn’t. it was just some private who can’t take no for an answer." you grumble, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand.

"your ankle okay?" soap asks, holding your gaze until you relent and look away first. you want to tell him not to worry, but you find it's impossible to lie to him, not when he's looking at you like you're the only person in the room. "what happened?" he presses, his voice taking on a dangerous tone.

"its nothing, he just– i just twisted it a little." you trip over your words under his stare, looking to gaz for help, but you find that he has a similar – albeit less intense – look of concern on his face. the silence hangs between you for a moment as you wordlessly try to convince them, but they see through you. "alright, fine. when i was leaving, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, and i pulled my ankle."

if johnny had been pissed before, he was furious now; his eyes were dark underneath his furrowed brow, his lips turned down in a frown that looked more like a snarl. to see someone usually so easygoing with such a threatening look on his face was almost worrying, the only reassurance being that you know it's not directed at you.

"that prick… who was it?" gaz isn't nearly as affected as soap, but he's clearly annoyed by the audacity of the private. you shake your head, urging them to just let it go; he wasn't worth the trouble, after all.

when johnny says your name in that deep, gravelly tone, your heart skips a beat and your eyes snap to meet his. "who was it." he asks, but it's not a question anymore, and every fibre of your being is telling you to just give in to him.

"jackson. i don't know his first name…" you mutter, slightly flustered by the way he's acting. the tension in the silence that follows is nearly suffocating. from where his arms rest on the table, you notice johnny repeatedly clenching his fists, seemingly having some sort of internal battle with himself.

"what a bellend…" gaz grumbles, pausing for a moment to shake the disgust from his face. "so, what about the whole 'secret admirer' thing then?" he leans back in his chair, eyes darting to soap's profile then back to you.

"i don't know…" you sigh, "didn't really seem like something he was capable of, but i guess i don't really know him, so–"

"yeah, he doesn't seem the type, does he?" gaz interjects, with a newfound energy at your words. you narrow you eyes, sensing an ulterior motive, but let him continue. "i mean, buying you flowers, sweets– seems a bit too thoughtful for such a twat."

his jab coaxed a laugh from you, "maybe; i guess i was pretty disappointed when i saw it was him, though."

"oh yeah? expecting someone else, were you?" gaz has a grin on his face, one that has you worried that he's clocked on to your true feelings.

"something like that…" you clear your throat, suddenly feeling a little too seen for your liking. "anyway, i'd better get going, desk duty is no joke," you slowly stand up, making sure to be careful of your newly irritated ankle, and adamantly avoiding eye contact with either of them.

"yeah, me too, cap said he needs my help with something." gaz stands as well, giving soap a pat on the back and a suspicious wink as he walks off, which you willfully choose to ignore.

"you gonna be okay?" johnny comes to your side as you shuffle around the table, his hand brushing over your back to support you. butterflies begin to flutter at the feeling, and you scold yourself for being so easily affected. he seems to have calmed down a lot, the anger from earlier overtaken by his concern.

"yeah, i'll be fine, i think i'll just have to grab my crutch," you smile at him and take a step forward, wincing as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"c'mon, lemme help you," he tilts his head to meet your eyes, his worry evident within them. his hand is warm on your back, you have to hold yourself back from leaning into him. "cannae have you hurtin' yourself any more."

"you sure? don't you have work to do too?" you have every intention of taking him up on his offer, but you couldn't help feeling guilty for needing his help like this.

"i'm sure lt. can survive a few extra minutes," johnny gives you a reassuring smile, already ushering you out of the mess hall.

"well, don't blame me when has your head," you grin back at him, relishing in the comfortable feeling of being so close to him. distracted by his proximity, you momentarily forget about your injury and without thinking, you put too much weight on it as you take a step. with a pained gasp, you wobble on your good foot and pause to give your ankle a break.

johnny moves his arm to sit securely around your waist, gently pulling you to lean fully against him. "you sure you don't want me to take you to the infirmary?" he asks, lifting your arm to wrap around his shoulders.

"no, no– they're just gonna tell me to rest, and i'll be sitting down all day anyway," you move to continue on your way to your room, but he stays put. 

"you should still get it looked at, might be–"

"johnny." you stop him with a hand on his chest, "i'm okay."

you watch his adams apple bob as he gulps, his eyes flickering to where your hand is touching him and back up to your own, almost too fast to notice.

"right, right. sorry." he dips his head, breaking eye contact. you pull him gently, and the two of you start walking again. "you know jackson well?"

you scoff, frowning as you recall the events of earlier. "what? no, before today i didn't even know his name. he seems like kind of an arsehole, to be honest."

"really? made that bad of an impression, eh?" his lopsided smile feels oddly smug, but you decide not to overthink it.

"like i said, can't take a no." you grumble, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand, "i doubt this is the last time i'll have to deal with him…"

"he's not gonna bother you." johnny states, with a finality that is as stunning as it is comforting.

"...if you say so." you don't press any further, wanting to simply move on and forget about the whole thing. you'd gladly never think about that arrogant private again.

before you know it, the two of you are standing in the hall outside your room. his grip around your waist loosens as you push open the door, and you're all too aware of the cold feeling left behind as he lets go.

"thank you, for helping me." you shoot him a grateful smile, grabbing your crutch from where it leant against the wall, propping it under your arm.

"course," johnny pauses, looking past you to something in your room. "you… kept the gardenias?" he asks, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving. you tilt your head, a silent question, but he's still staring at the flowers.

"yeah, they're…" you begin, but his words have you pausing too; he didn't seem like the kind of person to be interested in floristry, you'd certainly never heard him say anything about it before. but somehow, he'd identified the flowers on your end table with no problem. "...they're nice. i like them, even if they do look a little sad now."

when he finally meets your eyes again, there's a distinct redness to his face that wasn't there before, and you feel your heart beginning to race with renewed hope. it could be that he just likes flowers, but if he already knew they were gardenias, maybe he…

"right, i, uh– i should get going, or ghost might actually kill me." johnny's voice had a dazed quality to it when he spoke.

"alright, i'll see you later then," you give him a small smile as you step back into the hall next to him. the two of you look at each other for a moment before you speak again, holding back a laugh, "you gonna go, or just stand there all day?"

your words seem to snap him out of the trance he’d been in, and he shakes his head in an almost comical manner, "right! right, sorry, bye!" he sputters, waving over his shoulder as he jogs away. you chuckle to yourself as he goes, and start walking the opposite direction to get started with your own work.

✹✹✹

you didn't see soap again until the next day, considering that he was strangely absent from mealtimes both last night and today. thankfully the incident from the day before hadn't done any further damage to your ankle, so you were up and about without the need for your crutch after a good night's rest.

you'd just dropped off a folder of paperwork in price's office – which you'd completed in fairly good time, thanks to being stuck behind a desk for nearly two weeks – but as you descend the staircase, you're almost knocked over by someone flying around the corner. you caught yourself with a hand on the railing, blinking away your surprise and glaring at whoever had carelessly bumped into you.

much to your chagrin, it was jackson, and you feel your face naturally falling into a frown at the realisation. you’d been expecting him to try and change your mind about yesterday, but true to johnny’s words, he had yet to bother you about it; actually, you hadn’t seen him at all since then, not even at breakfast or lunch, but it's not as if you were complaining. 

though, as you stare down at him from the step above, you notice a deep purple bruise decorating his cheekbone that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. your frown turns from malice to confusion as you wonder how he could have gotten it in the span of less than a day, it looked like he’d taken a serious punch. you couldn’t say you felt bad for him, but it did look painful.

"listen, about yesterday… i- i lied,." jackson mutters, eyes glued to the floor to avoid your own. he was shuffling in place, as if he was preparing to bolt at any second. your eyes narrow as you process his words.

"what?"

he clears his throat. "i lied. it wasn’t me, i just said it was because one of the guys bet me i couldn’t get you to go out with me." he admits. the way he keeps avoiding your eyes, glancing around like he was waiting for someone to jump out at him has you a little suspicious, but your heart still soars when you realise what he means.

jackson wasn't your secret admirer, so your hopeless romantic heart could still dream that it was johnny. the flutter of butterflies even distracts you from the insulting notion that he only wanted to go out with you for a bet.

"seriously?" you ask, your shock evident in your voice as you stare him down. finally his eyes land on your own, an embarrassed grimace overtaking his nervous expression. it's a stark, satisfying difference to his arrogant overconfidence from before.

"yeah. i’m sorry, okay? i don’t want any trouble, it was just–" he cuts himself off, but when you give him a questioning look, he can't tear his eyes from the space behind you, and only mumbles what sounds like a ‘sorry’ before scurrying off back the way he came. you watch him go, thoroughly confused by the whole interaction, but not a moment later a voice from where he was staring brings you out of your thoughts.

"y’alright? little shit wasn’t botherin’ you, was he?" soap's voice cuts through the quiet, and you turn to see him descending the stairs to stand next to you.

you shake your head, "no, no, he just–" you hesitate, your mind going back to yesterday and the gardenias. "he lied, it wasn't him."

"really?" he asks, but his voice doesn't sound surprised at all. you're not sure if you imagined it, but for a moment his expression changes into something like satisfaction.

"yeah, he was about to say something else too, but he just ran off," you sigh, walking down the last few steps. soap follows close behind, a hand hovering near your back. "did you see that bruise on his face? wonder how he got it…"

"looked nasty, eh?" a laugh escapes him, and you admire the way his lips curve, the creases around his eyes as his smile reaches them. "maybe he finally got what was comin' to him."

his face was close to yours, a lot closer than you could reasonably handle without losing your nerve and making a fool of yourself. realising you had yet to respond, you clear your throat and start walking down the corridor, your eyes to the floor and a burning in your cheeks.

"if he never speaks to me again, it'll still be too soon…" you grumble, willing your heart to calm down as he comes up next to you in a few long strides. "anyway, what have you been up to? i haven't seen you all day." with a quick glance, you see the easy smile he has falter slightly.

"i was, ah–" he avoids your eye as he stops himself, a beat of silence passes before he continues "nevermind, i– i was… looking for you." your heart skips a beat, but you scold it for being so eager; the two of you were teammates, friends, he could be looking for you for any number of reasons.

"looking for me? what's up?" you turn your head to face him as you walk, a curious tilt to your brow.

johnny comes to a stop, and so do you a moment after. he looks at you, fidgety and shifting on his feet, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. the look on his face is unsure, uncomfortable, like he was debating running off like jackson had done a minute ago.

he's nervous, that much you can tell. but despite the slightly awkward tension, you you wait for whatever it is he's struggling to say.

"i… uh– y'know what, i actually forgot." johnny hangs his head, pulling his hands from his pockets and scratching the back of his neck.

at his words your heart sinks, and you can't help the disappointed look that takes over your expression. "oh? are you–"

before you can finish, he drops a hand on your shoulder and steps ahead of you, turning around so you're face to face. "listen, ghost is waiting for me, so i gotta run," he smiles again, but it's weaker this time, almost forced as it doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"right… better not keep him waiting."

"right," his reply is short, and the tension between you only grows every moment he avoids your eyes. "i'll see you later though, promise." he flashes you another false smile, gently patting your shoulder, before turning on his heel and swiftly escaping down the corridor.

"bye, johnny." you release a sigh, from longing or exasperation you're not sure, watching his form disappear through the doors.

✹✹✹

despite his promise, once again you don't see soap for the rest of the day. at dinner you'd questioned ghost on his whereabouts, but he only told you that he had no idea either. this time however, you got the strong feeling he was lying to you.

still though, you couldn't find it within yourself to be annoyed with him. you could see clear as day that something was going on with johnny, and if he didn't want to confide in you about whatever it is, then you certainly won't be the one to push him.

having finished today's obligations, you decided to head straight to your room once you'd finished eating. you open your door, a sigh escaping you as you prepare to collapse for the night, and stop dead in your tracks.

a folded sheet of paper lays in front of you, standing out against the emptiness of your floor, crumpled like it had been screwed up and flattened out again. a sense of déjà vù overcomes you, for last week, when you'd received the sketches of yourself in the same way. for a moment all you can do is stand there, staring at the paper, processing.

eventually, you do step into your room, shutting the door quietly behind you and picking the paper up from the floor. you keep it folded until you're sitting on the edge of your mattress, hands shaking ever so slightly with the anticipation.

you're not sure what to think, as you sit burning holes in the paper with your stare. after yesterday, you thought you were done with the idea of your secret admirer; but then again, jackson had admitted to you earlier that he'd lied when he met you yesterday, and the whole reason you weren't as interested after that was because your pipe dream of the mystery person being johnny had been shattered. but now that the identity of your admirer was once again a mystery, you couldn't help but want to dream like that again. 

with a defeated groan, you decide to just rip off the bandaid and read the note. you unfold it, immediately noticing the scratchy handwriting – the opposite of the note jackson gave you, so thankfully it couldn't be from him.

you hear your heartbeat in your ears as your eyes scan the words in front of you.

i stayed up all night trying to write this note, but nothing i came up with felt good enough, so i'm just going to say it. i'm your secret admirer. i know you probably won't believe me after that bastard yesterday, but i need you to know anyway. i used to think that love just wasn't my thing, that i'd never find someone i wanted to spend my life with, but that changed when i met you. i didn’t realise it at first, but it's always been you. you're my person, and i can't hide it anymore. i love you. maybe i'm a coward for giving you a note instead of telling you face to face. but if you don't feel the same, you can throw it away, or burn it or something, and i'll never bring it up again. your heart, johnny

the silence in your room borders on deafening as you sit completely still, reeling from what you'd just read. you didn't realise you'd stopped breathing until you release a shaky breath.

all this time, it was johnny.

every longing glance, every touch that lingered just a little too long, the racing pulse every time he says your name; it was all reciprocated.

every time you thought you could never have him as anything more than your best friend, you were wrong.

he cared enough to leave you a pick-me-up after a hard mission, buy you flowers when you got injured, draw you the way he saw you, gift you things he took the time to notice you like.

all this time… he'd felt the exact same way you do.

you set the note down next to you, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth that had fallen open in shock. there was only one thing to do, in your mind, and that was to run into johnny's arms and make up for all the lost time you've spent pining over him.

in seemingly no time at all, you find yourself standing at johnny's door, your fist poised to knock. theres a moment of hesitation, but before your apprehension can cloud your mind, you let your knuckles rap on the wood once, twice, three times, and take a step back as you wait for a response. after a second or two – which felt a lot longer than it actually was – you hear the sounds of footsteps from inside.

another moment passes, and you assume johnny is standing on the other side with his heart in his throat just like you, short-lived before he finally swings the door open.

he looks at you, eyes wide and like a deer caught in headlights, the way he holds himself uncharacteristically shy as you stare each other down.

"the note," you finally murmur, and johnny almost flinches, clearly fighting the urge to look away from you. "tell me you meant it." you continue, taking a miniscule step closer to him. you hear his breath catch in his chest.

"every word." he whispers, gaze flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes again, and your heart misses a beat.

with no hesitation this time, you hook your arms around his neck and pull him towards you, crushing his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss that's as much teeth as it is lips.

johnny groans into your mouth, his hands flying to your waist as he turns and walks you backwards into his room. the door gets kicked shut behind him once he's got you inside, neither of you breaking apart more than enough to draw a single ragged breath before meeting in the middle again. with another needy whine into you he pushes you up against the wall, caging you in with his broad shoulders and his arms around your waist.

the weight of his arms around you, the feeling of his stubble prickly against your face, the softness of his lips against yours; it's everything you've been waiting for, and now you finally have him, he tastes sweeter than you could've ever imagined.

the two of you stay like that for moments that feel like hours in each other's embrace, only pulling away when your lungs are burning and your lips are swollen. leaning your head back against the wall, his eyes meet yours with such adoration it sends your heart fluttering all over again.

"i'll take that as a good sign," he mumbles, a lopsided grin lifting his features. his joy is so infectious you can't help but mirror his expression as you drop your head to rest on his shoulder.

his chest rumbles with an airy, disbelieving laugh and he tugs you impossibly closer, resting his cheek against the side of your head. standing chest to chest now, you can feel the hammering of his heart against yours and the way his skin burns under your touch.

"you’re my person too," you murmur into him, one of your hands moving up to tangle in the strands of his mohawk, "always have been."

johnny's arms wind tighter around you as he releases a deep, content sigh. he's hugged you countless times before but somehow, this feels different while still staying exactly the same. the heat radiating from him is soothing like it always has been, the knowledge that your feelings are reciprocated only making it that much sweeter.

"why'd it take us so long, eh?" he utters, tender and loving in the way he runs his hands over your back and sides.

"we're just idiots…" you reply, "gaz is gonna have a field day with this."

johnny laughs again, pressing his lips to the side of your head so you can feel his smile. "oh, he clocked us a long time ago, bonnie."

you can't help but groan as you imagine how gaz will tease the both of you for how oblivious you've both been.

he lifts you up by his grip around your waist, carrying you over to his bed and flopping down onto his back with you on his chest. a satisfied groan escapes him as he settles, burying his face into your hair and inhaling a deep breath.

you're enveloped by the scent of him – gunpowder, and the faint smell of something burnt, but it's pleasant and familiar nonetheless.

"yer stayin' with me tonight, non negotiable." he murmurs, running a hand up and down the length of your spine.

"fine by me." you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, and find them already locked on you. "so, about jackson…"

johnny scoffs, lightheartedly frowning in response. "yer gonna bring his name up while yer in my bed?"

"he looked really spooked when he saw you earlier," you begin, smoothing your hand over his chest. his eyes widen at your words, his hand freezing as he looks away from you with a distinctly guilty expression on his face. you narrow your eyes, holding back the amused smirk pulling at your lips. "johnny… did you…"

he clears his throat, and by the way he can't hold your gaze for more than a second you can tell he knows he's been caught. there's no stopping the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at his reaction.

"...i may have, uh– potentially put some fear o'god into the little bawbag…"

"soap!"

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #roosterr writes #releasing this into the wild like an injured bird

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 3)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

(Prologue and Ch. 1) // (Ch. 2)

“I like the lilac, but I just wonder if the lavender would’ve gone better with your complexion,” your mom said as she eyed you critically. You were standing on a pedestal in the middle of Sally’s Dress Shop, trying on the bridesmaids dress your mom had picked out for you to wear to her wedding. The dress was far too frilly and pastel for your taste, but if wearing it would please your mom and make this week move faster, it was worth it.

“I think this is fine, mom,” you were trying your hardest to keep your tone polite, determined to keep this outing from turning into a fight. After all, it was your mom’s wedding week, and despite all of the history between you, you really did want her to be happy. 

By the time you had returned to the table last night, your mom had already paid the bill. The three of you drove home in silence, your mom giving you her patented silent treatment. This morning when you came downstairs dressed and ready for your fitting, she simply started talking about the flower arrangements for the reception, like the night before had never happened.

“I think you chose well,” you said before your mom could change her mind on the dress again. You’re lying through your teeth, you think this dress might be one of the worst choices she's ever made, but the satisfied smile on her face makes your discomfort worth it. 

“Do a spin for me,” she asks for the tenth time today. When you roll your eyes she pouts and says, “please?”

You smile and twirl for her again, giggling when you nearly lose your footing and fall off the pedestal, grabbing your mom’s shoulder for support. Your mom laughed too, and you realized you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you laughed together. It was nice.

Rafe has been avoiding going downtown as much as possible these days, keeping his outings to the Island Club and having his friends come to him if they want to party. Even though his dad had officially taken the fall for everything, he knew people still whispered about him as he walked by. I heard he was there. I heard he did it. They say his fingerprints were on the bullets.

Today, however, he had a meeting with a potential buyer of some of the melted gold, a jeweler on main street. He slid on his sunglasses and locked his car, trying desperately to act like today was just business as usual, like he hadn’t just put a hit on his own father.

He walked quickly from his truck toward the jeweler’s store front, but stopped in his tracks as he passed Sally’s. There you were, behind the glass, spinning in a puffy purple dress, before nearly falling on your ass. He cursed himself for the way he flinched, as if he could reach out and catch you through the window. Why was it still his instinct to catch you? 

Two Years Earlier…

“Rafe!” You squealed as he pulled you through the side door of the ballroom into the dimly lit alley. “They were playing my song!”

“That’s why I had to get you outta there,” he leans over you, backing you slowly up against the wall. “You looked way too fucking good dancing to that song.”

Rafe started rifling through the layers of your prom dress impatiently, trying to get his hands on you.

“What are you doing?” You playfully swatted his arm, thinking he must be teasing you.

“I need you,” he growled.

“Right here? In the middle of this gross alley?” You started to think he might not be kidding.

He finally gets his hands under the heavy fabric of your gown and begins kneading the flesh of your ass, making you gasp. His open mouth found yours, and you can immediately taste the alcohol on his tongue. You pull back from him and reach up to grab both sides of his face, hoping your touch would ground him a bit. He looked at you frenzied, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

“Baby, are you drunk already?” You said as gently as possible.

“Just on you, baby,” he slurred, attempting to dive back in for a kiss. 

“Wait,” you turned your head, causing his mouth to miss yours and land sloppily on your ear.

“What the hell?” He backed away from you in frustration. His chest was rising and falling quickly, nostrils flaring, and you wondered if he was also high. He’d only done coke once before, as far as you knew, but you remembered how panicked he was after, his heart pounding violently as you tried to calm him down. 

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “We just need to slow down a bit.”

You approached him with your hand outstretched, like he was a stray dog you were trying not to scare off. He didn’t look at you, but allowed you to slip your fingers into his, squeezing gently.

“I just wanna dance with you,” you whispered softly. Je just glared back at you, so you pouted your lips, knowing he found it irresistibly cute when you did that. He couldn’t hide the crooked smirk growing on his lips, and his breath steadied.

“We can party hard later,” you promised. “But I wanna remember this part, with you.”

He looked down at your hand in his and ran his thumb over the promise ring he had given you just a few weeks ago. You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed it softly.

As you swayed softly to the next slow song, he bent down and laid a kiss on your bare shoulder. For a moment, you thought you were successful in bringing him back down to Earth. You were full of pride, truly believing that you, and only you, would always be able to fix him when he was broken. 

Now…

Rafe stood frozen at the dress shop window, just watching you. When you tucked your hair behind your ears, it was like he could still smell your pretty coconut shampoo. When you smoothed down your dress, it was like he could still feel your soft hands on his bare skin. When you said something to your mom, it was like he could still hear your voice whispering in his ear I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.

But you hadn’t meant it, had you? You couldn’t have, or you would’ve stayed. And if you had stayed, maybe he wouldn’t be where he was now. Maybe he would’ve married you, taken you away from this island like the two of you used to dream about. Maybe he wouldn’t be a thief, a liar, a killer. 

It was too late now, too late to undo it. Too late to get back to who he was before you left. But there was something about the sight of you, the presence of you, even through the tinted window glass, that made him want to try.

Decisively, he turned back toward his car, feverishly dialing Barry’s number. Praying to whatever God was good enough to create the girl in the window that it wasn’t too late.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror, you stopped short when you saw the reflection of a figure in the window. By the time you turned around, it was gone, and you were the one left wondering if you were imagining things.

Two Years Ago…

“Ma’am can you tell us what happened here tonight?” The cop questioned you.

Rafe looked up at you with pleading eyes. White button up stained with blood, eyes glassy and red. His suit jacket, the one you had picked out together to match your dress, had been ripped to shreds.

“I don’t know,” you said to the cop, not removing your disappointed eyes from Rafe, his bloodied face illuminated in the blue-red light of the sirens. 

“We’re going to need you to give a statement, ma’am,” the officer clarified, “for the record.”

“For the record…” you shook your head at the boy on the curb, arms held behind him in handcuffs. Arms that used to hold you every night, arms you didn’t know if you could trust anymore, “...I don’t know him.”

With that, you walked away, the shattered glass from your car window crunching under your heels with each step. Rafe had no choice but to sit there and watch you go, aching with something completely unrelated to the accident.

“Y/N!” He yelled after you, unable to suppress the pain in his voice.

You just kept walking.

Now…

You woke up with a start, clutching your bedsheets. Sighing, you tapped your phone screen and it lit up in the darkness. 5:53am. 

You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two years. You knew how this would go, once your brain was awake there would be no turning it back off. You sighed and threw the covers off, your old childhood bed creaking loudly as you stood up. You winced at the noise, your mother was a light sleeper, a lesson you’d learned the hard way too many times. 

You pulled on an old pair of leggings and a hoodie, and slowly crept down the stairs. Once out the door, you found your old bike in the shed in the backyard and rode off into the soft morning light. No clear destination in mind, you rode around the neighborhood, down to the beach. You watched the waves crash as you passed them. It had been two years since you’d seen the ocean, and you had nearly succeeded in convincing yourself you were okay with that. But now, the sun rising over the sea, salty air consuming your senses, all the hard work you did to delude yourself unraveled.  

Without really meaning to, you ended up at the cemetery. You parked your bike and let your memory lead you right to your dad’s plot.

His grave clearly hadn’t seen visitors in a while. You made a weak effort to brush the dirt off of his headstone, before smiling and choosing to leave it as is. “God made dirt, dirt don’t hurt” your dad would’ve said. 

For a while you just sat there, fingers combing through the grass as you listened to the birds chirp loudly in the trees above.

“That ever get annoying?” You asked your dad in jest. You smile to yourself, knowing your dad wouldn’t have minded. He was too easy going, the calm current that kept you and your mom afloat. Suddenly hit with a pang of longing to see your father again, you wished that you had something to leave here for him. You noticed a grave a few plots over, completely covered in fresh blooming flowers. 

“Somebody was popular,” you say to your dad’s headstone. “I’m sure they won’t miss one flower right?”

You stand and approach the grave, wondering who it was that inspired such an outpouring of love. 

“Sheriff Susan Peterkin” 1977-2020

You frowned. She must’ve died recently, then. Strange that your mom hadn’t said anything, surely Chip had known her, being on the force. You remembered Peterkin, she came to your school every year when you were growing up. Back then, she was just a beat cop who pulled the short straw and had to give the anti-bullying presentation, but you remember her being very nice.

You plucked a tulip from one of her many bouquets and felt like you should say something.

“Um, hi. I don’t know if you knew my dad, but I think you would’ve liked him. I’m sorry for whatever happened, but thanks for always being so cool.”

As you walked away from her grave, you noticed another newly dug plot a few yards away. The plot was small, if something was buried here, it wasn’t a body. Still, there was a small plaque over the fresh dirt. You approached, having to get pretty close before you could make out the name…

“Ward Cameron.”

Your knees buckled beneath you, the tulip you were holding slipping from your grasp. This grave couldn’t have been here for more than what, a few weeks? The grass had barely begun to grow. Maybe your mom could have just forgotten to tell you about Sheriff Peterkin, but surely the very recent death of Ward Cameron hadn’t just slipped her mind. Clearly, something bigger was going on. 

And Rafe…Rafe.

You regained your footing and started running, past Sheriff Peterkin’s grave, past your father’s, blowing him a quick kiss.

You found your bike and started pedaling as fast as you could. Not even pausing to think through what you’d say when you got there, just knowing you needed to see him, to be with him. Suddenly, it made more sense. He was grieving. Their relationship was complicated, but even when he was pissed at him, Rafe still worshiped his father.

You pulled up to Tannyhill, but the gate was closed. You tried some of the gate codes you remembered the Camerons used to rotate through, but none of them worked. After your fifth attempt, the system locked you out. You rang the bell, not sure if he would even let you in when he realized it was you, but you had to try. No answer, he must not have been home.

You sat by the wall for a few hours, waiting for him to get home. Eventually, your stomach ached with hunger, and you really had to pee. You decided to go home, collect yourself, and come back later. 

By the time you arrived home on your bike, it was almost noon. Chip was just walking in the front door, home from work. He had been pulling double overnight shifts to pay for the wedding and he looked exhausted. Luckily for both of you, the wedding was just a few days away now, and all of this would be behind you soon.

When you walked in the living room, he was mid-conversation with your mother, who quickly shushed him at the sight of you. He looked at her in confusion, clearly not reading the silent message she was trying to send with her eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked, feeling just as lost as Chip.

“Just telling your mom how we brought in that Cameron boy again last night-” your mother cut him off with a harsh, “Chip!” and he threw his hands up in surrender.

You and your mother looked at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, and at the same time, everything. 

“Don’t,” she pleaded quietly.

You turned fast and ran toward the door, grabbing her car keys and your purse off the dining room table as you passed.

“Y/N, do not do this,” your mom was up from the couch, running after you as you headed for the front door. “Tonight is my bachelorette party and tomorrow we have the rehearsal!”

“I’ll be back in time, I just have to-”

“No you don’t! You don’t have to!” She yelled, trying to grab the handle of the door before you could get to it, but you beat her to it and threw open the door.

“I’m sorry,” you called behind you as you ran to her car in the driveway. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t bother,” she yelled from the front steps. 

You stopped in your tracks, hands pausing on the handle of her car door as you whipped your head towards her in surprise.

“If you leave right now,” she said, eerily composed, “If you go to him, I don’t want you at my wedding. If you do this, y/n…I don’t ever want to see you again”

Your mother had said many harsh words to you in moments of frustration that she tried to take back later, but the way she was talking to you now, her tone so even and her words so carefully selected, you wondered if she’d practiced this speech. Then it dawned on you, she knew you would do this. She knew if you found out about Ward, that you’d run to Rafe’s side. And she was fully prepared to cut you out.

You opened the car door and got in, not looking back at your mom as you peeled out of the driveway.

Twelve Years Earlier…

“No, Rafe,” you scolded, hands on your hips. “You’re the cop, and I’m the robber!”

“Well too bad. I wanna be a robber, too,” he said, taking off the plastic sherriff's badge you had given him and throwing it in the playground dirt. 

“We can’t both be robbers, that doesn’t make any sense,” you told him. 

The rules of make-believe were very clear, and you’d always been a rule follower. That is, until you started spending your recesses playing with Rafe Cameron. He was always in trouble.

“Sure we can, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde!” He encouraged, handing you his plastic toy gun.

“Bonnie and Clyde,” you agreed with a smile, taking the gun.

Suddenly, you didn’t care so much about breaking the rules. Not if it meant you got to keep playing with him.

(chapter 4)

a/n: y'all are blowing me away with all your kindness about this story!! I hope you keep loving it!!! Lots more to come (including some smut if you're patient🤫) 🫶

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[reiderwriter]

The Us That Could Have Been

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader

Requested: yes - role reversal of the player!Spencer fic I posted here!

W/C: 5.7k

Summary: They say if you want to get over one man, you have to get under another. Spencer isn't so sure why he dislikes the idea of you doing that quite so much.

Warnings: Mentions of Maeve, spoilers for S8, mentions of minor character deaths, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, angst.

A/N: I'm not going to apologise for this one... Have fun.

Find the rest of my masterlist here.

If you were a genius, you’d know that it took you three hours, twenty-three minutes, and six seconds to fall in love with Spencer Reid. If you were a genius, you’d also know that it took him five years, seven months, twenty-seven days, and two hours to the second for him to break your heart. The thing you were learning about geniuses though, is that they were the most oblivious people on the planet. 

Her name was Maeve, he had told all of you. And he needed your help to save her because he was in love with her. And of course, you went along with it, you tried your best even while your heart was cracked in two because at this point, you couldn’t stand the desperation on his face. The day he told you about her, only days before he died, you cried in the arms of Penelope Garcia for hours, letting her console you as you felt your world get flipped upside down. 

“I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, god, Penelope. Five years, and I knew, I knew that if he liked me like that something would have happened already, but I just…” She rubbed your back as you laid your head on her shoulder, letting your tears fall freely as the sobs wracked through your body. 

“I’ve been in love with him for five years and he never even noticed, and… Penelope he hasn’t seen this girl before and he’s desperate for her. What about me is so unlovable?” Your voice cracked as you broke down again, burying your head in your friend's arms as you let all the emotions hit you at once. 

“Y/N you listen to me right now. You are not unlovable, you have never been unlovable. If Spencer cannot see what is right in front of him, then he is an idiot. You are the most amazing thing that has happened to him, you’re a great friend, you’re smart, you’re beautiful-” 

“I’m not her. Penelope, I… I want to be her-” She held you as you emptied yourself for hours, crying until you were so physically exhausted that you just couldn’t anymore. You couldn’t say that you stopped crying per se, just that your body ran out of emotions to sustain you. 

“Okay, Y/N, here’s what you’re going to do now,” Penelope said. She’d heard you out for long enough, but she wasn’t going to let you be miserable for long. 

“You’re going to pick yourself up, take care of yourself. Get a haircut, dye your hair, whatever you need to do to get some change. And then you’re going to do your goddamn best to forget him, because if he’s too stupid to realize how special and amazing you are then he really doesn’t deserve you.” You sniffled a bit and nodded at her words. 

“And then, you’re going to get back out there. Y/N, when was the last time you went on a date?” 

“I don’t know it’s been… The last one I can remember was before I entered the BAU. I’ve just been so busy-” 

“Bullshit. You’re going to put yourself back out there and find a man, or multiple men, who actually value you and want you. A wise scholar once said the best way to get over a man is to get under another.” 

–X–

A year later and you’d probably taken Penelope’s words to heart a little bit too much. Maeve had died at the hands of her stalker not even a day later, and you felt terrible for Spencer, but he’d pushed you away, he’d pushed everyone away, so you’d decided she was right. 

Your first date had been a few weeks later, and you’d have liked the fact that you’d taken him back to your place and then immediately kicked him out and never seen him again after that to stay a secret. But the BAU copycat didn’t let any of your business stay within the team for long. He had pictures of you with the first guy, the guy from a week later, and the guy after him as well. By the time you’d figured out who the copycat murderer who’d sent you all Zugzwang-themed threats was, he’d got pictures of you locking lips with five separate one-night stands.

The team had said nothing about it, of course, except Hotch’s private aside asking if any of the men in the pictures needed informing about the situation. You’d had to admit to them that you’d not seen any of them since, and, with no reaction from Spencer, you’d felt almost vindicated in taking this step. 

If he didn’t care then, in those tense months where you were all leaning on each other for support, reeling from the death of Erin Strauss and the attacks on the team, closer than you’d really ever been before, then he wouldn’t ever care. 

The thought was freeing. So you’d kept up with your constant stream of men, not letting them get close enough to hurt you in the way that Spencer had, using them and discarding them like broken toys, ignoring that maybe it was you that was the broken one. 

It took a year for him to notice it. A year of you coming in with suspicious bruises on your neck that you laughed off, a year of your newfound confidence, a year of your conscious distance for him to notice that he missed you. It was slow at first. In those first few months, he just accepted that of course, you’d been seeing people. He’d assumed from the photographs everyone had seen that you’d been dating the entire time he’d known you, the feeling unsettling him a little, but he thought that was only because he’d never noticed. 

Now it was all he could notice. The way you’d walk in sometimes smelling unfamiliar, having showered at a hookup's place before taking off, the way you were suddenly open to the flirting by the local PDs on your cases. The way a sadness seeped into his chest every time he saw you with someone else. Envy wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, so it took him stupidly long to name the emotion. 

You were back at O’Keefe’s after a local case successfully closed, and if you were drinking a lot, no one mentioned it. No one except Spencer, who’d made it his objective to keep you safe and by his side the entire night, for reasons he couldn’t even name. It was stifling, having him constantly hovering over you. 

“Spencer, lighten up a bit, have a drink.” You smiled up at him, trying to get him to loosen up so you could escape the way his sudden care was making you feel. The bartender was eyeing you up from his place behind the bar, and while you were usually careful not to get involved with men whom you’d likely run across again, you were throwing caution to the wind that day. 

“I’ll have a drink if you drink some water and slow down a bit, Y/N.” He handed you the glass he’d retrieved earlier and you sipped it slowly, squirming under the care in his gaze. He ordered a drink, and you eyed up the bartender as he did so, pushing Spencer’s hand off your hip as he approached, offering him a smile. He looked between you and the unfamiliar man, and felt a cold flash in his veins, waiting for his drink and then pulling you away back to the table with the rest of your friends, tangling your hand with his. 

You pulled out of his grip but followed him dutifully. He guided you into your seat quickly, brushing your hair out of your eyes before falling back into conversation with the rest of the team. You hated the way he could still make your heart stutter, still have you feeling hot all over from a single touch, and you felt trapped in the booth, screaming for a way out. 

Your chance came an hour later, when he excused himself to the bathroom, and you excused yourself as well, running back up to the bar. When he came back, you were gone.

“Where is Y/N?” He asked with a scowl, cursing himself for letting his eyes off you for even a second when you’d drank so much that night, having come back to suggest you turn in for the night, getting ready to offer you a ride home. 

“Y/N? By now, she’s either in the back room with the bartender or she’s convinced him to get off early and head back to hers,” Morgan chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Took her only two minutes of conversation to have him inviting her out the back entrance, she’s been gone for like five minutes now. 

The constricted feeling settled in his chest again, as his scowl deepened. Not knowing why he was feeling so goddamn destroyed by that statement, he let his head hang and left the bar himself, taking himself outside to get in his car and go home. Unbeknownst to him, you watched him leave from the alley behind the bar, the bartender placing open-mouthed kisses on your exposed neck as you buried your worryingly consistent feelings in the scent of bourbon and lust. 

The next week is rough for both of you. You laugh and play along with Morgan’s jokes about your game, keeping an eye out for him the entire time and ending all the conversations as you feel him enter the room or step closer. It doesn’t stop him from hearing it all, though, all the details about your sex life tormenting him, as he boils with anger at how wreckless you’re being with your constant stream of guys. 

“Mama, you were on fire last week. Took you only two minutes to disappear with that guy, you’re going to have to let me in on your secrets,” Morgan laughed from his perch on your desk. 

“Sorry, a magician never reveals her secrets, and what I do is definitely magic.” Your tone was suggestive and set the man off in a booming laugh, but with your back to the door, you hadn’t heard Spencer’s entrance. 

“The secret is that men are more accepting of casual hook-ups with strangers than women,” he snapped at you both, beginning to ramble as you both looked up at him in shock. 

“Okay, kid, I was just joking-”

“When surveyed over 75% of men said they would be willing to have sex with a complete stranger, vs. 0% of women, and while that’s just one study, there are multiple others that I could quote that have similar results.” 

“Spencer,” you chastised him, but he didn’t stop.

“What? Did you want to know when posing the question of an affair to people in a relationship that 18% of men reacted positively to having casual sex with a stranger, and surprisingly 4% of women also reacted in the affirmative? Did you ask that guy if he had a girlfriend before you fell into his bed, Y/N?” 

“Okay, that’s enough, Spencer, take a walk. I don’t know what’s up with you today, but that was out of line. Hotch is looking for you in his office.” The words came from Morgan, but he kept his eyes locked with yours as he was scolded, memorizing the look of pain in your eyes as he finally backed away. 

He didn’t know why he did it. He knew it would hurt you, and yet he continued anyway, even after you’d begged him to stop. He was hurt, and he didn’t know why, and he didn’t think he had any reason to be hurt, and somehow it was all because you’d been in the back of his mind constantly for as long as he could remember. 

–X– 

“Okay, girl’s night, my place, tomorrow night. There are no cases, and I managed to get Hotch to agree to let us put our phones on silent for the night, so it’s just me, you, JJ, and Blake, a bottle of wine and some good old-fashioned girl talk, what do you say?” Penelope asked you gleefully in the break room one day as you both prepared your drinks for a busy day of paperwork ahead. 

“I’m sorry, Pen, I have plans already.” You grinned up at her as she pouted, promising to make it up to her another time. You didn’t offer an explanation though, just excusing yourself back to your desk and letting her know that you’d make it up to her another time. 

Reid took your place as soon as you vacated it. Almost obsessively, he’d been following you around like a lost puppy since he’d exploded on you the other day. 

“I know you said girls’ night but… Could... Could I come? I think I need some uh, girl talk?” He asked Penelope, an awkward, embarrassed look on his face as he smiled tensely. If anyone knew what was wrong with him, recently, it would be them. 

Last year, he’d have said it was you, but the distance he’d felt recently, combined with the fact that he was almost 90% sure you were the root of his problems had him desperate for other opinions. 

“Oh. Are you sure, Spencer, we’ll be talking about all kinds of gross women stuff?” 

“I was raised by a single mother. I’m sure nothing you say could gross me out. Please?” She nodded her approval telling him what time to get there and to bring his beverage of choice, knowing he didn’t really drink wine all that much if he could help it. 

He turned up twenty minutes late, after spending a great deal of time pacing outside of Penelope’s apartment building wondering if he had any right to unburden himself on them like this. Pacing he wondered whether you’d actually showed up despite your mysterious plans and whether this had been all for naught anyway. 

When he eventually knocked on the door, Penelope opened it and greeted him with a warm hug. “We were wondering when you were going to knock on the door, one more minute and we were going to come out to get you.” 

JJ stood up to hug him, wine glass in her hand, and Blake offered him a wave from her perch on the couch. He took off his scarf and coat and accepted the glass of water Penelope offered him, settling into a chair opposite the three women. 

“Penelope said you wanted advice about something?” Blake was the first to enquire, the three of them getting straight into it, not letting him chicken out of it. 

“Yeah, I think so. Lately, I’ve been having these, I don’t know, weird feelings…” 

“Oh god, I thought I was a few years out from having the talk with someone,” JJ joked, but Penelope shushed her quickly after a quick snicker, letting him continue. 

“I’ve been… I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been acting really weird around Y/N, and I can’t figure out why.” He finally pushed the words out, feeling a weight off his chest at the confession. 

“You can’t?” The room was silent for a minute as they looked at each other, and he looked at them looking at each other, wondering what it was exactly that he’d missed. 

“Yeah? I don’t know, every time I see her I just want to, I don’t know, have her attention on me, even if I have to say something a little mean to get it. And in the bar that time, I was so, I don’t know hurt, I guess, when she disappeared without saying goodbye.” 

They just listened to him go on, not stopping to interrupt him, so he continued. 

“And there’s been this weird distance between us lately, and I guess it’s been there for a while, but I miss her, but she’s still there. I can still talk to her, and I can still spend time with her but I miss her all the time.”

“Spencer,” Blake said with a soft voice. “Since when have you been feeling like this?” 

“I don’t know, I guess it started after everything happened with Strauss and the copycat in New York. But she’s always been… I don’t know, closer than most people? But every time I think we’re getting back to normal recently, she pulls away again and there’s this… void where she should be.”

JJ put her drink down and leaned a little closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Spencer, I think you might be in love with her.” He considered the words for a moment, before getting ready to dismiss them. 

“No, love is a good emotion, this doesn’t feel good, it feels… ugly.” Blake stared at him sympathetically, calmly talking him around. 

“Spencer, think about it. You’re protective over her, you don’t like seeing her with other people, this all started right around the time the copycat sent those pictures of her with other people. It is love, and it’s jealousy, too.” 

The words hit him like a tonne of bricks as he suddenly felt the full force of his words. He was in love with you. 

“Oh god, what do I do?” He held his head in his hands, and Penelope scoffed a little from her seat, the rest of them turning to look at him.  

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to figure this one out on your own genius.” She said with a slightly sharp tone, and even the girls sent her questioning stares as she continued. 

“You don’t just get to decide that you want her after all this time, not after how you’ve been treating her these last few months.” She turns her head away a little bit and sips her drink, her tough-love approach leaving him slightly defeated.  

“Penelope, do you know something?” Blake asks firmly, trying to coax some answers out of her. 

“If I did, I’d be under a strict oath not to tell anyone. And I wouldn’t want to considering how much pain she was in when she made me swear never to tell anyone.” It was clear from the tone of her voice that she really wanted to say something though, the words desperate to spill out. 

“Penelope, your loyalty is commendable, but don’t you think what you have to say could help both of them?” JJ quietly coaxed out of her, and she finally gave in. 

“Okay, but if you hurt her, Spencer Reid, I will never forgive you ever again.” He nodded quickly, hanging onto her every word. 

“Think about what else happened a year ago.” She encouraged him, and for a moment, he was coming up blank.  

“A year ago? We were in the middle of the copycat case. Strauss had just been killed. We were close to being pulled off the case-” 

“You got a girlfriend, Spencer. You came in one day out of the blue and just announced that you were in love with someone you hadn’t met, and you didn’t realize that you were torturing her.” Penelope tried really hard not to snap at him, but his ignorance of your feelings was frustrating, to say the least.  

“What Penelope is trying to say, Spencer, is that we think Y/N was in love with you, too,” JJ added, softening the blow. “And finding out you didn’t feel the same way so suddenly was, well it was a shock to all of us really.”

“What Penelope is trying to say is that she spent six hours with me crying into this couch, and then picked herself up and helped you try to save the woman you had chosen over her. So yeah, she’s been a bit distant, but can you really blame her?” 

“She… She was in love with me?” His heart stopped for a second, dropping to the pit of his stomach as he thought back to those days, how you’d acted around him, the smiles that hadn’t reached your eyes, the reassurances that he’d brushed off, so desperate to help Maeve. 

“Honestly, until you told us about Maeve, I thought you two had something going on,” Blake added. 

“We used to have an office bet when Emily was around about which of the two of you would confess first,” JJ admitted shyly. 

“Oh, god.” He let his head hang a little in shame. “Do you… do you think she still feels the same?” 

They shared another glance at each other again, and he panicked trying desperately to decode whatever it was that had just passed between them. 

“Look, we shouldn’t profile each other but… It’s not a coincidence that all of her hookups tend to happen after you pay her some attention.” Blake observed, letting Reid fill in the blanks of her statement.

“That might be my fault actually, I told her the best way to get over you is to get under someone else.” 

“I don’t want her under someone else,” he stated then, cutting himself off before he could say anything else too damning.  

“She’s not here tonight, why isn’t she here?” He panicked looking frantically around the room for answers, but none of them knew really.  

“She said she had plans, but she didn’t tell me what they are.” 

“Do you think she’s… do you think she’s with…” He couldn’t finish the thought, instead bolting upright and gathering his things. 

“I need to go.” He let out, as the women cheered behind him, finally happy that he was taking action. Penelope shouted your address at him as he left as if he didn’t already have it memorized, running out in the rain, his feet carrying him to your apartment.  

He saw the light on when he approached, thankful that you were still there, and bounded up the stairs to your floor, not giving himself time to second guess this before he pounded on your door.  

You pulled the door open, a confused look on your face as you greeted him, his chest heaving, water dripping down his face. He looked like a mess. 

“Are you alone?” He gasped out, having to pause between each word to catch his breath.  

“Spencer, what are you doing-” The breath left your body as he leaned into you, catching you around the hips and walking you back into your apartment, your back hitting the wall behind you as he rested his forehead against your own, chest still desperately drawing in oxygen. 

“Please, please tell me right now if there’s someone here with you. If there is, I’ll leave, if there isn’t…” His gaze fell to your lips and your entire body lit up, the haze of your confusion finally lifting as you took in each of his words. His lips moved forward, seconds from connecting with your own when his question was finally answered.  

“Y/N? Who is it?” The voice was male, and it was coming from your living room, but it was all Spencer needed to know as he detangled himself from you, pushing his wet hair out of his face and putting some distance between you two, muttering apologies as he backed out of the door again. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I’m sorry,” he said, quickly turning away from you and leaving your apartment quickly. 

“Spencer, wait-” You tried to yell after him, but it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, as quickly as he came. 

You returned to the living room, cursing yourself for not answering quickly enough as you crawled back into the seat you’d just left. 

“What was all that?” Your brother asked from his perch, shoveling popcorn into his mouth in a way that had you somehow even more pissed at him for the simple fact of his existence.  

“That was Spencer. He… God, I think he thinks I’m in here with a guy.” 

–X– 

The next few days at work were tense, as you desperately tried everything to catch his eye. But you weren’t sure why you were putting in so much effort. He was the one who had burst into your apartment and practically begged you for your attention, why were you now the one chasing him?

Needless to say, you took your frustrations straight to Penelope Monday morning. 

“And then he left without letting me explain that it was my brother, and he hasn’t talked to me once this morning, he keeps running away from me and I don’t even know what the fuck it was he was trying to gain from all that and- ughh he is so dense.”

Penelope had sensed the oncoming disaster the moment she’d seen your social media post about your brother’s visit Saturday morning, and you only confirmed all her fears as you unloaded onto her. She silently cursed Spencer as well, and once she’d given you some reassurance and reminded you that you had some case files on your desk that were urgent and distracting enough to calm you down, she practically lept from her seat to hunt Reid down.  

“Spencer Reid, you get your ass in my office right this second,” she whisper screamed at him in the breakroom, his sunken eyes showing that his jump to conclusions had left him in a poor emotional state. He jolted at her words, as she watched to see if you noticed the two of them before practically frog-marching him off down the hall.  

“What the hell happened? We sent you off to confess your feelings, and you what? Pin her to the wall and breathe down her neck before running off with your tail between your legs?” 

He looked down guiltily before replying. “She had a guy there, Penelope, I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to get rejected like that.” 

“She did not have a guy there, Spencer, she had her brother there.” She pulled up your post on her phone and thrust it in his face as she watched his eyes go wide at his own stupidity, clutching the phone as he read your words.  

“And if you weren’t a coward, you’d have stayed and told her even if she did actually have someone over.” 

He’d since tuned out her words though, the crushing weight of his almost-confession that had been stuck to him since the weekend dissipating slowly. 

“This is her brother?” He looked up at you again, desperate to confirm the words she’d already said. 

“Yes. You’d know that if you weren’t such a technophobic freak. I love you but this is the 21st Century and you’re an idiot.” 

“Yeah, I am.” He handed her the phone back and slunk out of the office, and back to his desk. He had a chance to try again, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time. 

–X– 

You didn’t know how you knew that night, but when you heard the knock at your door, you knew it was him. 

You hesitated before reaching for the door handle, pulling it open, and confirming your suspicions. 

“Hi.” You said, and he returned the greeting with a mumble of his own before the two of you fell into silence again. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t, instead letting his gaze fall to your lips. You heard the hidden question in his look and opened the door a little wider. 

It took only a moment for him to come crashing into you, hands holding your face as his lips met yours in a passionate embrace, drinking you in as again walked you back into your apartment, not even breaking away as he closed the door behind you.  

You wrapped your arms up and around his neck, as you let his hands fall to your hips, your chest, your ass, exploring every part of your body he could reach as you stood caught up in each other. In your desperation for each other, you hit walls, and bumped into tables, finally stopping at your kitchen island as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he started pressing kisses down the hollow of your neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered between kisses. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was your brother and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, and I’m sorry I’ve been so weird recently.” You pulled his face back up to your own claiming his lips in yours once again, swallowing each of his other apologies. 

He pulled away again, looking at you tenderly as he lifted you into his arms and gently carried you into your room, laying you down on your bed. 

“I love you,” he whispered, and the words broke you. You’d spent five years practically begging him to say them, and another year since trying to bury even the very idea of him feeling the same way deep inside you. Tears fell from your eyes and he kissed each one of them away, muttering confessions into your skin. 

“I love you, please don’t cry.” 

“I love you, you’re so beautiful.” 

“I love you and I’m so so sorry.” You pushed him away again slightly, regaining enough of your composure to finally talk again. 

“I need to know that you’re serious, Spencer. I can’t… I can’t do this if you’re not totally sure, because it will destroy me.” Your voice broke as the words stumbled over the knot in your throat, your hands balled into his shirt, legs still wrapped around him. 

“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you ever again.” He pressed his lips back into yours again, and you let the kiss deepen, lips slanting over each other in desperation as the need to be joined overtook your body. 

He lifted your skirt, trailing a hand between the two of you as he checked your arousal. You could feel his cock pressing into your thigh, desperate to be freed from it’s restraints. He began kissing his way down your naval, but you pulled him back up.  

“No, I need you now. There will be time for that later, but if you don’t do this now I think I’ll drive myself mad with wanting.” His lips reconnected with yours again as you began divesting yourselves of clothing, and within another two minutes, he was pressing into you, muttering more adoring serenades into your skin as he began catching the tears escaping your eyes again. 

“Yes, Spencer, more please,” you moaned underneath him, legs tight around him as he began thrusting into you with a ferocity you hadn’t felt from him before. It was tender, but you were both desperate, after months of separation, to come back into one another. 

Your lips and teeth clashed together as you let the room echo with your moans, his moans, and the sound of your skin slapping against each other. His forehead came to rest against your own as he grew closer to his release, lips disconnecting as you just stared into each other's eyes in that moment, seeing each other truly for the very first time. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.” He pressed down into you harder, looking down to the place where you were joined and letting out a whispered curse as he watched you take every inch of him. His hips stuttered then, and you felt your own climax reach you as you felt him release into you, his lips softly tracing your own as you breathed each other in again. 

He pulled out and immediately went to work making sure you were comfortable, propping you up on the bed, making sure the pillows behind you were plump and soft, and running off to find something to clean yourself up with. You watched him silently, again brushing some of the tears from your eyes. 

“How do you feel?” He said shyly as he returned, having pulled his pants back on at least as he bought you a glass of water. You offered him a small smile and a thank you as you replied. 

“I think… I think we need to talk, Spencer.” You said, not meeting his eyes as he looked down at you attentively. 

“Why did you come tonight, Spencer?” You asked, voice so quiet you resisted the urge to repeat the question, knowing that he heard you perfectly clearly, 

“I needed to tell you how I feel. It’s been staring me in the face for six years, and I somehow didn’t know, but once I did I just… I needed you to know.” You nodded at his words, standing still in front of you on the bed as you swung your legs off and asked him to pass you your nightdress back. You pulled it on over your head as you asked him your next question. 

“Why did you run away the other day?” 

“I didn’t know it was your brother, Y/N, I should’ve-”

“It shouldn’t have mattered who it was. If you love me, you should fight for me, right? The way you fought for Maeve.” Your tears start falling again as you open the wound that brought you this far. 

“Y/N, that was… That was different-” You can hear the panic in his voice as he tries to come up with the words to explain himself. 

“Spencer, if.. If it’s different then I think you should leave. If you don’t love me the same way you loved her, then there’s no point starting something.” 

“Y/N, please.” 

“No, Spencer. I have spent six years of my life filled with nothing but love for you. I wake up and think about you, I go to bed and you’re still there in the back of my mind. My every action is informed by your presence and I am so, so tired. So if you do not feel the same way, you need to turn around and leave this apartment.” 

The silence between you is thick, as you stare up at him through your tears, face stern as you push him away. 

He gathers his things. Moves towards the door and doesn’t say anything, and just as you’re about to break down, to let the sob burst from your chest in an agonized wail, you hear your front door close behind him, and you’re left alone in the empty apartment, stuck in the purgatory of your love for him, unable to move an inch. 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #maeve donovan #maturereiding

[ornateorchid]

thinking about poly 141 x reader when you have a bad day at work :/

warnings: fem!afab!reader, one moment of smut (oral f!receiving), fluff, comfort, pet names

It was another one of those days where everything went wrong. You woke up late, spilled your drink in your car, ran into the door, and had to flag down a janitor to unlock your office because you left your keys at home. And that was just in the morning. By the afternoon, you were exhausted and wanted away from everyone. Your boss had assigned another upcoming project and your group is full of the most miserable, insufferable people you could come across. They argued over everything and you just had to sit back and hope they wouldn't make you pick sides.

Usually, you would go home and cry and eat ice cream while watching your comfort movies after a day like this. But your boys were home from deployment, so you knew they wouldn't let that happen.

-----

When you walked through the front door, Simon and John were setting the table while Johnny and Kyle were playing video games in the living room.

"Welcome home, love," Simon said as he gave you a quick peck on the cheek.

"Hey, darling. How was your day?" John asked as he set down the utensils.

You ignored both of them and made a b-line for Kyle and Johnny. Not because you favored them, but because you desperately needed someone to hold you. You climbed onto the couch and buried yourself in Johnny's arms. He paused the game and chuckled as he held you tightly, rubbing your back as you whined.

"Rough day?" Kyle asked, looking at you with concern.

You nodded, holding tighter to Johnny's shirt. You didn't even realize you were crying, but the tears were flowing.

"Wha' happened, bonnie?" Johnny asked, kissing your temple.

"I'm tired," you sobbed. "Today has been terrible."

"Aw, c'mere," Kyle said, opening his arms.

You immediately crawled into his lap and hid your face in his neck, letting him hold you close. Johnny scooted closer and rubbed your back, cooing softly. Simon and John came into the living room, both frowning.

"Everything alright?" John asked, sitting on the other side of Kyle and rubbing your arm.

"Just a bad day, it seems," Kyle said, rubbing your side.

"It was terrible," you cried. "Everyone was arguing. I didn't get enough sleep. And I forgot my keys and couldn't get into my office."

"Sounds like a shitty day," Simon said, coming around and kissing your cheek. "Did you eat?"

You shook your head. "No time," you sniffed. "And I wasn't hungry anyway."

"How about we eat dinner, then we'll get ya a bath and cuddle for the rest of the night, a'right?" Johnny suggested, running his hand along your back.

"That sounds nice," you sighed, relaxing against Kyle.

"Alright, you get some more cuddles while we finish up dinner," Simon said, patting your head.

"You wanna go change into something more comfortable, love?" Kyle murmurs as he presses kisses onto the top of your head. You nod and he carries you to the bedroom, gently setting you on the bed.

He turns around and starts rummaging through the dresser while making small talk. You only give short, one-word answers whenever he asks a question, mostly just listening.

"You wanna know what helps me feel better after a stressful day?" he asks, a smirk on his face. You can't see it since his back is still turned towards you, but you can hear it in the tone of his voice that he's up to no good.

"Hm?" you ask, and he turns around and places a pair of sweatpants and one of Simon's shirts on the bed. He walks closer to where you're sitting on the bed and leans down to your level. "An orgasm," he says quietly. "Only if you want to, of course. It's up to you, love."

On one hand, it sounds nice. But on the other hand, you were tired and didn't feel like doing much.

Almost like he read your mind, Kyle rubs your arm and says, "You just have to lay here and look pretty. You know I love giving."

"Please?" you whine, pouting.

"Of course, sweetheart," he said, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. You kissed back, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. He slowly pushed you down onto the bed, settling between your legs.

"Let me know if it's too much, yeah?" he murmured as he unbuttoned your shirt. You hummed in agreement, too focused on the feeling of his lips on your skin. He trailed kisses down your neck, sucking and nipping gently.

His hand snaked their way up to your chest, rubbing and squeezing. His hand slipped inside your bra, cupping and fondling your breast. You moan and arch into his touch, loving the attention.

He kissed and sucked his way down your chest, removing his hand from your bra. He quickly undid the button on your pants, sliding the zipper down. You lifted your hips and he pulled them off, tossing them to the side. He slid his hand under your underwear and cupped your pussy.

"Already wet," he purred, rubbing your clit with his thumb. You moaned softly, hips rocking.

"So pretty, laid out for me like this," he murmurs. "Gonna take care of you, baby."

He hooked his fingers on the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down. Once they were off, he sat back and stared at your naked body.

"So gorgeous," he muttered, leaning down and kissing your pussy. He slowly licked from your entrance to your clit, flicking it with his tongue.

"Such a sweet girl," he murmured, his mouth vibrating against you. He kissed your thigh before sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. He moved further down, leaving hickeys in his wake.

He reached your inner thigh and bit down harder than before, drawing a loud moan from your throat. He soothed the bite mark with his tongue, moving back up.

"Love you," he said, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. He moved down and licked around your entrance, moaning softly. "God, you taste so good," he groaned. "I could do this all day."

You whimpered, gripping his hair. He hummed and slipped his tongue inside, curling and thrusting it in and out. He reached up and rubbed your clit with his thumb, and your body started trembling.

He continued his assault, alternating between licking and sucking at your clit and thrusting his tongue in and out. Right then, there was a knock on the door and John walked in. "Dinner's rea- oh."

He looked surprised, but not angry. Kyle didn't stop, only smirking at John as he continued eating you out. "Well, I guess you're already eating," John said, walking over and rubbing your hip. Kyle hummed, licking your pussy slowly.

"John," you moaned, reaching for him. He smiled and took your hand, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Kyle's taking good care of you, yeah?"

"Mhm," you sighed. Kyle had moved back down, thrusting his tongue in and out as fast as possible. John chuckled, squeezing your hand.

"You like that, huh?" he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You nodded your head and moaned loudly, back arching. Kyle hummed and pressed his tongue deeper inside, rubbing his nose against your clit. You came with a cry, gripping his hair. He continued licking and sucking as you rode out your high, slowing down as your body went slack.

"That's a good girl," John said, patting your thigh. He kissed your cheek and stood, smiling "Come join us when you're ready," he said, turning and leaving.

Kyle looked up at you, smiling. "Feel better?"

"Much better," you replied, nodding.

"Good," he said, kissing your pussy once more. He climbed off the bed and helped you get dressed, pressing soft kisses all over your face.

"Love you," he said, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"I love you too," you replied, burying your face in his side.

He led you out of the room and into the kitchen, where John was already eating and Simon was pouring drinks.

"Hey, bonnie," Johnny said, smiling. "Feeling better?"

You nodded, blushing. Simon walked over and kissed your cheek, handing you a glass of water.

"Glad to hear it," he said, sitting down next to Kyle.

"You're a sneaky bastard, Garrick," Simon whispers, and leans over to kiss his Sergeant on the mouth.

" 'M well aware, Lieutenant," Kyle smirks. "Couldn't resist the opportunity."

Simon chuckled and shook his head, and John smiled at the exchange.

"Come eat, darling," John said, patting the chair next to him. You sat down, and he kissed your cheek, wrapping an arm around you.

"Thank you," you mumbled, leaning into his side.

"Of course, darling," he said, smiling. "You've had a tough day; you deserve a little extra affection."

You blushed, burying your face in his neck. He chuckled and rubbed your side, kissing the top of your head.

After dinner, the five of you watched a movie. You were curled up in Johnny's lap, his strong arms wrapped around you. Simon's head was in your lap, while Kyle was snuggling with John on the loveseat. You were half asleep by the time the movie was over, and Johnny chuckled, kissing the top of your head.

"Ready for bed, bonnie?" he asked, running his hand along your arm.

"Mhm," you mumbled, cuddling closer to him.

"Let's get you to bed then," he said, scooping you up. You nuzzled his neck, sighing softly. He carried you to the bedroom, setting you on the bed.

"You wanna shower first, lovie?" Simon asked when he walked into the bedroom. You nodded your head, and he smiled.

"Okay, darling. We'll be quick," he said, kissing your forehead.

Once everyone was done showering and changing, they climbed into bed. You were laying on top of Simon, John on one side rubbing your back and Kyle and Johnny snuggling on the other.

"Feeling better?" Simon asked, rubbing your side.

"Much better," you mumbled, resting your head on his chest.

"Good," he said, kissing the top of your head.

John leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek, smiling.

"We're glad you're feeling better," he said, "Get some rest, darling."

"I love you," you said, yawning.

"We love you too," Simon said, and John nodded.

They were asleep soon after, and you followed suit. Today may have started terribly, but the end definitely made up for it.

a/n: GRAHHH i hate the ending but this has been festering in my drafts for weeks and i wanted it OUT.

divider by @saradika

#poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x you #kyle garrick x you #kyle garrick smut #gaz smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader #johnny mactavish #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader

[blueariel3-blog]

Cookies

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You attempt to make a welcome home gift for your mate, but it doesn't go as planned.

A/N: This is my first time writing something for ACOTAR, let me know if you like it! Just something sweet and short. I could definitely use this right now :)

Azriel had been gone on a mission for several days across the sea and you were missing him terribly. Every time you caught his faint scent, found a clothing item of his stuffed in the bottom of the laundry basket, or spotted his favorite book lying on the coffee table, your heart ached a little bit more for him. It was hard to be away from your mate but you knew his job was important to keeping your court and family safe. 

You glanced at the clock again, noting that it was still relatively early in the night and he wasn't due home until tomorrow afternoon. Needing something to occupy your time, you decided to try some baking. Elain had bought you a cookbook for your birthday a few months prior after you admitted that you didn't have a knack for cooking and struggled to come up with recipes. 

You pulled the book from the top shelf of your pantry, lightly dusting it off and laying it on the smooth countertops. You thumbed through the soft pages and noted the little details Elain had written in and smiled at her thoughtfulness. Little notes like "Try this one!" and "Make on a cold winter night!" were scattered throughout the book. She even went as far as starring her favorite recipes. 

You found a recipe towards the back of the book for chocolate chip cookies. Despite being a very fit Illyrian male, Azriel had the biggest sweet tooth. He was always eating something sweet or drinking something sugary; you're honestly not sure how his teeth didn't rot out. You smiled to yourself, already feeling how happy he would be to come home to one of his favorite treats. 

An hour later, flour littered the countertops along with several different types of sugars, chocolate chips, salts, flour, and butter. The first batch you made was still raw on the inside so you quickly threw them out. The second bath had cooked too long (you were afraid of another raw middle) and were so hard, they didn't even budge as you banged them against the countertops. 

The third batch had too much flour and immediately crumbled when you picked it up. After each failed attempt, your irritation grew until you had finally had enough and sent the pan of unedible cookies flying off the counter and towards the front door. It happened to be at that moment that your mate walked through the door. 

His brows furrowed as something hit his leg and then crumbled into a heap by his feet, the smell of something burning filling his nostrils. He raised a singular eyebrow as he looked towards you in the kitchen, only to find tears welling up in your eyes that you were desperately trying to keep from falling. 

He was quick to drop his weapons and reach for you. His scarred hands were gentle as they grabbed your waist and he slowly pulled your body towards his. He noted the baking ingredients on the counter, the dirty apron covering the front of one of his t-shirts you wore, and the sweat coating your brow and came to one conclusion: you were trying to bake. He fought back a smile as he slowly tucked you into his arms, your forehead resting against his chest. 

You breathed in his scent and instantly relaxed. His arms tightened their hold on you and you relaxed further, slinging your arms around his waist and peeking up at him. His nose brushed across your cheek and then across your nose as he rested his brow against yours. 

"Hi," you whispered to him. Your cheeks were slightly tinted pink as you rested your chin on his chest to stare into his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ears and his eyes seemed to melt as he took in the sight of his mate. 

"Hi," he whispered back. Your soft giggle warmed his heart and he couldn't stop placing a sweet peck on your lips. "What's going on in here?" His tone was light and playful, afraid of sending you into another meltdown. 

You sighed heavily, pulling away to look at all the failed attempts at a welcome home gift scattered throughout the kitchen. 

"I was going to make you some cookies to come home to but I couldn't get the recipe right. The first ones were still raw, the next ones were too burnt, and the ones that I accidentally flung at you had crumbled because they had too much flower." 

As you recounted the day's activities to Azriel, his smile only grew out of the love he had for you. You felt the warmth through the bond and melted further into his chest. He placed another kiss on your brow before pulling back and going to retrieve the cookie sheet from the doorway. 

"Well, let's bake them together." He gave you a soft smile as he dumped your cookies into the trashcan. 

"Okay," you smiled as he organized the ingredients on the counter. He carefully read the directions and his shadows would bring you the ingredients one at a time as needed. They tickled your arms and legs as you two stood side by side and you giggled, brushing against them lovingly. 

When the batter was done, Azriel helped you carefully scoop each cookie out and place it on the tray. You placed them on the rack in the oven, dusting flour from your fingers as they set to bake for 15 minutes. 

Azriel pulled the apron off of you and chucked it behind him as he reached down and scooped you into his arms. You yelped as his hands found your bottom and squeezed playfully. 

"What are you doing?" You laughed as he walked further into your house. 

"Spending time with my mate," he replied as he settled you both on the couch. He was lying on his back, holding you tightly to his chest. You felt something soft against your skin and looked back to see the shadows placing a blanket on top of you before darting off to the kitchen. 

You folded your hands across his chest and then placed your head on top so you could see him properly. He gave you his best grin, the one you only ever got to see. It was reserved just for you. 

"Sorry I didn't have them ready before you got home. I thought you wouldn't be home until tomorrow." He brushed the hair away from your face as he flooded the bond with warmth once again. 

"It's quite alright. It was the thought that counts. Besides, I like baking with you." 

"Oh, do you now?" You grinned and tilted your head, watching as a smirk pulled at his lips. "And why's that?" 

He quickly leaned up to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. 

"Because that means I get 15 minutes with you, uninterrupted, while we wait for them to bake." 

He wiggled his eyebrows and you burst out laughing. He gently gripped your arms and flipped you so he was hovering above you. He placed a kiss on your cheek, then your other one, then your forehead, nose, chin, neck, and finally on your lips. 

You sighed as you melted into him, arms coming to wrap around his neck. You had been thinking about doing this since he left for his mission last week. His hair was soft as you carded your fingers through it, lips firm and accepting as he poured his love into you. 

Azriel laid his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as you softly brushed through his hair. His shadows whispered that there were only a few more minutes until the cookies were done, but there was enough dough for at least 4 more batches. 

He smiled and sent them back to watch the cookies. His hands squeezed your sides lovingly as he closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of finally being able to return home. 

#azriel #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar imagine #azriel imagine

[multiplefandomwritings]

How to be a child

pairing: reader x the grid (platonically), Pierre Gasly x reader

warnings: swearing, description of injuries/bruises, throwing up, passing out, unconsciousness, mentioning of hospital, mentioning of crash, angst

summary: You were the mum of the grid, you always had been. Until it one day it all just gets too much, and you are in desperate need of support. Suddenly 19 boys collectively become your mum, and you need to once again learn how to be a child.

notes: i am so, sorry for the wait. life has been terrible for the me the past months, but here it finally is: part two! as a small compensation, it is very long, and i hope you will like it! feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. likes and reblogs are always appreciated! also, feel free to send in requests! you can find the first part here. a third part will follow at some point, so let me know if you want to be tagged 😊 also, a question for everyone on the taglist: Would you like to be tagged in all of my F1 work, or just in this one?

disclaimer: english is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes 😊

word count: 8.1k

taglist: @cilliansgirl @tyna-19 @hc-dutch @honethatty12 @sheslikeacurse @rb-danny @hc-dutch @hiphopdancer101universe @teddyluvs @dan3avocado @stillbreathin @mellowturtleangellamp @mcmuppet @shqwqrma @alice07ea @ricsaigaslec @witchychicken @rockyhayzkid @sheluvsf1 @hiddleslovs @laurevdd @caosfanblr @dessxoxsworld @fryskje @stickygladitorbear @goldenharrysworld @mehrmonga @anon-1112 @abcdefghijklmopqrstuvwxyzz @yunoguns @jaydenhateslife @itsandreaca @tsukishimawhore @formula-hamilton @cfjkdyihjkdd @whodis-26 @basicallyherondale @wtrmlnsgr94

“Shut up, you dumbass!”, whisper-yells a voice that sounds like Charles to you. “Or do you want the nurse to realize that we are way more people in here than allowed?” Several people shush at the same time, and you are utterly confused. You slowly open your eyes and catch sight of almost the whole grid cramped into the room. They are bickering with each other, and you cannot help but smile. “Hey guys!”, you croak out and your voice sounds hoarse. Immediately, they all stop talking and look at you. Pierre is the first to move and rushes over to your bed to take a hold of your hand.

“Finally, mon ange!”, he breathes out and you could’ve sworn that you can see tears welling up in his eyes. “What happened?”, you ask, still very much confused. You try to sit up, and immediately Max and Daniel rush to your side to assist you in your undertaking. When you are propped up, you look at your friends, who are standing around the bed – a hospital bed as you have realized by now. Pierre gently strokes your hand, and Lewis raises his voice to tell you what had happened.

After your collapsed in Pierre´s arms, and your friends and colleagues form a wall to shield you, Pierre gently picks you up and carries you out of the public eye and into Lando´s room. Everyone is close to panic, no one really knowing what had prompted you to pass out. The doctors, alerted by someone, rush in, and examine you. They cannot really find any reason, apart from the injuries in your face. They suspect that it might be something severe, so the whole grid is close to losing their mind. You are than a friend to most, rather part of their family. The called ambulance takes you with them, Pierre riding in the back with you.

When you arrive at the hospital, the doctors take you away from Pierre to examine you thoroughly, determined to find out what is wrong with you. It takes an hour, one more, and another. By now, the hallway of the floor you are on is filled with the other drivers. Everyone wanted to be there for you when you wake up. With every minute, the boys get more nervous, grow more worried. After four hours, the doctor comes out.

“We stabilized her. We assume that she suffered an acute exhaustion attack, caused by a lack of sleep and too much stress paired with a concussion. We expect her to sleep for a few days, but she was lucky. It could have been way worse. She will need to rest as much as possible once she wakes up to ensure that neither her brain nor her heart will suffer from long term consequences.”

The drivers are all shocked. You are still so young, and now this. They realise, all for themselves, that maybe they had demanded too much of you for too long. Guilt threatened to eat up them, more with every day you didn’t wake up for. Until three later, on a Wednesday, you finally wake up again.

You are quiet for a few minutes. Just when you are about to say something, the door opens and a nurse steps in. When she sees all the drivers, she rushes them out - all except one. Pierre doesn’t leave your side. He sits with you when the doctor comes in and tells you that you were lucky. He makes it very clear that you must take time for yourself to make sure that you would not suffer lasting effects. You nod, trying to understand everything he says.

“Would you mind leaving me alone for a minute, please?”, you ask. The doctor nods, while Pierre stays by your side. “You too, Pierre.” He looks at you, shocked for a minute, offended even. “Don’t send me away, y/n. You seem like you need someone with you right now.” “Just give me a fucking minute alone, Pierre!”, you snap at him, and he gets up and leaves without another word. You know that wasn’t fair, but your whole world just turned upside down. You will apologize later.

You clench your hands to fists; you feel like you are going to lose your shit. The feelings threaten to drown you, you are barely able to keep yourself over the water. You need to get out of here – you want to be everywhere but here. You lift yourself out of bed, determination flooding your system. When you stand up, you grind your teeth. Your whole body is almost shaking because just the act of getting up was so exhausting. You feel so very small, weak, and fragile. You take two, three slow steps, holding onto the hospital bed with every step. When you reach the end of the bed, you back another step forward, but without holding onto something, your body gives in. You crash to the ground; your body hits the floor with a loud thud.

Immediately, the door opens and Pierre storms in. He sees on you sitting on the floor, knees pulled to your chest, head buried in your hands. He rushes over to you and takes you in his arms. “I am so afraid, Pierre!”, you sob into his shoulder as he holds you. His heart breaks right there and then. You cry for what feels like hours, and when you are done, Pierre helps you onto the bed again. The doctors had allowed for you to leave the hospital in Brazil to be taken care of by your personal doctor in Monaco. However, much comes with that – your transport must be organized, you have to talk to the team, and all of that.

You are starting to panic, you feel so exhausted still, you have no idea how you would be able to manage all of that. “You don’t need to worry, ange. We are scheduled to fly out tonight in the private jet, everything around the transport is organized. Only Max, Daniel, Lando and I will join so that you can rest as much as possible. We will have to leave for the weekend, but I will promise you that we will be back as soon as possible.” You nod, overwhelmed that they cared so much for you. After one last check up, the doctor wishes you all the best and discharges you.

They provide you with a wheelchair because you are still weakened and every bone in your body hurts – even the ones you didn’t know you had. Pierre pushes you out of the hospital and towards the parking lot, where you can spot Daniel standing between an unfamiliar car. Usually, all of you drove fast and sporty cars, but this was a car you expected to see in a suburban neighbourhood where everyone had at least three kids.

“Nice ride!”, you say, and your voice is still hoarse. You are pretty sure that you look like shit, but the boys do not let on. They don’t look at you with pity and you are beyond grateful for that. “Thanks, we had to improvise a bit!” Daniel walks over to you and pulls you out of the wheelchair with ease, lifting you into his arms bridal style. He carries you over to the car, careful to not hurt you. However, his limb coordination when it comes to carrying people apparently isn’t the best. You close your eyes when you see the car door frame coming closer, but instead of bumping into the hard metal, your head is met with a soft surface. You open your eyes and see Lando smiling at you. The boy had put his hand over the door frame, softening the impact. Your eyes almost start to water at the sweet gesture.

Once you are seated, Pierre climbs into the back with you and helps you to put your seatbelt on before he settles himself in. Lando sits in the back as well. Max is the passenger princess. Daniel is starting the car, and you watch Max still without his seatbelt on. Before, you can say something, Pierre turns to Max. “Put your fucking seatbelt on!”, he says and a small smile appears on your face. You don’t really catch more of the chatting, as just the way to the car exhausted you completely and you opt for some sleep. Pierre´s shoulder functions as your cushion, and it is quite comfortable, at least for this purpose. Already almost in slumber you only subconsciously realize that someone puts a blanket over you. You snuggle closer into Pierre and fall into a deep and dreamless slumber.

You wake when someone unbuckles your seatbelt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you!”, Pierre apologizes, but you wave it off. “I think I have slept enough the past days”, you joke half-heartedly, and he gives you a tiny smile. Only now in this close proximity, you can see the dark bags under his eyes, the worry on his face. He looks five years older, beard unshaved, little stubbles growing in a disorganized way. “I am sorry for causing you so much worry”, you whisper barely audible, but he hears you, like he always does. He shakes his head. “Mon ange, no. None of this is your fault, if anything, it is ours.” You are just about to ask what he means when Daniel interrupts the two of you.

“We should get going!”, he says, and Pierre helps you out of the car. He carries you the last few meters to the jet, and places you down on one of the seats. Before you can engage in a conversation with him, Lando joins you on the seat next to you and slams a big bag on the table. “Y/n, I hope you are hungry!” You focus your attention on him and just now realize how hungry you are. “Starving, actually!” Lando smacks his lips and starts unpacking the bag. “Well, in that case, good for you, because I come prepared!” There is everything you could ask for – snacks, fruits, sandwiches. You decide to start with an apple, which Lando insists on cutting into small pieces for you. “Lando!”, you laugh, “I am not a child!” He grins. “Well, y/n, you need care and nursing and love now, so we all have decided to you are no longer our mum, you are now our child!” You flip him off playfully and continue to eat your apple pieces quietly while Lando talks your ear off, which you honestly do not mind. It distracts you from all the negative thoughts.

After a few hours, Daniel, Lando and Max are asleep. You are quite awake on the other hand and the soft shine of a display coming from Pierre´s seat indicates that he as well is awake. You carefully walk over to him, holding onto the seats. It takes all of your strength to make the few meters, but you manage and fall into the seat next to the Frenchman. He looks up from his phone and gifts you a smile. “Hey”, you say softly, “You okay?” Pierre shakes his head but continues to smile. “You are unbelievable, y/n! You are the one that was in the hospital the last days, not me.” “I can still worry about you guys though, no?”, you grin crookedly, but Pierre is still very serious. “Of course, but the important thing now is that you need to get better, and to do that, you need to learn to say no, and you need to learn to listen to yourself.” You want to interrupt him, but he doesn’t let you. “But most importantly, we – me and the others – need to learn to get our own shit together, and not always bother you!”

You can feel that he is a bit angry, so you gently place your hand on his biceps. “Pierre, you never bothered me. It was just a bit too much the past weeks! Everything will be fine, in fact, everything is fine.” Pierre shakes his head at you, you can feel that he is still upset. “No, nothing is fine. The last days were absolutely horrible, y/n. I was so afraid; I don’t think I have ever been this afraid. I couldn’t sleep because I was afraid that I would wake up and someone was going to tell me that you died. It was a nightmare, I don’t ever want to feel that again – so I am begging you, please take all the time you need to rest and heal. I cannot lose you.” You are a taken aback by his words. “I will, I promise!”, you say, and Pierre pulls you onto his lap and into a tight hug. He doesn’t let go for a while, and you don’t mind. It keeps you from falling apart.

You land a few hours later, you before you can protest, Lando lifts you out of your seat. “My turn!”, he laughs, and you decide to not pick a fight. “Yeah, it’s cool”, you say and playfully roll your eyes, “Just pick me up whenever.” Lando makes a sad face, and you can sense that he feels bad. “I am sorry”, he utters, “I should have at least asked if it was okay for me to pick you up!” You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, its not like a have a choice. I can´t exactly walk away”, you joke. You know it is a bad joke, and maybe it was too early to joke about it. For a moment, it is quiet, but then Daniel lets out a little snort. He tries his best to keep in a laugh, but when Max looks at him, he cannot help himself and bursts out laughing. The Dutchman joins him, so do you, and in a matter of seconds, Pierre and Lando are laughing as well. It takes you a while to calm down, because all of you just really needed to laugh off the shock of the past days.

Lando carries you down and into the car. Charles had offered to pick you up and drive you to your apartment, joined by Pierre. “Hey Charles!”, you greet the man and move over to give him an uncomfortable hug over the middle console. He doesn’t seem to mind, however. “You don’t know how good it is to see you, y/n!” You smile at him after you pull away, and he starts the car as soon as Pierre has settled in as well. A bit later, you arrive by your apartment building. Pierre gets out the wheelchair, and helps you to climb in. It is still new for you, and you hope that you will get rid of it soon. It makes you feel utterly helpless, but just the few steps in the plane earlier were hard and exhausting. For a moment, the thought that you might never be able to race again crosses your mind, but you push it away violently. So far, you had achieved everything in your life that you had set your mind to, and you sure as hell will not let anything stop you now.

It feels good to be back in your own space. You exhale deeply and you immediately start to feel a bit better. The familiar surrounding eases your negative thoughts, and you find yourself calming down. “Alright”, says Charles, “I will get going and get the crutches from the doctor, and get groceries, then I will be back!” Before you can say something, he is out of the door. “The doctors in Brazil contacted your doctor here to consult and discuss next steps.” You nod, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Pierre tells you bit more about the topic, but you can’t really focus your attention. At some point, you let out a big yawn. Pierre chuckles. “Seems like someone is tired!” “Exhausted”, you tell him, and he gives you an understanding nod. “How about you take a nap?”, he offers. “Sounds super!”

He helps you into your room, where you quickly change into some shorts and a shirt. After you are done, Pierre enters the room with a glass of water in his hand. “I know that you like to keep a glass of water next to your bed, so I figured I would bring you one!” “How do you know?”, you question. He shrugs his shoulders. “You mentioned it one day…” “Thank you!” He smiles at you, puts the glass down and grabs the blanket. He throws it over you and gently tugs you in. “Sleep well, mon ange!”, he says but you are already sound asleep.

The next week is exhausting, more mentally than physically. You are able to leave the wheelchair rather quickly, but you still the need the crutches for support. Despite the fact that you weren’t really injured, at least not in the traditional sense, your body was still weak. You just cannot really rely on it right now, so the crutches are there to support and help you. You are just happy that you are out of the wheelchair and that you have a tiny bit of your independency back. What helps even more however, is the constant support of your friends. They cannot be with you right now, as there are still two more races for them to finish. Your doctor appointments keep you occupied, your family visits and helps you with whatever you need. Your friends call you, sometimes just to tell you minor things but it helps. You don’t feel isolated, and you cheer on them from your living room. Right now, it feels okay to not be on track – you feel like you are going to be okay.

The season ends in the end of November. Winter has Monaco in its grip, the first snow falls. Everything looks so pretty that you cannot really feel down. On top of that you love Christmas, and you keep yourself busy with present shopping, at least until you have to get ready to leave for England. It is a Tuesday, and you had just been at the doctor’s office. While your doctor is sure that you will fully recover, he also gives you a real perspective on things. The possibility is there that you can race next season, but the cost could potentially be high. He tells you to consider your options. Lando picks you up from this appointment and together you drive to the airport. The two of you were scheduled to fly to the McLaren headquarters for a week to discuss the next possible steps. The flight goes over quick, you are unusually quiet – and Lando just lets you be. He can sense that you need the time, so he gives it to you.

When you step out of the airport, Zak waits for there for you personally. The older man pulls you in a tight hug, it had been a while since he had seen you in person. “Good to see you, kid!”, he tells you with a fatherly tone in his voice. You grin at him, happy to see him. You climb into the car and Zak drives you to his home, to have dinner with his family. You quite enjoy it, but you feel yourself get tired after a while. Lando notices and decides to call a taxi for the both of you to drive to the hotel.

You share a suite, in case something was to happen during the night, but you sleep well. After a nice breakfast, you are getting picked up for the headquarters and inside you are feeling very nervous. You are good at hiding it, but you fiddle with your fingers. Lando takes one of your hands and gently squeezes it. Only now that you are not good on foot you realize how big the McLaren compound really is.

The core team meets in a room close to the entrance for your sake. They are all beyond happy to see you, everyone is relieved that you are on your feet again, at least partly. It is not many people, as you agreed with Zak to discuss the next steps in a small team before you met with everyone. After exchanging some courtesies, it is time for you to tell them of your decision. You take a deep breath and Lando once again squeezes your hand. No one knows what you are going to tell them, and you don’t really know how to tell them. You decide it is best to rip the band aid of fast.

“After consulting with my doctor yesterday, I think it is best if I resign for indeterminate time, until I am fully recovered.” The room is eerily quiet, everyone is a bit shocked. “While I could possibly sit myself into the car next season, I would not be able to give you guys the results you deserve. Trust me, this is not what I wanted, but if I race next season, the possibility of lasting health issues is very likely, and I do not believe that some half-assed results are worth that. I want to apologize –“ “Don’t!”, Zak interrupts you, “We have all developed a soft spot for you in our hearts, and we were all shocked when we heard what the doctors in Brazil said. Your health comes first. While we are deeply saddened about you resigning for indeterminate time, I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we would like to keep you around one way or the other.” You nod, tears welling up in your eyes. On the one side because they were so supportive, on the other side because you stating your resignation makes it a lot more real.

Now it is official – at least within your team – that you will not start next season. It feels a bit like your world is ending, your goals are out of your reach. You feel hopeless, and like you are – quite frankly – an absolute loser. Self-doubts threaten to eat you up, you want to curl up in a ball and just stop existing for a while. You spent the rest of the meeting lost in your thoughts, and the next days go by in a blur. You visit the headquarter many more times that week, talking to the team, discussing the best way to communicate your indeterminate resignation. You call Pierre a lot, telling him about everything. He deserves to know from you, so do all of your other friends. You cry a lot those days, Lando never quite leaving your side. He is there for you, so is everyone else. Yet you find yourself withdrawing yourself from almost everyone except Pierre. You call him daily, sometimes more than once. Many times, he has to listen to you softly sobbing into the phone, and it breaks his heart. But he never blames you, he always listens, he always comforts you.

After an exhausting week, there is only one more thing to do – film your resignation video. You cry during the video too, but you don’t mind – you love your fans, and they deserve to know the truth and witness your real feelings about your resignation. In the end, the video is 10 minutes long – you explain your reasons, you promise that you will be back. And you mean that. Somehow, you have found your fighting spirit once again. The video ends with a collage of your best moments in F1. A tribute to your achievements so far, but you are now certain there will be more eventually. You will put all the work in necessary so that you would heal properly, and that you would be able to sit in the car next year.

You fly back to Monaco alone – Lando would have come with you, but you told him to stay home with his family for a bit. He drove you to the airport and saw that you get to the plane just fine. When you land, Lewis and Valtteri are already there to welcome you back. They are kind and gentle and brotherly, and your soul heals a bit when they take you to lunch that day. They don’t make you feel like a loser anymore, they tell you that they are proud of you for making this hard decision. The three of you share things that you have never spoken about before, and it helps. The sun is shining on a white Monaco and your heart becomes full and hopeful. You are still weak and exhausted, and when they take you home you are more than ready to sleep, but it is different.

The next week is a busy week once again. You visit your doctor and your personal trainer a lot, discussing measures to help you healing, and setting up a slow training program that would help keep you in shape, while not overburdening your body. You still call Pierre every day to talk to him. He is with his family in France for Christmas, and he has invited you to join him. You tell him you will once you feel better. He understands, like he always does. He makes you laugh with his joke, and he tells you he misses you. You miss him, and when he drops one of his compliments, it is somehow different now. Your cheeks heat up sometimes, and your heart skips a beat.

Christmas is nice, and special. You are home, and for once you have nothing to do – no real training, only little exercises. No media duties, and you enjoy the time with your family. After New Year’s, you travel back to home to Monaco to rest and heal. The boys are all there for you – for whatever you need. They ask you how you are all the time, and they help you where they can. It is the little things, really, and one day you feel particularly bad about it. You cannot really give them anything back at the moment, and you feel like you are using them. You wake up with those feelings that they, and to distract yourself from them, you go on Instagram. Scrolling through your feed, you occasionally send them funny videos. It was the least you could do. After an hour or so, you lift yourself out of the bed, finally. You are very hungry, and you think about ordering something, when suddenly your doorbell rings. You need some time to reach it, walking slowly with your crutches, and when you open it, Daniel stands there in front of you. “You send me the first Reel on Instagram like one hour ago, so I figured you are hungry by now. I brought groceries and I am here to cook for you!” “I… You shouldn’t have!”, you try to argue, but Daniel already moves past you and into your kitchen. You follow him slowly.

When you see that he is already collecting dishes to prepare breakfast, you just sigh. He picks up the defeated sound and perks up, smiling at you. His face falls when he sees the way you look at him, like you are almost crying. “Hey hon, what´s up?”, he asks you. “I just… I feel so bad about all of this. I feel like I am using all of you, and like I am not giving anything back!” Daniel shakes is head violently, and he comes over to pull you in a hug. You almost disappear in it, and he draws soothing circles on your back. “Y/n, don’t ever say or think something like that again. You have almost given your life for us, and this is what friends are here for. We help each other when we can – sometimes one or the other does give a bit more. It equals out in the end. Besides, you still listen to all of us rambling, and you still give the best advice!” He pulls away and a tiny smile is on your face now. He ruffles your hair and before you can protest, he is back in the kitchen. “Now, go rest your ass on the couch, mate!”, he says, and you cannot help but laugh when you limp over to the living room.

Breakfast is nice, and Daniel makes you laugh with his stupid jokes. It is good to feel like this. You know that right now was the easy part – your friends are here, and they all have time for you. But you are afraid of what is coming after the winter break – when they are all gone, and you won’t be able to be with them doing the things you love the most. It will most likely break your heart, but you try not to think about it, at least not now.

It is a few weeks later, the next season will start soon. You have picked up training again, very slowly. It mainly consisted off walking on the treadmill, holding onto the sides. A few easy exercises that keep your body mobile and flexible and your muscles occupied. Spring is blooming in Monaco; the first sun is shining. Everything is going well. Well, almost everything. Right now, you are beyond embarrassed.

You had felt better today, so you had taken the taxi down to your favourite park to enjoy some time there. It had been late afternoon already, you had walked around a bit and sat down in a small restaurant to eat dinner. Now, it is later than expected, it was dark, getting colder by the minute, and you are beyond exhausted. Furthermore, the crippling feeling in your legs leaves you to panic, which is why you – against all rationality – do not call a taxi. Instead, you call Max, who picks up almost immediately. “Can you pick me up, Maxie?”, you choke out, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Send me your location!”, he says, and you can hear that he already picks up his keys. You nod, even though he cannot see that, and send him your location with shaky fingers. Max is there just ten minutes later to collect you. As soon as you see him, the tears really start to flow. He wraps his arms around you, his sweatshirt is collecting your tears, and he whispers encouragements while he gently strokes your hair. After a few minutes, you calm down and he helps you to his car.

He holds open the passenger door for you, and you climb in, almost falling because your legs are giving out under you. But Max is there, he catches you, and helps you. He closes the door behind you and gets in on his side. “You okay?”, he asks. You nod, using the sleeves of your sweatshirt to wipe away the leftovers of your tears. Max starts the car and drives through the dark streets of Monaco. You don’t know where he is going until he stops at the drive through of a Fast-Food restaurant. “I figured the occasion called for ice cream or a milkshake”, he tells you when you he sees your questioning expression. A tiny smile creeps onto your face. Max orders you a milkshake and gives it to you. You hold it in two hands like a child and Max cannot help but laugh. You pout a little, but ultimately smile when he takes a picture of you holding the cup in your hand.

He drives you to your place and helps you up to your apartment. Reaching the door, he stops for a moment and thinks. “Would you like some company tonight?” For a moment you think about telling him to go home, because you don’t want to trouble him any further. But being alone tonight sounds terrible, so you push down the unnecessary feeling of guilt and nod. He steps into the apartment with you and helps you take of your jacket. Together, the two of you settle in on the couch and put on a movie. You feel your eyes get heavy, but before you can tell Max that he might as well go home as you are about to fall asleep, you slip into slumber.

The next morning, you wake up in your bed. You stretch and roll over to your phone. A text from Max. “Don’t get scared when you wake up, I am sleeping on the couch.” You smile to yourself and get up. Max is still asleep, so you climb into the shower. Once you are done and dressed, you make your way into the kitchen to make breakfast. Already in the hallway, you hear voices. You are confused – you know that Max is here, but who else? Stepping into the kitchen, your eyes fall on Pierre. Immediately, a big smile appears on your face. “Pierre!”, you exclaim happily and his face lights up once his eyes fall on you. He rushed over and wraps you in a tight hug. What you don’t see is the wiggling eyebrows Max aims at Pierre. Pierre just rolls his eyes and then closes them to take in your scent for a moment. Soon after, you break the hug, but Pierre stays close, his arm loosely wrapped around your hips.

Max excuses himself shortly after, as he has an appointment. You bit him goodbye, and when the door falls close, you turn around to Pierre. “Why are you here already?”, you ask him, and he flashes you a cheeky grin. “Not happy to see me?” You shake your head but laugh. “I am more than happy to see you, Pierre! I was just thought you would arrive in two days.” “Well,”, he says and wraps you in another hug, “I really wanted to see you!” You are happy that your face is buried in his chest because a blush creeps on your cheeks.

Pierre pulls back a little and looks at you. “Are you feeling better today?”, he asks with genuine concern. You nod, “Yeah, thanks to Max. He picked me up last night and stayed over to make sure I was okay.” “Max told me what happened. Please, ange, you need to be careful. I know it is hard to be confined in this space and not being as independent as you used to be, but you need to watch out for your health.” You sigh, but nod. “I know. I am just really tired off this, and I want to experience things again. I am afraid that I won’t ever be able to get into the car again…” Pierre nods understandingly. “I get that. But the more you rest and listen to your body, the sooner you will be fully healed.” “Yeah, you are right. I –“, you want to say something more, but suddenly, your stomach growls.

Pierre laughs and you grin, a bit embarrassed. “I think you need some food!”, Pierre says. “Yeah, I am starving!” The two of you make your way into the kitchen and just now you see the huge bouquet of flowers on your kitchen counter. “Wow, these are beautiful”, you exclaim, “Thank you Pierre!” He smiles and waves it off. “It´s nothing”, he says, but for you, it is everything. Pierre pulls out one of your pans, and as you are about to help him, he shoots you a glare. You lift your hands up in mock defence and make your way into the living room. You get your laptop from the couch and sit down on the dining table, as you have some things to finish up. Just because you were not a driver anymore, that didn’t mean that you had nothing to do. Especially now that the winter break slowly came to an end – you had agreed with McLaren that you would be involved in their Social Media activity. It had been Lando´s idea, and you are really grateful for it.

While you couldn’t start on the grid next season, you also didn’t want to entirely leave the F1 world. You are not yet sure if that is a good decision, to be involved but not driving, but you would have to wait and see. Pierre joins you a bit later with some breakfast, and you are beyond happy to finally have him with you again. The two of you will spend some time in Monaco together, before the new season started.

You make the most out of that time. Some days you just sleep in, you in your bed and Pierre in the guest bedroom, and then you would have a long breakfast, you would take a little walk, talked with the fans. He helps you with your exercises, he is a gentle trainer, yet he inspires you to go a tiny, tiny step forward every day. He massages your muscles when they are tired, he applies the lotion your doctor prescribed you. He takes you out for lunch or dinner, he goes shopping with you if that is what you desire. He finds the best clothes for you, you feel pretty in them, you feel worth it in them. He makes you feel safe and protected and if you knew better you would say that he makes you feel loved, but you don’t talk about that. Right now, it is not the time for it, and you both just enjoy what you have for now. The lingering touches, the way the two of you gravitated towards each other. He takes good care of you, and he never gives you the feeling of being a burden, even if you need help with silly little things. Like when your arms and hands are so tired that you cannot take off your own socks. He never makes you feel like you have to be embarrassed about any of those things and it helps.

The break ends soon after these great moments and you hold up quite well. Saying goodbye to Pierre is hard, and you cry. He holds you and presses a kiss on your forehead and tell you that you can always call him. But it will be different, there will be the time difference and he will be busy, and you will be not. He still makes sure to call you whenever, and it works good somehow. Maybe it is because summer comes to Monaco and your friends visit you whenever you can. You train, you take it easy, you rest, and you heal. Soon enough, you are able to go for jogs again, your training becomes longer and harder and you seem to be on the right way. By the summer break, you feel stronger already, and life is rather normal again. You still feel exhausted some days and you are not where you used to be. But you were okay with that.

The sun lifts your mood up, even on the days you don’t manage to run very far. You still go out these days, just go get the kilometres down, to keep your body moving. Summer break comes, and with that the boys are back in town. They spend most of their free time with you, and you are beyond grateful for that. It means the world to you, that they come and visit. Pierre spends a lot of time in Monaco with you as well. You take it easy, enjoying the time together. Just like over winter break, he takes you out a lot. You go and see museums, concerts, whatever there is to do. Some days are exciting, others are slow and relaxing. You take naps on the day bed on your balcony, enjoying the warm summer sun. Your head often rests on Pierre´s lap, or you are cuddled up in his arms during those naps. Still, you don’t talk about it, it is all very natural, your relationship growing stronger every minute you spend together. However, labelling it is not your priority right now, it is still your healing journey.

The two of you also spend lot of time together with the other drivers. Like today for example. Currently, you are laying in the warm sun on the deck of Charles yacht. The boys are bickering about something, while you are reading. You had just left the harbour a few minutes ago, and the boys already distracted you from your book. You cannot help but smile though, you had missed this. It was almost like you were still part of the driver line-up, and you feel relieved that nothing has really changed. They are all still the same adorable dorks they used to be. Some time later, Charles stops the yacht in the middle of the sea. By now you are sweating and very warm, so you are the first person to take the leap of the deck into the ocean.

It is not really a problem; you feel good today. The guys follow soon after, and you start to joke around, splash each other with water, dunking each other under. You have so much fun that you don’t really listen to your body. You splash and dunk and swim around. Pierre watches you closely, like he always does. When you climb up the ladder, he is relieved that you choose to take a break, so he follows. You, however, have other plans. You are about to get ready to jump off the boat another time, when Pierre stops you. “You sure about that, do you not rather want to take a break?” You grin at him with the objective to calm him down. “I feel fine, Pierre!” He nods. “Just be careful, okay?” “Of course!”

You feel your mistake when you start to run to jump off the deck. Your legs are suddenly very, very heavy. You cannot stop anymore however, and before you realize, you are in the air. The force of impact on the surface of the water knocks the breath out of your lungs, your entire body suddenly feels heavy – almost too heavy for you to swim towards the surface. It takes you long to emerge from the water, too long. The others realize when you don’t come up immediately. Charles starts to swim towards you. A splash rips you from your apathy and you swim towards the surface with heavy arms. You emerge coughing and one second later Pierre is right next to you. He helps you to hold yourself over water, and soon, Charles is by your side as well. You are embarrassed, but they don’t let on how scared they really were. Pierre helps you up the stairs and you sit down in one of the seating areas. Pierre brings you a towel and wraps you in it. When the towel is around you, he doesn’t let go. “I am sorry!”, you whisper, “I should have listened to you.” Pierre shakes his head. “Don’t worry, just don’t scare me like that again.” “I won´t!”, you promise and snuggle closer into Pierre. He holds you and you fall asleep soon after.

The rest of the summer break is spent similar. You hang out with Pierre and the guys, you go to France with Pierre, you visit your family, life is good. But then, the races start again, and fall comes to Monaco and with that the rain and the grey days. You are not able to go out of your apartment that much anymore, you are lacking energy and you feel like you are making steps back. Your training doesn’t go as smooch anymore, you feel like your comeback might be in jeopardy.

You are in a bad mood, there is no reason to sugar coat that. You are beyond miserable. The feeling that you will not return next season haunts you, and you are terrified of it. What if you will not manage to ever race again? You have never known something else; you have never learned something else. You feel like you are drowning, and your saving comes in form of a particular Frenchman. He knows that you had been able to go on runs again and that you did harder workouts again, he knows that you were on a way to get better. When your best friend calls him and tells him that you spent most of your days inside now not doing much, he doesn’t believe it at first.

He does, however, when you open the door and look like you haven’t changed out of your sweatpants in a week. You look messy, eyes puffy and tired features. He is scared to see you like this, so hopeless and so… He doesn’t know how to describe it, but you look so little, so tiny. You weren’t the tallest, but usually you carried yourself like you were the tallest in any room. Now, you are hunched over. For a moment he thinks you are going to close the door in his face, but you don’t. “Put your clothes on, we are going for a run!”, he tells you. You don’t protest verbally, but your attitude shows him enough. He doesn’t flinch though. He drags you out of the apartment – you still haven’t said a word. He takes your hand when you arrive downstairs, and he pulls you with him. A little “Pierre, I can´t!” leaves your mouth, but he pretends that he doesn’t hear it. And, after the first meters, you seem to shake off the paralysis that had a tight grip on you the past week.

Your breath is steady, and you are keeping up well with him. It starts to rain, the trail becomes wet, and you slip at some point. You fall, and this little happening seems to make you fall apart. You stay on the ground, and you don’t grab Pierre´s hand when he reaches out. At first, he doesn’t realize but then he sees that you are crying, and he doesn’t care about his outfit – he drops to his knees next to you and hugs you. You want to turn away from him, you feel so fucking weak and pathetic, and he sees you in that state. It embarrasses you; it makes you angry. You want to push him away, you struggle a bit against his grip, but Pierre doesn't let go of you.

“Why am I so weak?”, you cry softly in his shirt, but Pierre hears you. “You are not weak, mon ange”, he whispers. He pulls you a bit closer, like he is afraid that the rain will wash and carry you away. “You are the strongest person I know. I know that life is hard at the moment, and I cannot imagine how you are feeling. But you will get there, I know that!” “I feel like I am the absolute worst version of myself right now, and I just don’t see myself driving next year, but… But that´s all I have ever known, it´s all I have ever wanted!” Pierre still holds you close. The rain is coming down harder now, and you are getting soaked to the skin. You don’t care, it doesn’t matter to you. “If I know anything, I know that you will come back stronger next than ever next year!” “Why do you keep on believing in me, Pierre?”

“You might see yourself as the worst version of yourself right now, but I think you are the strongest, the fiercest version of yourself right now.” For a moment, Pierre falls silent. He takes a deep breathe before he whispers the words into your ear, as if he is afraid that they will be washed away by the rain when he speaks up or speaks them further away from you. “And I believe in you because it is the only thing that keeps me sane. I cannot even begin to think about the fact that you might not ever race again, because it would affect my life in so many ways. It might be selfish, but I would not get to see you as much anymore, and the thought of that is terrible to me. I want to be able to come out of the garage and walk over to hug you. I want to hear your laugh sound all over the paddock because someone cracked a joke. And, most importantly, I believe in you because I am completely and helplessly in love with you.”

You need a moment to take that information in, understanding what he just told you. “You don’t need to say anything, I –“, you stop him by pulling out of his hug and taking your face in both of your hands. The position is not really comfortable, but you don´t care. You press your cold lips against his and kiss him. He kisses you back, and you can feel his warmth seeping into your bones. The rain is still coming down hard, but all you can feel is Pierre's arms around you, and it feels like you have found a lifeline, like you have a new purpose to fight and return stronger than before.

#formula one x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #charles leclerc #lewis hamilton #sergio checo pérez #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #max verstappen x reader #valtteri bottas #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris

[truetogaia]

the quality is so crisp that I can see his ARM VEINS OMG I need him I need him I need him.

pairing: dom!dilf!jake x fem!na'vi!reader

genre: smut, 18+

notes: I am so sorry for this LMAO it's kinda filthy but: Jake’s intercom starts acting up while he's on a mission with some warriors from the clan.

warnings: explicit and mature themes, A LOT of dirty talk, phone sex, daddy kink! ✩ means tiny time jump!

wc: 1k!

!NOT PROOFREAD! I Jake sully masterlist!

You were bored out of your mind, wandering about the village in search of something to occupy yourself. The sun was setting and night was eating away at the sky, leaving a star speckled darkness in its way. Your face was contorted in a frown as you kicked some rocks, just barely missing the entry to a hut. Having spent all day alone, in the solitude of your own hut, waiting for your mate to come back from his hunt, you weren’t exactly thrilled to spend the night the same way. 

You made your way back to your hut, entering through the flaps and securing it before taking a seat on the woven mat. Your legs were sore after carrying you around the forest all day without rest, aching terribly as you stretched them. Jake had been gone for three whole days now, leaving you all alone in your shared home. With this being the longest the two of you had been apart, the longest without him touching you in any way, you were starting to miss him.

You were desperate, and your navy skin was on fire after so many days without him. You decided to take matters into your own hands, only daring to disregard Jake’s request for you to leave yourself untouched until he came back because of how warm you felt.

✩ 

The air around you turned awfully warm as you panted and moaned quietly, overwhelmed by the sensation of your own fingers rubbing against your wet bundle of nerves. The sounds that escaped you were choked, soft mewls and whines occasionally seeping out from your plump lips. You rutted your hips against your hand in a desperate attempt to feel something, an attempt to recreate the feeling of Jake’s thick digits stretching you out.

Jake’s ears perked as a familiar sound erupted from his earpiece, making him halt his movements. This was unexpected, he thought, as your soft noises played in his ears, paired with the sound of  your squelching cunt. At first, Jake was afraid you were being unfaithful, that you were with another na’vi while he was away. But he soon came to his senses as he heard you chant his name, realizing what you were doing. 

“y/n, baby? You there?” 

Jake’s voice made you jolt, scared shitless that he had come back while you were so busy with  disobeying him. But the voice wasn’t coming from the hut, no, it came from the earpiece that you had discarded before deciding to… work on some self love. Your heart was beating wildly inside your chest as you picked it up, placing it in your ear.

“Jake?”  Your voice wavered, and he could hear how irregular your breathing pattern was. “I thought you were busy hunting..” He chuckled slightly at your attempt to redirect his focus, not falling for your little endeavor. 

“Well.. I was. But you see, I got a bit distracted.” He teased you, meaning he had heard you before. Oh how embarrassing, because not only had you disobeyed direct orders from your mate, you had also interrupted a very important hunt. 

“Oh don’t be sorry, sweetheart. I missed you, it’s so nice to hear your voice.” He chuckled, on the other end. “Why’d you stop, though? I don’t remember telling you to.” You couldn’t help the way heat settled between your plush thighs again, heavily influenced by his husky voice. 

“Go on, don’t let me distract you.” He demanded. 

You ran a warm hand down your abdomen, hesitatingly stopping right between your thighs. But you decided to keep going, slowly rubbing firm circles onto your needy clit. You brought your other hand to gently tease your entrance with your soft digits, whining when you slid them into your sopping cunt. 

“That’s right.” Jake’s voice filled your ears as you worked your fingers in and out of your squelching heat, covering them in your slick. “Tell me what you’re doing to yourself, baby.” Your pointy ears perked as you heard him grunt, “Include every little detail, can you do that for me?” 

You nodded to yourself, agreeing. “hmmn, ‘m fucking myself with my fingers, thinkin’ its yours...” Your voice was breathy as you continued thrusting your digits in and out. “Doesn’t feel nearly as good..” He hummed in delight, and you swore you could hear some interesting noises from his end too. “What’re you doing, daddy?” 

“Jus’ takin’ care of myself, honey. Couldn’t help myself at the sound of your sweet voice, using such lewd words..” He cooed, wrapping his large, warm hand back around his aching cock. Your muffled sounds were intoxicating, and he cursed himself for not being at home now. He could hear how wet you were, he could picture it in front of him. Oh how desperately he wanted to be home with you, with his cock buried deep into your tight cunt. 

He pumped himself as your strangled moans kept coming, “That’s right, baby. You wish I was there, hm? Couldn’t wait one more night for me to come home, ‘s that right?” You whimpered. “Yeah, I bet that cunt is fluttering at the thought of it, ain’t it? The thought of daddy’s fat cock stuffing and fucking into your tight pussy.” 

“Fuck!” You cursed, picking up the pace of your fingers. “Please, Jake, come home. ‘Want you here.. Want your cock” You sobbed as your fingers repeatedly hit your g spot, thumb busy rubbing at your puffy clit. Jake chuckled, having sat himself down, propped up against a tree as his fist worked over his thick girth. He pictured you now, with your legs spread wide for him, cunt drenched in arousal, completely ready for him. 

“Yeah? That’s a good girl. shit, ‘m gonna cum to those pretty sounds of yours..” He mumbled, grunting and hissing as his cock slid easily through his large fist. “G’nna come home tomorrow and fill that needy pussy.. g’nna fuck you dumb, babygirl.”  You moaned loudly at his words, finally reaching your climax. Your arousal coated your fingers as you came hard to the sound of his vulgar words. And Jake followed suit, spilling his hot cum all over his hand. 

“Fuck, baby..” His chest heaved as he came down from his high “You okay?” He asked, noticing how quiet you were. But he soon heard the quiet snores from your end, chuckling to himself, happy that you were finally able to get some rest. 

You were going to need it for tomorrow.

UGH THE WAY THIS IS MY WORST WORK EVER. I apologize, but I do have a good excuse!!

#jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #young jake sully #jake sully fanfiction #jake sully #james cameron avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar pandora #avatar twow #avatar fanfiction #avatar smut #jake sully imagine #avatar way of water #jake sully fluff #avatar x reader #jake sully headcanon #jake sully headcanons #avatar jake sully #jake sully x afab #jake sully x fem!reader #jake sully avatar #jake sully x you #daddy!jake sully #dilf jake sully #jake sully x reader smut

[written-in-flowers]

Red Satin and Pink Leather: YunSangGi x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Kang Yeosang x Song Mingi x fem!Reader

Genre: SMUT MINORS DNI

Word count: 9k

Summary: Catching Yunho on a special video call with you and Mingi, Yeosang is pulled into the party and couldn't be happier for it.

Tags: sub!yeosang, sub!mingi, femdom, dom!reader, dom!yunho, facials, titty-fucking, nipple play, breast worship, voyeurism, filming sex, sex over video calls, phone sex, overstimulation, hand jobs, masturbation, pet names (pretty, baby, baby boy, etc.), anal sex, anal fingering, sex toys, cock rings, orgasm denial, edging, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, dom/sub themes, dom/sub relationships, poly relationships, polyamorous, cum swallowing, cum play, shower sex (brief).

Previously on Idol Companion

*****

He found you where he’d expected: by your mirror, half-dressed, doing your makeup routine. Yeosang leaned against your doorframe, seeing you at your desk applying blush. He liked watching you do your makeup. You always put so much concentration and thought into your appearance regardless of where or who you’ll be with. Tonight, you’d put on your usual routine with an added winged eyeliner and dark lip color. Sexy. Seductive. Yeosang liked the look on you. 

“You know,” he coughed, “You don’t need to put on makeup if you’re staying indoors.”

His voice made you jump, and you turned to him, startled for a moment. Seeing him, you laughed softly. “Yeah,” you said, going back to your mirror, “I know. I just like feeling pretty.”

He walked further into the room. Yeosang noticed the outfit you’d laid out on your bed. A satin halter top in red-wine color with a pair of black denim jeans. His heart nearly stopped at the sight of it. The Top. The Shirt. The Blouse of Death. Yeosang’s blood already pumped thinking of you in the flimsy blouse. Mingi mentioned a night-in rather than going out, but this outfit seemed too formal for an at-home date. Perhaps you’d both changed your minds and picked a destination. Perhaps you’re wearing this to ensnare Mingi into a night of rough, wild, sex. Yeosang pitied Mingi. He’d be helpless against you in a low-cut blouse that sometimes showed flashes of whatever bra you wore underneath. Every Ateez member knew this shirt by sight, and knew what it meant. 

You wanted sex. 

“You’re going to wear this?” Yeosang asked, more amused than anything. He felt the smooth fabric between his fingers, “I hope Mingi’s prepared.”

You looked at him in the mirror, liquid eyeliner in your hand, “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Don’t act so coy,” he replied, “You know what this top does to us.”

“Not my fault a simple piece of clothing turns you all into animals,” you said, trying not to smirk as you applied the black liner. “It’s one of my favorites, and I wanted to wear it tonight.”

“But Mingi…” he frowned, “Is so innocent. Please, have mercy upon him, YN!” He changed to a pleading, desperate tone. “Wear it for me. Wear it for me instead! He's only a boy!”

“Oh hush,” you laughed. Wadding up tissue, you threw in his direction. “Mingi’s been feeling down lately and I want to cheer him up. You know, uplift his spirits a bit.”

“It'll definitely uplift something alright,” he snorted, coming to sit beside you on the bed. 

“Ugh, you're such a guy” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “I mean it. He's been upset lately, so I wanted to be there for him.”

Yeosang quieted. Neither of you wanted to think about Mingi’s depressive stages. They did not happen often, but when they did, they could be terrible. 

“Are you going to be coming back or staying there?” He asked curiously, picking up a cotton swab to gingerly wipe off a stray streak of eyeliner. 

“I might stay there,” you said, smiling gratefully. “What do you think?” 

“Beautiful,” he said, admiring how your hair framed your face. “You could've called me. I would've helped you get ready.”

“I didn't want to bother you after you had a long practice day. Besides, I can dress myself, Yeosang.”

“But I like helping. I want you to look your best all the time.”

You pouted, “Aw, my sweet Yeosang. You can help me get dressed then.” 

So accustomed to seeing you in your underwear, Yeosang didn't mind when you disrobed. A dark red lingerie set covered your intimate areas, mesh and lace showing enough skin to arouse a man. He gazed over your legs, thighs and hips before landing on your chest. The mesh material in the middle thinly covered your breasts, and Yeosang gulped thickly. Yet, he still took up the top to slide over your body before clasping the back behind your neck. 

“Mingi’s going to be a very happy man,” he said as he fixed the draping neckline. Straightening out your small heart necklace, he said, “I don't know how he's going to resist you.”

“Who said I wanted him to?” You grinned at him taking up your jeans. 

He put them at your feet and you stepped into them. Yeosang slowly slid the fabric up your legs and thighs, feeling your smooth skin under his knuckles as he went upwards. At your hips, he couldn't stop himself from leaving a kiss on a spot of skin before covering it. When he stood at eye level, you pecked his lips. 

“You're so helpful,” you said in an alluring voice. “I'm lucky to have a sweet prince who treats me so well.”

Your ‘dom voice’. He loved that voice. It sent tingles that made him shudder. “I only want to take care of you,” he then squeaked out, “Mistress. Your happiness means a lot to me.”

You cupped his cheek and kissed him. “It's too bad I can't reward your behavior right now.”

“Getting to help you is good enough for me.” 

He guided you to your bed where he slipped on your sandals for you. Yeosang wished you'd worn tights again. He liked helping you put them on; it gave him an excuse to touch you further. He placed a gentle kiss on your exposed ankle, buckling the sandal enough to keep it on you all night. You looked down at him lovingly, the way an owner looked at their favorite pet. Yeosang took you aback when he mentioned his submissive tendencies to you. He didn't mind being dominant from time to time, but he liked being babied by you. Something about your dominant personality felt comforting and warm. It made him feel safe. When you first dominated him, he worried it might not work out but you'd gone above and beyond to please him. 

And he'd do just about anything to please you back. 

“There,” he said with finality, standing up from the floor. “You look spectacular.” You tilted your head expectantly, and he added, “Mistress.”

He helped you off the bed onto your feet. “I wish you were coming back,” he pouted, “Then I could help you get ready for bed too.”

You giggled, “You can help me tomorrow night.”

He didn't tell anyone why he really liked living with him and Yunho. Living with you gave him opportunities to serve you in subtle ways: preparing your favorite meals, helping you with morning and night routines, and overall taking care of you. You did not expect it of him every day and he honestly did not do it often, but he liked caring for you. You are not only the princess to his prince or the Yorkie to his Maltese, but you're the mistress to his servant. After the struggles you've had in life, and juggling eight boyfriends, he wished to make your life as easy as possible. If that meant helping you put on shoes or cook you a cup of ramen, he’d do it. 

You went with him into the living room where Yunho sat eating dinner. Cross legged on the couch, he stopped halfway eating noodles when he saw you. 

“Wow,” he said, slurping up the rest and wiping his mouth, “You look amazing.” 

“Thank you,” you grinned, sitting next to him.

“You guys are staying in, right?” He asked, stirring the soup with his chopsticks, “Because otherwise Mingi better learn how to control his boners quick.”

“We might go get coffee or something small,” you shrugged, taking out your phone. 

“I should tell him to put on a big hoodie,” Yunho reached for his phone nearby, “He can hide it that way.”

“Oh my god, you’re all so ridiculous,” you chuckled, scrolling through your phone as you idly played with Yeosang’s hair. He’d grown it out for this exact reason. “It’s just a top.”

“Yeah, the top,” said Yunho, who quickly typed a message to Mingi. “You know how weak Mingi is for you. He’s going to crumble right away.”

“I told her it was cruel of her to wear it,” Yeosang joked. 

He shut his eyes as your fingers gently ran through his scalp. Being this close to you felt comforting. He’d fallen asleep so many times this way, engulfed by your warmth and scent as you pet him. You and Yunho continued talking about your plans for the night as he relaxed into your lap. He didn’t want you to go yet, not when he’s enjoying your body so much. He thought of asking if you and Mingi might stay with them, but he refrained. Every member deserved alone time with you, and Mingi needed it a bit more than the others. Another “baby boy” who needed lots of love, praise and attention from his Mistress. He watched the television before he realized he’d missed something. 

“Mistr-YN,” he quickly corrected him, “You didn’t get your bag.”

“I can just get it when Mingi comes. He won’t be here for a while,” you assured him. “I don’t need it at this moment.”

“I don’t want you to forget it and then have to come back,” he sat up from your lap, already feeling the cold, and said, “You tend to forget stuff.” 

“I do not,” you retorted. 

“No, no, Yeosang’s right,” Yunho intervened, “Yeosang, go get your mistress’s purse before Mingi shows up.” 

His cheeks warmed at his words. He walked back to your room, finding your bag on your bed still, and came back. Yeosang noticed Yunho sat closer, trapping you on the couch with his arm, and talking low. He only made out Yunho’s deep voice and your sweet one but nothing you said. Yeosang did not blame Yunho for trying. The red blouse is every Ateez member’s kryptonite. 

“Here you go,” Yeosang came over, handing you your bag and returning to his spot on the sofa. 

“So sweet,” you cooed, bending to kiss his temple. 

He could be like this forever. The doorbell sounded throughout the house, and Yunho went to answer it. “Mingi’s here,” you said to him, smiling softly at Yeosang’s relaxed position. “I gotta go now.”

Yeosang grumbled and sat up. “Hope you have a good time,” he said, already feeling cold without you, “Kiss?”

“Kiss.”

You let your lips linger on his a few seconds before pulling away. Mingi walked in right as you reached the living room threshold. He didn’t wear the hoodie, but seeing his amazed expression, he likely regretted not taking the advice. Yeosang watched you and Mingi kiss, then say goodbye as you went out the door. The silence built back up once you’d left, your scent and warmth going with you.��

“Atinys are always saying I’m her puppy,” Yunho stood nearby with a teasing smile on his face, “But you’re more of a puppy than me.”

“Shut up,” he laughed softly, throwing a small pillow at him before getting up from the bed. “It’s been a while for me, that’s all.”

“You can always ask her the next time you two go out,” Yunho said, walking to his room with Yeosang behind him. “She’d never say no to her prince.”

Yeosang’s blush crept from his cheeks to his ears, “It’s what I like, okay?”

“I wasn’t dissing you,” he turned when he reached his bedroom door, the smile gone once he saw Yeosang’s face. “We all have different kinks. I mean, I like CNC which isn’t everybody’s thing.”

“You do? When have you done it?”

“When you went to visit your parents’,” he answered as Yeosang passed him. “She wanted to do it, so we did. YN doesn’t mind experimenting,” he smirked, “She loves trying new things. You should ask her to go full dom with you next time; she might do it.”

“You think she would?” he asked meekly. “We kind of do it in bed sometimes, but not all the way. I don’t know if she really does like it.”

“Just ask, Yeosangie. You won’t know until you do. It’s what Wooyoung told me.”

Yes, Yeosang heard all about Wooyoung’s free-use fantasy and how you’d tried it for him. “It’s not really only the sex,” he said. “It’s things outside of the bedroom too. I like taking care of her, and doing things for her.” He snorted a laugh, “I know she likes to be independent so I don’t push it on her.”

Yunho’s eyes darkened with lust, and moved towards Yeosang. For a moment, all the breath in his body came out at the close proximity. “If she doesn’t want a cute submissive to serve her,” he lifted Yeosang’s chin so he looked up at him, “I wouldn’t mind taking her place. I personally think you’d look pretty with one of my collars around your neck…”

“Hyung…”

“I prefer my subs to call me ‘Sir’, but if you like ‘Hyung’ we can use that.”

“Hyung,” he giggled at his forwardness. “I’m gonna go game for a bit before bed,” he said, body flushed in heat when he met Yunho’s eyes, his words sending more warmth to his crotch. “We have a free day tomorrow, but I need to go to the practice room early.”

“Alright,” he accepted, “But if you change your mind, I’ll let you pick your collar.” 

He brushed Yeosang’s lips with his thumb before kissing him softly. The kiss alone flared up the fires kindling inside. Yeosang thought of joining him in bed. He used to do it all the time when they lived in the dorm. On nights where sleep was impossible or stress of debut life became a struggle, the members slipped into each other’s beds. Yeosang remembered falling asleep to Wooyoung and San’s heavy breathing or Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s low whining and whimpering. He particularly enjoyed the nights where he woke up to Yunho stroking him slowly, wanting intimacy and release. 

“Night, pretty,” Yunho said, kissing him one more time before retreating into his bedroom. 

The pet name shook him. Alone in the hallway, he knew he should go before he did something stupid. Yunho is only teasing. He doesn’t actually want to. He probably has a big game session planned anyways. Yeosang walked away from the doorway, taking deep breaths. 

And trying not to think of the old days. 

****

He’d heard your voice. He swore he did. Walking by Yunho’s room, your voice caught his ear and he’ll admit it piqued his curiosity. Yeosang wondered how you’d gotten back in without anyone noticing before he heard another voice, a deeper voice. Mingi. How could you both be here? Why were you in Yunho’s room? Yeosang pictured the three of you entangled in each other on Yunho’s large bed. He remembered the satin top and tight dark jeans; no way any man could resist you in it. He thought Mingi might take you to his dorm, but he’d brought you home instead. He wouldn’t be the first member you brought home.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Yeosang quietly cracked open Yunho’s bedroom. He expected you there, half naked and laying between the two tall men. A surge of arousal burst through him thinking about it, yet when he looked inside, he only saw Yunho. In the bright lighting of his bedroom, Yunho sat against the headboard, legs parted and hand rubbing his crotch. He spotted a miniature tripod at the foot of the bed, his phone attached and facing him. A myriad of dirty thoughts went through Yeosang’s mind. His eyes remained fixated on the screen in front of him, and Yeosang immediately knew what he was doing. Yeosang knew because he did it multiple times himself when you weren’t nearby: Yunho put on a video of you. He shivered hearing your low, seductive voice come from the TV speakers.

“-Oh, is that what you want, huh? And here I thought you only wanted to watch a movie with me.”

“I’d prefer to shoot a movie with you instead.”

Yunho licked his lips as you giggled at Mingi’s response. Yeosang pictured you in Mingi’s arms, likely in his bedroom, about to be ravaged. He thought about your outfit again, and the lacey underwear you wore underneath. You’d look spectacular. He swallowed thickly thinking about your nipples poking the mesh and lace fabric, ready to be licked and sucked. Yeosang is the first to admit his fondness for your tits. He loved kissing, sucking and licking them whenever given the chance. The sounds it drew out made him hard instantly. Soft moans muffled by kisses broke him from his trance, a mixture of your voice with Mingi’s low tone as he undressed you. Would he slide his dick between those tits of yours? Would you suck the tip while he tit-fucked you? Yeosang remembered when you poured oil on them, making them shiny and slippery, as you then let him fuck them. He’d oiled up the rest of you after that.

A deep groan cut off his reminiscence, and he saw Yunho biting his lower lip. He still teased himself outside his boxers. Yeosang himself enjoyed drawing it out. He never immediately jumped to jerking when he watched videos of you by yourself or with the other members. He’d lightly brush his hand over his bulge, much like he was tempted to do now. Yunho traced his outline down to the hem of his shorts, which had ridden up in his sitting position. Yeosang’s jaw dropped seeing him lightly graze the head with his fingers, then pull back the pant leg to reveal it. Nobody outside of ATEEZ and you knew about Yeosang’s sexuality; that he enjoyed both men and women. How could he not when his members had such nice cocks? He was lucky the other members also liked men, otherwise he’d be screwed. 

Yunho trailing his fingers up and down his length made Yeosang’s mouth water. His own dick started pushing the fabric of his sweatpants; he felt it throb at the sight of Yunho sliding a hand up his shirt. When the man started pinching his own nipple, Yeosang did it to himself through his shirt. He saw Yunho’s soft lips, and envisioned them latched around his nipple. His hot tongue would slowly roll around them before giving a gentle suck. Yunho loved to tease. 

He recalled the first time he and Yunho slept together. It’d been in their old dorm room when Yunho walked in on him masturbating. Being comfortable with one another, the confident Yunho carefully unraveled a blushing Yeosang by removing his shorts to grab his dick. He’d eventually returned the favor by licking Yunho’s nipples and stroking him to climax. The same dick that was feet from him now, being teased while Yunho watched you and Mingi on his TV screen.

“God, I love it when you play with my tits like that. It turns me on so much.”

An odd thing for you to say out loud. They all knew you enjoyed that. Wooyoung once made you come by teasing them with toys and his mouth. Yeosang knew this because he’d been there helping him.

“Turn this way, baby. Let him see them.”

‘Let him see them?’ Who? Who else was there?

“Do you like them, Yuyu?”

“Especially in my hands?”

Were they video chatting? He got his answer when Yunho spoke up.

“Yes,” he breathed, “Yes, I do. Keep going just like that.”

Oh god, they were. Yeosang gulped back more saliva as he listened to Mingi continuing to play with your breasts. He wished he had a better view, but he enjoyed watching Yunho in the moment. Yeosang nearly let out an audible whimper when Yunho pulled his pant leg up more. Even just half the shaft had Yeosang drooling. Using one hand to continue teasing his tip, Yunho started palming the balls underneath. The moan he released sounded absolutely erotic. Yeosang wanted to suck those balls, lick and rub them while stroking that cock. You could join too; he never minded sharing.

Yeosang continued rubbing his nipple while his dick started making a tent in his pants. He gave it a gentle tug to relieve pressure, but this tug led to a sudden moan. One loud enough for Yunho to stop and look at the door. He saw Yunho. Yunho saw him. He stood there like a deer in headlights, not sure how to proceed. Should he pretend he saw nothing? This was meant to be a private moment between him, you and Mingi.

“Yeosangie?” Yunho called out to him, still touching himself. “Is that you? Don’t be shy. Come over here. The party’s just getting started.”

Timidly, Yeosang opened the door. Finally exposed, he couldn’t help himself from blushing at being caught. He kept himself a good distance from the bed, not meaning to intrude or interrupt.

“Come,” Yunho beckoned him over, spreading his legs further apart and patting the space, “Sit here and watch with me.”

“Yeosang is there?”

Yeosang looked at the TV, where you’d leaned into the camera to see him more closely. 

“Um, uh…”

“He is,” Yunho grinned, “He was watching me. Little pervert.”

Yeosang blushed at the words, meant to be affectionate instead of insulting.

"I’m sorry,” he said, flustered. “I didn’t mean to…I only heard YN and thought she was home…Don’t let me-”

“-Yeosang, shut up and get over here,” Yunho leaned to the edge and brought Yeosang closer.

Yeosang walked to the edge of the bed but didn’t sit down right away. He took in the young man laying on the bed. His nipples hardened from teasing, his dick already started blushing red as it grew harder. Need filled his round brown eyes, his pink tongue licking his lips at Yeosang. How could anyone resist such a sight? His long legs and thighs remained spread out on the bed so Yeosang could sit between them. 

“Do you want to wear your collar, baby?” Yunho asked him, reaching forward to touch the bulge forming in Yeosang’s pants. “You can pick whichever one you want.” Yeosang nodded shyly, and he grinned, “They’re in the top drawer.” 

Reaching the dresser drawer, he opened it to find a box labeled ‘necklaces’ across the side. Yunho carried collars of every shade and fabric available. He recognized a few right away, and picked out the one he liked the most: a pink leather collar with a heart shaped bell hanging from a hook. Yeosang knew it jingled each time Yunho’s thrusted into him. This only excited him more. Yunho chuckled at Yeosang’s choice, taking it from him when he brought it back. 

“A pretty collar for a pretty boy,” he smiled, clasping it on when Yeosang bent down. 

Wearing the collar boosted his excitement to the roof. 

“Which one did he pick?”

“The pink one with the bell,” answered Yunho. “Sit here and get comfy.” 

Yeosang absentmindedly sat between Yunho’s thighs. He could feel a distinct warmth pressed to his lower back, and resting against Yunho’s hard form built up the anticipation. He stared at the screen to see you and Mingi smirking.

“I wonder what Atinys would say if they knew how perverted Yeosang really is,” said Mingi. “Those YNteez episodes are nothing compared to what we’ve done together. Right, Yeosang?”

"Ye-yes,” he breathed.

“They’d love it,” you giggled, kneeling up to show your torso. “I think secretive perverts are hotter than obvious ones. They’re always so kinky and dirty-minded.”

You brought Mingi’s hands back to your chest where he grabbed them right away. His face buried in your neck, Mingi rolled your nipples between his fingers until you moaned. Yunho’s hands started slowly sliding up his thighs, starting on the outer sides before moving inwards towards the top. He continued doing this, his mouth close to Yeosang’s ear as he spoke.

“She looks good, huh? I told her to wear that top. It’s so sexy and Mingi really likes it on her,” he circled around Yeosang’s pulsing tip, “Her cleavage just barely shows and if she’s wearing that deep red bra, you can see more of it.”

“She’s so fucking hot…” 

“She is,” he said. “It’s why we all want to fuck her when she wears it out in public. At least, I know I do,” he went further up, lifting Yeosang’s shirt to see his nipples. “Last time she wore it, I fucked her in the train station bathroom. She was already wet from me touching her on the train.”

“Fuck…”

Yunho licked the pad of his thumb and brushed it over Yeosang’s nipple. A trickle of sensitivity shot down to his center, making him squirm slightly. On the screen, he saw Mingi carefully unbuttoning your jeans. Laying longways across the bed, you lifted your hips to help him remove them, leaving you in the bra and panties. You’d pulled it down underneath your breasts, so Mingi squeezed one of them as you felt up his back on top of you. He pictured the sensations you must be feeling and how wet they made you. Yeosang imagined Mingi’s dick, only three layers apart from you, growing harder and harder. The first time they touched one another had been with you and Jongho. Not the biggest of the group, it still made Yeosang cum hard at the end. He loved sitting on it just to hear Mingi’s drawn out groan of relief.

“Who knew we’d get so lucky?” Yunho asked him, one hand toying with his nipple while the other stroked him through his sweats. “Having two big sluts in this relationship of ours? We have YN, who will open her legs whenever we like, and we have Yeosang, who bends over whenever we want. The both of you are so dirty apart,” he licked the edge of Yeosang’s ear, “But even dirtier when you’re together.”

When he looked back at the screen, Yeosang saw your back facing the camera. You’d worn the g-string thong tonight, instead of the regular panties. Your ass cheeks sticking out, the string threaded between them, you bent over the bed so Mingi could spank and grab your ass. Yeosang’s mouth dropped open when he rubbed his fingers in the middle of those cheeks, outlining the thong string that went down to your pussy. A ring light behind the camera made the scene much brighter, so he saw everything. Your soft whimpers matched his own soon enough.

“Think he’ll fuck her in the ass tonight?” asked Yunho. “I leant him a few toys to use on her if they did anal. You know how much she likes her holes being filled. I mean, what’s the point in sex if we’re not gangbanging her with toys?”

Yeosang moaned, imagining the sight. “She…She…”

“‘She’ what?”

“She always looks so good with toys inside her,” he breathed, wriggling around as Yunho finally pulled out his cock. Flushed red, the veins continued pumping blood through it so it hardened. “I hope he does use them. Her ass is even nicer with a-with a plug in it.”

“Don’t worry, Yeosang,” said Mingi from the screen. “She’ll get a toy in there soon.”

“Oh god, yes!”

Mingi placed a few well timed spanks on either cheek. Yeosang did not know who he’d rather be: you or Mingi?

“Do you want a plug in you too?” asked Yunho in his ear. “Or do you want that vibrating sleeve you like so much?”

Lord, the sleeve. A single band of two vibrating bullets that Yunho straps to his shaft then turns on always leaves Yeosang drooling. Yunho chuckled hearing Yeosang’s whiny groan. “How about we start off slow?” he emphasized this with a gradual tug of his dick. “Hm? I want to see how hard you can get before I use my toys. Like I told YN once,” he pressed his lips to Yeosang’s ear, drowning out any other sound, “I like to make sweet, pretty things cum all over my toys.”

This nearly took the breath out of Yeosang. But, then the sound of you moaning caught his attention again. Mingi and you mirrored his and Yunho’s position against the headboard. Mingi had finally stuck his hand in your panties, and the touch alone had you grabbing his arms. His other hand massaged your breast, grazing a thumb over your nipple repeatedly. Yeosang would give anything to be there with you, lapping at your soaked cunt while stroking Mingi’s hardon. He’d pleasure both of you until you could barely comprehend anything else. Yunho could even film it before joining in himself. Yeosang’s arousal brought on a slew of dirty images, and Yunho’s dirty talk added to them.

“Isn’t she beautiful like that?” Yunho asked him, thumb swirling over the head. “Her pussy so wet it's seeping through her panties and her nipples hard to the touch? Oh, look what Mingi’s pulled out.”

Yeosang noticed Mingi quickly reach into a drawer and withdraw a short body wand. He couldn’t really hear the low vibrations, but he heard your high-pitched whining. Thighs and legs shaking, you remained still as Mingi slipped the toy in your underwear. The waistband keeping it in place, Mingi started rapidly rolling your nipples.

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” Yunho moaned. Yeosang felt him start grinding into his back, his full length nestled between the both of them. “But, I know someone who’s equally hot.”

Yeosang helped remove his pants and boxers, leaving his bottom half naked and exposed. Yunho moaned as he felt up and down Yeosang’s thighs again to see his cock twitch up to his stomach. He placed soft kisses along Yeosang’s shoulder as the other man gripped the knees on either side of him. Yeosang couldn’t help but push back into the cock against his tailbone. He did not protest when Yunho took out a bottle of lubricant, and coated his entire length in it.

“So pretty and shiny,” he moaned in his ear again, observing the cock glistening in the half light. “Just like when your mistress drools and spits all over it.”

“Oh god…Sir…”

The title made Yunho breathe deeply. “I’m your dom tonight, hm? Because your mistress isn’t home?” 

“If you…If you want to be.”

“I very much do,” he answered. “I told you as much before you went to bed.”

Your whimpering moan caught their attention. You started trembling, holding Mingi’s hand tightly as he slid the wand up and down your pussy rapidly. However, you then broke away from Mingi and grabbed the camera. Clearly a phone on a tripod now, you placed it in front of your pussy. Yeosang groaned at the close up shot, saliva building up when Mingi finally pulled the thong aside. He put the toy aside, and used both hands to rub the wet lips.

“Fuck,” Yunho panted, “Look at how wet she is already. I’d love to have that sitting on my face, don’t you?”

“Ye-y-ye-yes.”

“Remember the time we shared a room, and she sat on my face while you rode my dick?” he asked, adding more lubricant to Yeosang’s balls below. “How you both made out on top of me? I’d love to do that again. I love having the two biggest sluts in our group in my dorm…ready to be fucked and used at my whims.”

“Oh my god…” Yeosang held onto Yunho’s thighs and continued grinding into him. “That was so hot,” he answered, “I’d love to do it again.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckled, “I’m going to hold you to that, pretty baby. When that woman comes home tomorrow, you two better clear your schedules,” he kissed his ear once more, giving his dick a squeeze, “Because I’m going to fuck you both like the whores you are.”

“Yes,” Yeosang breathed, “Yes, please, fuck me.”

“I will, baby boy,” he cooed. “I will. I just want to play with your body for a little longer. Can you hold it off for me until then?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Yunho finally reached over to his bedside table where he’d been keeping the vibrating sleeve. Yeosang watched with bated breath as Mingi spread your lips apart and used a single digit to tease your clit. He’d suck those fingers just to get a taste of you. He’d eat that pussy for a taste of your sweetness. Yunho grabbed a silicone connected cock ring.

“Sit on your hands for me,” Yunho directed, pleased when Yeosang immediately did it. “I’m going to put this cock ring on you first, so you don’t cum too quickly.”

He watched Yunho slip his dick and then his balls through the two rings. He gave Yeosang’s length a few more strokes before finally pulling the vibrating sleeve over it. He slid the tube right to the middle of his shaft, leaving his tip for Yunho to tease and squeeze at his leisure. Mingi started fingering you, his long fingers filling your heat slowly. He occasionally circled them around your clit before pushing them deep inside you again. The mewls and moans you let out made Yeosang’s cock stand up all the way. The pleasure heightened once Yunho turned the toy on a low setting. The vibrations sent down to his cock rings, adding more pleasure to it.

“Yes, just like that,” he heard you say, “Finger me just like that.”

“Am I making you feel good, Mistress?”

“You are.” You then said, “Are you using a toy on our Yeosangie, Yunho?”

“I am, YN,” he answered, “You should see him.”

You pulled the camera from your pussy to you and Mingi. Seeing Yeosang half naked, succumbing to the sleeve on his dick, the both of you melted at the sight of him. Mingi clearly began fingering you quicker as you watched Yeosang and Yunho.

“He looks so pretty,” you whined, “My sweet prince leaking and moaning like that. Does it feel good, baby boy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he moaned, spreading his legs farther to make room for Yunho’s hands. Adding even more lubricant, Yunho massaged both testicles and sack. “It feels so good, Mistress. It feels so fucking good.”

“Do you wish we were there?” asked Mingi, kissing your shoulder.

“Yes,” he whimpered.

“I told him I’m going to fuck you both tomorrow, YN,” Yunho said.

“Really?” you asked hopefully, “Can Mingi come too?”

“Of course. We’ll tell the group, and anyone who wants to join can come over.” He kissed the spot beneath Yeosang’s ear and said, “Have a little Yeosang-centric gangbang. You always looked so pretty whenever one of us came all over you. I remember the pictures,” he breathed deeply, using Yeosang’s precum to coat his tip. “Seonghwa-hyung’s fat cock splitting you open or San sticking his tongue inside. I saved the one of Jongho fucking both you and Wooyoung, and you moaning like a bitch in heat. Our slutty baby boy is always so eager to fuck us. You were YN before there was a YN.”

Mingi laid you on your back, straddling your chest and sliding his dick between your tits. He’d added lubricant or oil at some point, but Yeosang caught sight of a particular shine on them. Yeosang nearly came, but held himself back. You suckled the head just like you did with him, keeping your eyes on the camera.

“Titty fucking,” Yunho said, “Your favorite. You think he’ll cum on them?”

“I hope so…”

“I will if you’re a good boy,” you said, having heard him. “You sit there and do whatever Yunho says, and if you don’t cum,” you sucked Mingi’s tip hard enough to make him moan, “Then Mingi will cum on my titties for you, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re going to be good and not cum?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?” you buried Mingi between your breasts as much as possible, and Yeosang imagined you doing it to him.

“I prom-m-mise.”

“Suck my dick,” Yunho ordered, “I want those lips on my dick now.”

Yeosang trembled as he crawled from Yunho, who removed his shirt and shorts. He helped Yeosang out of his shirt, but not before landing several passionate kisses on him. Once he removed Yeosang’s hoodie and shirt, he bent down to suck and nibble his nipples. Kneeling on the bed, profiles facing the camera, you could watch them make out and continue teasing each other. Yeosang clenched his jaw as he reached down to Yunho’s heavy, throbbing dick. When he pressed his toy to Yunho, the other groaned loudly and began rocking into it.

“I want you to suck it, baby,” Yunho told him, laying back against the headboard and stroking himself. "And don’t take it out.” 

He never said it out loud, but Yeosang thought his dick looked delicious. Red, underside vein standing out against the smooth flesh, and leaking precum, Yeosang immediately licked right up to the slit. Yunho’s groan matched Mingi’s on TV. Laying right at Yunho’s hips, Yeosang began hungrily sucking Yunho’s cock. Salty precum spilled onto his tongue at the first touch, and he eagerly swallowed it. 

“Don’t take it out of your mouth, sweetie,” you instructed. “You keep that in there for me.”

Yeosang did as you asked. No matter how much drool and spit it made, Yeosang’s head continued bobbing up and down. The bell on his collar clinked lightly in each bob of his head, adding to the arousal in the room. He couldn’t stop himself now. The suppressed desires finally broke through the surface, and all he wanted to do was serve Yunho. His moans became louder when Yunho spread his ass cheeks apart. He breathed heavily once cool lubricant trickled over his hole, and a warm finger started circling the entrance. Yeosang quivered at the light touch, large hands grabbing and smacking his ass cheeks every so often before returning to his hole. The teasing finger and the vibrator on his dick had Yeosang desperate for an orgasm. 

“Keep watching, baby,” Yunho said, cupping Yeosang’s balls for a tender feeling. “I think things are starting to get interesting.” 

He then angled himself so Yunho remained in his mouth while he watched the TV. 

“I need you to relax for me, okay?” you asked Mingi, gradually stroking him as your fingers rubbed further down. “It won’t hurt if you stay still.”

“O-Okay…”

He realized what you were doing, and whimpered. You gave Mingi a few more slow strokes before reaching for a toy nearby. He recognized the black prostate massager you often used on him. You held the camera at an angle where they both saw the toy slide easily into Mingi, who immediately became a whining mess. Yeosang groaned at the finger sliding around his entrance threatened to slide inside. He wanted it so badly. He went far too long without a proper orgasm, and he knew Yunho could give him one. He always did. 

“There we go, good boy,” you praised Mingi, who did his best to remain spread out and not touch himself. That was when Yeosang realized something: you’d cuffed Mingi to the bed. He’d kill to be Mingi. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Yes,” he whined, stomach tensing each time the toy pressed to his g-spot. A very faint buzzing told Yeosang you’d turned on the vibrating function. He cried when you continued stroking him. 

You placed the tripod on the bedside where he got a sideways view of you both. Mingi tied to the bed, a toy vibrating inside him, he was helpless to stop you from sitting on his face. Your reversed position had your ass right on him as you rocked back and forward. 

“Lick it for me,” you moaned, pinching your nipple and keeping your hand on his cock. “Be a good boy and start using that tongue on me.”

And Mingi did. Yeosang sucked Yunho firmly in his moaning, hips bucking as the sleeve continued vibrating softly in well-timed pulsations. He started using his hand in a twisting motion as he greedily sucked the tip. 

“Fuck yes,” Yunho breathed, head tilting back. “Like that. Like that, baby.”

Yunho then slid two fingers into his ass. The sudden plunge made Yeosang yelp around the shaft in his mouth, but he soon settled into it as Yunho started at a slow pace. Using one hand, Yeosang stroked Yunho in a twisting motion while he kept sucking in tandem. He was so close. He could feel his orgasm approaching, tightening his abdomen yet stuck right between dick and balls. His quivering thighs clued Yunho into what was going on. To avoid it happening, Yunho turned off the vibrator which was absolute torture. He whined his displeasure around Yunho, who started pushing his fingers right to Yeosang’s prostate.

“Look at the screen, baby,” Yunho moaned, thrusting up into Yeosang’s mouth. “Look at what they’re doing.”

You still sat on Mingi’s face, but this time you’d bent forward to start pulling and pushing the plug inside him. Mingi shuddered each time you pushed inwards, moaning against your pussy as he sucked it. Enthralled by desire, Yeosang nearly came at the picture of your ass bouncing against Mingi’s face. He wished he could be there pleasuring you too. He loved bringing you to orgasm every time with just his mouth and fingers. 

“Do you like what you see, Yeosangie?”

He nodded, moaning when you started sucking Mingi’s red, leaking tip. Eyes heavy with lust, you laid there using Mingi’s face and cock to pleasure yourself. He is only a toy right now. A toy meant to please his mistress, just like Yeosang is meant for Yunho’s pleasure. 

“Do you want to be filled too?” Yunho asked gently, putting his fingers in knuckle deep. “With something bigger?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Yeosang finally pulled his mouth away, cheeks and jaw slightly burning. Yunho turned so his head faced the foot of the bed to give the couple on the screen a perfect view of Yeosang. He couldn’t wait. The desperation left Yeosang with very little care. Yunho aligned himself with Yeosang’s body, and let him slide down on it. While the stretch did take him by surprise, it brought a bout of relief that also pushed his arousal. Hands on Yunho’s chest, he began rubbing his thumb over Yunho’s nipples as he slowly rocked on top of him. Your own raspy, needy moans started coming through the speakers, Mingi’s muffled groans following soon after. When Yunho flicked the switch back on, the vibrating sleeve drove Yeosang senseless. All he could focus on was the pleasure pulsing inside him. 

He could hardly move, instead letting Yunho take control and push up into him.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby?” Yunho awed, sliding the sleeve up and down Yeosang’s length until his eyes rolled back, “Is my dick that good?”

Yeosang let out several whiny moans as Yunho pumped in and out quickly.

“Answer his question,” you encouraged him. You took up the body wand to slide up and down Mingi’s shaft. He saw Mingi’s thighs and legs tremble each time you circled his head. “Is his dick so good you can barely speak?”

“Yes,” he panted, starting to bounce on top of Yunho, “Yes, yes, yes.”

That's all he could say as Yunho settled himself into a lower position, grabbed Yeosang’s hips, and guided him. Yeosang saw him reach out for the small phone tripod and place it on his lower stomach. Now, you and Mingi had a perfect view of Yeosang’s leaking member wagging up and down in every thrust. He held it upwards, using the sleeve to add more pressure, and your mouth fell open.

“My special boys are leaking so much,” you moaned, licking up fluids sliding down Mingi’s cock. “I wonder how much longer they can last before they’re making big messes of themselves.”

“Mistress, please,” Yeosang caught Mingi’s pleading words. “Please fuck me. Please.” 

“Fuck you, Mingi?” you asked in a fake surprised tone. “But I’m having so much fun teasing you like this. Your dick is so nice all hard and twitching. It’d be a shame to stop all of that now.”

“Please!”

Your giggle must’ve filled Mingi with desperation. No. He wouldn’t be getting his orgasm any time soon. He’d have to earn it, and he knew that. Hearing your moan suddenly grow louder, and seeing Mingi’s bury his face between your thighs, he knew Mingi planned on earning it the only way he knew how. 

“You’re doing such a good job, pet,” Yunho smiled, sitting up to let Yeosang hold onto him as he rode. Arms wrapped around his waist, Yunho cupped both ass cheeks and spread them apart. “Your tight little hole feels so good squeezing my dick. Are you making it extra tight just for me?”

“Yes,” he said, squeezing his cheeks so his walls hugged the cock inside him. “I want to make you feel…feel good, Sir.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If you keep going just like this,” he tugged Yeosang’s head back by pulling on the back of the collar, “I might just cum inside you. I know how much you like being cummed in…just like your mistress.” 

The yank of the collar cut off a bit of air, nearly choking him, and Yeosang loved the restriction. His moans struggled to get through the collar, but they came in an endless loop of curses and mumbled words. 

“Mingi, Mingi, Mingi,” your voice caught his attention and he looked over Yunho’s shoulder. “You wanted to fuck me so bad, go ahead. My pussy’s right there. Why aren’t you putting it in?” 

Yeosang saw you’d knelt just high enough that Mingi’s tip touched only your folds. When Mingi desperately pushed his hips upwards, only his head went inside you. This clearly drove Mingi wild. His arousal took over all sense and he’d do anything to be sheathed inside you. Even with a condom on him-as expected-Mingi shuddered when you slid your clit over the throbbing tip. 

‘Mingi…Baby, I thought you wanted to fuck me. You need to put it in me to do that.” 

“I bet you wanna fuck her really badly, huh?” Yunho asked, squeezing the vibrator against Yeosang’s cock until he screamed. “Like the way I’m fucking you?”

Yeosang muttered a reply, dazed and drooling now. Not getting a real response, Yunho lifted Yeosang and flipped him onto his back. “Do you want to fuck your mistress like this,” he said, pounding into Yeosang so their hips snapped together, “And make her cum all over your dick?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“Answer me properly,” he slowed down, keeping himself hilt-deep inside.

“I wan…I wan-want to fu…fuck her like thi-is-s,” he managed to reply, eyes fully shut and body turned into putty in Yunho’s hands.

“Good,” he bent down over Yeosang, kissing and sucking his neck as he talked. “Your mistress deserves only the best dick,” he turned off the sleeve again and gently thrusted into him, “Just like you do.” He captured Yeosang’s lips with him, and kissed him deeply. Sloppy with tongue, the kiss alone made Yeosang mewl pathetically. “I meant what I said,” he hooked his fingers on the collar to keep him still as they kissed, “I’m going to fuck you tomorrow. Mingi is going to fuck you. YN is going to fuck you. Our prince is going to get as much dick as he wants.”

The thought had Yeosang drooling. He pushed himself into Yunho to get him further inside, pressing on the g-spot over and over again. “Ye-y-yes-s oh god!”

“Oooh, look at you go,” he chuckled, “So cock drunk you can barely talk.”

He turned on the vibrator a third time on a higher setting, and Yeosang let out high-pitched wails. His fingers dug into the covers underneath him, trying to keep himself grounded as Yunho fucked him. Yeosang didn’t know how much longer he could go on before he broke completely. He wanted to cum, but it felt too good to stop.

“I wan-want to-to cum,” he cried, eyes watering from the pressure. “Ple-please.”

“Then go ahead, baby,” Yunho said, pushing the vibrator right against his tip. “Go ahead and cum for me.”

Yeosang felt himself finally reaching orgasm. He could almost taste the sensation rolling up to his balls. He parted his legs wider, giving Yunho full permission to go as deep as possible, and moaned louder.

“Come on,” Yunho urged, “You wanted to cum, right? Go on.”

But it never came. The cock ring kept it from happening. It was even worse when Yunho turned off the sleeve and pulled out at the last second. He laughed watching Yeosang writhe and cry underneath him.

“Aw, what happened, baby?” he pouted, pulling out to rub himself against Yeosang’s groin, “I thought you were going to cum for me?”

“I can-can’t.”

“Why not?”

He knew why not. “I ha-a-av-ve…”

“Have what?”

“The-t-the rings!”

“Oh, that’s right!” he smacked his forehead, “You have cock rings on. I totally forgot,” he smirked, giving a low chuckle as he slipped back inside. “You can’t cum with those on, can you?”

“No!”

Meanwhile, on the screen, you held the mini tripod to where you and Mingi met. You’d finally given in and let him fully fill you. All the bravado from before slowly peeled away as Mingi pushed in and out of you quickly. Yeosang wanted to bring you pleasure like that, and he planned on it.

“I don’t know if your mistress wants you to finish before she does,” Yunho said, sliding the toy up and down his shaft without turning it on. “It’s not right to cum before your partner. Maybe we should ask.” He grabbed the tripod on the table at the end, and raised it above Yeosang, who stared into it pleadingly. “YN, should I let Yeosang cum?”

“Hm, I don’t know. What do you think, Mingi?”

“Nobody should cum before you do, Mistress,” Mingi answered, panting and whining as he continued thrusting. Yeosang watched you bend down to unhook his bindings and lay on your back. Mingi’s hands ended up back on your breasts, which you held there as he raised your legs and went back into you. “Not before you.”

You didn’t say anything back. Impaled on his dick, your eyes fell shut as you savored the sensations.

“You heard them,” Yunho said to Yeosang, withdrawing once more to roll him onto his stomach. He rested on top, hand reaching around to turn on the vibrator again. “Only when your mistress comes.”

Yunho slipped back inside him, keeping one leg up for access to the vibrator on Yeosang’s cock. His pace matched Mingi’s on screen, the both of them almost moaning together as they fucked their respective partners. He'd never done anything so erotic before. The smuttiness alone had him reaching to the end again, but he knew he'd only be denied again. Yeosang’s fingers curled into the bed spread, balling it up to keep himself from succumbing as pleasure numbed him to every other sense. Soon enough, he heard your breathy moans grow louder, being sounded through gritted teeth as your orgasm hit you hard. He looked to see you in a similar position to him, hunched and frozen in place as Mingi helped your climax along to the end. That was when Yunho gingerly removed a ring and massaged Yeosang’s balls once more.

He then let go. 

All over Yunho’s sheets. 

Hard, paralyzing, and desensitizing orgasms rocked Yeosang’s body. If any of the other members heard him, they’d know exactly what Yunho was doing to him. Heat rose up around his neck and ears, eyes squeezing shut as streams of white shot from his tip. Yunho halfway rolled him onto his side so everyone could see the thick, white strings dripping from Yeosang’s cock. The sleeve suddenly became too much against the sensitive muscle, and Yeosang wriggled as Yunho kept stroking him even once his orgasm subsided. Just because he’d finished didn’t mean Yunho was done. 

Mingi and Yunho finished almost in perfect unison. Both men charged faster and harder, only withdrawing once they’d gotten right to the edge. Yeosang laid on his back, elbows propping him up, as he opened his mouth to stick out his tongue. Yunho, kneeling over him, quickly jerked himself over him until he finally came. He kept his eyes locked on him the entire time, not moving or daring to turn away. Yunho, sweaty and panting, aimed right for Yeosang’s tongue and got it nearly every time. The streaks that fell onto Yeosang’s chin or cheeks were eagerly licked up and swallowed. 

“Yummy…” Yeosang smirked, licking some he’d swiped off his cheek. 

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he said, breathing heavily and pushing his tip to Yeosang’s mouth. The low groan he gave once Yeosang started sucking again would’ve been enough to make him want a second round. “Plenty….Plenty more…But, let me clean you up. I didn’t get a taste before.”

Yeosang laid back as Yunho removed the sleeve and started licking up his shaft. Little twinges of pleasure followed the bundles of nerves his tongue sparked. Clearly, you had a similar idea since Yeosang turned to see you stroking and sucking Mingi dry…on your back…your breasts still in view. He held his breath when he saw translucent streaks on your breasts and chest. He whimpered seeing droplets of cum squirt out when you pressed the head to your nipples. Mingi, clearly being overstimulated, did nothing but moan as you played with his cock. With Yunho’s warm mouth sucking him slowly, he laid there watching Mingi���s dick be buried between your breasts. God, you really knew how to keep him going. He knew he’d be a dead man if you did that to him, especially right now. 

“Feel better, Yeosangie?” Yunho asked, still near his crotch, and smiling. “Or do you want to go again?”

“I…” he breathed deeply and realized how sticky he must be. He grabbed a towel Yunho kept in a cabinet next to his bed, and sat up to wipe his face. “I feel great,” he finally sighed, “So much better.”

“Me too.”

Yunho helped him clean up, occasionally breaking it to kiss him, and they looked at the couple on the screen. Yeosang’s legs felt like jelly, so he was more than sure yours felt the same way. Yet, somehow, you were standing and wiping your chest with a wet towel. Your eyes locked with his and you both smiled. Mingi came into the shot, putting his arms around you and kissing you deeply. He only broke away to mutter a question, and when you nodded, he picked up the tripod and brought you to the bathroom. 

“I guess we’re taking this party to our bathroom,” Yunho grinned at him, picking up their mini tripod as well. 

Yeosang, standing on wobbly legs, followed him to their bathroom. As Yunho and Mingi set up their showers, you and Yeosang sat on the toilets with the tripods in hand. 

“How was your date, babe?” Yeosang asked casually, resting his head in his hand as he waited. 

“It was nice,” you replied. He could tell by your hazy eyes you’re slowly surrendering to your exhaustion. “We didn’t do anything particularly crazy. We watched movies, ate snacks, ordered take-out and got coffee. Ooh, he did buy this new game he wanted to play with me, so we did that too.”

“What game?”

The two of you idly chatted. Yeosang loved talking to you after sex. You always acted as if the rigorous sex did not tire you out, but he knew it did. He wished he could cuddle you. Falling asleep between your soft body and Yunho’s hard one sounded like heaven. Both of your showers ready, Yeosang stepped into his with Yunho and you stepped into yours with Mingi. What started off as simple scrubbing became much more when Yunho brought Yeosang to his chest. Lips on his neck, Yunho started lathering the body wash up and down Yeosang’s petite body. 

“Still want more, pretty?” Yunho asked him, using both hands to stroke Yeosang’s cock. Waves of pleasure pinched the sensitive nerves there, which aroused Yeosang more. “I’ll be more than happy to give it to you here.”

“Sir…”

The slippery bubbles made it easy for Yunho’s thumbs to circle his nipples. Yeosang pushed his ass against the cock pressing on him. 

“Again, Yeosangie?” you laughed in your own shower, against the wall as Mingi trailed kisses up your neck. “You boys are insatiable.”

“Only because our owners are so beautiful,” he heard Mingi say. “May I at least keep kissing and touching you? I want to be close to you.” 

“Of course you can.”

You soaped Mingi up as he kissed and touched your body. Yeosang imagined you must be very slippery. Holding him close, Yunho and Yeosang gently washed one another. Bath poufs grazing over nipples or hands sliding up and over ass cheeks, both men gradually became hard again. Yeosang heard your soft moans over the running water and saw Mingi charging into you from behind once more. Both Yeosang and Yunho started stroking one another in earnest, Yunho slipping two fingers back into Yeosang’s bottom. They stayed in this position, squeezing and jerking, before they came once more. Each of them pointed the other upwards to shoot all over their stomachs. This second orgasm came harder, their orgasms bouncing off the tiled walls in the enclosed space. 

“Yeosang…” Yunho breathed, forehead pressed to his as he came down from his high, “You’re so…”

“Arousing? Desirable? Horny?” Yeosang suggested, unable to stop himself from touching the tender Yunho still. “I only want to make my owner happy.”

“You make me very, very, very happy, pretty,” he said, briefly kissing his lips a few times. “Let’s get to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow.” 

After a warm shower in Yunho’s gentle embrace, Yeosang was on cloud nine. “Tired, honey?” you asked him when you were all in your beds. 

“So tired.”

“Now, you’ll sleep like a baby,” said Yunho, bringing him close and kissing his cheek. 

“Me too,” you yawned as Mingi encompassed you, snuggling close as he nuzzled your neck again. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, already drifting to sleep. 

Saying your farewells, Yunho ended the call and put his phone aside. Yeosang knew he should attempt to clean the bed, but he fell so deep into his relaxation, he didn’t want to do anything. Thankfully, Yunho didn’t say anything about it. He only turned off the lights, and shut his eyes. 

He wondered who he'd be waking up to tomorrow. 

*****

A/N: another steamy installment! I really let my self-indulgence get the better of me with this one. I hope y'all still like it <3 More coming soon!

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #kang yeosang #jeong yunho #song mingi #yunsang #yunho x yeosang #yunho ateez #yeosang ateez #mingi ateez #ateez fluff #ot8 x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #mingi x reader

[blingblong55]

You're trouble- Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

A/N: I desperately need to ride.....his face

Based on a request:

PLS MOTHER FEED ME WTH GUNSLINGER GHOST WERE TALKING HIM CHASING A FEMALE READER HE USES HIS POWER (EVERYONE IN TOWN IS AFRAID OF HIM) TO FUCK THE NOT SO INNOCENT BANDIT OR OUTLAW READER. SO BASICLY POWER PLAY AND KNIFE PLAY WHERE HE TEARS OUR SKIRT OFF:( AND FUCKS HIS FINGERS INTO US>:) --- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, knife!play, power!play, oral!sex, dub-con, rough!sex, gunslinger!Ghost, outlaw!reader ---

You and your people ran the town, that was until a gunslinger came in, desert tension grew, and he killed your men and allies and left you to fight for yourself. It was like the typical cowboy film, except in this one, he had more than malicious intents. As you ran away from his blazing gun, your horse came to a halt, you turned your gaze to the man chasing you, daring him for another move. "Don't you be coming 'ere!" You pointed your gun at him. "Darling don't you know who I am? Those aren't even threats," he chuckles.

He spins his gun in his hand, "Now, come with me I'll make sure to fuck that shit attitude from you." The masked man commanded but you denied his request by spitting on the ground. "Over my dead body, Ghost." He shook his head, what a terrible mistake you made. Two moves were all it took for you to be thrown on his shoulder like some damsel in distress. "Why don't I make you pay for this?" As he rode his horse whilst you sat on his lap tied, the townspeople stayed inside out of fear.

Word got around mean ol'Ghost found a new prey. You made a move, falling on your arse and stood up slowly, the tape broken when you began to run. His lasso, like all men do, swung it in the air, and gave you a taste of what was about to come. "Come 'ere you bitch," the rope perfectly caught you, pulling you back to him like a defenceless prey. "Don't go about breaking my rule, for this is my town now, R/N," he threatened and pulls you back on his lap.

Inside his rusty old home, he tied you to his bed and it'd be clear you were to stay there. The skirt which you wore, ripped from the waist to the hem. The fabric is cut by his trusted knife, "Girls like you deserve to learn lessons," his buckle hitting your bare thighs. "Didn't they tell you I don't take women like you so softly?" A grin on him. A newfound slut he could play with when angry, what a great day for him. He kisses your neck, "Taste so sweet huh," he whispers. You try to push him away but part of you wanted this. You had heard stories of the other women, how much of a good night this man gave, and needed to prove this theory for yourself.

His hands groped your thighs, lips kissing yours and you found yourself kissing him back. What an easy criminal, he thought. Your legs are wide open for him as he moves your panties aside. Thick calloused fingers rubbing your clit, he smirks at your reaction. "So wet already?" he taunts and slaps your clit with his belt. You mewl and he slaps your face, "Keep fucking quiet, slut."

He was gentle with the other women but you were the exception, maybe if he didn't dream of wank off to the thought of you, you wouldn't be in this place. Tears run down your face but he continues to slap you, "Look. At. Me." he gives you one final slap. Your gaze on his as he kneels down and begins to lick your cunt. "I said, fucking cry!" he slaps your cunt, your tears run down as you whimper. He looks at you, "Now you're learning." His deepesy fantasies all being played on you, well some, after all a man like him must save some for marriage.

His belt is now on the floor as he picks up his knife, the handle pushing into your tight cunt. He watches in amusement, you squirm and try to close your legs. He gives you one bite on the tight to which you cried about. Perfect mark for the perfect fuck toy. You clench around the handle, he licks the blood coming off the bite mark and looks up at you. A pouty lip which he loves. "Ghost~" you moan. He doesn't listen, all he does is push the handle further in and then pull it out. The sharp surface leaves small and thin marks on your chest and thighs. "Want to be a good girl?" he says between tongue flickers. to your wet pusssy.

He watches you grind on his tongue, pushes your tummy down and grins on how much that affected you. The thin blood trails were proof he was here and meant to be here. Your hands bruised up from how much you kept moving in the restraints. Your abused clit not being able to handle more, makes you push your pussy onto his face, grinding like you had no other purpose. You watch him beg for you to come, after all only good girls come for him. He kisses, sucks and fingers your clit until you cry from overstimulation.

He lets your juices get him drunk, drinking them like they were water from the gods. Your hips trying to move away from his mouth but not having much of a win. You look at him and he smirks just like the devil he is.

Days after that evening, you grew needy of him for the third time that week. "Darlin' what's the matter?" His voice worried, he had to admit he fell in love with corruption and the outlaw that he kept fucking at every one of her demands. "I miss you, come over~" your voice soft yet filled with seduction. "Darlin' i saw you this morning," he chiuckles over the phone. "Can't we have rounf three already?"

"Better be on your knees when I get there or else," a promise he made you understand ever since that night. "Yes, sir," you respond. "You're nothin' but trouble love. Just like I like 'em." He hangs up

Tags: @katz-chow @liyanahelena @bloodyquillink-blog @karurururu @creamy-dreamy-69 @clear-your-mind-and-dream

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mwii #cod kinktober #cod smut #gunslinger ghost #cowboy ghost #cod fanfic #call of duty x reader #cod x you #call of duty smut #simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #ghost riley x reader #ghost riley x you #ghost riley smut #mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost riley

[thedevilspearl]

pet play — older brothers

a/n: this is super rushed because i am super horknee, so i apologise in advance for the terrible writing <3

tags: 2k words. female reader x lucifer (kitten!reader, blowjob, master kink, mild dom/sub), mammon (bunny!reader, publix sex, exhibitionism, gambling) + leviathan (puppy!levi, dom!reader, oral sex, master kink, squirting). minors do not interact!

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑

after a long and arduous day, lucifer couldn’t wait to get home to you. sure, the house of lamentation is his place of privacy and comfort. but nothing rids him of stress quite like you.

being embraced in your warm, homely arms or finding solace deep in the walls of your pussy, all he needs is you to chase all of his worries away.

and you know exactly what he needs to relieve the tension in his body. so leading him by hand to his bedroom and locking the door behind you, you push him against it and take the leather skin of his glove between your teeth and tug.

his eyes glimmer with anticipation, intensity filling the air between you.

the glove slips from his hand and hangs from your lips. looking up at him with those gentle eyes, he feels his body elate in every way, from his burning cheeks to his growing, hardening cock.

“now, what is my little kitten up to?”

he glides the back of his bare finger across your cheek and you chase it, desperate for his warmth on your skin.

“want to make my master feel good,” you pout. “you’ve had a long day.”

a deep chuckle reverberates from his chest and it resonates through your body, heightening every one of your senses. he understands your motives quickly, dragging you towards his bed and you fall to your knees naturally.

being his favourite form of stress relief, you don’t need to think. the movements come to you like second nature, as if your existence was solely made to please him.

“good girl,” he drags out his words with a groan as your lips brush against his bulge. the metal of his zip clinks against your teeth; it’s cold against your lips and you pull it down, not once tearing your eyes away from his. “fuck…”

the corners of his lips curl upwards and his eyes darken, showering you with ounces of affection but instilling you with that familiar neediness. his cock is revealed in no time and you make haste, jerking him until he’s fully hard, just how you like it.

your hot breath teases his tip, and you place a soft kiss to it. it twitches in your hold as you swipe the precum from his slit. “goodness, kitten…” he groans. “you make a deranged man out of me.”

a smirk dresses your lips and you tease him further, using the tip of your tongue to coat his length with saliva. his groans become guttural, his abdomen tensing to stop himself from shoving his cock down your throat.

and when you finally take him in your mouth, he moans blissfully, throwing his head back while gripping the hair at your scalp. the two of you work in sync, guiding your head back and forth. you suck your cheeks in tighter, earning a hiss from lucifer and he picks up the pace.

he pushes your head further and the sensitive tip of his cock hits your throat. your gagged moans ripple through his body, filling him with fire.

his grip tightens and his hips tremble, praises leaving his lips in stutters until he finally pulls you away and his cock erupts with pleasure.

hot, white cum dribbles from his cock and you gently swipe his leaking tip with those kitten lick he loves so much. and just like always, he watches intently as you clean up his mess with quick slips of your tongue, like a kitten drinking milk.

“fuck,” he sighs exasperatedly. “you’re such a good kitten.”

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍

betting with mammon was never a good idea.

but still, you couldn’t say no, not when his charms found their roots in every part of your body, urging you to play with him. and after a game of highs and lows and all the other demons folding, only you and mammon hold out.

he’s antsy in his seat; you sit across from each other in velvet couches and a poker table in place of a coffee table between you. you’ve been watching him slowly — a small tent formed over his crotch, unnoticeable to everyone else but not to you, since you’ve been eyeing it and salivating the whole time.

this game has been going on for far too long; all you need at this point is his cock filling your greedy pussy.

“how about this?” you suggest. “if i have the better hand, you win all the money and you can do whatever you want with me tonight.”

his lips raise into a devilish smirk. “and if you win?”

“i win the money and you for the night.”

you match his dominance despite this being entirely his field to play in. but looking at your cards and the five consecutive numbers all in the same set, you know you have the winning hand.

“okay,” he shrugs. “but i promise you, you’re not beating my hand.”

“you’re bluffing,” you scoff and toss your cards on the table. “try beating a straight flush.”

sitting back, you cross your arms with a smirk, expecting his face to drop but instead, it lights up with a new found ambition. and goosebumps erupt across your skin, because the look on his face is the look of a winner.

he leans forward, looking you dead in the eye as he places his cards flat on the table. “royal flush, baby!”

mammon cackles as he leans his head back, and you fidget in your seat, embarrassed — not because you lost, but because you acted all high and mighty despite him having the winning cards. he knew he was the winner from the moment his cards were dealt, he was just stringing you along in his fun, little game.

“don’t look so glum, bun,” he pats his lap and you automatically make your way over to him. “we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

his hands slip up your dress and give a tight squeeze to your ass. “mammon… there are people here…”

“you wanted to play this game, bunny.”

you glance around; there’s not a lot of players left in the private room, most of them fluttering away to other games but you still feel eyes on you. it excited you as much as it terrifies you.

mammon’s hands glide higher to your waist line, and he’s pleased with what he finds. “no panties, huh? you were planning this all along, weren’t ya, bunny?”

he pulls you onto his lap and your bare pussy hits his crotch immediately, and players glance your way when you yelp. as much as you want mammon to whisk you away for some privacy, you’re not a sore loser.

you lost the bet, and now you’ll do whatever he wants you to. besides, you weren’t planning to find having an audience this exhilarating, and you don’t have it in you to tell him to stop.

“hah, been craving you’re needy pussy all night. bet i don’t need to look to see how wet my bunny is, do i?”

you tuck your head into his neck, hiding your burning face. meanwhile, mammon works on removing his cock and rubbing his head up and down your slit, spreading your arousal.

“i fucking knew it,” he whispers, hot breath hitting your ear. “you’re so fucking wet.”

you moan as quietly as you can, biting his shoulder through his shirt as he slips his cock inside. “mammon…”

“c’mon, bunnypie. i know ya can take it.”

his hands grip your ass, guiding you up and down on his length and his cock does wonders stretching you out, so much that you’re unable to hold in your sinful moans.

“everyone’s watching ya, bun. i bet you’re enjoying this, aren’t ya?”

your dress obscures the view of your pussy swallowing his cock, and you bounce with his guidance, embarrassed but more so desperate to feel him stretch your walls. moving your hips with a little more vigour, you loosen up and allow yourself to enjoy the unexpected outcome of his cruel game.

“that’s it, darlin’. keep bouncing on my cock,” mammon hums with his lips pressed to your burning cheek. “show everyone how slutty my bunny is.”

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍

“levi,” you sing, beckoning the purple–haired demon towards you. he crawls to you skittishly, too embarrassed to meet your eyes. but he soon warms up and nuzzles his face against your hand when you reach out to him. “good boy.”

tiny whimpers escape him and you tug the chain of his collar, pressing your leg against his body. he pulls in tighter, and his bulge squeezing against your lower leg.

“my, my… what do we have here?”

having him watch silently while you stripped off your layers was a challenge. but he behaved like a good puppy, holding himself back despite you being fully naked. but still, that didn’t stop his cock from growing thick and erect.

you run your fingers up his forehead into his scalp, pinning back his bangs so he can no longer hide his burning face and amber eyes filled with desperation, begging you to play with him.

“please…” he whimpers.

“aww, is my puppy this desperate?” you tease. “that’s okay. you can get off, if you want. as long as you work for it later.”

his chest rubs against your knee and you tug on his hair, holding his face in place to maintain eye contact while he starts humping your leg.

“aah!” he moans. “master, i’m going to cum…”

“already?” you hum, lifting his face so he’s close enough for you to capture his lips. he melts into you, and his hips rut harder against you. every single time, he loses all sense when it comes to pleasure and you adore seeing him like this. “you’re such a horny pup, aren’t you?”

he nods fervently, brows raised in concentration as he grows closer and closer to his orgasm. he closes his eyes but all he needs is one tug on his scalp to open them and meet your dominating gaze once again.

“that’s it, puppy. cum all over my leg like a little bitch in heat.”

your words tip him over the edge and his body jitters, his broken and gaspy moans filling the room as cum spills from his cock and leaks through his pants, leaving a wet touch on your skin. he drags the wet patch up and down until he’s rutted himself dry.

and when he finishes, you tug on his collar, bringing his face between your legs.

the space between you is delicate; you almost lose your own control over the situation when his hot breath meets your pussy.

“time to get to work, my little pup,” you order with a soft–spoken voice and brush your fingers through his hair one more time, ridding him of any obstruction. “make your master feel good.”

his tongue pokes from his lips and he licks a long stripe up your cunt. groaning, you grip his hair tighter, pushing his face deeper between your legs.

“fuck, levi!” you squeal with him panting against your pussy, completely breath–taken but refusing to part for air. “you’re so good!”

he devours you, like a dog starved for days. his tongue reaches every inch of your pussy, pressing against you with the right pressure, the right temperature, the right rhythm. you’re burning with pleasure, ready to explode from the steam building up inside.

and with one last flick of his tongue, you come undone, releasing your arousal as your body shakes hard.

“oh my god!” you don’t hold in the lewd moans as you squirt all over his face. “so good!”

you’re overcome with a buzzing sensation throughout your body; it’s been a while since you’ve orgasmed so hard. levi’s tongue pulls you from your daze and looking down at his soaked form, you can’t help but admire your sweet puppy lapping up all of your juices.

“you’re such a good boy,” you hum with satisfaction. “hurry up and clean the mess. master wants to give you another treat.”

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me x reader #obey me #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #lucifer smut #mammon smut #obey me x female reader #obey me levi #leviathan x reader #obey me levi smut #obey me smut headcanons

[fangirlandtheories]

Do you remember when we used to sing?

Eddie is away on tour while Steve is taking care of their daughter a few hours away. Too bad she can't fall asleep without her special bedtime song...

--

Steve’s brows pinched together as the cries grew in pitch and volume, almost drowning out the familiar click of ‘Hey it’s Eddie, call me back or don’t, I’m not your mother.’ from the speaker of his phone. 

He had shifted from frustrated to desperate as he glanced over at their daughter, red faced and snot nosed. Bedtime was a solid hour past due and didn’t seem to be looming any closer. 

“It’s okay, sweets, we’ll call him again.” Steve soothed as he ran a hand down the toddler’s back. 

“Daddy!!!” She screamed again, choking with the effort of her sobs, as she squeezed her eyes shut. It had been love at first sight for Eddie and Steve when they had met Rayne’s mother. She was young, just turning 20 in the fall, with curly blonde hair and big brown eyes. She was looking for someone who wanted a baby that couldn’t naturally have their own and the agent connected the dots for them. After several months, little Rayne was theirs.

“I know,” Steve muttered as he pulled up Eddie’s contact again. Eddie had taken a break from touring after the adoption of their daughter but had recently started back up. It started off pretty well, the excitement of getting to have a Dad weekend with Steve pulling her through, but now the newness was gone and all little Rayne Munson-Harrington wanted was Eddie. 

Eddie usually found weekend gigs but had found a week long slot in a club in St. Louis that promised great publicity and even better payment, so Corroded Coffin hit the road and Steve held down the fort with some help from Robin and Wayne. They were obligated to babysit, she was named after both of them afterall, and he was grateful because work had been taxing enough without adding a feisty 4 year old to the mix. 

A flu bug was sweeping it’s way through Hawkin’s Elementary and it spared no casualties in Steve’s kindergarten classroom. He spent the day trying to keep the class from putting things in their mouths and making sure everyone washed their hands, sending a child or two home after seeing the greenish pale tints of nausea pass over their faces. He knew that he’d have to deal with kids puke at some point, especially as a parent, but he’d like to avoid it at all costs. 

“Pick up your phone you ass.” He hissed through clenched teeth, rocking the inconsolable girl in his arms as he dialed again.

***

Eddie first felt the familiar jolt of vibration in his back pocket  just after the first chorus. The second time was just a few verses later. He smiled into the microphone as he continued to sing, ignoring his phone. The third time was in the bridge of the song, a particularly terrible time to take a call as Eddie’s hands were preoccupied with his guitar. The fourth time happened in the final notes of the song. The fifth during the applause. Eddie frowned as he pulled the device from his pocket, ignoring a glare from Jeff.

“Hey guys, you won’t believe this but my husband is facetiming me right now. This is like the fifth time he’s called so I’m going to answer, everybody be quiet and let’s see how long it takes him to remember that we had a later show tonight.” Eddie laughed as the audience silenced quickly. Steve’s irritated yet grateful face popped up on the screen seconds later.

“Hey love…” He crooned with a cheeky smirk.

“Your daughter is very upset with you.” Steve ignored the affectionate nickname. 

“Why is she my daughter whenever she’s mad?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Is she alright?”

“She’s been screaming since 8:30 Eds.” Steve ran a hand through his hair and blew out an exasperated sigh. “She’s refusing to sleep until you do it, that’s why I’ve been calling.”

“Steve I’m um…” Eddie glanced nervously at the audience in front of him. “Kind of in the middle of something.”

“Yeah I wanted to be relaxing right now too but our kid needs her dad and since he’s five hours away the very least he could do is sing her the damn song so that we all can get some rest.” Steve squinted at him. “You’re being weirder than usual. Are the guys there with you?”

“Yeah the guys are definitely with me.” Eddie ignored Gareth’s snicker. “Can I call you-”

“Edward, so help me God, sing the song so that she can go to sleep.” Steve interrupted. “Look at her.” Steve turned the camera to the distraught little girl and Eddie’s heart clenched.

“Hi angel, I hear you’re a little sad.” He frowned in solidarity with her as her lip stuck out. “No, don't cry, it’s okay Ray Ray.” She howled louder, tears popping from her wet lashes. He winced as he lip quivered, his resolve wearing down to nothing. He glanced over at Gareth, leaning over to whisper to him before looking back to his phone.

“Alright fine, let’s sing it, yeah?” Eddie placated. “You’re breaking my heart Bambi.” The wide eyes and long lashes practically gifted the nickname to her. He glanced back at Gareth who gave him a thumbs up before looking at the audience. “Daddy’s band is going to help him sing it, is that okay?” Rayne whimpered as she nodded, snuggled into Steve’s arms as he held the phone in front of her.

“Wait, are you on stage right now?” Steve leaned forward. “Shit, I’m sorry babe, I didn’t mean to interrupt the performance.”

“You couldn’t interrupt if you tried.” Eddie smiled. “Isn’t that right?” Steve could hear cheers from the audience. “We love our rock and roll family here and we honor our traditions, most of all the bedtime song. Ready boys? Sing along if you know it, our most honored guest is in the audience tonight and would love to hear you guys.”

With that, Jeff  played the opening notes on the guitar while Gareth tapped out the beat with the rarely used tambourine. The bass thumped along to Eddie’s singing, and though it admittedly wasn’t their usual style, the band loved Rayne like she was their niece and they would play anything to make her happy.

“-In the misty morning fog with our hearts a-thumping” Eddie held the microphone in one hand and the phone in the other, beaming at the smile on Steve’s face. “And you, my brown eyed girl.” Rayne giggled and clapped, tears still on her cheeks but sadness having finally passed. 

***

Hours and miles away, Steve smiled as he shut the door to his daughter's bedroom, the nightlight softly glowing, as he hummed the song to himself. Tomorrow there would be a series of tweets about Eddie going soft and videos flying all around the internet, but for now, and for the first time that evening, the Munson-Harrington home was quiet.

#steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #steve harrington x eddie munson #oc child character #modern au #rockstar eddie munson #kindergarten teacher Steve Harrington #fanfiction #ficlet #steddie fanfic #my first tumblr fic #please request #always taking requests

[bigfatbimbo]

THE TROPHY WIFE VOX ONE PLEASE 🙏

I get misty just holding your hand —

Vox x reader,, 1.4k words

a/n — the prompt was this, but if you want to educate yourself on this little au of mine, here and here!

warnings — Vox being a whiny bitch about his situation, mainly just fluff, gender neutral reader, established relationship

summary — After the fall of the Vees, Vox has resorts to being what can only be described as your trophy wife, who gets paraded around at one of your work parties.

“Oh fuck no, I’m not going to that party,” Vox practically cackled, hands coming to his stomach as he laughed.

You rolled your eyes from across the room and walked over to him with a small smile, “Vox, it really won’t be that bad—”

Your comment went unnoticed, “I mean, bringing your ex-overlord boyfriend who’s famous for exploiting workers to a work party.” 

His laughter died down into small breathy chuckles as he continued folding the laundry, “Yeah, babe, I’m sure your coworkers would love me.” 

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason he’d denied the idea so heavily. It was true, he was desperately ashamed of his current situation, and it wasn’t like he’d seen much of the public lately. 

Over the course of a few months, ever since the fall of the Vees, Vox had made the terrible discovery that hell never really needed him. Sure, electricity was a hassle for a few days, but it wasn’t like all of the other rings of hell relied on the Vees for anything. It didn’t take long at all for the citizens of the Pride Ring to continue they’re life, using the same electricity, socials, and porn as all the other rings, without any help from the Vees, or more specifically, Vox.

And yes, this had brought a fair amount of shame to Vox, whose only usefulness depended on how well he could do your dishes. The idea of facing the public eye, who most likely wanted him dead and buried, only appearing as your little housewife was positively unthinkable.

Until tonight, of course. You sat down on the couch next to him, and picked up a shirt to begin folding it, assisting him in the process.

“I’m not saying you have to go,” you begin, putting the shirt on a pile of folded clothes and picking up a pair of pants. Vox scoffs at your comment, but you continue, “But I do want you there. Vox, I need you there.”

The last comment might not have been technically true, but just as you hoped, it did bring a silence to the room. Vox’s hands had stopped working on the laundry, and yours followed soon. 

“Fine, i’ll go,” He finally sighed, “But if they don’t have the wine I like, i’m fucking leaving.”

And so he went. 

If Vox was being honest, he did miss getting all dressed up. He couldn’t even tell you how long it’s been since he put one of his precious bow ties on. As for his suit jacket, he decided to ditch it. Although he liked the look of it, it felt far too ‘evil overlord-y,’ and in the light of being totally powerless, he’d rather not provoke anyone with bad memories of his rain or terror.

Oh well, plain button up and sweater vest it is. The party was more of a casual-formal vibe. And besides, strangely, it felt in bad taste to take too much of the attention away from you.

Wow, Vox thought, that’s gotta be an original thought from me. For the first time in his life, and death, he didn’t feel his usual deep craving for attention. Yes, because he didn’t want to get assaulted by an angry ex-worker of his, but in a sense, he’d grown used to the normalcy of life around the house. You were the breadwinner, and his job was to simply be on your arm. He sighed, what a dull thought. 

“You ready, Vox?” You questioned as you stood outside of the studio apartment the party was being held at. In all honesty, you weren’t exactly excited either. 

Your ideal Friday night was not going to your prissy bosses house, and drinking shitty whine while you see the unfortunate drunken side of many of your coworkers. All the more reason you were glad Vox was here.

“Of course, can you not see how happy I am to be here?” He spoke tightly and through gritted teeth, a sweat working up on his upper neck while his screen brightness dulled. 

You didn’t say anything back, you just slipped your hand into his as you opened the door to the apartment. The inside was as expected, needlessly classy, decorated with chic and pointy furniture, and irritating smooth jazz playing in the background. You roll your eyes at the surroundings, god, upperclass sinners always love to pretend they aren’t in hell.

Vox’s hand tightened around yours when people started noticing the two of you. He was extremely recognizable, I mean, not a lot of people have TV for a head. But it was undeniable the murmurs heard around the room when you walked further into the loft. 

You look over to Vox and frown slightly. His shoulders were tense, and his posture was uncharacteristically bad. In truth, you’d never seen him look quite so out of place. Jesus, even at rock bottom he usually never acted so self conscious. 

“I should have brought something,” He remarked to himself, “Food, or something. Fucksake, people always get more comfortable when eating. Damn, I’m rusty.”

“And have them suffer your terrible cooking,” you take the opportunity to lighten the mood, “Jesus, these people would crack your screen in half. Hell, I want too whenever I eat your food—“ 

A small laugh was earned from the clearly joking comment. Thank god, you think as his shoulders relax slightly, but his eyes still dart around suspiciously.

The party is all together pretty mundane. You were surprised at how close Vox stuck to your side. Maybe it was the fact neither of you had been out in public together since he was a famous CEO, but you’d definitely expected him to shmooze more.

There seemed to be an understanding that these were absolutely not his people. Although he didn’t recognize some of them, they recognized him. Lots of ex-voxtech workers had to get different jobs after the crash, which meant of course, some were bound to work in the same place as you. 

“Oh y/n, so glad you could make it,” a coworker of yours had approached you, mid-thought, “And you brought… uhm, who’s this you have with you?”

Vox raised his finger as if to speak, but you interrupted, feeling irritated by your acquaintance’s judging eyes, “You know who he is, my boyfriend, Vox.”

Your smile had grown into a showboating grin that Vox knew all too well. Your words were proud, and you placed your hand on his lower back while speaking. 

He was thankful for your charm, it not only made him feel more familiar with the social circumstance, but it gave him an entrance. 

“Yes, Vox, very nice to meet you,” he leaned down, extending his hand and smiling his, now rusty, customer service smile, feeling comforted by way your hand slinked around his waist. 

The demon looked weary, but the conversation continued relatively easily, as did all the conversations for the rest of the night. You oversold Vox whenever you could, he’s such a great chef, he keeps the apartment so well, you couldn’t imagine not having him to come home too at the end of the day. 

Vox happily played into it, each comment from you being met with a witty joke from him, or a charming flick of his wrist and then, “Oh, it’s nothing, really.” 

He felt good. In fact, for the first time in months, he felt didn’t feel an overt lack of control in life. What he was doing, he knew for a fact he was good at; smooth talking the crowd.

What did he even have to worry about in the first place? Classy parties were something he had immense knowledge about. And here, he felt great, being paraded around as your trophy and gawked at, like he really meant something. Dear god, has he missed that, meaning something.

A few months had passed since the beginning of his stay-at-home life, and not once had he’d entertained the idea of liking this form of existence. But now he had to admit, he always thought of himself as a gift to gods green earth, but truly being shown off as your prize, that did something to him. 

The purpose he felt he lacked at the beginning of the evening, and for months on end, had been filled. He was yours, and he was something to brag about.

Although many of the things you were saying, him being a great house keeper, weren’t true, they very well could be. 

As he engaged in conversation after conversation with your uselessly classy coworkers, he basked in your attention and indirect praise. 

Maybe, after all, he could get used to this.

a/n — Song lyric title is misty by lesley gore by the way because 50s housewife music !!

Anyways, I think I went to ham on this one gang. I don’t know how much I like it—

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #vox x reader #vox x y/n #vox x reader fluff #vox x you #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel fluff

[rippersz]

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒕

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A Larissa Weems x F!Reader oneshot (for now) - Normie Reader experiences a very sudden heat for whatever reason and oh good lord Larissa is just so hot how can anyone expect you to work under these conditions… (NSFW: Vulgar, Breeding Kink, Shapeshifting Advantages, All that Jazz) (Larissa is just mentioned/imagined in this.) Am I sorry? Meh.

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There was just something in her that lit something in you.

A fire the likes of which you’d never encountered before. As though a flame was constantly flicked on beneath your heart, causing it to race, causing it to pound, causing it to bring the blood from your limbs up to your cheeks; painting you in a deep blush. Making you dizzy. Making you ache. Making you feel a type of delicious never-ending burn that seemed to spark the very moment you saw her.

Her.

Oh, her.

The same woman that made you realize that you wanted to become heavily acquainted with Lust and all of the friendly benefits it could offer. The very catalyst to your panic and your flush and the shake in your hands as you pressed yourself up against the wall of your shower and imagined it was her doing it instead. Oh how her hands would feel… how her touch would mold… how her teeth would graze and nibble and bite and gnash in ways that sent you spiraling. The muscles in her biceps flexing as she interlocked your hands and forced your arms up over your head, holding you to the chilled tile, making you shiver even if the water was hot.

It felt like the word ‘Please’ was on the very tip of your tongue whenever you passed her in the hall. ‘Please,’ you wanted to murmur to her one day, ‘Please, put me out of my misery and ruin me before I explode.’ Because that’s what it felt like, didn’t it? The strange pull in your bones, crawling up through your veins, invading your mind, it felt like you were being stretched taut and that no amount of self-assured pleasure could help release your tormented body. Explosion, at that point then, was imminent. And dangerous. You could barely concentrate on classes; you could barely pay attention to another person; you could barely think about anything other than her fingers… and her tongue… and those deep bottomless sapphire eyes - staring straight into your soul as you fell apart beneath her.

Some part of you told you that you were going through heat. That the very desperate natural human basic need for pleasure was just that - something a person experienced from time to time. Something that werewolves and cats and animals felt whenever that season came around. But you were a ‘normie’. You’d never felt that before… until Larissa Weems, of course. Until you sat down in a staff meeting one day and peered down at her painted nails and long tapered fingers and delicate hands, woven with blue veins and a wicked strength you’d never seen, and wondered what her index and middle finger would taste like when resting on your tongue. The thought still brought redness to your cheeks and drool to the inside of your mouth. It was just so terribly depraved. So desperate. So needy in a way that you wanted her to say- to tell you- to whisper in your ear while you whimpered into the warm skin of her shoulder.

‘Look at you… such a silly little thing… trembling all for me…’

All for you. All for her. All for Larissa, at all times, no matter what.

You knew that people were starting to worry about you and your actions - especially Larissa herself. She was your boss after all, she was supposed to pick up on any behavioral changes, and you had definitely changed. Without even knowing, you became far more introverted and spent more time alone than you ever had before. Though then again, most of that time was dedicated to taking care of the relentless throb between your thighs. Honestly, sometimes it got so strong that it interrupted your entire day and you had to find some way to ease the strange pangs before they got out of hand.

And you’d been doing a good job. Really, you had. You’d been taking the necessary moments to rid yourself of the feeling for at least a few hours before it came back - and that was enough. It was enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Until it began to hurt.

Until you realized that yes, indeed, you were somehow going through heat - and there was no one there to help you with it.

–

‘Good morning Larissa,

I just wanted to email you with a quick update and say that I, unfortunately, have fallen quite ill. I don’t think I’m equipped enough to handle my classes, and I’m very sorry for the inconvenience. Knowing this would get worse, I already printed out lesson plans and activities for my students. They’re all on my desk in my classroom.

Thank you - hopefully I get over this soon.

Y/N’

A quick email. That was good. You didn’t specify timing but that was fine. Your ‘heat’, for lack of a better word, had already been happening for about three weeks. If you were correct in your research, it wouldn’t be too much longer - perhaps a week or so more. Though in the long run, it would be a bigger pain in the ass than you expected. Already, your room smelled of sex and was so stuffy that you had to keep a window open constantly. And to get rid of the scent, you resorted to wall plug-ins and incense; they were the best you could think of on the fly. The rest of the issue - such as the air being far too hot - could only be remedied with a lack of clothing and many cold showers.

You supposed that was the best blessing during your time of strife- having an ensuite all to yourself. Staff were given the option to live on campus or live near Jericho, but you decided that ease of access was more important than living utterly alone. And, another plus that allowed you to let out a sigh of relief from time to time, was the fact that the teacher’s wing was very far from the students’. So any of the werewolves that wandered the halls wouldn’t smell you - as long as you stayed in your room. Thus, the email. And the isolation. And the constant worry that often came as an after-thought during your moments of… reprieve.

Even then, you truly felt you were going mad.

Tears often leaked from the corners of your eyes at night when you twisted around in bed, trying (and failing) to keep your hands from wandering about your body. You’d never experienced the phrase ‘instinctive’ to such an extent until that span of time where your searching fingers tip-tapped their way down the soft skin of your rounded tummy and found themselves drawing circles around your clit without thinking. Because it was all done without thinking. Even thinking was done without thinking.

Most of the time, your head was filled with thoughts of your boss. It was always Larissa. It was always Larissa and it was always her tall figure dwarfing your own, pushing you into a state of submission that you wanted to fall into anyway. She wouldn’t even have to try very hard - she wouldn’t even have to bend you over her lap and spank you red unless you came without her permission and she wouldn’t even- she-

‘Y/N,

I’m very sorry to hear you’ve fallen ill; please don’t worry about your classes as I can provide a substitute immediately. That being said, take as much time as you need to recover. I’ll stop by later today to chat briefly about the form you can fill out for an extended absence. Thank you for letting me know and I sincerely hope you feel better soon.

Larissa W.’

The ping of the email distracted you for a moment.

Good- that was good- your classes would be covered and you were ‘off the hook’. Great. Take as much time as you need mhm mhm… blah blah blah… stop by later today… mh-

Wait.

Wait, what?

You blinked, stared down at the lit up screen of your phone, and then blinked again.

She was… stopping… by? Later? On that day? When the clench in your abdomen was so strong that you were descending into sniffling sobs every two seconds? On that day, when you had just reached the point in which your fingers- the four you managed to fit and utilize- no longer got rid of the ache? On that day, when you were cursing yourself for never buying a fucking sex toy just for the Hell of it?

In your defense, you didn’t think you were ever going to descend into a spontaneous excruciating heat at any point in your life- but it didn’t really matter anyway.

Because whether you liked it or not, Larissa Weems, your boss, the headmistress of the Nevermore Academy for Outcasts, the main event of your wet dreams and sexual fantasies was going to stop by your room for a ‘brief chat’... and you hadn’t been clothed for three days. And your legs were trembling all the time. And the insides of your soft thighs were coated in slick constantly. And your skin was always overheated and sensitive and your voice was hoarse due to the amount of muffled screaming you pressed into the fabric of your pillow and your bed was very much unmade and your room smelled like a 24 hour sex dungeon and the blush on your cheeks had only increased tenfold by the time you sat up in your unmade bed, winced, and let out a whine.

Oh why had the Gods cursed you so?

Why had they placed a hex on your little human body and filled it with a libido that could only match the ferocity of dragons? Why did they force a potion of lust down your throat and place you in front of Larissa Weems and make you look at her with eyes of dark desire? Why did they place the image of her sloping hips and long legs and thick thighs in your mind and poison you with dreams that followed you into the waking world?

Why did you want her so badly?

Why did you yearn for her touch and why did you want her smell enveloping your body and why- oh god why- did you want to kiss her so often? Why did you want her to take care of you? Why did you want her of all people! to take you to bed and make you see stars? Why did you want red lipstick covering your skin and why did you want your face between her thighs and why did you want to feel her come apart beneath you? Why did she drive you wild? Why did she force you into a state of fluster that you could only pull yourself out of when you were alone?

Why did she plague you?

“I can’t do this…,” you suddenly confessed to no one in particular as you let out a sigh.

The fire had dulled to a simmer long enough for you to stand and slowly make your way to the bathroom.

Pain experienced during heat, you came to find, was far different than any other pain. It was like you felt empty - utterly disgustingly empty - and your body hated that. It rebelled. It made your abdomen, your fucking womb, feel hot. And after the heat, it began to ache. Like you were sitting on the edge of an orgasm and you needed that extra push- that extra kiss- that extra lick of praise- to send you tipping off the edge into an ocean of bliss…. But you couldn’t have it. The push, the kiss, the praise wasn’t there. Nor was the thrust of strong hips, or the scratch of fingernails, or the hissed growl of dominance in your ear. None of it. And your body knew that, so it made you clench and unclench constantly; and it punished you for your negligence and made your clit extra sensitive and your nipples hard and eager to be teased and your skin- oh your poor skin- was practically begging for someone to touch it. To mark it. To hold it and squeeze it and bite it and make it theirs.

Make it hers.

Goodness, you were pathetic. The fog that fell over your mind whenever you thought of Larissa was so hypnotizing that once your thoughts got going, they couldn’t stop.

‘Think of her,’ the strange lustful monster within you hissed, ‘Think of her and all of the sinful things she could do to you. Think of her hands pulling your hair, think of her warm thighs straddling your waist, think of her tongue running itself along your neck… and down your chest… and lower and lower… lower… pooling with drool and letting it drip-drop onto your cunt… licking at your clit…’

A whimper slipped past your lips as soon as you stepped into the water of your shower.

The heat was both soothing and torturous, doing you no favors as it instantly glazed the top of your mind; normally you’d prefer to make it cold to put a damper on your libido, but the need to get off yet again overpowered any lingerings of common sense.

But really, if you were being honest with yourself, there was no common sense during ‘heat’. At all. You figured that out rather quickly when, on the fourth day of wanting to be fucked mercilessly, you began entertaining thoughts of breeding. Of course you didn’t want a child. But the thought… the thought… of such warmth in you… filling what was always so painfully empty… of someone- of her- holding you down and breeding you full, growling that you were to be hers forever, was something that had you cumming in under five minutes. You simply couldn’t help it. And ever since that thought, it was as though you crossed into the dark side. All kinds of kinks and experiments filtered into your horny little brain, and all you could do to keep yourself from going crazy was to keep orgasming until your fingers could barely move.

It was the worst experience of your life…

…when you weren’t sitting on the built-in shower stool and thrusting three fingers into yourself, imagining Larissa watching you from beyond the glass. It was terrible except for when you pictured her telling you to go faster, to slow down, to take your fingers out completely and spread your folds wide so she could coo over how cute you looked when your cunt ached for her touch. It was maddening while you weren’t fantasizing about her stepping into the shower with you- all 6 feet, 3 inches of her- and threading her perfect hand in your hair and pressing you to her venus mound and making you kiss it until you came around your own fingers. Then making you stick your tongue out and look up at her as she slowly rolled her hips, coating you in a taste you knew you’d never ever get tired of.

Maybe even… oh god… maybe even shifting that part of herself and surprising you by sliding the head of her cock into your mouth and making you worship her until you forgot your own name. Running your eager tongue along the hot veins… peering up through your eyelashes as she slowly- slowly- craned her head back and let out a deep bone-shaking groan… Unable to help herself as she pushed you down just a bit more, slowly making that ‘pretty mouth of yours’ (as she called it) take as much of her as it could.

“There… yes, right there darling…” You could practically hear her words, as if she were with you, while your eyes rolled back and your other hand came up to rub furiously as your clit.

Unfortunately, even as you sat there and felt the prickling wave of heat wash over your body, clenching tightly around your own fingers while you orgasmed, you knew that it wouldn’t be enough. You knew that the water running down your face was mixed with frustrated tears. You knew that no climax you reached all by yourself would ever be able to properly satiate your body and every thing it was feeling. After all, a ‘normie’ was not supposed to experience ‘heat’ - and your mind was already so close to breaking all by itself.

It was just a shame that Larissa wasn’t there to snap it in half for you.

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This was just a quick exercise - I want to better my smut writing abilities. New updates soon and all that. Any thoughts on a Part 2? - Ripley x

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#fanfictionwriter #wednesday fanfiction #wlw #wlw fanfic #larissa x you #wednesday larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #reader insert #female reader #smut #larissa weems smut #larissa weems x y/n #smut fanfiction #fanfic smut #larissa weems #larissa weems x you

[alyakthedorklord]

I’m having dramatic thoughts about Damian being born to Fem!Bruce ok I’m having THOUGHTS

(TW for alluding to Damian’s conception being nonconsensual)

Okay so set the stage of our Drama- Fem!Bruce (or just AFAB idc) is out on patrol or something and League Parent (Either Talia as in canon, or Ra’s if we’re feeling the creepy old man tonight) drops Damian off with “Hey, watch our son that you birthed and then I stole and let you think was dead for ten years, there’s some infighting in the league.”

(If we’re using Ra’s as dad then Talia is absolutely trying to kill Damian for the position of heir)

Bryce is, understandably, shocked. Her other children? Even more so. Because what do you mean you had a biological child? How did we not know about this?!

Damian isn’t old enough to be pre-robin unless he was cryogenically frozen. Did Bryce really hide a whole fucking pregnancy from them?

Dick is screaming, Jason shows up because he has to see this shit for himself, Bryce is standing in silence, staring at the results of every single test she can think of to confirm that yes, this is her son, this is her Damian, all the info matches up…

Tim tries to speak up, but Jason just turns on him, asking if he’s ready to be replaced too. Bryce didn’t even have to go looking this time!

Tim looks him dead in the eye and points out the birthdate(and death date) on file for Damian Wayne.

It’s exactly eight days before Jason was taken in.

How did Dick and Jason not know about this?

Because they weren’t there.

In the short period of time when Dick was striking out on his own, and before Bryce picked up Jason, League Baby Daddy of your choosing shows up and takes advantage. A simple greeting, a spiked drink, a blurry night, and a pregnancy test later…

Bruce is, as always, in any universe, is terrible at communication. But honestly she can be excused in this case. How exactly do you tell your wayward son ward that, after chasing him off because he was “being reckless” and “putting himself in danger,” you’ve gone and gotten taken advantage of, trusted someone that you had absolutely ZERO business trusting, and now you’re pregnant with an Al Ghul baby? And you’ve decided to keep it? That this isn’t you replacing him or demanding he return, because you understand his need for space, but also you desperately want him back with you because you’re scared but you can never admit it?

How do you do that in a text? Because Dick is not answering the phone.

You don’t. Thats a conversation you have face to face. So the messages Bryce leaves are all “there are some changes and i’d like to talk to you” “there may be a new member of the family soon” “please answer me chum”

Dick doesn’t answer.

Meanwhile, Gotham crime is being weird because “hey robins gone! Dynamic duo is out!” And Bryce is being careful because of her belly and sometimes she has to take breaks and hormones are bullying her and nothing is going her way right now.

And them she goes into labor too soon.

And something goes wrong (League Baby Daddy happens) and she’s told her baby is dead, and now she’s lost two children.

She recovers, and goes back out onto the streets, taking her rage and pain out on the criminals that got a little too bold with her in a hospital bed…

And then there’s a street rat jacking the tires off the Batmobile.

The fucking audacity. The guts. The challenge in his bright blue eyes, the sneer on his lips, the shaggy black hair. Skin just a bit darker than hers, not quite an Al Ghul’s deep olive but somewhere in the middle.

Is this what her Damian would have looked like? Is this what her son would have grown up to be?

Maybe its the hormones, maybe she’s projecting. She knows its a bad idea, but Bryce takes the kid home. Alfred gives her a knowing and slightly disapproving look, but accepts the new child with open arms, because there’s worse things. Jason fits in easily, and soon enough, Batman has a Robin again, and Bryce is smiling again, and begins to heal from the pain of losing Damian.

But Dick? Dick is PISSED.

Upon seeing news of a new Robin/Wayne, he finally looks though his messages, and comes to the wrong conclusion that Bryce was looking for a kid to replace him this whole time. She might have tried to get his input, but had eventually made a decision like this without him. And so he’s back, and he’s angry, and Bryce gets defensive because Jason is a good kid and she can’t use her dead baby to win an argument, not when the wound is so fresh.

So life continues. Jason dies, comes back, is angry because he listened in on a few arguments and now ALSO thinks Bryce actively hunted him down to be Robin, and now she’s done the same with Tim.

Bryce keeps quiet, because how is she supposed to explain after all these years? Jason is right to be angry. She let her emotions get the better of her and dragged a sweet boy into her life. The loss of all three if her children was her own fault, because she put him into the line of fire. There’s no excuse for that.

So years pass. Tempers settle somewhat, Bryce holds her grief close to her chest because she can’t do that to her children, but… then Damian is back. And it all explodes.

The story comes out in bits and pieces. Tim figures out a timeline based on the rest of the info in the file, and Bryce and Alfred slowly fill it in.

And like- they’re all still angry, and it is justified, because what the fuck, Bryce. But also…

Dick is horrified. He had been so angry, so so angry, reading those messages that he now knows, with this new information, were a cry for help. Bryce had been desperate and scared and wanted nothing more than to just talk to him after their fight, and when he had come back after something like this had happened he had immediately started another fight.

Jason isn’t sure how to feel. He hadn’t been taken in to be a replacement soldier, he had been taken in to be a replacement son. What is he supposed to do with that? Knowing that Bryce had seen him at his worst, and taken him in and shoved down her grief to help him?

Tim is wondering if every time Bryce backed away with an unreadable expression, it hadn’t been keeping herself emotionally distant, it was grief for the sons she had lost.

Steph is realizing that Bruce wasn’t lying, when Steph had to give her own baby up and Bryce had hugged her and said “I understand.”

Damian is sitting in a corner wondering what the ever-loving FUCK is going on. Why is everyone crying this is pathetic. Father take him home he prefers the threat of imminent death.

#batfam #dc prompt #bruce wayne #jason todd #damian wayne #fem!bruce wayne #bryce wayne #damian is also having complicated feelings but he is REPRESSING those at the moment #thank you #ngl kinda digging ras as dad and talia as half sister #don’t get me wrong brutalia happpened #but ra’s is dad #talia is not happy about any of this #can you blame her #culmiates in damian confronting his half sister/moms ex girlfriend #after she hunts him down to solidify her place #/avenge the violation that was damian’s birth #and damian’s like #keep the league of assassins i’m good #staying with mom #talia: ah. my beloved has gotten to you too then. well. i’m not sure how i feel about this. #the entire batfam: Neither are we! #long post

[urgonnaneedabiggership]

Perfume Regret

ExBoyfriend!Miguel O'Hara x FemReader

Summary: A fic inspired by Attention by Charlie Puth. Your ex-boyfriend Miguel O'Hara left you heartbroken and no matter how intense the effect he has on you still is, you're determined to use this party to get even.

Warnings: +18 meaning SMUT AND LANGUAGE MINORS DNI OR SO HELP ME GOD. Also there's angst and good old anger-fueled sex. The ending isn't heartbreaking don't worry.

Word count: 4K

I know that dress is karma 

Perfume regret 

Got me thinking 'bout when you were mine 

Nightclubs had never been your scene. 

While you weren't strictly averse to them, you didn't thrive in that element as much as some of your friends did. Yet, whenever you decided to make an appearance, it wasn't the stroboscopic lights, the promise of a few drinks with friends, or the energizing music that made the night worth it. 

It was the hunt. 

And the preparations began long before you even set foot out of your apartment, from the moment you stood in front of the mirror wearing nothing but a fluffy bathrobe, your face a blank canvas. Getting ready with your favorite, emboldening playlist was usually a luxury but not tonight. Judging by the way you struggled to apply eyeliner over your lids with such shaky hands, tonight, you were in dire need of a crushing amount of confidence. 

So much so that a glass with one remaining sip of red wine stood next to your makeup bag, waiting for you to take that last bit of liquid courage. 

Yes, the mere thought of the chase always made your chest swell with excitement. The stolen glances from across the dancefloor until someone gave in and tried to make contact. Loud music left people no choice but to hold conversations in loud whispers that tickled your ear. The desperate attempts to make themselves worthy of your time and the small concessions you made to make them feel like the most special person in that tiny, packed, overpriced club. Flirting was a tango meant for two, and not knowing what kind of partner you'd be dancing with was exhilarating. 

Not this time, however, you thought as you picked up the glass and poured the remaining wine down your throat. Tonight you were after a much too familiar prey that you'd once been dumb enough to let get away. 

As soon as you got the digital invitation to the Alchemax Innovation Department New Year's Eve party, you knew it was time to settle the score. 

A short buzz coming from your phone interrupted your train of thought as the screen lit up with a text from whom you considered to be your work best friend, Liz. 

Heyy :) u coming? 

Yep. Be there in 20, is everybody there already?

O'Hara is missing. Idk if he's coming, though. 

Oh. 

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of all of this being for nothing. Whatever,. Who cared? You weren't doing this for him. You were doing it for yourself because you wanted to go out and have fun. 

A weak smile tugged at your lips when you couldn't even convince yourself with that blatant lie. God, you felt like a terrible feminist at the moment. Screw you, Miguel O'Hara. 

Those had been the last words you said to him before marching out of his apartment and slamming the door after you. Ever since that week during which he’d vanished from work with no explanation, your boyfriend had started to cancel your dates at the last minute or still be out at odd hours, and when he started to simply disappear and not answer your calls or texts several times throughout the day you began to worry.

When he asked if you could talk about something important, you figured you'd be getting an explanation, not dumped. 

The reason, according to him? He was dealing with some personal issues that he could not tell you about, but he'd single-handedly decided it was in your best interest to just move on with your life, so he'd decided to break things off. His face when he said all of that remained engraved in your brain since that day. Cold. Logical. As devoid of any visceral emotion as a doctor would be when recommending you to give up carbs or red meat. 

Two years of your life you'd given to him. You were planning to move in together. You were happy. For what felt like the very first time in your life, you were in love. 

You took a deep breath to keep tears from running down your cheeks and ruining your mascara. 

Even almost six months later, your heart painfully fluttered at the mention of his name.

Carefully, you dried your eyes with a piece of paper and took another deep, slow breath. Your eyes, beautifully framed by a smoky eyeshadow, slowly traced the reflection of your body in the mirror. A sleek, simple dress with a small slit on the side hugged your figure. You loved the color: a nearly black navy blue that matched your chosen makeup palette. 

At the sound of your phone, your eyes drifted down to the lit-up screen. 

Oh, nvm, he just got here. 

The game was afoot. 

As much as it hurt your pride to admit it, you were decidedly nervous as you made your way into the dimly lit nightclub, your eyes discreetly scanning the crowd in search of a particular set of brown eyes. 

Suddenly, a voice made your face in the opposite direction. 

"(Y/N)! Over here!" Liz called from the bar, waving at you with a huge smile that you returned as you walked towards her after wistfully looking at the busy crowd one last time. It wasn't until you reached the bar that you noticed she was sitting next to a man you didn't recognize. 

"So, this is she," she nearly yelled right next to the man's ear when you got close enough to be heard above the deafening electronic beats. 

"Hi, (Y/N), right?" He said, reaching out one hand, "I'm David. Liz has told me a lot about you," 

"Dave here just joined the team," Liz explained, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, "I thought it would be nice to make him feel welcomed. I'll leave you to it. I have to go say hi to a few people," She continued as she left the bar, not before giving you a certain look that made you realize you'd walked straight into a trap. While David was decidedly handsome, and you could've considered him to be your type under different circumstances, right then, your mind was somewhere else. 

"Sure," You replied distractedly, "So why did you choose to work here?" 

That should be enough to keep him talking for a while about his college education and how all he'd ever wanted to do was work for this company and so on while you focused on the matter at hand. 

Where the hell was he? 

Could it be that he'd just popped in to greet a few people and had left before you arrived? Before the countdown? 

Maybe he was celebrating New Year's with somebody else? 

"Sorry, one shot of tequila, please," You loudly called as the bartender walked past you. 

"Make that two, thanks man," David added with a flirtatious smile that you returned out of politeness, mentally praying for Liz to come back soon, knowing damn well that if she'd done this on purpose, there'd be no way out of this conversation. 

You downed the shot as soon as it was placed in front of you. 

David asked you something, but his voice reached your ears as if he was underwater. For a minute, you wondered if such a small amount of alcohol could make you feel so dizzy until you realized it was something else. Your eyes had landed on the back of a familiar head. Brown, scruffy hair and a hearty laugh that had your hands shaking again as you placed the glass back on the wooden bar. 

"God, I'm so sorry. My head's all over the place right now. You were saying?" You said, leaning closer to David. 

"I asked if Alchemax tends to go easy on the new guys or kick them to the curb at the first mistake." 

You laughed as if he'd just told an amazing joke, your eyes covertly going from his face to your target right behind him. At the sound of your laugh, his back stiffened, and you could see he was about to turn around. Right before he did, you quickly tore your eyes off him and glued them to David's face. 

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be just fine. I'll tell you what, I'll look out for you. How's that sound?” You replied, a more relaxed smile plastered on your face. David's eyes lit up. Poor guy. He probably thought that out of nowhere, his luck had shifted. 

Slowly and without losing the amused grin, you peeked over David's shoulder and found Miguel O'Hara's searing eyes staring right into yours. Unlike you, he wasn't smiling. Instead, he let those same calculating eyes unashamedly scrutinize every inch of your body that your gorgeous dress didn't cover and secretly fantasize about what it did. 

Another loud laughter leaving your lips made him snap out of a trance-like state and look into your eyes. Hunting on grounds you were no stranger to had its advantages, such as knowing what to do and when. And so you didn't look away. You held his gaze, undaunted, as you took David's unfinished tequila and brought it up to your lips to take a sip, barely sticking out your tongue to slowly lick the last droplets off your lower lip. You mouthed an apology to the man before you as you walked away from the bar, both for the stolen tequila and for what was about to happen. 

Trying your hardest not to smile or look at him, you made your way through the crowd straight toward Miguel, whose eyes you knew had remained with you since that intense visual exchange back at the bar. You felt them so intensely that you wondered if he could make you burst out in flames just by looking at you. You clenched your jaw as you got close enough for the scent of his enticing cedarwood cologne to fill your nostrils and travel all the way down to your chest, where your heart beat so strongly that it physically hurted. 

You only had one shot. This was it. 

It wasn't until you walked right past him that you finally acknowledged him, gifting him a faint smile as you stepped around him and walked toward the restrooms. 

As soon as the door closed after you, you found the two stalls were empty. After confirming you were alone, a nervous grin took over your features. Biting your lip, you approached the mirror and distractedly began to comb your hair back in place and even retouched your nude lipstick, your eyes set on the reflection of the bathroom door. 

Almost as if you'd timed it, the second you finished applying your makeup and threw it back into your purse, Miguel stealthily slid inside and shut the door after him. 

A minute that felt like an eternity to him transcurred while you kept patiently tucking strands of hair behind your ears, concealing a smug grin. Something had to give. More often, sooner than later. 

"Mind telling me what the fuck was that?" 

His voice bounced off the walls and reached your ears like a once-favorite song you hadn't heard in months. 

"What do you mean?" You calmly asked, never interrupting your task. 

"(Y/N), stop that and look at me." He commanded, his patience wearing thinner by the second. 

"I am looking at you," You nonchalantly replied, your eyes transfixed on his tense shape in the corner of the mirror as you slowly wiped some smudged lipstick off the edge of your bottom lip. 

Outside, the one-minute countdown began. Neither of you could care less. Inside that dimly lit, empty nightclub bathroom, time was irrelevant. 

In less than five steps, Miguel reached your side and, placing his hands on your shoulders, firmly spun you around to face him. 

"Carajo, ¿Tú no entiendes, verdad?" He hissed, his next leaving his mouth after an ominous pause, "Now look at me."

Not happy with the way you were being handled, you shoved him away and shot him a glare with your arms folded before you. 

"There, I'm looking. What do you want?" 

"I want you to tell me who's that asshole and why you seem to think he's so damn funny," 

"I'm sorry, O'Hara, that's none of your business anymore, is it?" You spat out.

"It was none of my business,' He agreed, wincing at the dry use of his last name, "Until you showed up in here looking like that, laughing like a dumb teen at some guy's dumb jokes, making sure I'm watching after you did some pretty extensive research to make sure I was coming."

Wanting to rebuke that argument, you immediately opened your mouth just for him to interrupt you. 

"What? You thought I wouldn't find out, bonita?" 

Miguel started to move towards you without giving you a chance to explain yourself. Still, you weren't sure of what you would've said had you been given the time. Three seconds later, he was standing right before you, trapping you against the cold stone of the sinks.

"Why are you doing this?" He absentmindedly asked, as if he was actually questioning himself or already knew the answer. Before you could react, he suddenly leaned in, burying his face in your neck and taking a deep breath, taking in the scent of your perfume along with something else that you couldn’t perceive but seemed to pull him forward so violently that he had to use both his strong arms on either side of you to hold himself back. Still, he kept babbling against the soft skin of your neck, “I didn’t want to do it…I didn’t…I shouldn’t have…mi amor, I just wanted to protect you,” 

“Protect me from what?” You asked in a breathy whisper, your self-control flaking when you felt him move even closer until your backside was pressed against the sink and your front...

You pressed your lips together to keep a noise that would be much too revealing from leaving your lips. 

Still, you realized your trials and tribulations weren’t over when his hands slowly moved closer to your thighs until his thumbs were tracing faint circles on them. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked in a hoarse voice before burying his nose behind your ear once more. You had to want him to stop. Before you could gather up the courage to tell him off as you should, you leaned forward and feverishly pressed your lips against his in a kiss that was all but sweet. Without breaking the kiss, in a display of both strength and coordination that was new to you, Miguel slid his hands under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, placing you on top of the sink with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the way he nudged your legs out of the way so he could grind his lower half into yours. This time there was no way in hell you could contain your moans. 

Pleased with the beautiful sounds he was eliciting from you, Miguel’s hands found their way back up to the thin straps of your dress, which he gently slid off from your shoulders before gripping your chin in his hand and tilting your head to the side so he could devour every inch of skin available, occasionally trapping it between his teeth to make sure it’d leave a mark. Even in your haze, you could notice there was something new to the way he was ravishing you. It was as if he was desperately trying to be gentle, to take things slow, just for something primal to take over and coerce him into taking you for himself. 

Once again, you stopped thinking when he pressed the hard bulge in his pants against you, the friction over your barely clothed clit throwing all logical thoughts out the window. 

“We don’t have much time,” You urged him, not even sure if he’d locked the door after himself. However, deep inside, you knew your motives had less to do with the little privacy and more with the way he unhurriedly worshipped your body and peppered kisses all over it, how his hands gently roamed it as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory. It reminded you of what you two had in a way that was still too painful to remember. You wouldn’t lose yourself to the memories of your past and miss out on how good he was making you feel right now. Tonight you weren’t two people deeply in love with one another trying to fight back the regrets of letting go of what was most precious to you, but two strangers about to fuck in the bathroom of a nightclub. 

As if to reinforce that thought, he swiftly pushed you further back onto the sink and pushed your legs apart even more, your dress ridding up almost all the way to your waist. You shivered as new skin was exposed to both the cold beneath you and the heat from Miguel’s skin as he fumbled with the fly of his pants. Meanwhile, you kept yourself busy trying to unbutton his shirt with shaky hands and silently thanked he wasn’t wearing a jacket in the first place. You needed to get him out of as many clothes as possible in the little time you had, needing to feel more of his skin against yours. 

Your desire wasn’t fulfilled until the shirt slid off his tan, broad shoulders, and you were pressed against his bare chest, his hands resting at the curve of your lower back as his head barely slid over your soaked slit, prying a raspy moan out of his throat that sounds almost painful. Still, even when you slid your hands around his shoulders and intertwined your fingers behind the nape of his head, he didn’t move further. 

“What are you waiting for?” You breathlessly asked, arching your back towards him with a huff just for him to move his hips away, escaping your touch, trying to regain some control over himself. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” He muttered. Shit. Not right now. Out of the whole night, he had to choose this precise moment? No. He hurt you. He owed you. And now it was his turn to shut up and take it. 

Taking advantage of his low guard, you hooked your feet behind his back and roughly pulled him towards you, another needy moan escaping your lips as you felt him right at your entrance, whatever remaining reluctance keeping him from sinking into you. It took every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from begging. 

“Alright,” He finally says, his hands sliding under your thighs to hold you firmly in place, “If this is what it takes for you to listen to me, bonita, así le vamos a hacer entonces.” 

He accentuated his words by slamming into you and immediately picking up a maddeningly fast pace, the loud music outside hopefully drowning out your endless string of broken moans. 

“I just…wanted you to be happy,” He spoke in a strained voice in between thrusts. 

“Shut up,” You snapped at him. You were happy. And it did nothing but further enrage you to see he was unaware of how miserable you were now without him. Or maybe he was aware because he reached that spot that always made your legs uncontrollably quiver and focused all his energy on it as if he was trying to make up for everything. 

“I love you,” He blurted out as he felt you clenching around his length, his hips stuttering for a second before the sigh that left your lips made him lift your leg further up his torso and slam into you with renewed fire, “God, (Y/N) I love you so much, I can’t do this anymore,” 

“Shut up,” You sobbed, this time as a plead and not an order. Your heart fluttered as you heard the words you’d waited months to hear, and feeling him roughly stroke your walls at this new angle became too much for you to bear. A string of ‘shut ups’ and sounds that resembled his name left your lips as your hands fell to his stomach, trying to push him away while paradoxically needing him to be closer, needing to feel more of him just in case this was the last time you felt him stretch you out in a way you were hauntingly certain nobody else would ever come close to. 

And he wasn’t doing any better. He wanted to pull your head against his chest and wrap his arms around you. He wanted to get on his knees and spend the rest of the night apologizing using his words or his tongue, whatever you wanted as long as you went home with him that night. He wanted you to live a happy, normal life. He couldn’t give you that anymore. Not after that night. Not after the accident. 

But those bad thoughts melted away in his brain when he saw your eyes pressed shut, your beautiful, furrowed eyebrows arching over them perfectly as you chased that high that Miguel knew only he could give you. Something that sounded like an actual sentence left your lips so quietly that he had to lean closer to get it. 

“What was that, bonita?” 

You pressed your lips together, unwilling to repeat yourself until another perfectly calculated thrust pried the half-coherent words out of your mouth. 

“Need you…inside. Please, Miguel, please,”  

Hearing his name being called out like that for the first time in months was all he needed to come undone, his pace faltering as he pressed himself against you, strong arms gripping your waist as he spilled his load inside you with one last labored moan. 

Nothing but extenuated pants could be heard inside the bathroom for a whole, tense minute before you finally moved, taking a few sheets of paper from the dispenser next to the sinks to clean yourself up. 

“What are you doing?” He asked as you straightened your dress and tried to somehow fix your disheveled hair. 

“You wanted to apologize, you did, and I forgive you,” You categorically answered, “But don’t expect me to come running back into your arms as if what you did was nothing,” 

Still, you needed him to know there was hope left for the both of you. So you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and then his cheek, granting yourself one moment of vulnerability as you looked into his eyes with a gentle smile. 

“I love you too,” You whispered, giving in to the urge to kiss him again. You basked in his shocked look before turning your back to him and going back to the party, where you bumped into Liz less than five minutes later. 

“There you are! Where the hell were you? You missed the countdown!” 

It wasn’t until you looked around at the confetti-filled floor and the large numbers on a screen that you remembered. 

“I went to the bathroom,” You replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and reaching out to take a glass of champagne from one of the several trays atop the tables, “Where did your friend run off to?” 

“David?” Liz asked, a deep red blush spreading over her cheeks, “He had to go home. I hope you don’t mind, but we’re getting dinner next Friday,” 

“Don’t mind at all,” You replied with a bright smile, eyes already scanning the half-empty club, once again looking for that same face. The one you knew you’d always look for in a crowd for the rest of your life. This time, thanks to the small number of people left, it wasn’t hard to come across his eyes. Amused, you raised your glass at him with a soft, genuine laugh. He did his best to look annoyed, but the minute you tilted your head and gave him your best apologetic look, Miguel rolled his eyes and shook his head with a reluctant smile that made you laugh again before taking a sip of that cheap champagne. 

This was going to be a great year.

#miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #spiderman atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fanfic

[chaotickryptonitetree]

do you think you'd miss me (a lot or a little) | joseph woll

something about his saving-himself-for-marriage-ish charm has bewitched me and made me feral. its hot but not smut...sorry in advance. it's long

...

You knew what this would become as soon as it started. Or maybe you just knew yourself too well. There was no doubt in your mind that your older neighbor would become slightly more than your older neighbor soon enough. 

Even on move in day–when you first saw him–you knew. You ran a hand through your hair as sweat fixed your tanktop to your stomach, box resting on your hip. He barely looked at you, only long enough for you to take in the icy blue of his eyes. You pursed your lips as he stepped in, hanging up the tail end of a phone call. Part of you wanted to introduce yourself right away–instantly add some intrigue to your new city life. But you were patient. There was no need to rush. The fun was in the chase anyways. 

One of the first things you noticed was that he was just so sweet. Like, disgustingly so. Always chatting with the doormen and holding open the door for Ms. Johnson down the hall and playing with the kids who lived on the second floor while their mom regained composure in the elevator. Unequivocally good. 

Perhaps it was that goodness that first drew you to him–desperate to find something off, something wrong. Or perhaps it was how he looked, if you were honest. 

He was tall in a way that made you wonder if he would fit into the elevator when he first stepped into it, not lanky but not intimidatingly large either. He just looked comfortable–mobile and warm and cozy? There was always a twinge of a blush on his cheeks and on his nose, and his bright blue eyes only ever seemed to glisten with a terribly, relentless kindness. It was overwhelming, the good kind–like the sigh of relief after a crisis averted. 

But you probably were causing the crisis. He was quiet–not to everyone, though. He had no trouble with other neighbors or the kids or the staff of the apartment building. But when it was just you two in the elevator, he grew quiet. Not even a nervous quiet or a judgemental quiet–just quiet, like he didn’t have anything to say (which might’ve been worse). After the first time you had been in the elevator with him, he pushed five without asking–just as you had memorized that he lived on six. He would hold the side of the door so it wouldn’t close, give a cordial smile, and that would be it. 

And it wouldn’t even be a big deal if he wasn’t so out-of-his-way lovely to everyone else. There was a fascination associated with him–for whatever reason. He became “hot neighbor” to your friends who slept over or heard you talk about him, and for a while, he stayed just that–hot neighbor. Someone to whisper about as soon as he was out of earshot. Someone to ogle in the lobby before class. 

But then you got a little impatient. A little tired of his sleepy smile in the lobby in the morning. A little–fed up, maybe–with his toothy smile for the doorman as he helped put up the ornaments on the top of the christmas tree in the lobby. Eyes got a little bit restless when you’d walk into the elevator and find him in a suit and a winter coat–hair mussed from the wind. He practically forced your hand. 

… 

“What’s your name?” You asked bluntly one evening after he had pushed the buttons for five and six. The elevator made a whirring sound on the way up. He turned around slightly to face you and tilted his head, a little surprised at your question. You feigned indifference, picking at your nails. 

“Joseph,” his voice was deeper than you had expected, but not deep in a heavy, gravelly way. Just smooth. Steady. “And yours?” He asked politely as the doors opened to your floor. 

You didn’t answer, just walked right past him as he held the doors open. He didn’t fight you–and while the act of immaturity probably should’ve made you feel more like a kid around him, it didn’t. Maybe you were too concerned with his name rattling around your skull to think too deeply about it. Joseph? Joey? Joe? You realized that no name felt right when it came to him. He was definitely too pretty for a normal name like Joe, you decided as you turned the key in the door. The empty apartment greeted you unceremoniously. 

…

The next time you saw him, you weren’t expecting to. It was usually too late for him–too late for you as well–but finals week called for longer nights in the library. You smiled at the doorman and fixed your glasses, sweat set suddenly feeling warm in the heat of the lobby. The elevator dinged and you held onto the straps of your backpack, walking faster. “Hold the door, please!”

A deft hand reached for the door and it was probably not a good sign that you recognized him from his knuckles alone. But there was probably no one else in the entire city who had working hands as pretty as his. The corners of your mouth lifted to a smirk as he wordlessly pressed the button for five. You zipped up your coat, tucking your chin into the collar–feeling…shameless, almost?

“Late night for you, huh Mr. Joseph?” His tired smile was wonderful enough to make you feel grateful that you gripped the railing in the elevator. He nodded silently, blushy from the cold. You weren’t about to let him off so easily. “Tired?” You pressed, eager for more of his undivided attention. 

He squinted his eyes as if to decide how to respond, and smiling easily, he nodded again. “It would be Mr. Woll,” he began, left hand reaching up to rub his eye adorably. You tilted your head, trying to stay focused despite everything about him. “If we were going to be technical with it–Woll is my surname, so it would be Mr. Woll.” Your smirk widened. 

“And do you want me to call you Mr. Woll?” You teased, suddenly less tired. His blush deepened as he shook his head slightly. 

“No, I think Joseph is just fine,” he offered pleasantly. You feigned contemplation for a moment. 

“Okay, J, I’ll keep that in mind,” your eyes darted up to ding of the doors opening on your floor. 

He laughed a polite little laugh that stirred your stomach. “I’m too old for that nickname, I’m afraid, sweetheart.” The name lit you up from the inside out. 

“How old are you?” He held the doors open for you as you asked. 

“25,” he answered honestly and smoothly, despite not getting any information out of you, he didn’t seem to mind answering your questions. 

You turned on your heel and put your hands on your hips, found him looking at you kindly with sleepy eyes. 

“Not too old in the ways that matter, Mr. Woll,” you winked at him indulgently and walked toward your apartment, hoping you’d dream of blue eyes and blushy cheeks. 

…

A few days later, you waited for your uber in the lobby of your building–not feeling desperate to escape the warmth of the lobby and venture out into the cold prematurely. 

Holiday music wafted through the room sweetly, kissing the high ceilings and swirling around the christmas tree near the desk. A dull press into the cushion of the couch directly next to you pulled you from your comfortable observation. You turned your head just slightly to take him in. 

He crossed his ankles, leaning back against the couch to mimic your positioning. His smile was sheepish, persistently kind. “Hey, how’s it going?” He offered, stuffing his hands into his pockets. You leaned back further, looking up at him with a smirk. 

“Oh I’m great, Mr. Woll, thanks so much for asking,” he shook his head, meeting your gaze by peering down at you. 

“You’re really going to make me regret that, aren’t you kid?” 

“Don’t call me kid,” you wrinkled your nose–secretly loving how it sounded when he said it. He leaned closer to you slightly, teasingly. 

“Well, I wouldn’t have to call you that if I knew your name,” he said lightly. How could you deny him now–when you could smell his smokey cologne and fresh, clean aftershave? Closing your eyes for a moment, you sighed loudly. 

“Oh fine Joseph, but only because you’re begging me,” he tried to look at you sternly but you could tell he was excited to finally know your name as you told him. He leaned into his hand, propped up on the back of the couch. 

“And how old are you? You’re a student, right?” He smiled into his palm, knowing he was pushing his luck as his words tumbled out too fast.

You rolled your eyes, but nodded, head lolling back on the couch. “21, and I’m a student, yeah,” you felt a little embarrassed being so close to him, being younger, but it was a weird, nice, kind of embarrassing. And something told you that he knew what he was doing. 

“Look at us, neighbors getting to know each other,” He leaned away from you slightly, eyes shimmering with content. Your phone buzzed, uber finally outside. He stood up first and offered you his hand–which you took with a smirk. “Where are you headed tonight?” 

You tried not to notice how warm his hand felt, or how it covered yours entirely. “Just a party, nothing crazy,” you shrugged. He took a step back and walked you to the door, opening it graciously. 

“Oh right, I forget kids your age actually have plans on Thursday nights,” his laugh was light and airy, mixing with the jingling of the holiday music. You hit him on the chest good-naturedly. 

“Kids my age?” You mocked facetiously. “I’m four years younger than you, Joseph,” you scoffed into the freezing air between you both. 

“Don’t I know it,” he finished vaguely, retreating back into the warmth of the lobby, leaving you to hop into your uber, wondering what he meant. 

…

When you returned home late that night (technically, very early into the morning), you were pleasantly drunk–enough to be able to walk just fine, but where you felt flush and just a little warm, easier to laugh, easier to smile maybe. 

It only made sense that he was in the elevator when you just slightly stumbled into it. Your laugh was probably too loud for the space, but you couldn’t help yourself as he pressed five. 

“Of course it’s you,” you grinned childishly, “it’s too late for you, Joey!”

He grinned right back at you, so sleepily you could’ve sighed. His sweatshirt looked cozy and smelled of fabric softener, pajama pants rolled just into his socks. 

“You’re right about that sweetheart,” he yawned into the back of his hand. “Did you have fun?” 

“Mmm,” your nod was immediate, “m’a little drunk though.” He smiled kindly. He was so handsome then, you realized as you cocked your head to the side. 

“I can see that,” he laughed, white teeth gleaming. “You warm?” He let his eyes drop down to your exposed collarbones, flushed and red–but seemed to catch himself and met your eyes again sheepishly–realizing that he didn’t have any excuse as to why he said that. Unable to break eye contact, you nodded slowly, stepping away from the wall.

“Yeah,” your words came out as more of a sigh, “wanna feel?” 

He shook his head quickly, hair sticking up in haphazard directions. You took a step closer, emboldened by the alcohol enough to not stumble in your heels. “No? Really?” 

He rested his head on the wall of the elevator, looking up. “Really,” he concluded, to which you pouted. 

“But you look so soft right now, Joey,” you bit the corner of your lip, “maybe I wanna feel you.” He looked down, finally meeting your eyes as you stood right in front of him. He wore his emotions easily, beautifully on his face. Tired. Conflicted. Entertained…almost? 

He didn’t say anything, probably for fear that he would get in trouble. Instead, he opened up his arms–allowing you to step into his personal space and wrap your arms around him too. This–to him–was safe. A hug was safe. For now. 

You buried your face into his chest, breathing him in. His body was solid, arms wrapped around you tightly enough to make you exhale into his sweatshirt. The bell dinged, the door opened, and you craned your neck up, chin resting on his chest. 

His blue eyes peered down to meet yours–calm and clear. “Hi Joey,” you giggled, too enamored with the feeling of his arms around you to care. 

“Hi,” he smiled wide, untethering himself from your body and ushering you gently onto your floor. To your surprise, he walked you out of the elevator and down the hall, warm palm resting comfortably on your lower back, thumbing rubbing circles softly into the fabric of your coat. 

You leaned into his side, breathing deep and level. “I’m 512, on the right,” you whispered into his shoulder, sleepiness catching up with you. You felt him nod, hand coming up to pat your head lightly. 

“We’re here sweetheart,” he whispered into the air above your head. You fumbled with your key, opening the door as he shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“You coming in?” You asked softly. He shook his head bashfully. 

“Not tonight,” if he was trying to feed into your delusions, it was working. You leaned into the doorway, not ready to say bye just yet–would you ever? 

“Okay, J.” He took a step back, about to turn around. 

“Call me if you need anything,” he hesitated, “I put my number in your phone already.” 

“You sly dog,” you moved to close the door, “thanks for everything Mr. Woll.” 

“And here I thought I was making progress,” he joked, backing up toward the hallway. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

You waggled your fingers at him mockingly and watched him walk with his hands in his pockets back to the elevator. Just before he stepped in, you called after him.

“Joey!” He smiled as he faced you a final time, knowingly. You brought your palm to your lips and blew him a kiss. His smile deepened as he reached up to catch it, bringing his fist to his heart and tilting his chin down. Thank you, he mouthed as he soundlessly stepped into the lift. 

You closed the door and slid down the surface, slipping off your heels and pushing them toward the doormat. Your cheeks felt warm for a different reason than just a few minutes before. Every interaction with him was like a gulp of hot chocolate–indulgent and sweet. He was making this a lot more interesting. 

…

The following morning, you awoke to a slight headache and a twinge of embarrassment about the night before. Whatever game you were playing–at this point you weren’t totally sure–was sort of contingent on him viewing you as a legitimate option. You couldn’t imagine him viewing you as anything other than an irresponsible college student after last night.  

thank you for taking care of me last night :) you texted him, dull light from the screen casting over your face. 

No need to thank me. I’m glad you had fun! His response was immediate and grammatically correct, making you feel immature even through the phone. You tossed your phone to the side and got ready for the day. Distracted yourself by throwing on an outfit and doing your hair–only to be interrupted by a crisp knock on your door. Sliding the lock open, you opened the door just slightly, peering through the crack. His smile was embedded in your eyelids at this point, but it didn’t make it any less lovely. 

“Good morning,” he offered, almost taller than the door frame. 

“Good morning,” you parroted, “now that you know which apartment is mine, should I expect you knocking more often?” 

Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. You both seemed to be doing that often. Embarrassing each other. It was too easy. “Well you shouldn’t, but you might” He shook his head a little sadly at your pout. “Wanted to see y–see that you’re okay.” Your delight in his slip up was painted over you like a full face of makeup. 

“M’okay. You’re too nice to me, you know,” you opened the door further, crossing your arms over your chest. He shook his head again. 

“Just trying to be a good neighbor,” he hesitated at your disbelieving expression. “I remember how hard it was being new to a city all by myself, it helps to have someone you can trust–someone who knows the ropes.” You might’ve physically swooned at his words. Endlessly kind. 

“Thank you,” you responded simply, because there was nothing else that really encapsulated how much that meant to you. But there he went again with his dimples creasing his cheeks and the knuckles of his hands slightly red from use and his hair always messy and you just had to be a little bit of a menace–just for a second. “Did Ms. Woll approve of your late night last night?” Your eyes practically shimmered. 

“No–no, there’s no Ms,” he stumbled over his reply, grasping for a suitable answer that wouldn’t lead you on. You willed surprise into your expression. 

“Really? How?” 

“How?” He laughed, however forced it was, “Just busy, I don’t know, not a priority right now.” You wore your disbelief like a medal–emboldened by the prospect of winning. 

“They must be throwing themselves all over you though, right Mr. Woll?” You brought a hand to your neck, feigning shock. “Someone as handsome as you, kind as you,” his blush deepened as he looked anywhere but your face and clavicle. “Must be dying to make you their husband.” 

“Apparently not,” he cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “But that’s okay with me,” he said unconvincingly. 

Your eyebrows shot up. “Really? You don’t want someone to come home to?” He knuckled one of eyes slowly, bashfulness egging you on. “Someone cooking dinner for you in the kitchen? Someone to yell ‘Honey! I’m home?’ to?” His disapproving smile was fake, and you could tell. 

“You talk a big game about marriage…Think I haven’t seen your tinder boys in the elevator the morning after?” You gasped–delighted that he was finally playing along. 

“Joseph! How could you possibly know that those boys are coming from my room!” 

He just shook his head at your incredulous expression. “Call it a lucky guess,” he feigned disappointment, clearly delighted. “Or maybe it’s their magical glow,” he teased. You hit his shoulder playfully. 

“Hey! If you want that “magical glow,” so badly, just ask,” you winked. 

“Gonna get me in trouble, sweetheart,” there was a slight groan in his voice–a slight strain. It was delicious. The silence between you both felt heavy–charged, almost. You practically melted into the doorframe. 

“That’s the goal, Joey,” your voice was lower than you wanted it to be, his eyes flitted back up to meet yours. He raised his eyebrows–hopefully? 

…

After a particularly stressful day at the library, you practically felt you were seeing double, glasses pushed up on your forehead. Tired eyes, tired mind, the world almost felt in slow motion. You drowsily pressed the button for your floor, nearly unable to keep your eyes open. 

You made your way down the hallway and got out your keys, fumbling with the lock and cursing under your breath. 

You felt him behind you before you heard him. “Breaking in, are we?” His tone was teasing as he reached for his own key. Your eyes flitted to the plaque next to the door–612, not 512. You groaned as he reached over you and opened the door, chest practically pressed to your back. 

You leaned back onto his shoulder, the curve of your cheek slotted into where his collarbone was. “Long day,” you offered, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent. He smiled down at you, the column of his throat working beautifully as he let out a rumble of a laugh that you felt in his chest. He felt so comfortable–maybe that was why your eyes darted down to his lips for just a second. 

Just long enough for him to notice. Long enough to feel his struggle of an exhale. You brought your gaze back forward. 

He cleared his throat. “Want some tea before you go to sleep?” He offered kindly. You nodded as he gently pushed you into the doorway. 

It smelled like him–making you fight the urge to breathe in audibly. He took your bag off of your shoulder and hung it on the hook by the door. 

“Looks familiar,” you turned toward the noise in the kitchen. Everything just screamed him. It made you smile to yourself as you wrapped your arms around yourself–shamelessly snooping. “But I like yours more,” you entered the kitchen to find him boiling water. 

“That's nice of you,” he said to no one as he opened the cabinet to get the teabags. You could’ve watched him forever. “Feel you staring at me, sweetheart,” he turned over his shoulder, smiling broadly in the dim light. 

You couldn’t even fake being ashamed of being caught. “Just look pretty, s’all.” Your response was honest as you sat at a stool while he poured water into mugs and let the tea steep. 

He chuckled under his breath, leaning against the counter top–taking you in. You pretended to look innocent, head in your hands. Everything about this place was comfortable. Home-like. The idea made you smile. He passed a mug to you. It read “World’s Best Dad,” in block letters. You raised an eyebrow. 

“You didn’t tell me that you’ve got kids, Mr. Woll…” you trained off, letting your gaze drip down his tall frame. “I mean, I can see it.” You took a sip of your tea. Peppermint. “With your advanced age and all.” He laughed, leaning back. 

“Easy,” he warned, a large hand wrapped around the mug. “No kids–just an inside joke with a few buddies of mine. I like their kids so much that they call me Dad too.” He laughed at your expression. 

“You like being called that?” His face was dark with shadows of the day. He took his head in his free hand. 

“Easy now, kid,” he warned again lightheartedly. Cleared his throat. 

“What’s the hardest part about life in a new city?” He was good at changing the subject. You let him. 

“Hmmm,” you considered his question. “Probably just having to do a lot by myself,” you answered honestly. “I like alone time but since moving here it hasn’t been a choice–more so like my only option.” He made a face that made you backtrack. “I have my tinder boys and my school friends–sure–but it can get a little lonely,” you felt sheepish, hiding your face in your elbow. 

“That’s quite the undertaking, kid,” paused for your rejection of the name, but continued when he realized you were too tired to care (and you still liked when he called you that), “but you’re capable. And trying your best. Relationships take time–allow yourself that, at least.” He took a sip through a smile. “I see you giggling with your friends in the lobby,” he admitted. “Those school friends will become real friends, just you wait.” 

His words were a sedative, calming any worries you had carried with you for the day. He had a habit of doing that. “We’re probably giggling about you, if m’honest,” you hid your confession behind your mug. He raised an eyebrow, prompting you to continue. “Oh please. You know how you look.” 

He laughed, embarrassed. So pretty it hurt. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Don’t be vain, Joey,” you rolled your eyes, “you’re ‘hot neighbor,’ they could giggle about you and your baby blues all day,” you smirked. 

“I suppose ‘hot neighbor’ is better than ‘old man Woll,” he tried to laugh it off, steam from the tea dancing around his long lashes. 

“So,” you set your cup down, smacking your lips. The kitchen smelled like a lavender candle freshly blown out. “Hardest part of your city boy lifestyle, hit me.” He considered; thoughtfulness looked beautiful over the freckles on his nose. 

He shrugged noncommittally, a small smile painting his lips. You scoffed, refusing his non-answer. 

“Come on, Mr. Woll,” you whined, “don’t tell me you don’t get a little lonely in this big city. No wife. No kids,” he gave you a pointed look, “of your own,” you amended. She just shrugged again. It felt a little like trouble, sparking up your throat. 

“And no tinder boys,” you joked, pouting, “unless you’re extremely sneaky,” you raised an eyebrow. He shook his head. 

“No, no tinder boys for me. No tinder at all–M’not on your apps,” he admitted. “Too old.” You laughed at the blush dusting the tops of his ears. 

“You’re not that old,” you answered honestly. “Maybe you should make an account…” you wanted him to bite. To refuse. To be upset. Something different. But he just smiled his sweet smile. So you kept going. 

“You’d do well enough on them. Women would eat up this good guy thing you’ve got going,” he frowned,” And you have to know how handsome you are.” You set your mug down and pushed up from the stool, daring him to answer. 

He met your gaze–seemingly against his better judgment. The muscles in his jaw worked slowly. Heat seemed to radiate off of him in waves as you ventured closer. He almost looked in pain, blue eyes pouring into yours. 

“Do people tell you that enough?” You feigned innocence, closing the gap. “Tell me.” You stood right in front of him, looking up through your lashes. “Please,” it came out as a whimper. 

He brought a warm palm up to your face, thumb skimming over your cheekbone. So gently it made you pout. He was so sweet–even now. How badly you wanted him to break. “‘M too old for this,” He shook his head a little sadly, voice coming out as a whisper. It would’ve broken your heart, made you back off. 

But you liked your game too much to forfeit now. Enjoyed making him blush a little too much. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. His lips parted slightly. 

“Too old for this?” You bit your lip. “For me?” He didn’t nod right away, making you smile. You still had him. In some weird, fucked-up way, you still had him. His eyes were dark, hands warm where they rested on your hips. The skin underneath radiated under his touch. “I know you miss it Mr. Woll, I can tell,” 

He pouted adorably, full lips shiny with spit. You twirled a longer piece of hair around your finger, relished in the groan that just escaped his mouth. “Miss what?” His voice was gravelly, curious–not ready to give in to you, but also not ready to give up the game. It was too good. It was perfect.

“Miss having someone around, and not just a tinder boy,” you raised your eyebrow, teasingly, “miss having a soft, warm body in your bed when you get home from work, someone making coffee when you wake up,” you brought your lips to his ear delicately, “someone to fuck into the mattress after a long day.” His grip on your hips tightened–hard enough to bruise. You smiled up at him innocently, content with his response. You could feel his labored breathing with each rise and fall of his chest. It ruined you. “I know you want that,” you licked your lips.

“Tellin’ me m’pretty in my own home, callin’ me Mr. Woll,” he smiled down at you–was that a glint of trouble in his blue eyes? “Running that filthy mouth about some domestic fantasy,” he wrapped his arms around you in a warm hug, crushing your nose into his solid chest. “You know what you’re doing to me,” a laugh rumbled through him. You could’ve fallen asleep in his arms. 

“I know,” you smiled into his chest. “That’s why I do it.” 

You could tell that he was smiling as he slotted his chin on top of your head. 

…

love ya

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