#fic: what if i told you i’m a mastermind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fleshbride · 6 months

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PRESENTING . . . HOUSE OF BALLOONS!

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ SITUATIONSHIP GETO SUGURU X F!READER

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ CW : extreme toxicity; possessiveness; stalking; relationship sabotage; obsession; suguru is CRAZY, bro is an actual mastermind; reader cheats on her bf w/ suguru; consensual recording; manipulation; reader is a bit dumb; pet names used are baby, dollface, minx, lovely, angel; smut; dry humping, throat fucking, throat bulging, fingering, ruined orgasms, breeding kink, baby trapping, a mix of degradation and praise, breath play, slight bondage, edging & overstimulation, dumbification, sado-madochism, pain play, branding (suguru puts a cigarette out on reader three times as a way of claiming), cervix fucking, sir kink, HINTS of somnophilia (brief description of suguru fucking reader while she’s asleep); dick drunk reader; suguru has a dick piercing; pregnancy.

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ wc : 8.3k

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ guys this is actually so nasty and feral, im so so so sorry. this is based off that jjk men loyalty post and suguru was placed in the middle because he would situationship the FUCK out of you. and worse? i’d probably fall for it and do it too. so then i wrote an entire fucking fic. and i’m so so sorry because this is actually pure filth. i don’t know what happened to me guys… suguru is just actually so nghh

A SITUATIONSHIP WITH SUGURU GETO is essentally the same as signing a contract giving away the rest of your life. because once you entered it, you were no longer able to get out. it started sweet, of course. suguru was good to you, despite not being your boyfriend. maybe that was what caused the sources of your problems.

you wanted to date suguru and the both of you knew it. despite the fact that you acted like a couple — kissing, going out together, having sex, even saying that dreaded l-word — you two didn’t have an official relationship. and it genuinely drove you insane. especially when suguru got a little too close with girls, knowing your attachment to him.

you told yourself that you couldn’t really be mad because you weren’t dating. so, you started doing the same thing, expanding your options.

and suguru didn’t like that very much.

you two often had explosive arguments that either went one of two ways; one of you blocking the other and severing communication or the desperate confessions of love to keep each other around.

and when he gets blocked, it doesn’t take suguru long to contact you somehow or someway. whether it be following you on a different account, or going as far as showing up to your home, he gets to you again.

it’s an endless cycle that constantly leaves you overwhelmed and emotionally drained. the intense love you have for suguru is undeniable. it’s undeniable in the way you let him back, the way you willingly go back.

every time you hit that unblock button, your friends look at you with concern and express their disappointment, warning you that he isn't good for you.

and deep down, you know they're right. of course, you're aware of the potential harm and negative consequences. but can't they understand the depth of your emotions? you’re in love with him. over time, your friends gradually stop shaking their heads in disapproval. instead, they simply roll their eyes when his name is brought up in conversation. it’s as if they've given up on trying to convince you otherwise.

however, suguru soon reaches his final chance, when you find out he’s been fucking one of your friends. this time, there’s no argument. you’re swift, blocking every one of his socials you know, deleting & blocking his number. that was it. you were free.

a year passes by, and you’re sure you’ve moved on. you got a new boyfriend, who’s sweet, and so dedicated to you. suguru hasn’t tried to contact you, even though he’d never be able to. you move from your college dorm, to live with your devoted boyfriend, you get a new job at a local cafe. you’ve never been happier, and everything is going so good for you.

almost too good.

suguru is a dedicated man, which you had seemed to forget. the entire time you thought he had left you alone, that he too had moved on; well, you were wrong.

moving didn’t hide you from him, even if you thought it did. he eventually found out from one of your friends, and you. you may have blocked some of his instagram accounts, but not all.

you often posted the scenery of your new area. and your boyfriend. it wasn’t hard to pinpoint you from there. you also posted about working at a cafe. so he searched up the cafes in the area — it couldn’t be too far, because he knew you weren’t a fan of driving long distances.

it gave him three options.

three different cafes. so here’s how he found you; it really wasn’t hard. he put on a mask over his nose and mouth, tucked his long dark hair into his hoodie. he went to the first cafe, and he asked a simple question. “is y/n on the clock today? she’s the only one who makes my order correctly.”

from the first two, he got a, “y/n? we don’t have an employee by that name.”

but the third one, god it must’ve been luck. because when he asked, he got the most blissful answer.

“y/n? oh, she works from 8am - 2pm on saturdays and sundays, but she works from 2pm to 8pm on mondays, tuesdays and thursdays.”

that was so much more than he bargained for, but god was he ecstatic. she told him your schedule? that coworker must’ve had it out for you, or something. but who was he to question her and her helpfulness?

what he had to do was obvious from there. he began to frequent your job on the days you worked, however only when you had just left.

he kept it this way, until that faithful day.

it was his usual routine. he had came to the cafe on sunday, at 2:30pm. you should’ve been long gone by now, so he thought. but there you were, working the register, with a sweet smile on your face and a bedazzled name tag on your breast.

you’re even more beautiful in person, he realizes. those eye bags you used to have faded away, and your smile is bright. you’re as perfect as he left you. only problem? you allowed yourself to be stained by another man. but it was okay, suguru assumed — he’d clean you up.

he doesn’t hesitate to get in the line to buy something, even though it’s so rare when he does. he comes to the counter with eyes and shaky breaths, acting like he’s just as surprised to see you.

your eyes are as wide as saucers when you finally set on him. you didn’t see him immediately come through the door, so you didn’t see him for a while… until there were only two people in front of him in the line.

you were internally panicking and screaming, your heart beating so fast you thought it may crack one of your ribs . how did he find you? what does he want? and beyond that, how handsome he looked — however, you shoved these thoughts down. you had a boyfriend now, and you were never engaging with suguru again. simple as that.

“what’re you doing here?” he breathes out as he reaches the counter. you’re beyond shocked, eyes widening as you blink at him. “no, what are you doing here? i work here. you don’t even drink coffee.” and it’s true; in all your time together, suguru never touched a cup of coffee. he swallows, hard, and you wonder just exactly he’s thinking as he stares at you from underneath his thick lashes.

“i have… lately,” his voice is gentle, sad almost, “i come here daily for coffee. speaking of… can i get a large of straight black dark roast? with a dash of cream and sugar.” you nod and hastily go to make it. when you come back, he shifts, rocking side to side. “i want to apologize to you. for everything. can… can we talk when you get off?”

and you should’ve known better. you really should have. but you’re stupid enough to say yes.

he waits several hours for you; you tell him you’re working a double, and you’ll be closing the store. he doesn’t mind, it seems, especially when he helps you mop and clean, helping stack up chairs. it reminds you of how gentle suguru was with you. when it’s time to go, he questions, “you walk home?” when you nod, he scowls, obviously still slightly protective over you. it warms your heart, but you force it to freeze back over.

however, it remelts when he pushes you to the inside of the sidewalk, standing on the side closest to the street. “my boyfriend and i live around the block, so i just walk here and back. i never really get any trouble.” suguru hums; you’re setting that boundary early on.

i’ve moved on from you, you’re telling him subliminally, i’m with someone new. it’s funny that you think suguru cares.

the two of you are silent as you walk, and you find yourself questioning whether or not he’s going to apologize; or is he just using this opportunity to get close to you again? you get your answer when a few minutes later, he stops and turns to you.

“y/n,” his voice is husky and it’s cold enough that his exhalation of your name leaves a white mist, “i’m sorry, for everything. i was wrong to put you through those things. you’re such a sweet girl; you didn’t deserve it.” and a part of him means it, truly. he would’ve done things differently if he knew you were going to leave. “can we be friends? please?”

you feel the cold tears prick your eyes, and you nod, once, then twice. you sniff and whimper out a sweet, “yeah, suguru. we can be friends again.”

that’s your biggest mistake.

because now that you’ve allowed suguru in your life again, you’ve just given him the green light to do what he does best. spiral things into his control. he starts out with small things, starting with planting a seed of insecurity.

you had let him meet your boyfriend, at your boyfriend’s insistence, to prevent insecurity. his boyfriend knew all about suguru, so to say that he was a bit hostile was a bit of an understatement. suguru was the epitome of calm, all kind smiles towards your boyfriend. it was almost… embarrassing for you. your boyfriend was almost childish; when you cooked for the three, and your boyfriend set the table, he refused to get a plate for suguru. suguru took it in stride, however, only laughing it off. this was damn near perfect for suguru; he was going to lie, but your boyfriend was so fucking stupid, he basically laid out the soil for suguru’s seeds.

what’s worse was the fact that suguru is both taller and more muscular than your boyfriend; and whenever suguru stood and looked down at him, your boyfriend would jeer. later, your beloved expressed his slight inferiority. you did your best to reassure him, but anytime you mentioned suguru, he seemed to bristle. ‘it isn’t like that,’ you’d plead to him, with hands out, ‘we’re just becoming friends again, i swear!’

of course, you’d eventually go to tell suguru that you had to distance, in order to preserve your relationship.

he was understanding, yes, but not without a, “why doesn’t he trust you enough to let us be friends?” and maybe that stuck with you a bit. a week later, suguru drops off two plates of your favorite food. he says he was making it, and thought you’d enjoy the meal. he even brought a plate for your boyfriend. you’re ecstatic — as the meal isn’t one you often find in stores, and when you do, it isn’t cook to the fullest. however, while the two of you were … engaging, suguru learned to make it perfectly.

you’re all smiles and cheers, while your boyfriend is livid. suguru doesn’t overstay his welcome and departs with a smile and a nice goodbye for you both.

the argument ensues from there.

“i thought you cut him off?” your boyfriend asks you, his voice snappy and filled with anger. you raise your eyebrows, still holding the two plates in your hands as you move to the kitchen. you reply,”you didn’t ask me to. you told me to distance, and i did. me and suguru haven’t talked much at all since then.”

“then why is he dropping off food for you?” your boyfriend shoots back, almost immediately. you place the food on the counter and turn to him, feeling your irritation simply growing and growing. “for us, you mean,” you correct sassily, furrowing your eyebrows, “it would be different if the food was only for me. but there’s some for you too. he was being thoughtful.”

“why can’t you so obviously see that he’s a manipulative asshole?” your boyfriend yells as he throws his hands up, pacing around the couch. “how dim are you? he did it while you two were fucking around, and he’s doing it now! i don’t want you to be friends with him anymore.”

you’re bubbling over. so he’s calling you stupid now? you feel your irritation shift into anger instead. “you don’t get to tell me who i can and can’t be friends with because of your own fucking insecurities. you don’t get to do that shit, you don’t get to make something out of nothing. and most of all, you don’t get to throw my past experiences that i trusted you with into my fucking face.” you’re grabbing your food, and your coat simultaneously.

“wait, where are you going?” your boyfriend asks, his voice suddenly dropping from a yell to a concerned croon. your shoving your arm into a coat sleeve as you huff, “somewhere to cool off. you’ve pissed me off and now i don’t even want to be in this fucking house.”

your boyfriend wants to protest, but he doesn’t. he purses his lips, and he nods, before mumbling out a, “be safe. keep your location on, please?”

begrudgingly, you nod, before leaving.

of course, you end up at geto’s. you’re venting your frustrations as you eat the meal he prepared. it hadn’t even been an hour since he dropped off the food, and here you were. it’s how he knew that his plans were working, and god was he ecstatic. of course, he couldn’t seduce you right here and now, no. it’s much too early. he has to keep throwing the rock at the window, over and over. until it finally breaks.

this throw is only a crack in your window.

those arguments begin to happen more frequently, suguru’s large crack gives way to more and more little cracks, until you’re at your wits end. you’re not gonna break up with your boyfriend yet, but you’re starting to get aggravated. suguru figures it’s time for him to implement his plan.

you’re laying on his couch after an explosive argument between you and your boyfriend about geto seemingly “flirting” with you: suguru had bought tickets for the ballet for all three of you; your boyfriend refused to go, falling right into suguru’s trap. you were aggravated with him — he denied every opportunity to actually make sure no flirting would happen and denied. then got mad at you for enjoying yourself. but you wouldn’t allow that, tonight. you went to see the ballet with suguru, and honestly the two of you had a wonderful time.

but then, your dress had ripped so suguru held it together until the two of you got into the car. you had walked into the house, suguru shuffling behind you and your boyfriend went ballistic, claiming that suguru ripped it himself.

now, suguru didn’t even plan this one — but your boyfriend was just so good at being a little helper. while suguru watched the argument awkwardly, trying his best to ‘deescalate’ the argument, while intentionally making it worse. you ended up leaving with suguru, ripped dress and all.

now here you are, sitting on his couch, with tears streaming down your beautiful made-up face. suguru’s cooing to you through your distress, giving your back gentle rubs. “he’s such a dick, y/n,” suguru murmurs as you blubber out your frustrations, “i can’t believe he got so worked up… it’s starting to piss me off, too. i even bought a ticket for him to come with us.”

you let out a cry of agreement, going, “which was so nice of you! he complains about us being alone but never come when he’s invited! it’s so… so…!”

“hypocritical,” he finishes for you, pulling you to lean on his shoulder. you comply, even when his hand slides to rub at your hips. “i wasn’t the greatest, but… god, even i didn’t do you like that. didn’t he call you stupid or something a week ago? i actually don’t think i’ve ever done that.” he laughs it off like a joke, but watches your reaction carefully.

the words have you thinking back. no, suguru hadn’t ever called you stupid. when he started getting jealous, he never put you in situations to be jealous over. he was never childish like your boyfriend… your brows furrow and you pout, hesitantly nodding. suguru smiles; it’s working. he takes this a sign to keep talking.

“and i noticed that like… he barely posts you. like you have a highlight for him on insta, and he doesn’t have one for you,” he begins, continuing to caress your skin, before pulling a pack of his favorite cigarettes out of his pocket. “and i don’t mean to infringe on your relationship, y/n.. it’s just weird to me. considering that i had a highlight for you even when we weren’t dating.”

you pause, lightly leaning into suguru’s touch. he’s not wrong… in fact, he’s very right. your boyfriend always told you that he didn’t post you a lot because he didn’t want people in your relationship business. you had accepted it at the time, but now suguru’s words had you questioning.

“am i overstepping?” suguru asks gently, his hand still rubbing your hip, pulling you into him as he exhales cigarette smoke. his dark violet eyes focus on you, and you examine his features, like you used to do before.

his long hair is pulled into his trademark half-up half-down style. slim eyes looking down at you with an all too familiar glaze. his angular, perfect features that had to been crafted by god. he’s… he’s so much prettier… you curse yourself for even thinking it, but he’s so much prettier than your boyfriend. he licks his lips as he watches you watch him. his head tilts slightly.

“maybe your boyfriend wasn’t wrong, though,” he says, voice husky — it sends unwanted shivers down your spine. “maybe i haven’t been exactly appropriate to you. maybe i do want you back.”

you swallow hard, slight shock flooding you. you expected it but didn’t at the same time. even though all those times you vented and brought up how your boyfriend was convinced suguru wanted you, suguru never confirmed or denied. only soothed you.

you don’t know what to say, or how you feel but you know it’s wrong. “n-no, suguru,” you force yourself to say, “it’s wrong. a-and you already had a chance. so many chances.” your scooting away, but suguru is pulling you back to him.

his lips press against your ear as he whispers, “c’mon, baby… please? i learned my lesson. i can’t bare to see another man treat you like this, when i know… we both know… i have my problems, but i can treat you so much better.” you’re trying to pull away, but your body and your heart is too familiar with suguru. you ache, despite knowing that it’s wrong. it’s cheating.

“suguru, i-i can’t cheat..!” you whimper pathetically, and suddenly, he’s pushing you down onto the couch, sliding on top of you. you moan, as you feel him press against you, cursing yourself.

“there it is,” suguru hisses, lifting his cigarette to his wet lips again, “moaning just based off that? he hasn’t been fucking my girl right, now has he?”

“not your girl..!” you gasp as he presses hot, open mouth kisses onto your neck. you protest out of guilt, but god, you don’t stop him.

because just like he said, you both know. your boyfriend couldn’t, in no way, compared to suguru geto.

“not my girl?” suguru whispers as he kisses up your jawline, “you sure? because you’re gasping and whining out like you are. you’ve always been mine, y/n. you know you have. let me take care of you, baby. come back home.”

there’s an ache in your pussy, and you’re sure that it’s your sexual organ talking when you whine, “okay, suguru, j-just please… please fuck me.” the need you feel overwhelms the guilt as suguru presses his clothed dick against you.

you can feel him, pressing against you through your panties, and the squeal you let out makes suguru laugh. he’s sliding you up with one hand and into his lap. he hikes your dress up to your hips and you think he’s going to take you right then and there; but no. instead he presses you down against his crotch, forcing you to get off on the feeling of his covered dick simply pressing against you.

“s-suguru! c’mon, give me more, please!” you mewl as you grip his broad shoulders desperately. you watch as he lifts his cigarette to his lips. “nuh uh,” he says as he exhales, “you’re going to pay for leaving me for some bitch who can’t even fuck you right. ride me jus’ like this, y/n. and don’t stop until i say so.”

and unfortunately, you’re obedient and desperate for any shred of stimulation you can get. you began grinding your hips down against suguru through his slacks, his hardened dick rubbing against your pussy through your panties. you’re so wet that you begin to gush through the thin cotton of your panties, dripping onto suguru’s slacks in a puddle.

you don’t say anything however, yearning for the intense pleasure that suguru always gave you. that year away from suguru must’ve made you forget; nobody will ever fuck you as good as he does.

he watches as you clutch onto him, pathetically grinding and shaking your hips down onto your lap, whining as your panties rub against your clit just right. in a few minutes or so, you’re even ready to cum. suguru has your habits memorized when you were close, and that hasn’t changed.

you still tremble, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. your eyes cross a little and your back arches. suguru grins. oh, you’re so close, aren’t you?

“stop.”

he chuckles darkly, and when you don’t listen the first time, he pulls you off of him. you let out a mix of a sob and a moan, your face twisting into something pitiful. “suguru!” you wail, fat tears spilling over. “i was so fucking close! why would you do that?”

suguru gracefully puts you on the floor between his legs, laughing at your plight. “oh, i never said you’d cum, dollface. i just told you to do it. but it’s okay, my dumb girl. ‘m gonna reward you a different way.” he begins unbuttoning the slacks as you perch between his legs. he’s rolling the black pants down his thighs, along with his boxers and there it is.

his dick bounces free. it’s long, and has a nasty curve upwards. he’s thick too — scarily so. his tip is fat and a perfect round shape. it’s a dark tan, a few shades darker than his skin. and it’s decorated with a silver reverse prince albert piercing. precum slides out, a silky white color. you feel drool collect in your mouth as his dick hovers above you.

“you know what to do,” suguru tells you with an expectant look, his cigarette perched perfectly between his lips, “open your mouth and let me use you. uh huh, just like that lovely, stick out that tongue…” you do as he tells you, hands on his knees as you lean up; tongue out, eyes locked with suguru’s.

he slaps his dick on your tongue a few times, before he slides his length into your mouth. immediately, your lips enclose around him. his hand laces into your hair, using it as leverage to pull your head down his length. you gag fiercely around him, hands moving from his knees to his thighs, digging into his skin.

suguru smokes his cigarette with hazy eyes as he pushes your head down his dick, and back up. the noise your throat makes when his tip hits your uvula is wet and messy, and god does he love it.

your slobbing down his length, your spit trickling down his balls; your eyes are filled with tears, a few even spilling over. however, your plump lips stay wrapped around him. you suck your cheeks in and gaze up at him, submission coating your every movement. your tongue slides against the glands on his dick, making him let out a soft groan.

“take this dick down your throat just like that, whore, fuck,” he rasps to you, his movements becoming a little more aggressive, “did you suck on him like this? lookin’ up at me all pretty. bet you didn’t suck his dick like you needed it; didn’t show him how much of a fucking whore you are, hm?” he puts his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table, and then he slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “i think we should. is that okay?” as best as you can, you nod, still swallowing up his dick.

suguru is on his phone for a few seconds, before laughing out, “ha! he texted me. he wants me to bring you fuckin’ home. too bad; you’re already home, right, baby?” of course, you don’t answer. your mouth is too stuffed full of his dick. suguru gets rougher then. his original languid pace is discarded, and he begins to push and pull himself out of your mouth. his tip rams against your uvula, before sliding into your throat. you’re choking for air, sputtering. he’s fucking your throat so cruelly, there’s a bulge in your throat every time he sheaths himself in your mouth.

you try to pull in air through your nose, but it’s too hard to focus when suguru is pressing your face into his pelvis, his heady scent filling you and making you dizzy. or was that just the lack of oxygen? you realize that he’s recording your pathetic display. you’re a fucking mess, pussy drooling as he ruins you.

“shiiit, angel,” he curses, head thrown back, and his locks messy around his shoulders. his bottom lip between his teeth, “gonna cum. gonna cum in your mouth, and you’re gonna swallow every fuckin’ drop, understand?”

you swirl your tongue around him, letting him know you’re ready. his thrusts become reckless, before he spills his load inside of your mouth. his cum tastes nice, as always — it has a slightly bitter tang to it, but you take it in stride. as he slides his softened dick out of your mouth, you open your mouth, letting your tongue loll out; showing him his cum coating your mouth.

his phone captures it all.

“is this your girlfriend?” he taunts the camera, grabbing your cheeks and bringing your mouth closer to the phone as cum dribbles down your chin. “look at her. that’s my cum. this is my girl.” you swallow his cum then, and suguru lets out a coo of, “good slut.” before he’s ending the video and sending it.

as soon as he releases your face, you’re sucking in big breaths of air, coughing and sputtering and wiping your eyes from the tears. he rubs your head while you do so, letting out soft coos of reasurance.

he sits back for a second, sliding his dick back into his slacks, before telling you, “go to my room and get undressed. i’ll be there in a minute.” he watches you nod and scamper up, going up the stairs to his room, your hips swaying.

suguru picks up his put out cigarette as he watches your boyfriend trip out about the video, both of your phones dinging with notifications. he lets out a laugh.

suguru always gets what he wants eventually, especially you.

he’s getting up to follow behind you then, pulling off his tie in the process. suguru can feel his own desperation and need for you setting in. it had been a year and a few months; in that time, he didn’t engage much in sex and romantic relationships. none of them were you.

and even now, when he gets to his room and you’re sat on his bed, eyes soft and legs slightly spread as you wait for him, he knows.

none of them will ever be you.

suguru stares at you, almost unnervingly as he walks into the room, leaning against the wall. it makes you self-conscious, curling into yourself as you press your hands against your body to shield yourself.

“don’t.” suguru says, and he walks to you, grabbing your arms. “i need to see all of you.” before you could even respond, he’s wrapping his tie around your wrists.

“suguru?” you question gently as the black fabric wraps around your hands, keeping you bound. suguru shushes you, before picking you up and moving you to the top of the bed. “shh, lovely. i gotta fuck those thoughts of your ‘boyfriend’ out of you. so you’re gonna be a good whore and you’re gonna take it. understood?”

“yes sir,” you whisper as he lays you down, before his hands are spreading your thighs, to reveal your pretty pussy; soaked with your self-lubrication. you move your bound hands to cover yourself, but suguru knocks them away. “put your hands away, what’re you covering yourself for? i know your body like the back of my hand.”

and he’s right, so you try your best to relax. your tensity is immediately forgotten when he puts a finger on your clit, rubbing slow circles against it. you shiver and let out a dulcet moan, a lovely sing of, “suguru— mnngh, fuck..” he takes so much pride in the way he makes you feel, the way he makes you cry out and arch your back just due to his finger rubbing against your clit.

“shh, dollface,” suguru says as he sits between your legs, spreading them more. his large hand wraps around your calf to put your leg up. his finger trails from your clit to your sopping hole, before sliding two fingers inside.

the stretch from just two of suguru’s fingers had you letting out mellifluous moans, squirming in his hold. he held you still while he pushed his fingers inside of you until they were knuckle deep, thumb pressing against your clit.

suguru was slow and methodical with the way he fingered you; sliding his fingers out slowly just to thrust them back in a fast pace, fingertips curling against your warm, gummy walls. your slick was dripping down onto his palm as he rocked his finger into you.

you were his mess, letting out whines as his long, thick fingers scissored inside of you, pressing against your g-spot. “he couldn’t get you like this, now could he?” suguru asked as he pressed his fingers against your g-spot again, making you squeal. you didn’t answer at first, but when he added a third finger inside of you, hissing out, “fucking answer me.” you were quick to babble out, “no, sugu! no, no, no, he could never get me like this… only you, only you!”

suguru chuckles in satisfaction as he watches you struggle to hold on to the sheets with your bound wrists. “fuckin’ slut,” he muses, “cheating on your boyfriend like some fucking whore who can’t keep her legs closed.” he tuts, and shame floods through you; however, it’s eradicated by the way he curls his fingers against your g-spot, his quick but precise thrusting hitting it every time. your juices are all over his hand, sloppy noises echoing through the room. the way suguru looks at you has your heart beating in your fucking ovaries.

you’re close, euphoria is spreading through your body and your stomach is tightening. your pussy is contracting around suguru’s fingers as you whimper, “i’m sorry…! sorry for bein’ a slut, sir.”

“i forgive you,” he laughs a little bit, as your eyes roll back. “you’re my slut, of course. you’ll always belong to me; always be mine, no matter where you go.” right as your pussy begins to spasm around him, and your body begins to twitch, eyes rolling back again — he slides his fingers out of you.

the sob you let out is tremendous, bordering on a scream. suguru only watches as you sob, fat tears rolling down your already ruined face as you sob out different variations of ‘why?’ and ‘i wanted to cum!’ through your tears as you glare up at him. suguru only watches your pathetic, desperate display as he begins to fully undress. his eyebrow raised as he watches you, slightly smirking. you’re so cute, so desperate for him. he loves when you get like this.

by the time he’s fully naked, you’re facedown into the blankets, still whimpering, your sobs slowing. suguru wants to laugh, but he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. he crawls on the bed towards you, grabbing you and turning you over onto your back. you look up at him with teary eyes as he hovers above you. your bound hands reaches up, and you mange to press the back of your hand to his cheek. oh, how you missed this sight.

your hands sneak to his hair, and you pull out his ponytail. his hair falls around his shoulders, and he smiles at you; a genuine smile, and you can tell by the way his eyes crinkle. he leans down, sliding his lips against yours as his hand wraps around your throat loosely. suguru tastes like sweet cigarettes, like a mix of nicotine and love and sex. you don’t know how else to describe it.

“missed you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you feverishly. you try your best to keep up with his insistent lips, as his tongue curls against the roof of your mouth.

“m-missed you more,” you rasped back against his lips.

you guys are pulling away occasionally to gaze at each other sweetly at his other hand trails down your body, caressing you wherever he can. he’s devouring your lips, hand slightly tightening on your neck. “love you, y/n,” he whispers, before continuing on like it was never said.

your heart pumps, and before you realize it, your lips are moving to say, “love you more, suguru,” you feel him grin into the kiss, and it becomes more desperate. it’s messy, the way he kisses you — the way he laps at your mouth and begs for more of you, all of you.

you can’t help but give.

his tip rubs against your hole, his piercing cold against your heat. on instinct, you let out a slight hiss at the feeling. he shushes you gently, as he pushes his hips forward slowly. the stretch of him has your head falling back, and your eyes rolling. your mouth falls open in an o, but you’re unable to make a noise, as if he’s snatched it out of you.

pain mixes with pure pleasure as he feeds your greedy cunt inch after inch of him. your body is trembling as you feel his piercing scratch your g-spot, making you gasp out, before said piercing is nudging your cervix. his curved dick has you going insane, hitting spots you forgot you had. above you, suguru is as much of a mess as you are.

he’s panting, irises so dilated that it’s just black with a ring of dark violet. one hand is gripping your hips, the other squeezing your throat as he spears you on his dick, soft moans escaping his lips. “fuck, angel,” he groaned as he threw his head back, “missed this pussy s’much. you’re taking me so well, look…” you manage to look down, watching as suguru pulls out of you before snapping his hips into yours.

the single, experimental thrust has you seeing stars. your tied hands are pushed above your head by suguru and he holds your hands, keeping them there. he pulls your legs to rest on his shoulders, and you blank. because now, the angle is different, and he’s pulling out and—

the rough thrust he blesses you with has you whimpering out his name, and that’s just the beginning. it doesn’t stop from there, no. he releases your hands, going to grip your throat again as he begins to stuff you full, slamming into you over and over.

that hand on your throat tightens just how you like it, until your noises are gasped and raspy, and there’s black spots swimming in your vision. this, paired with the way suguru pushes his hips into yours, bullying your pussy, has you teetering on the edge.

suguru knows this. he knows your body far too well, much more than you’d like. he knows that when he trails a hand down to your breasts, to pull and twist at your nipples like he does right now, it only shoves you closer to the edge. “don’t cum,” he whispers to you, “i didn’t even really get started, doll. don’t tell me you’re gonna cum just from a few strokes like this?” he smirks down at you, as his thrusts pause. the hand around your throat sliding up to rub his thumb on your bottom lip. the slight relief has you sucking in deep breaths, trying to regain your voice.

suguru decides to help you. he resumes his fierce thrusts, ripping a croaked cry of, “suguru—!” out of you. he picks up speed, jackhammering into you, and your nails dig into the palm of your hand as you’re forced to grip your own hands. he’s fucking you like this, and you’re supposed to not cum? his thrusts snatch the barely regained air out of your lungs, forcing more tears into your eyes.

your clit throbs painfully, your stomach tight as you try to hold on to the orgasm that is so close, too close to washing over you. “can’t control yourself?” suguru taunts from above you with a slight laugh, “fuck, baby, you’re a mess. got your fucking juices drippin’ down my balls,” he let out another chuckle, “pussy just clenched around me too. you like when i make fun of you, don’t you? masochistic cumwhore.” he grips your face, watching your tits bounce fiercely with every thrust.

“it huuuurts, sugu,” you whimper in an agonizingly sweet voice, “please let me cum, please, please, i can’t take it..! please, sir, it hurts…!”

“you love it when it hurts, though,” he tuts at you, his hair hanging in his face, and above you as he keeps up his thrusts. you let out a desperate, pained whine and he softens. just a little. but he doesn’t let you cum yet. instead, he leans down, lips pressed to your ear, “say you won’t leave me, ever again. say you won’t go anywhere.”

you know it’s a trap, but you fall into it anyways. “i won’t! i won’t leave you again, i promise, p-please just let me cum. i won’t go anywhere, i won’t ever have anyone else! j-just please…”

“cum.” suguru says one word, and immediately, you do. your eyes roll back, your body seizes, and your pussy clenches so impossibly tight around him that he can’t even pull out.

“shit—!” he hisses, hands gripping your hips. your clenching sends him over the edge too, his cum pumping into you. he didn’t mean to cum inside of you, no. but now it’s given him an idea. “fuckin’ minx, pussy clamped so hard on me, it had me cum in you,” he rasped as he pressed his lips to your sweaty skin.

you want to care, you really do. you want to panic and make a scene, but god, you don’t fucking care. the feeling of having his cum inside of you feels too good. you didn’t even let your boyfriend cum inside of you. should you be ashamed of yourself? you don’t know. actually, scratch that. once again, you don’t fucking care. all you can murmur is, “just… don’t do it again.”

you don’t care because your mind is foggy, the best kind of foggy. the orgasmic haze you’re in has you blissed out as you’re splayed across suguru’s bed.

suguru is marking you, biting, licking, sucking at your neck, collarbone and chest until they’re littered with reddish-purple hickeys, along with the hand print from him choking. if he’s going to bring you home to your boyfriend, he’s going to bring you back with a message. he grabs his cigarette and his lighter. he lights it, and takes a puff, before looking down at you. “this is gonna hurt,” he tells you, and you connect the dots immediately. you shake your head at him, but he shushes you. “be a good slut, and let me do this. don’t move, or it’s gonna hurt more.”

you go completely still, biting your lip as tears appear on your lash line. he softens when he sees you like this, scared. his hand presses against your face, trying to soothe you. even as he presses his cigarette against your collarbone. in order to distract you, he begins to thrust again. the pain and pleasure fight for dominance over your body, and you focus on the pleasure; even though the smell of your burning flesh fills the room. he puts out his cigarette two more times on your skin, before pressing kisses to the scars.

“i have to make sure that you, and everyone else, know that you belong to someone.” he whispers to you, still pressing kisses to the spot. you barely understand him though, because you feel like you’re fading. drowning in a sea of pleasure that he’s created.

his eyes lock on your bound hands, and the red mark around your wrists. he unties your hands, and you let out a garbled noise of relief. you watch as he presses kisses to your wrists, while still pumping his thick dick through your walls. you’re on the edge again, and suguru flicks at your clit, making you cum another time, your body twitching and your hands grabbing at his skin.

suguru’s close, too, and he knows what he has to do now.

suguru’s ideas are dangerous, but he finds it in him that he doesn’t care. he can’t trust your word that you’ll never leave. he can’t rely on just marking you. he’ll have to make sure that you’re unable to go anywhere, he’ll have to make sure that you need him.

he’ll have to knock you up.

it’s as simple as that. the simple idea of you swelled with his child has him reeling. suguru knows it’ll work. you don’t use birth control, because you don’t like the way it makes you gain weight, and you often forget to take the pill. and, he saw condoms and plan b’s at your house. it’s almost comical. suguru’s sure that you’d take his baby; but not your boyfriend’s.

the idea excites him even more and he grips your thighs, using his weight to push you into a mating press.

everything’s a blurry mess from there.

he’s slamming his hips into you with a regained fever, over and over and over. your heightened sensitivity is unable to take it, and you’re a squealing, whining mess with every move that he makes. your grasping at anything in your reach, mainly him and the bedsheets.

suguru folds you in half as he feels his own orgasm coming. “you’re gonna take every drop i give you, understand? don’t waste my cum, slut.” you want to tell him to wait, to cum on your stomach. but you don’t. you can barely think at all. instead, you lose control of your body as you cum right with him, as he shoots his load of thick cum straight to your womb.

you think he’s done, but no; instead he flips you over onto your hands and knees. he grips your throat from behind with both hands as he slams into you one more time. pumping and filling you, breeding you like some animal. you can barely moan anymore, animalistic whimpers and grunts escaping you instead as he slams his hips against the plush of your ass. suguru lets go of your neck to grip your hair, pushing your face into his pillows as you drool mindlessly, brain fucked away.

“helloooo…” he asks, teasing you purposely, “anyone in there?” when you don’t answer, he barks out a laugh. “look at you. gone stupid on my dick. i expected you to last longer. but no; you’re nothin’ but a dick hungry cumslut.” your body twitches and you make out some noise, resembling a ‘nooo…’, but suguru can’t tell.

“like it when i use you like this, hm? like it when i treat you like my fuckin’ cocksleeve, don’t you, y/n?” this time you manage to answer with a sweet ‘yes!’ and suguru smiles. you’re cumming again, sinking into the blankets with rasped moans. your throat is probably shredded from all the screaming you’ve been doing, but it’s okay.

it’s not long before suguru’s shooting his third load into you — or is it his fourth? you don’t remember, and neither does he.

you think it’s over, and maybe it is for approximately five to ten minutes. he gives both of you a break, and he presses kisses into your spine.

however, when he maneuvers you into a different position, you almost pass out. suguru isn’t done with you yet. the night continues like that, until the rosy fingers of dusk trickle into the room. he fucks you all fucking night, with a few breaks. he fucks you to sleep, and when you wake up, he’s still fucking you. a mix of your fluids soaks his bed, as he fucks load after load after load into you.

because suguru’s on a mission.

so when morning comes and he’s finally done using and abusing your body, he knows he’s succeeded. he scoops his cum off your thighs and stuffs it back into you, and right after he slides your panties back on, making sure it stays there.

soon after, when you wake again, he carries you to the bathroom, and he washes you up, still making sure that not too much of his cum slides out. he’s gentle with you, carrying you on his back around the house, driving you to get dunkin’ donuts for breakfast. the two of you completely ignore your phones, and the messages your boyfriend — well, ex-boyfriend left you two.

in fact, suguru does him one better. he arrives at the house with his arm around your waist and you nestled into his side. your ex-boyfriend is more than livid, more than furious, but he pales in comparison to suguru.

he screams at you, only once; because suguru is there to utter out a, “you yell at my girlfriend like that again, and i will fucking kill you.” and both you and your boyfriend are shocked. but suguru only nods to you, smiling gently as you hurry to collect everything you need. feminine products, clothes, jewelry. important things. anything you miss, suguru says you’ll get later. your boyfriend doesn’t utter a word after that single scream.

of course he texts you, ranging from angry to filled with despair. from “cheating fucking bitch” to “i’m sorry, i’ll do better, just please come home”. he’s soon blocked.

and when you miss your period the next month, you’re telling suguru. when the pregnancy test comes up positive and you’re looking up at him with a mix of shock, fear and excitement, he scoops you up into a kiss, murmuring about how he’s so happy.

because now you’re his forever.

790 notes · View notes

sometimesanalice · 3 days

Text

Make Me Your Masterpiece

Summary: Bob credits you for helping him to find his new hobby. And when he asks if he can you paint you, you find you quite like the idea of being his muse.

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: fluff, smut, and basically an ode to Lewis Pullman’s hands (mdni)

(Author’s Note: smutty fics are the new friendship bracelet, spread the word! Happy Birthday, Ames! 🎉 @laracrofted)

You’ve always had a thing for Bob’s hands.

They were one of the first things you noticed about him that day at the coffee shop almost a year ago now.

You’d been reaching for your iced vanilla cinnamon latte when a big hand had wrapped around it just a half of a second before you could grab it. Which you wouldn’t have minded admiring them for a moment under any other circumstances, but after an endless string of meetings you’d been in a dire need of a caffeine fix- and not the weak stuff that people brewed in your office’s communal coffee pot.

“I think that’s-” you’d started.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” the coffee thief backpedaled.

The next thing you knew you were looking into the prettiest pair of ocean blue eyes.

The two of you were startled out of the moment when the barista called out the next order as they’d set it on the counter.

By some kismet or fate, they had been a matching set. But instead of embroidered towels, it was his and hers coffee cups with your names written on them in a hasty scrawl.

Realization dawned over his features as he gave you a sheepish smile, “Think this one might belong to you, Miss.” He spun the coffee until he found the spot with your name. That little smile becoming a full grin as he’d said it aloud before passing the cup to you.

The hands had been good, the eyes had been great, but Bob’s smile directed at you had left you weak in the knees.

You’d been a goner right then and there.

And while you’d ended up almost ten minutes late to your next meeting, you’d also gone back to the office with his phone number written on a cardboard coffee sleeve that was tucked away safely in your purse and a date lined up later that week.

As it turned out fate had a name and it was Robert Floyd.

Barely twenty minutes into your first official date with Bob, his ears had turned a delightful shade of pink as his anxious fingers straightened the silverware on the white linen tablecloth of the Italian spot he’d taken you to. He’d fessed up and apologized as he came clean, telling you that he’d purposefully ordered the same coffee as you in hopes of getting to start up a conversation with the pretty girl who’d been standing in front of him in line.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, since you looked busy. But I didn’t want to miss my chance,” he’d confessed over candlelight.

He’d told you how he’d only been at the coffee shop because he’d recently returned from a deployment and was fighting the jetlag that came with adjusting to being back on Pacific Standard Time, and that he normally preferred tea but he needed something with a bit more to it to get him through the day.

Instead of getting up and taking the bottle of wine to-go as a consolation prize, like you would have if it had been anyone else, his genuine earnestness had charmed you instantly. And you’d settled on having a second date with him before the first one had even really started.

You only let him sweat it for about thirty seconds before you took pity on him. With a light fingertip, you traced along one of the veins on the back of his hand and simply asked, “So other than being a meet cute mastermind, what is it that you do for a living, Bob?”

It was the best first date you’d ever had.

For your second date with him, you’d bought tickets to a ‘Paint and Sip’ event at a buzzy new bistro in town your friend had told you about.

You weren’t an artist by any means, but during that dinner date his antsy fingers and expressive hands had clued you into how nervous he’d been. You’d found your eyes drifting to them on more than one occasion. Partly because they were so enticingly disproportionate to the rest of him, but also because you couldn’t look him directly in the eye for too long without feeling your face heating up.

You thought it would be a good way for the both of you to work past the getting-to-know-you jitters, something that would keep your hands and eyes occupied enough to relax a bit more and have fun together.

Although instead of the seascape class you’d thought you’d signed up for, you’d willingly paid $86+ tax to watch Bob’s lithe, long fingers delicately grip a paintbrush in a way you thought was going to make you lose your mind.

You’d spent the whole first hour trying and failing to mix the perfect shade of blue before giving up when you’d realized that the man next to you, in addition to having really great hands, was also very good at painting.

Bob had seemed surprised by that too because he’d kept flushing that wonderful shade of pink that had quickly become your new favorite color every time you complimented his piece.

He had steady, capable hands. But you were quickly learning that everything about Bob Floyd seemed that way. There was a quiet confidence about him. He didn’t shy away from the way he’d openly observed you, like you were a riddle he was enjoying learning to decode.

You’d never known a man to be so attentive until him.

Bob’s tongue was peeking out as he’d worked on adding some wispy clouds to the top of his piece. You weren’t even sure what step you’d technically stopped at before you’d given up to watch the visual feast of him painting instead. Only halfheartedly adding random bits to your canvas along the way to make sure it wasn’t totally blank by the end of the session.

You’d been so zoned out watching him create that it was like a slow-motion sequence in a horror movie. You’d reached out for your wine glass, lifting it to your lips to take a sip, it had only taken you a split second to realize it wasn’t the full-bodied red you’d ordered that was coating your tongue, but the murky, gritty paint water instead.

Mortified, you’d looked over just in time to see Bob’s empathetic wince. You’d been hoping to fly under the radar, but it had turned out that you’d had more than one set of eyes on you.

“And we officially have our first casualty of the evening, folks,” the instructor cheerily announced to the group, “The rest of you can breathe easy now!”

You wanted to be able to laugh at your own expense, but you’d groaned as you buried your face in your hands.

It was not the way you saw the night going. You wanted to be dazzling, you wanted that pivotal third date with him. But now you were the girl who drank paint water whose canvas looked like it had all the same efforts as an enthusiastic fourth grader.

Bob’s hands had gently wrapped around your wrists before he’d pulled them from your face. And then he’d leaned in close, taking your chin in his hand and kissed you squarely on the lips, his tongue dipping in and sliding against yours to taste the acrylic pigment from your surprised mouth.

“Huh,” he’d said, contemplatively. He’d pulled away only far enough to look into your eyes and give you a soft smile. “Celadon blue doesn’t taste like a Cabernet, go figure.”

He brushed a light kiss against your cheek as he’d passed you your wine glass so that you could rinse the paint water taste out of your mouth.

You couldn’t help but to still be a little embarrassed, but then you’d caught the way he’d shoot an unimpressed look at the instructor every time they passed by for the rest of the evening. You didn’t need a knight in shining armor when you had a Bob Floyd with a paintbrush and a cutting side eye.

You took him home with you that night and learned for yourself just how capable those hands of his were.

It was only later that you realized the exact shade of blue that you’d been trying so hard to capture earlier that night was the same color as the eyes that gazed down at you as Bob fucked you for the very first time.

There was no way you could have known that the ‘Paint and Sip’ date would have inspired him to pick up painting as a hobby.

First, he’d started taking classes at the Rec Center. His once a week classes later turned into him checking out books from the library. And then he’d turned his spare bedroom into a studio, as it has the best afternoon light in the Spanish style house he rents near the Naval base. He’d even bought a comfy chair for you to curl up in as he painted, a little nook of your own in his favorite space in his home. And steadily, the walls of both your apartment and his place fill up with all of his creations.

You’d even had your favorite one professionally framed. The pretty landscape done in shades of soft greens that he gave to you for your birthday hangs in a place of honor above your bed. You like having that piece of Bob as one of the last things you see before you fall asleep and one of the first things you see in the morning on the rare occasion the two of you aren’t sharing a bed. You liked to imagine the hours he spent on it with the sunlight streaming through the open window as he lovingly and painstakingly created something just for you with his own two hands.

Although you did have to beg him to sign it for you. He claimed that since he does it for fun that there’s really no reason too, but you were adamant about it and he’d eventually caved and scrawled his name in the lower right-hand corner.

Now it’s become your personal mission to ensure that every Bob Floyd original has his signature on it when he gives his paintings out as gifts.

Everyone assumes that his art would be all straight lines and precise angles, but it’s your favorite moment when people get to see his abstract landscapes. He’d told you he spends so much time in the sky that he likes to paint what’s on the ground, the things he doesn’t get to see when he’s 50,000 feet in the air.

You could tell Bob was a little nervous when he first asked to paint you.

After almost a year with him, you’d think he’d know by now that you’d do anything for him. Not to mention, you were more than a little in love with the idea of being his muse.

“Are you saying you want to paint me like one of your French girls?” you’d teased with a grin, unable to resist the opportunity. You always did have a thing for men with perfectly floppy hair.

He’d tipped your chin up so that you were looking into his blue eyes- a color you were positive couldn’t be replicated- and stated, “No, I want to paint you like my girl.”

Which is how you’ve ended up naked on the floor of his living room.

You’d been surprised when you came downstairs to see that the furniture had all been pushed to the side to make space for the king-sized top sheet he’d laid out on the floor. You figured it must have been from some mismatched set he had stashed in his linen closet because you’d never seen it before and you spent more than enough time in his bed getting familiar with his sheets.

Bob was shirtless and wearing only a pair of loose-fitting and paint stained jeans that were hanging low on his hips as he worked on getting all of his brushes and paints set up.

You were pretty sure that Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to do proper justice to Bob’s body. He wasn’t as built as some of his friends on the Dagger Squad were, but there was an undeniable sturdy steadfastness to him. Those defined shoulders and arms often were the stars of your afternoon daydreams, since you got to admire his handsome face anytime your phone lit up.

He came and met you at the bottom of the stairs, giving you a low whistle, “Well, aren’t you as pretty as a picture in my shirt.”

“Oh,” you’d said, feigning surprise and toying with the hem, “So it is.” And then you’d slowly lifted it up and off of you, revealing more of your body to his artist’s eye.

You never felt as good about yourself as you did when you were naked in front of Bob. The color of his morning skies eyes would always darken to a deep shade of Prussian blue as he took in the curves of you. With him you always felt appreciated, wanted, desired.

His greedy hands came to grip your hips pulling you to him until you were pressed against him.

“Is this how you wanted me?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

Bob slipped his hand behind your neck and tugged you in for a heated kiss. “I always want you.”

You never knew true distraction until you’d felt Bob’s lips against yours all those months ago. You’d happily lose minutes, hours, days to them. The thing about Bob is that he never does anything halfway. If he’s kissing you, he’s doing it thoroughly until you’re out of breath.

The sound of the air conditioner kicking on and the light draft that it coasted over you reminded you that there were other plans on the agenda. And that the sooner he starts, then the sooner he finishes, and the sooner you can feel his lips on other parts of you.

“Where do you want me?”

“In my bed,” he murmured against your lips.

His name started as a laugh but turned into a sigh as he dropped a line of kisses down your neck, “I meant, like on the couch or on one of the chairs from the kitchen.”

Bob pulled away and peered deep into your eyes, “Darlin’, I wanted to paint you.” He trailed a teasing finger down your soft stomach. “If that’s alright with you.”

You thought you were just going to be his subject, but as it turns out he wanted you to be his canvas too.

You’re trying not to shiver as he meticulously coats your overheated skin with cool paint. Goosebumps follow in the wake of every delicate stroke he makes along your body.

His hair was curled over his forehead in a way that had your fingers aching to touch him. There was a slight furrow between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the deliberate lines and curves he painted on you. The paint smudge on his cheek only made him all the more attractive to you.

Bob had tucked a pillow beneath your head before he’d started, a gesture that you appreciated now because time had lost all meaning to you. You had no idea how long you’ve been lying there. You were pretty sure every inch of you had to be covered by now.

He’d started along the plane of your stomach and steadily worked his way out from there. Up your arms. Along your clavicle. Over your breasts and tops of your thighs. You didn’t miss the way he’d smirked when you arched into that soft to the touch paintbrush as it glided over your peaked nipple. Or the way he’d hummed pleased when you’d try to subtly rub your thighs together to relieve the need that had been building as you laid there.

Bob loves taking his time with you. In bed, he loved teasing you until you had tears in your eyes and were begging for his cock. And it became clear very quickly that this would be no different.

There was an electric thrum that was pulsing through your body with every dip and swirl and brushstroke. The muscles of your stomach jump involuntarily as the fine hairs of his paintbrush drift over your hypersensitive skin making you whimper.

He tsks, “Gotta stay still for me, pretty girl. I’m almost done, promise.”

You release a shaky sigh and nod, not trusting your voice to betray just how needy you were for him. Although the self-satisfied smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

You try to control your breathing as he works on finishing, but your shallow breaths sounded loud in his living room. You love getting to watch him work normally, but the intense way he is looking at you- his eyes your favorite shade of Prussian blue now- is too much for your hummingbird heart.

Just as your skin was collecting layers of paint from his brush, the space between your thighs was steadily collecting your wetness. You were so desperate for him to touch you, the need made you want to crawl out of your skin.

You hear the sound of a watery swish and the clink of a brush against glass and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation.

“God, look at you,” Bob breathes, reverently, “You’re so beautiful. This might be my best work ever.”

Instead of the paintbrush, you can feel the path of his flame blue gaze traveling over you as he takes in the art he’s made out of you.

You open your heavy eyes and see Bob wiping off his hands with a frayed towel.

“There she is,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your toes curl. You didn’t notice it sitting there with all his paints until he was reaching for it, his dad’s old film camera. He holds it loosely in front of him like a question, “Can I take a few just for me?”

The answer is easy, “Yes.”

You trusted Bob more than any other man you’d ever been with. He’s never once given you reason to doubt his words because his actions always spoke for themselves.

The guys you’d been with before had been boys, Bob Floyd was a man.

The tension between the two of you is thicker than the acrylic he’d been using earlier as he snaps photo after photo. You admire the way his muscles shift as he bends and angles himself to get the perfect images.

He stands over you, the lens pointed down at you, “Look at me.”

You can barely breathe. You feel yourself getting even wetter at the thought of seeing yourself through his eyes. No one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“Bob”, you whine.

The camera clicks.

“I know,” he hums, “You’ve been so good for me.” He sinks to his knees between your legs and hooks a hand behind your knee, pulling it up so it’s propped on the floor. And then he does the other so that you’re sprawled open for him, just the way he likes you to be, “Just one more, darlin’.”

The heat in his eyes has dried up all the words in your mouth.

He trails a finger down the soft skin of your inner thigh and you gasp.

The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.

“You’ve made such a pretty mess,” he drawls, as he gently sets the camera on the floor next to you. “It’s a good thing I put something down. You’re damn near dripping.”

“Bob, please.” You arch towards him like a flower in the sun.

He settles between your thighs and pushes them apart further so that his broad shoulders fit between them. The paint is still drying on your skin, but neither one of you cares about that now.

“You were so perfect for me. I appreciate you staying so still.” He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry, I know just how to thank you.”

Your body jolts at the first touch of his tongue on your clit. You can feel his smile against you, he knows exactly what he does to you.

Bob has always eaten you out like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.

Normally, he’s teasing you with gentle licks and tracing nonsensical shapes on your clit with his tongue until you’re a squirming mess for him. He knows your body so well, always building you up to the point where you’re breaths away from tipping over the edge and then pulls himself back before building you right back up again.

But tonight, there’s nothing playful about the way his mouth is working against you. His hot mouth is sealed to your clit. Bob hums in satisfaction with every keen and whine that he pulls out of you. He laves at you until you’re writhing underneath him, your thighs already shaking.

“Wanna paint you just like this,” he murmurs, sucking at the spot where your leg and hip meet. “But I don’t think you’d stay still long enough for me to finish.”

Bob dips down and gives you another long broad stroke of his tongue. He pulls back only long enough to spit on your cunt before diving right back in, chasing after his own taste on you.

Your hands are in his hair. Clutching at his shoulders. It’s taken him no time at all getting you to the point where you’re trembling and taut.

All the air leaves your lungs when he buries two large fingers into you. Your hips cant into his mouth on their own and he moans. Bob wraps an arm around your hips and presses down on your lower stomach to hold you in place.

You feel the pain smear beneath his warm palm. You were dying to see it. You hoped there was a handprint- his handprint- that disrupted all the lines and swirls of color that he’d decorated you with. Something that was distinctly him.

You were wearing his art and now you’re wearing him. The evidence of this moment in time on your skin.

His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.

You needed more.

“You cock, Bob, I need your cock,” you pant, tugging at his hair.

He meanly sucks your clit into his mouth in a way that has you crying out and jerking against him. You love it, you love him.

“God, I love it when you beg for me,” he licks into you again, “Sweetest sound in the world.”

Bob drops a sweet kiss on your clit, it’s a stark difference to the filthy way he’d been using his mouth on you. He rises to sit back on his knees between your parted legs.

He looks so good kneeling above you the way that he is. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. That knot behind your bellybutton twists tighter because you did that to him.

He unzips his jeans and tugs them down low enough to pull his hard cock out.

It’s pretty enough to be featured in a gallery, you think to yourself, even in your desperate haze. It’s long, thick, perfect and yours.

Bob smirks when he notices you admiring him, pumping himself slowly a few times for your viewing pleasure.

The only time Bob Floyd was ever a show-off was when he was in bed.

He grabs your thighs and pulls them over top of his own, so that yours are draped over his obscenely, and then he thrusts easily into you.

You gasp at the sensation of being so full of him. It always takes you a minute to adjust to his cock, no matter how many times you’ve taken it now. His thumbs make little circles along your hipbones as your body relents and yields to the size of him.

“There you go,” he says, rocking into you, working you open, “Just needed this cock, didn’t you?”

You whimper your agreement. Your hips tilt into the pressure like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Wanting to show him how much you can take. You know you’ll never get enough of him.

He fucks into you at a reckless and unrelenting pace. You’re high off the feeling of seeing Bob like this, that you’re the one who gets to see him unreserved and uninhibited. He has your hips gripped so tightly, keeping you closer than close. And when you clench around him, you’re treated to a wrecked groan.

Your skin prickles with desire and the feeling of paint drying on you. His cock is hitting just the right spot inside of you and you know you won’t be able to hold off for much longer, not with the way he’s grinding against your aching clit.

Bob’s eyes glued to the spot where you two come together. You’re on full display for him. He watches the way you stretch and spread around him with every deep thrust with the same appreciative gaze that he admires his favorite artists.

It’s under his river blue gaze that your orgasm swiftly sweeps you away. And with your back arching and thighs quaking around his, you give yourself up to the endless current of it.

You know he’s close when his hips start to stutter.

Bob pulls out of you and wraps his large hand around his slick-shined cock and works himself with rough, purposeful strokes.

This time he paints you with himself, his come covering your stomach.

The only sound in the room is the two of you breathing hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Bob huffs, raggedly, taking in his handiwork, “You’re my masterpiece.”

You’re covered in paint and come, but you’ve never felt more beautiful than you do right now as he looks down at you in awe.

“Did you remember to sign your work this time?” you ask, out of breath but teasingly.

“I think I left my mark, darlin’,” he says, with well-earned smugness in his voice. You can’t help but giggle. He flops down next to you, throwing his arm over his eyes, “Goddamn.”

You prop yourself up onto your elbows to look at yourself.

“Baby, I think you gave Jackson Pollock a run for his money.” You grin widely when he lets out an amused snort. “Wait, where’s your camera?”

He passes it to you, the fondness in his eyes makes your chest feel warm. You scooch in close to him and hold it up above your heads, the camera flashes when you kiss his flushed cheek.

That picture is the first one that gets put up in the new house, the one the two of you chose together when he asked you to marry him six months later. Followed by the soft green landscape that now hangs above your shared bed.

It’s your favorite picture of the two of you, happy and in love. You can just see a hint of the cloud he’d painted on your shoulder.

That night Bob had decorated your body with the place he loved best.

He gave you the sky and he made you his world.

Happy birthday, Ames! Your gift will be mailed eventually, it really was a lesson in chemistry, lol! Enjoy a Bob fic just for you in the meantime!

A big, bigggg thank you to the Bob Babes/Lew Crew girlies! @callsignspark and @attapullman I appreciate you two so much for being such ultimate hypegirls! And thank you to @theharddeck, you helped me out of my writers block and I've been so excited to write this since we talked about it back in January!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #robert bob floyd fic #bob x you #bob x reader

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 7 months

Text

“Love you a little too much.”

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ oof this one’s a rollercoaster

Chapter 4: Can’t Pretend

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, fighting, tiny bit suggestive, plot progression, reader can’t understand her own emotions, reader lore

FIC MASTERLIST

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“… Then, who– who am I to you?”

There it was. The question you feared the most.

You expected it somehow: Miles' confusion. What you didn't expect was for him to bring it up.

You were a mess, no matter how put-together you seemed to mostly everyone. You panicked too much; uptight, as your mother would describe you. A strange fear of being vulnerable. Your father always told Antonne that his vulnerability would emasculate him, and through that, you solidified a belief of being apathetic just to please your old man.

So your emotions and feelings were mostly caged inside you, festering like rotting meat with its stench lingering in your system.

But for Miles, it was nothing like that at all. It was a fragrant feeling, like flowers budding in the darkest corners of your mind. But you couldn’t pinpoint what the feeling was— like, favor, attraction maybe— but love?

“What kind of question even is that?” You try to laugh, swatting his shoulder teasingly. “You’re.. Miles Morales.”

“I’m being serious r’now, ma.” He deadpans, brows furrowed and jaw tense. You skip a breath, feeling your heart racing out your chest. You shake your head, looking away. “I-I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

You could sense it. His disappointment— without even the need to look at him.

You were too familiar with the glare.

It's like the question stripped you bare and dragged you through snow and ice. It was unfamiliar to you, who was always so prepared with a scheme behind your back to shield yourself. That was the real you; capable without the help of others, functional even in the worst moments.

But Miles was different, and that was the worst. You allowed yourself to fall, and it was so unlike you to feel the need to have someone— you were too used to being the one who was needed, not the one who was needy.

He calls out your name, and it echoed like a warning call.

"Please answer me.”

"Miles,"

"I just want the truth." He interjects. "I don't want to play these games no more. I'm sick of it. I always feel like I'm deluding myself into thinkin that something's there, that maybe I'm not actually being a dumbass, and that maybe, just maybe,"

He then pauses to look at you.

Don't say it.

"... Maybe—"

"Miles—"

"Maybe you might like me too." He cuts you off. “Because I like you. I really do.”

No, you don’t. Please don’t say that.

A silence. Deafening, striking, and nerve-wrecking. Miles watched you stare into the emptiness, yearning for an answer. He catches a flinch, a twitch of a brow, and a gentle gasp. Your pretty lips part, eyes narrowing as your jaw hung open.

You never cared for love, never once had a heart in need of mending. You believed it was incapable, entirely, for someone to genuinely love you— so before the start could even begin, you could already foresee the end. It always ended the same way: unanswered texts, undisclosed conversations, and blurred out endings you never really bothered to cleanly fix. You thought it would be the same for Miles. Your perfectionist nature never really had to second-guess the outcomes of such situations, yet now you were sitting there, without a plan in mind.

But it’s not like you wanted to fall for him— you just believed he wouldn’t fall for you back.

But why?

You’d always thought it’d be reasonable for you to be unlovable, but for the first time in your life, you questioned your own rationality.

Why do you think like that?

Why do you, the befitting epitome of a people pleaser, think you're unworthy of love?

It was like you were a seven-year-old again, tugging on your father's sleeve to show him a drawing, only for him to glance at it and nod before returning to his work; A twelve-year-old, bursting into tears at the sight of the large C scribbled on your exam— not because anyone was going to hit you, but because you could already envision your mother's unsatisfied glare burning into your skin; a fourteen-year-old, who was never openly praised by your parents once in your life, hearing your father say that he's proud of you for the first time.

Maybe you believed it when they told you that you weren't enough,

Or maybe you were raised to think that you had to work hard in order to be loved— so being loved unconditionally seemed unfair to you.

No. Nothing was yours for free. So this seemed like a trick.

“So?” He plucks you out of your thoughts. “Can you please say something– anything?”

You try to speak, but nothing escapes. Suddenly, all the wit you had was taken from you. Despite the whir of thoughts spiraling in your mind, all you could ever answer was a simple,

“I’m sorry, Miles.”

You hear him sharply inhale. “Why are you apologizing?”

Words are harder to find when even you don’t know what to search for.

“I—I don’t know.” You stammer anxiously. “I-I don’t know what to tell you— I don’t know what to reply. What do you want me to say?” He looked at you, indefinitely frustrated. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, and it was messing with your mind. Though he stared expectantly, you had nothing on your lips, yet a million words in your mind.

“Aren’t we friends?” You stupendously replied.

“What was that?” Miles snaps. “What the hell are we? Friends?” He repeated in a whisper. “Is that all you think of me?”

Your eyes begin to burn as you looked at him, watching him frown and straighten his lips. You try to scoot closer, but he leans back, avoiding your touch. Though you call out for his name, he simply grimaces— like he was horrified of you.

Like your mother did that night. Wide-eyed, heaving. That night, you’d spent the hours getting an earful from your mother who’d shattered half the things in her room. It was always something about what you said.

There you realized, the coinciding looks of betrayal was the reason why your mother’s face was overlapping with Miles’.

“Well.. Aren’t we?” Friends..?

“Do friends flirt with each other?” Miles snapped. “Do friends sneak out on school days in the middle of the night just to see each other? Do friends dance tango together in sum abandoned subway?— do, do friends do all that shit?”

At the peak of his outburst, Miles wholly softens at the sight of your saddened expression.

Yes. Friends do all that shit, it just so happened that Miles fell for you. Hard.

You watched as he stood up to leave, leaving you bewildered. You couldn’t handle the sight of him leaving like this— it was beyond your sanity. Unconsciously, you reach out for the hem of his sleeve, tugging ever so slightly. Pensively, you managed to finally choke out a reply.

“Hold on.”

His silence plucks your strings. Slowly, you pull your fingers away, instead opting to stand up yourself to face him. Your gazes meet, his head ducked down to meet your height. “Why are you doing this, Miles? You’re being unfair.”

“Me?” He seethed. “I’m the one being unfair?”

“Yes, you’re being unfair.” Your teeth click from your grit. “Just because I can’t give you the answer you want means you can walk out on me like this.”

He scoffs, a smirk drawn on his lips. “Oh, you’re the one lying to yourself, but I’m the one being unfair?” Miles shakes his head in derision. You struggle to contend, faltering from his words. “Lying to myself? I’m not–“

“You’re lying to yourself.” He reiterates with much force. “You’re fuckin’ lying to me and yourself— and I literally just told you not to fuckin’ lie. Talkin shit about us just being friends— sure! Maybe I was just imagining shit, maybe I looked too much into it, and maybe you’re not actually all that into me, but, ma, I know you more than you think.”

The way his voice lowers into a whisper at the final sentence sets something aflame within you. Still, you swallow all what’s stuck in your throat, lilting your head back to heighten your chin.

“You think you know my feelings more than me?”

“You think you know all about your feelings?” He countered. “Friends my ass. You know all bout the kind of shit you pull, ma?” Miles steps forward, eyeing you meanly. “You’ll tell me we’re just friends, but then you’ll flirt and pull me closer like we’re not— and I’ll fall for it over and over again. Then, you’ll spit shit like this, tellin me that we’re only friends n all that, but when I get angry, you’ll tell me I’m being unfair.” With each step he takes, you find yourself further cornered into the wall.

“You think I’m being unfair?” He snickered. “If I’m unfair, you’re a fuckin’ liar, ma.”

Your brow twitches. “Oh yeah? If I’m such a fucking liar, then why the hell are you still here? I’m just gonna fucking lie anyway— why even bother listening to what I’m gonna say?”

His gaze hardens. “You still don’t get it, do you?” He skims over your expression in an attempt to read you.

“Don’t get what?”

Miles stares.

“Just tell me the truth.”

Your gaze narrows as you teemed. “I am telling you the truth.”

“What truth?”

This bastard and his smart mouth.

Miles’ fingers flicker over the tips of your hair, like he was trying to find the outline of your shape in an attempt to fathom if you were real, but it was enough to steal the breath off your lungs.

“Do you really only see me as a friend?”

Rather than a question, it came off like a warning.

“Yes.” You reply, but your head wagged in denial.

“… Tsk. I don’t believe you.”

You feign offense, rolling your eyes. “Then don’t.” You spit, turning to grab your backpack. “If you don’t want to believe me— then I’ll just leave.” And you begin to pack.

“Aight, leave then.” He provokes. You pause just to glare at him, but you start throwing your stuff inside angrily, flinging the strap over your shoulder.

“Keep playin’ these games, ma. Keep lying to yourself.”

You head towards the chain-link fence with a heavy heart.

But his words cling onto you like glue.

Am I lying to myself?

You wouldn’t risk your entire reputation just for one boy alone, nor would you go through great lengths just to see him over and over. From buying a burner phone just so you wouldn’t get tracked, to faking band practice just so you’d get to see him—

No. You wouldn’t do that just for any boy.

Before you could even open the door, your pace comes to an utter halt. With the air thick and cold, the floor beneath you seems to crumble while you take your time to decide. You pivot your heel and head back with a frown etched on your lips. Miles stood there, like he’d been expecting you to come back. It fueled this sort of unimaginable feeling within you— one you could now finally recognize. As you finally closed the inches between the both of you, you look up with dampened eyes.

“What?” He huffed.

“We’re friends.” You flatly state with a cautious finger. “Really, if you’re going to be upset about that, that’s your problem. Not mine.”

Miles wickedly smirks.

“Okay. Say that again.” He inches his head closer to yours as though to mock. “Look into my eyes and say that shit again, mami, say it with your full chest that we’re just friends.”

“We’re—“ You’re caught off-guard with the way he looks into your eyes. “We’re just friends.”

“Can’t fucking hear you.”

“You fucking—“

“Again, ma.”

“Fuck you.”

You latch your hand over his collar just to pull him down to your level, pressing your lips against his in the heat of the moment. It comes off rough, almost vicious, but the taste of his lips hooks you in entirely like an addiction. Miles inevitably melts into the kiss, hands ever-so-cautiously trailing up your waist just to hold you closer.

For a moment you pull away, gasping for air while murmuring something into the wind. With a single hush, Miles cups your cheeks and pulls you in once more, stumbling as you arch your toes, desperately reaching for him. Your lone finger trails down the nape of his neck, causing him to gasp in between the kisses. He leans into your height, bending just to prolong the taste of you.

And when the two of you part, the two of you gasp for air with simultaneous breaths.

An outcome of your irrationality. You’re bound to fucking die at this point.

That’s the thing about love. You can’t pretend.

You swallow, slowly retreating from what you’d done. You looked at him, wide-eyed, the realization hitting you hard like a truck. Though you falter away, Miles held onto your hand tightly. “Oh, fuck nah, you ain’t leavin' without us talking bout this.” Only then, he gently drags you close just to press his forehead against yours. “Please, please, please,” He starts. “Por favor, stop runnin away from me, [Y/n].”

You struggled with a whimper. “Miles, we can’t—“

“Why can’t we?” He whispers. “We ain’t friends no more. This makes us more than that— friends? Yeah, fuck that, and fuck you if you’re going to say that shit after kissing me.”

He’s right. You’re being unfair to him and to yourself.

It doesn’t make sense: your emotions as a whole. Your feelings were fighting against your rationality, your character, but in a sense, it was still too much like you.

In his desperation, he pleads. “No puedes comprender? Which language do I have to speak just to drive it into that damn head of yours? Mujer, moriría por ti. I would die for you.”

I would die for you.

You’d never once had someone willing to waste away their life for you just like that. Everyone’s too busy caring for themselves, and your world revolved around meeting the needs of others rather than your own.

Ah, now you’re a mess again, just like that day you met.

Beneath all that rain, when you first met him— Miles couldn’t see it at that time: the tears running down your cheeks and the smile you were faking. Then, you could hide it seamlessly, but now that mask was cracking like marble from the slam of a hammer.

How could someone be yours for free? Was the world fucking with you?

It was what you’d always wanted— but you couldn’t trust it so easily. You feared that all of what would follow after your happiness would be despair.

“Can’t you at least tell me?” He desperately pleads. “Why? Why? Por favor dime porque.”

“Miles— I,” You struggle to begin. “I-I don’t know how to do this. I’m a mess, and I’m not.. I’m not a good person, not as good as you think I am… I’m not the greatest person out there.”

“Do you have to be the greatest person out there?” He sighed. “The fuck am I going to like about the greatest person out there? I want you, and that makes you perfect enough.”

“But Miles, why?” You squeeze his hand. “Why me?”

“Why you?” He furrowed his brows. “The fuck you mean by ‘why you?’, you being you alone is the reason why I fucking like you.” Miles takes your hand, pressing his lips against the flat of your knuckles. “Who else can it be other than you? Dumbass. Yo soy tuyo, and even if you can’t be mine, I’m yours.”

A confession. His confession— and now you’re a gaping mess trying to process all of his words.

“Just answer me this one time, and on god, I’ll leave it alone.” He vows. Miles then placed his hand beneath your chin, angling you to look up at him.

“Do you like me, ma?”

You nod.

“… I like you.”

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dystopicjumpsuit · 26 days

Text

The Plant Prowler of Pabu

A/N: I’m scared that Pabu is going to be toast after this week, so I wrote a little fluff to make myself feel better. Also, this is the first time I’ve been able to finish a fic in six weeks, so… yay me!

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (GN)

Rating: T (but MDNI as always)

Wordcount: 2.1K

Warnings and tags: mild language; fluff; a kiss; spoilers for The Bad Batch season 3

Summary: Exploring the island during his first morning on Pabu, Crosshair encounters a mastermind of botanical crime: you.

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Whoever said, “It’s darkest just before dawn” had clearly never woken up to go for a walk before sunrise. Even if Crosshair hadn’t had enhanced vision, it would have been easy for him to navigate his way down to the beach of Pabu in the dim half-light. Hunter had wordlessly watched him exit the Marauder, pretending to still be asleep, but Crosshair knew that his brother would have drawn his vibroblade in a flash if he’d even glanced sideways at Omega.

Crosshair didn’t exactly blame Hunter for his caution, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. The squad had arrived on the idyllic island the previous day, and Crosshair was immediately swarmed by a horde of curious locals. With Hunter determined to keep Crosshair in sight at all times, there had been no escape from their onslaught of hospitality, and by the time the celebrations had died down, Crosshair had been clinging to the tattered threads of his patience and sanity.

It was a hell of a thing to go from barely speaking to anyone for months on end to suddenly being plunged into the midst of a vibrant and chaotic crowd of nosy spectators. He’d escaped to the Marauder at last and pretended to sleep, keenly aware of Hunter’s eyes on him. He’d spent enough time under the microscope in the past several months, though, and he was ready for some privacy.

And so it was that he found himself wandering down the empty terraced walkways of Pabu, making his way to the shoreline in the pale gloaming. He didn’t encounter a single soul as he walked—barring the ubiquitous moonyos that seemed to frolic across the island at all hours. Pabu was the sort of place that seemed too flawless to be real. Too flawless to last.

Not quite as flawless as it seems on the surface, he acknowledged as he turned down a path that snaked through one of the sections of the island that had yet to be rebuilt after the catastrophic sea surge he’d heard about countless times at the welcoming party the previous night. The buildings had been reduced to rubble, and judging by the weeds sprouting in the cracks of the walkway, the locals tended to avoid this particular part of the island.

Perfect.

The gentle breeze off the ocean was chilly, and he told himself it was the reason his hand trembled more than usual that morning. He shoved both hands deep into his pockets as he navigated the last few levels before he reached the beach. As he stepped onto the sand, a gust of wind buffeted against him. It was bracingly cold, and it smelled like salt and aquatic vegetation and wet earth, and he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and focusing on the sensation.

When he opened his eyes, a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision had him snapping his head to the side. He froze. A figure meandered slowly down the beach, sticking close to the bottom of the hill where the lush foliage grew thickly right up to the edge of the sand. He was certain you had spotted him, but you didn’t immediately acknowledge his presence.

He watched for a moment as you paused and stooped down to examine one of the plants, then carefully plucked a few bunches and laid them in the basket you carried. Bizarre. What the kriff was this person doing out here so early? Nothing innocent, that was for damned sure. Why would anyone sneak down to such an isolated stretch of the beach at this obscene hour if they didn’t have nefarious intent?

Aside from me, obviously.

He squinted slightly. Even with his enhanced eyesight, it was dark enough, and you were far enough away, that it was difficult to make out your features, but he was reasonably sure you hadn’t been at the party the night before.

Hmph.

He turned and walked the opposite direction, away from the person who’d had the audacity to interrupt his solitude by getting to the beach first. Better not to get involved.

Crosshair took a different route the next morning, arriving at the beach just as the sun rose. As bad kriffing luck would have it, you were exiting the beach just as he arrived, and your paths inevitably intersected. He braced himself for a conversation, but you simply met his eyes and nodded quietly as you passed him.

He suppressed a sigh of relief. Stepping aside to make room for you to pass on the narrow trail, he couldn’t help noticing that your basket was filled with a variety of neat bundles of leaves and twigs. Odd, but your hobbies were none of his concern. Even if they did involve herb rustling and grand theft shrubbery.

He continued his path down to the shoreline and wandered along the water’s edge, staring out at the horizon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see your solitary figure making its way up the steep slope and into Lower Pabu. He was now completely sure that you’d not been at the welcoming party, nor had he encountered you in the village. It wasn’t that surprising; after all, hundreds of people lived on the island, and he wasn’t in any particular hurry to meet them all—or any of them, if he were honest.

Of course, he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Wrecker had flatly refused to allow Crosshair to isolate himself, while the gregarious mayor Shep Hazard seemed equally dedicated to the twin causes of thrusting Crosshair into the community and plying him with as much fruit as he could eat in a lifetime. He was starting to feel a tiny surge of violence every time he saw a jogan fruit.

On the third day, Batcher woke up with Crosshair and scrambled out of the Marauder, bounding ahead of him down the ramp and then turning to wiggle her entire body in anticipation as he followed. He let the lurca hound pick the path that morning, not bothering to hide his thin smile at Batcher’s endless curiosity and enthusiasm. She crisscrossed the walkways incessantly, sniffing and exploring, chasing the moonyos playfully down the hill, investigating every nook and cranny of the village, and easily running five times the distance that Crosshair traveled on their way down to the water.

The beach was empty this morning, to Crosshair’s relief. At last, some peace and quiet. Or at least as quiet and peaceful as it could be with Batcher rocketing back and forth across the wet sand, grunting and huffing as she charged into the surf and back up to Crosshair, crouching into a bow as she tried to entice him to play with her. When he didn’t immediately comply, she took off chasing a flock of seabirds, scattering them into the air in a cacophony of indignant squawking.

She chased the birds down the beach, barking joyously as she splashed through the surf. When the hound disappeared around a bend in the shoreline, Crosshair sped up slightly, not wanting to risk Omega’s wrath if anything happened to her pet on his watch. As he rounded the bend, he was greeted with a most unexpected sight: Batcher was lying on her back on the sand, writhing with delight as you rubbed her belly.

Your basket was overturned, and all the neat little bundles of herbs were strewn across the sand. It wasn’t hard to deduce the instigator of such carnage. Batcher spotted Crosshair and immediately jumped up and shook the sand off herself before rushing to greet him.

“Down,” he said sternly as she jumped up and swiped at him with her massive paws.

She dropped obediently, and trotted along next to him as he approached you. You’d already begun picking up your fallen bundles of leaves, and he quickly bent to assist you.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled.

“No harm done,” you replied, shaking a bit of loose sand out of the bundles before you dropped them into your basket. “They all get washed before I hang them up to dry anyway.”

“So you’re not just engaging in botanical heists for the adrenaline rush?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, it really gets the blood pumping,” you replied, deadpan. “My day just doesn’t feel complete without a little horticultural larceny.”

“I can see you like to live on the edge,” he said with a tiny smile. “The Plant Prowler of Pabu.”

“And I would have gotten away with it, if it weren’t for a mysterious stranger and his meddling dog.”

He liked you. Damn it.

Crosshair didn’t see you for the next several days. He assumed you’d moved your criminal enterprise elsewhere on the island, and after the team returned from Barton IV, he didn’t feel the same need to escape the Marauder as he had previously. Still, he wasn’t sleeping particularly well, and after an excruciatingly restless night, he slipped out of the ship not long before dawn and wandered aimlessly down the streets of Pabu until he found himself in the unstable section he’d discovered on the first day.

As he picked his way through the ruins, he spotted movement two terraces below, and he grinned. Forcing himself to walk casually so you didn’t suspect how pleased he was to see you, he sauntered down to your level, only to find you ripping weeds up from between the fragments of pavement with uncharacteristic abandon.

“What did those plants ever do to you?” he asked.

You must have spotted him before he arrived, because you didn’t even flinch at the sound of his voice.

“Invasive species,” you replied. “I try not to over-forage, but in this case, I’ll make an exception.”

“And I thought your crimes only extended to vegetational theft,” he drawled. “I had no idea you’d escalated to floral murder and agricultural vigilantism.”

“The hero Pabu needs,” you said with a smile that had no business being as charming as it was, considering you were currently covered in a fine layer of dirt and assorted bits of leaves and twigs. “If this plant gets established on the island, we might never be able to eradicate it. It will outcompete the native plants and could cause significant disruptions to the ecosystem.”

“How altruistic of you,” he remarked drily.

“Not at all,” you laughed. “It also happens to be delicious.”

Crosshair stooped down and pulled one of the plants up by the roots, examining it closely. “It’s on sight, then.”

“Exactly. No mercy.”

As the first rays of the sun appeared on the distant horizon, you packed the large bundles of weeds into your basket, then stood and dusted your hands off on your trousers. You stretched a bit, clearly a little stiff from your labor. Impulsively, Crosshair spoke.

“Want to watch the sunrise with me?” You looked surprised at his offer, and he cleared his throat, looking awkwardly away. “Or do you turn into a meiloorun if you stay out past dawn?”

“Yes,” you said. “I mean, no. I mean, yes, I’d like to stay. No, I don’t turn into a meiloorun.”

You bit your lip and stared down at the bundle of weeds in your basket, poking at it ineffectually as you muttered something unintelligible under your breath. Stifling a laugh, Crosshair climbed up onto the crumbling half-wall of a destroyed structure and extended his hand to help you up after him. You scrambled up and sat down next to him, gazing out at the tranquil ocean as the sun began to paint the high clouds in brilliant shades of gold and pastel.

“Not a bad view, is it?” you asked quietly.

“Definitely worth waking up early,” he replied, watching your face as the light caught on your cheekbones and reflected in your eyes.

Without making a conscious decision, he lifted his hand and brushed a little loose dirt off your cheek. His damned hand trembled, and he mentally cursed. You didn’t seem to notice the slight tremor, though—or if you did, you didn’t say anything about it. Instead, you turned your head slowly, grazing your lips across his fingertips as you met his eyes. It seemed the most natural thing in the galaxy to continue to trace the line of your jaw until his hand curled around the back of your head.

Your lips were soft and warm in the cool breeze, and you tasted like sea salt and dew and something he didn’t quite recognize. Something new. He liked it. You leaned into his kiss, and when at last it came to its natural conclusion, he drew in a shaky breath.

“Hi,” he whispered. “I’m Crosshair.”

---

Want more Crosshair? I have another Crosshair x Reader ficlet here!

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal @reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose @totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell

#crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #crosshair fluff #crosshair bad batch #gn reader #bad batch fic #tbb season 3 spoilers #tbb spoilers #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

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quin-ns · 7 months

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Mastermind (JJ Maybank x Reader)

I was so sure that I had a request for jj + mastermind by taylor swift from when I was taking those prompts… and now I can’t find the ask. either it disappeared or I’m delusional but I wrote it anyway so here enjoy

ik it’s a normal fic during the horny month but I’m stuck on literally everything soooo

The first night you saw him, blonde hair and a winning smile, you knew you wanted him. It felt like fate that you would end up in the same room at the same time. You were from different sides of the island, you might’ve never met him if it weren’t for the fact that the party invite went to everyone.

That first night, you talked to him for hours. Like a piece on a chess board, you maneuvered yourself into his purview. You weren’t going to approach him outright, no… no, you had to be clever about this. You made it a coincidence that you ran into him, and talked with him as if you hadn’t already planned what you were going to say.

Maybe he didn’t realize you were a Kook, or maybe he didn’t care, but he flirted with you. You were sure of it even before he touched your hand, but that made you certain. The fuse had been lit, and there was no putting it out now. Even before you knew his name, you knew he was going to be yours.

Although, you liked having a name to put to the face that resided in your dreams. JJ didn’t quite leave your thoughts, even in sleep.

It wasn’t accidental when you ran into him again a week later. You heard from someone, who heard from someone else, that his best friend was throwing a kegger at the Boneyard.

You guessed since it was his best friend, JJ would be there, so you made sure you were too. And you were right. Good thing you’d worn your favorite dress.

When he saw you, you smiled, and JJ walked right up to you. You’d left a lasting impression, just like you had planned.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted like he was trying to be casual, but he seemed excited to see you.

“Hey—JJ, right?” you asked, as if he hadn’t been on your mind for days.

“You remembered,” he replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

You smiled and teasingly said, "Do I get a prize?”

It made him laugh, and it was just as lovely as you remembered.

“You do, actually.” He extended a red solo cup towards you, and you raised your brows a little, impressed. “First place name-rememberer…” he trailed off as you took it, face scrunching a little. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”

You chuckled, then sipped your drink. You saw the way he watched you, knowing what you were doing. When you lowered your cup, you couldn’t help but smirk.

“I wouldn’t say lame. I’ll go with cute.”

The relieved smile confirmed everything you knew as you began to lay the groundwork for this relationship.

At the kegger you flirted all night, just as you had the first night, and when he asked for your number, you gave it to him.

From there, the dominos cascaded in a line, just as you had set them up.

You saw him around, and you met up when planned, and soon enough, you were official. It was all exactly as you had designed.

Months of pure happiness with JJ passed, and you knew you’d made the best decision of your life. Not to brag, but felt like a mastermind.

Finally, one night, you decided to tell him on a whim.

“That first night we met… I knew I wanted to be with you,” you confessed, wrapped in JJ arms as you laid facing one another. You smiled a little to yourself. “And I… I made sure it happened.”

A smirk spread across JJ’s face. That look told you everything; he knew the entire time.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #outer banks #obx #quin-ns writing #request #(or maybe not I have no idea)#crazy? i was crazy once

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

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MASTERMIND — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n confesses to her boyfriend, Trevor, that she planned the night they met and knew they would end up together.

specific lyrics: “once upon a time, the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned. you and i ended up in the same room, at the same time.” and “what if i told you none of it was accidental and the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me. i laid the groundwork and then just like clockwork, the dominoes cascaded in a line. what if i told you i’m a mastermind? and now you’re mine.”

notes: i feel like all 3 of this weeks midnights fic list works have been so short and i hate that but i also feel like they didn’t need to be long? idk if that makes sense but like, i feel like if they were longer then they would suck and be too much.

**FALL OF 2021**

i don’t want to be here. i was a last minute invite after my sister, Liz, got sick and could no longer make it. her boyfriend, Carson, needed a date, so Liz offered for me to take her place. platonically, of course. so, now i stand next to Carson, in an uncomfortably itchy evening gown. at some charity event for his work, watching as people mill about the ballroom.

“i’m gonna go grab a drink.” he tells me.

he’s gonna leave me alone in a room full of people i don’t know? where i already feel awkward and out of place?

not wanting to seem needy, i just nod, watching as he walks away. heaving out a sigh, i lean my back against the wall behind me and continue my people watching. i look towards the entrance, watching as a group of guys i immediately recognize walk in. i freeze up as i scan the group. as a hockey fan, i would’ve appreciated if Carson had told me that the Anaheim Ducks would be attending. i’m about to let my shoulders slump in relief when i see him. Trevor Zegras. my favorite hockey player and the most gorgeous man i’ve ever seen. he looks up from his phone as he walks and our eyes lock. he throws a half smile my way and then catches up with the rest of his team. he says something to Jamie Drysdale before they break off from their teammates and walk towards the food table.

i tear my gaze away from him and glance toward Carson, who’s locked into a conversation with a coworker at the bar. looking back towards Trevor, i contemplate in my head.

this may be my one chance to charm him.

i’m gonna do it.

i walk over to the food table and saddle up right beside him. grabbing a plate, i then reach for the same strawberry as him at the same time, making our fingers brush.

“oh, so sorry!” i feign surprise, and look up at him. his blue look into mine and he smirks.

“it’s no worries.” he picks up the strawberry, setting it on my plate. “for the beautiful lady.”

i feel the blood rush to my cheeks and i smile back at him.

“thank you, handsome gentleman.” i tease.

“does the beautiful lady have a name?” he asks, turning his body to face me completely and i mimic him.

“i’m y/n.” i introduce, sticking my free hand out for him. he clasps it in his, shaking.

“i’m Trevor.”

**SUMMER OF 2023**

i lay in bed, watching Trevor’s reflection in the mirror through the open bathroom door as he gets ready for the day.

i’m so in love with this man. i need to come clean, because what if he hates me for it and leaves? if i wait any longer, it’ll hurt me more.

“what if i told you that us meeting wasn’t accidental?” i blurt the words out before i can even think about what i’m saying.

“what?” he asks, turning and walking out, back into the bedroom.

“when we met. at the charity.” i clarify, looking down at my hands. “i planned us meeting. i mean, i didn’t know you would be there, but when i saw you, i planned it in my head. i went over and i faked getting that strawberry so our hands would touch and then i faked not knowing who you were. and then it cascaded from there.”

Trevor is silent for too long for my liking and i finally look up. but his reaction isn’t what i was expecting. he’s standing in front of me with a wide smirk on his face.

“i was waiting for you to confess.” he chuckles and my face contorts in confusion.

“what?” i’m so confused. he knew?

“honey, i knew that night.” he tells me.

“you did? how?” i ask, sitting up in the bed.

“i saw you leaning on the wall, remember? it was written across your face that you knew who i was. i’m glad you made the first move though, because i thought you were stunning. still do.” he takes a seat in front of me on the bed. taking my hand in his. “you’re my little mastermind.”

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #anaheim ducks #midnights fic list #faithlynn’s writings <3 #babydollmarauders

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piratefalls · 1 month

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thanks to @onthewaytosomewhere and @kiwiana-writes for the tags! also taking the open tag from @taste-thewaste! here's some more psych au (aka what if i told you i'm a mastermind?) where alex and henry first meet! i did not intend for this to be a pining!alex fic, but...there's a lot of pining. like, a whole ass forest. tags under the cut!

He hears someone clear their throat behind him and he’s shocked into taking a step forward. Instead of doing the smart thing and finding another place to sit, Alex walks over. “Hello, excuse me,” Alex says. “You’re in my seat.” The man looked up and every thought Alex had in his head immediately fled the premises, chased off by striking blue eyes. “Am I?” Alex hears the man’s crisp accent and thinks to himself, God, I am not your strongest soldier. “Yes, actually, you are.” “Are you,” the stranger replies, eyes narrowed in mock offense. “One of those people who comes to the same restaurant every day, orders the same thing, and sits in the same place?” “Uh, no.” He is. “But I’d be willing to let it go if you tell me your name.” He seems unsure at first, but after a long second he gives Alex a cautious smile. “Henry.” “Nice to meet you, Henry,” Alex replies, sticking his hand out. “I’m Alex.” Henry’s hands are soft. Alex is never going to recover from this.

gentle tagging @forever-fixating @nocoastposts @ninzied @alasse9 @firenati0n @sparklepocalypse @jellibuns @priincebutt @duchessdepolignaca03 + an open tag! if you take it, please tag me!

#rwrb #firstprince #kelly writes a psych au #wip wednesday #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue

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softtdaisy · 1 year

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Hi everyone and welcome to my December fic recs! I think it’s the month I read the most since I started doing my fic recs. I'm really happy to share with you the beautiful stories I have read. Remember to reblog and/or comment your favorite fic, author needs support

SUMMER RECS | SEPTEMBER RECS | OCTOBER RECS | NOVEMBER RECS

PETER PARKER

A lifetime of firsts by @thisisawonderfulusername

Christmas lights by @magicaloneandmystery

Winter blues by @literaila

It’s always you by @spidernerdsblog

A lesson in do-overs by @literaila

You’re Biggest Fan by @ksastar

The City Light’s by @simplymurdock

ANDREW GARFIELD

Andrew Garfield talking about his girlfriend for 8 minutes video by @astranva

CHARLES LECLERC

Butterfly-wing breath by @schuvries

Champagne Problems by @lord-sharl-perceval

Headphone game by @violetszone

Take two by @scuderiamh

Tis the damn season by @vxrgilvandxjk

She will be loved (Lewis Hamilton x reader) by @boredmadamoiselle

Pain in the ass by @f1midnights

Tape of hell by @risenwrites

PIERRE GASLY

Love is a losing game by @sufferingnow

NYCK DE VRIES

Until I found you by @scuderiamh

Concession by @schuvries

STEVE HARRINGTON

Family Holiday by @forever-rogue

Evergreens, Sparkling Snow by @choreosmania

May the best man win by @huntingingoodwill

I Never Find Out (‘Till I’m Head Over Heels) by @choreosmania

Fall for you by @mellifluousart

Move Like Water by @crappymixtape

JOE KEERY

You got the moves by @sweet-villain

What If I Told You I’m A Mastermind by @limxrxncx

#reading #fic recs #Andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #peter parker #Peter Parker x reader #charles leclerc #Charles leclerc x reader #pierre gasly #Pierre Gasly x reader #steve harrington #Steve Harrington x reader #joe keery #joe keery x reader #nyck de vries #Nyck de Vries x reader

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buttercupjosh · 1 year

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Unexpected Love (the 4 times Cale surprised you + the 1 time you surprise him)

(Gif credit by @9116)

word count: 3,240

warnings: none

Genres: Strangers to lovers, fluff, self insert

A/N: I decided to step a bit out of my comfort zone a lot for this story. I participated in @antoineroussel’s Winter Fic Exchange and this is my story for @wildrangers, written with the extremely talented Cale Makar. I hope that you like it. I’m sorry in advance that it kinda speed runs a bit but I just wanted to try something different. I also decided to challenge myself by writing some dialogue for the first time in years so please bear with me if the conversations aren’t that great. Title doesn’t come from a specific song/place. There’s a reference to Glittery by Kacey Musgraves feat. Troye Sivan buried in the story. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

Recommended/optional listening: Glittery by Kacey Musgraves feat. Troye Sivan

“What if I told you none of it was accidental? And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me. I laid the groundwork, and then, just like clockwork, the dominoes cascaded in a line. What if I told you I'm a mastermind? And now you're mine, it was all by dеsign.” -Mastermind by Taylor Swift

Although it was snowing outside, you were melting down inside of your apartment. You lost your wallet and the last place you were before coming home was the Target parking lot. You called the store to see if someone had turned it in and were getting ready to go back to the store to check when your doorbell rang. A tall blonde boy wearing a black puffer and a maroon Colorado Avalanche hoodie stood in your doorway, holding your wallet. He introduced himself to you as Cale and you thanked him for bringing it back to you. Before Cale left, you asked him why he brought your wallet to your apartment instead of mailing it back to you or returning it to the store. He explained that your apartment was on the way to his so he stopped by to give it to you. You were taken aback by Cale’s kind gesture. He had no idea who you were and yet he drove out of his way to bring back your wallet, with everything in it. You offered Cale gas money (which he refused) and pleaded with him to let you repay him somehow for what he did.

“Well, you can pay me back by going with me to watch the Nutcracker. I really want to go check it out but none of my teammates want to go with me”, Cale responded.

“Actually, that’s something that I’ve been wanting to do as well and I would love to go with you. Are you free next Saturday?”, you asked.

“I have a game next Saturday but maybe we can go next Sunday’s 6 pm showing?", Cale replied.

“That works for me.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“I would hope so since you already know where I live.”

Cale chuckled at your words and you exchanged numbers before he left. It really wasn’t an issue for Cale to bring you back your wallet. Sure, like you had mentioned, it would have been easier to return it to the store or mail it back to you (which is what he would have done if you weren’t home). Cale was glad that you were there and that you agreed to go with him to see the Nutcracker. It was something that he had really wanted to check out for a while but the guys on the team weren’t into it and Cale didn’t want to be set up again by the WAGs; he had even considered going to watch it alone. Thankfully, he met someone new and Cale was looking forward to seeing you again.

————————————————————

Just as you had agreed to, Cale picked you up right on time for your outing together. You and Cale didn’t really know each other well enough to call it a date but by the end of the evening, you both knew it was one. Before going to the venue, you both agreed to go to dinner first. Over the meal, you both learned about each other and shared stories about your lives. You thought it was fascinating to hear about life in Canada, a place you’ve never been to, from someone who was born and raised there. Cale felt the same way about you, hearing you talk about your life and your career as a social worker. He admired that you enjoyed helping others. You and Cale also shared a mutual experience of attending college and you both shared stories from that chapter in your lives. Cale even felt comfortable talking to you about some of the things he studied in his psychology courses since you studied social work.

After dinner, you and Cale headed over to the Denver Center for Performing Arts. The Nutcracker was amazing and spectacular; it exceeded both of your expectations. The center was close to the public ice rink, so after the event ended, Cale noticed that your eyes lit up when you saw everyone skating. He asked you if you wanted to go ice skating. You hesitated to go because you don’t know how to ice skate and you can barely even roller skate. You did not want to embarrass yourself skating in front of someone who won the Stanley Cup. Despite these feelings, Cale offered to teach you how to skate if you wanted to try. It was not everyday that a professional hockey player offered to teach someone how to ice skate so you agreed to it. You paid for the skate rental since Cale paid for the tickets to the Nutcracker and you split the bill for dinner. Cale was nice enough to tie your skates for you. You were so nervous to step out of the ice but a newly familiar voice reassured you.

“Just hold onto me, I got you. If you fall, I’m right here to pick you up. I promise you that you’ll be okay. If you don’t like it at any point, we could leave.”

You took Cale’s words to heart and following his instructions, you reached out to him and shakily touched the ice. Cale turned around to face you and he gently guided you through the basics of skating. It took some time for you to get it right and there were plenty of moments when you had trouble maintaining your balance but you were relieved that Cale was so patient with you. As time passed, you started to become more comfortable on ice skates and eventually let go of him, but remained close by in case anything happened. However, Cale didn’t want you to let him go because he liked being physically close to you. At one point, you felt confident enough in your skating ability that you challenged Cale to a race around the rink. You decided that the winner would choose the next outing you did together and the loser would pay for the hot chocolate when you were done skating.

You were a bit bold in what the winner won, even though you weren’t fully sure if Cale had wanted to hang out with you again. You both agreed to the conditions and you were relieved that Cale didn’t offer a different option for the winner. You and Cale began to race from one end of the rink to another. Due to the fact that this ice rink has tons of skaters and wasn’t as well maintained like the one at Ball Arena, Cale accidentally fell on the ice. With your assistance, Cale got back up. You both agreed to leave and went to a cafe nearby for some hot chocolate.

“Are you sure you’re a Stanley Cup champion if you fell down like that?”, you joked. Again, you made Cale laugh. He liked that about you, how witty and funny you were.

Despite him falling, you technically won the race and decided that your next outing with Cale would be going to look at the Christmas lights at the Denver Botanical Gardens that upcoming Friday evening. The outing at the Botanical Gardens was beautiful and you and Cale took plenty of photos to keep as memories. Cale really enjoyed spending time with you, even if you didn’t get to see each other as often, due to his busy schedule. Even though he was primarily occupied with hockey, Cale still kept in contact with you more frequently, getting to learn more about his newfound friend.

Christmas was fast approaching but you were unable to see each other before the holiday. You and Cale had made plans to see each other once he got back from Calgary over the short holiday break. You weren’t sure what to get him since Cale never really mentioned anything that he had needed or wanted and you had only known each other for a short time so you settled on giving him a Christmas card with a Starbucks gift card inside. However, close to Christmas, you got a gift in the mail from Cale.

Hope I got the right color. Happy Holidays, y/n

-Cale

You were shocked when you opened the package. Cale had somehow found the rare In The Weeds vinyl variant of Folklore by Taylor Swift. You had mentioned to Cale once that you were looking for a Folklore vinyl to complete your record collection but you didn’t think he would go as far as getting it for you. You were so thankful for Cale; you hadn’t known each other long but you knew that you really had a good guy on your hands.

————————————————————

You met up with Cale for lunch after he returned to Denver from Calgary so that you could give him his Christmas card. Although you felt inferior by giving him something so simple, Cale was very appreciative for the gift because it was thoughtful and came from you. As the time inched closer towards the new year, Cale invited you to the Avs’ New Years Eve game and party; you thought it was nice for him to include you in a team event. You were just Cale’s friend so you didn’t feel comfortable sitting with the WAGs at the game. You brought along one of your friends, who would spend the rest of the holiday with her boyfriend, to keep you company. You had watched hockey casually before but this was your first time attending an actual game. You had a good time; they didn’t win but it was okay.

After the game ended, Cale and the rest of the team migrated towards the New Year’s party at JT and Sydney’s place. Due to the fact that it was a holiday and he knew that he could work it off later, Cale decided to drink a little bit to ring in the New Year. By the time the clock started to wind down in the final minutes, he was already giggly and tipsy.

“Hey, y/n, I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss before. Would you like to be mine?”, Cale asked you.

You weren’t sure if he was asking you to kiss him because he was under the influence or if he was showing his true feelings. You had gone out together more than once but neither of you expressed those hangouts to be dates (even though they lowkey were). You and Cale considered each other friends but you did have a little crush on him. You didn’t want to hurt Cale’s feelings either (even if he wasn’t sober) so you agreed to kiss him. You chanted the countdown with everyone. When everyone yelled “Happy New Year”, Cale leaned in to kiss you on your cheek. Yep, even though he wasn’t fully sober, he was still being respectful. You laughed after he pulled away. Cale enjoyed the sound of hearing you laugh. You had wanted to kiss him back on his cheek but you decided against it. You weren’t sure how Cale truly felt about you sober and you didn’t want to muddy the waters of what you had by doing such a thing.

The following morning, you got a phone call from a certain rosy cheeked cutie, asking you to be his romantic partner. That one phone call changed everything for the better between you and Cale. You were so relieved to hear that he liked you back and his drunk actions did convert to sober thoughts.

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Spending time with Cale felt like the world had stopped, time didn’t seem to pass and that time together turned from months to years. Your relationship felt like something out of a love song. Of course, there were expected highs and lows, losses and gains, disagreements and mutual understandings, tears shed and kisses shared all in between. Cale was right there by your side through it all. Things just fell into place for you both and it was almost like you were meant to be together, like it was part of some plan schemed by a mastermind. You didn’t have any evidence but it was like Cale had designed different ways for you to keep falling for him and you would continue to fall deeper and deeper into him and his love.

After being together for some time, you and Cale had decided to make the huge step of purchasing a house. You had found the perfect new build in Cherry Creek and were excited to spend your future together in this home. One weekday evening after Thanksgiving, you and Cale decorated the Christmas tree. You were both busy with work so you couldn’t push it off until the weekend. It was nice to have this time together, even if it wasn’t much. You had shared with Cale a fun family tradition; as you hung up an ornament on the tree, you had to say one thing that you loved about the other person. You knew deep down that Cale loved you but it was nice to hear him say the things that he loved about you; his presence in your life lit you up inside like a glittery Christmas tree. It meant a lot to Cale to hear from you specifically the things that you loved about him; he loved the way you decorated his heart with your kindness, selflessness and compassion. As you continued to hang up ornaments and string garland around the tree, you had quietly started to wonder about when Cale would propose. You had been together for over a year and you were already in the process of getting a home together. To you, Cale was the man of your dreams and he was worth the wait. To Cale, you were the one he wanted to marry and he was so grateful to have you as part of his life. He was glad that you had adjusted well to his lifestyle as a hockey player and being thrust into the spotlight by being romantically involved with him. Cale knew that the love you had shared together could not be replicated with anyone else. You both had this strange, unexplainable effect on each other.

Realistically, you had thought Cale would probably propose to you on Christmas when both of your families were in town. There was no guarantee that you would close on the new house and be moved in by then so Christmas was going to be hosted at the apartment. Cale knew when it was the right time to propose and it wasn’t when you had expected.

Right before Christmas, Cale had gotten a call from the real estate agent for you to meet at your new home to officially close on the property. You both had gotten dressed in your nicest sweaters since there would be a photographer there to take photos of the realtor’s clients with their new homes and you drove together to the location of your new address. You had arrived and noticed that the realtor wasn’t around with the keys to the house. However, the photographer was there. Cale got a text from the realtor who said that he was running late. The photographer suggested you take photos while you waited. You and Cale had professional photos done together before so it didn’t hurt to add more to your collection. During the impromptu photoshoot, Cale got down on one knee, holding your dream ring in a box.

“Y/n, from the moment I met you, I knew you were someone special. I couldn’t have planned the way that we met but after I left your apartment that day, something in my heart spoke to me and I started making plans to pursue you and your heart. I’m so glad that those plans worked out. You are such a light in my life, I love that you’re so kind and you’re one of the most hard-working people I’ve ever met, you’re so beautiful, inside and out. You are my best friend and the love of my life. I love you so much. Now that I have you in my life, it’s hard for me to imagine it without you. There’s no one else in this world that I would want to wake up next to, fall asleep with and spend the rest of my life with. Y/n, will you marry me?”, Cale asked. Your suspicions about him were right after all. Overwhelmed with joy and with tears in your eyes, you accepted Cale’s proposal and were met with one of your favorite gifts: a kiss from your lover.

Unknown to you, Cale already had a copy of the key to your new house. As soon as you opened the door, you were greeted with cheers and hugs from both of your friends and family. Some of the guys from the team and their partners were there as well to celebrate this special moment for you and Cale. You also saw that there was food and some decorations for your engagement party. The realtor was also there inside, with the paperwork so that you could legally sign off as a homeowner. Putting pen to paper, it was officially done. You couldn’t quite believe it; you had started the day off as Cale’s romantic partner and you ended it by becoming new homeowners and Cale’s fiance.

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It was Cale’s first birthday as your husband. He came in late last night after an East Coast road trip and slept in late since the Avs had a few days off in between games. Cale looked so peaceful, deep into sleeping and snuggled up with your dog, Benny. You quietly slipped out of bed and went into the kitchen. You tried your best to not disturb your sleeping husband while you made pancakes for him. You knew that Cale always had some sort of surprise for you because he enjoyed seeing the joy that creeped across your face when he surprised you and this time, it was your turn to surprise him.

Cale knew that you weren’t an early bird at all and without an alarm, you could sleep through anything (including the apocalypse); you also tended to sleep in on most weekend off days. He was genuinely surprised to see you up before him. Cale was even more surprised to see that you decorated your shared home with balloons, streamers and a Happy Birthday banner for him. Sure, he had been surprised on his birthday before but it meant even more to him that you did this for him. You sacrificed your sleep to cook for him and to put things up instead of offering to go out to eat or hiring someone else to do everything. He didn’t care if you had got him a super expensive, special birthday gift or had even more surprises up your sleeve. Cale had all that he wanted for his birthday, right here, just feet away, dancing in the kitchen.

The one thing that wasn’t planned at all for Cale’s birthday was the snowfall. According to the weather forecast, there was a 40% chance of snow for October 30th and it was only in the upper elevations near the mountains. That 40% chance of snow turned 100% overnight and now all of Denver was blanketed in white. The unexpected snow on the ground meant that winter came a bit sooner than expected; it also meant that the days were going to get grayer and colder. Although the snow was here to stay, all it took for Cale was one look at you, his heart would get warm and it would all melt away.

#cale makar #colorado avalanche #cale makar x reader #cale makar imagine #cale makar fic #the winter fic exchange 2k23 #my writing #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #please read my story

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