#he's just looking for an excuse to kiss her.

[prettyfastcars]

the way you bend, the way you break - part 2 | Mob!Lando

Read part 1 here 

Summary: Lando finally has all that he wanted, all that belonged to him in the first place. But there’s always room for trouble, even in paradise. And it’s up to him to fix it all and do whatever it takes to make sure that if he can’t have you then… no one can. 

Themes: pregnant!reader, mob!lando, fluff, slight angst, smut, very mild gun kink, gaslighting, dark!lando, possessive!lando

a/n: come get y’all juice [throws this fic at you and runs away]

He woke up to something warm pressing into the side of his body. 

Snuggled up to him, so close like you were trying to find a way to hide under his skin. He smiled when he looked down and found you asleep, wrapped in your blanket and still seeking his warmth. 

He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, leaning into you as much as he could. He couldn’t exactly press his body completely against yours anymore because the bump got in the way. 

It had been two months since you two had left that mansion and that little town. And your bump was properly visible now. 

Speaking of the bump… He couldn’t resist shifting down to kiss it. “Morning, little one.” He whispered against it. The warmth of your skin was comforting so he nuzzled it and sighed. “Daddy can’t wait to meet you.” 

Then he felt gentle fingers running through his hair. He gave your bump one last kiss before he looked up and found you smiling down at him. 

“Hi,” You whispered, playing with his ridiculously soft, curly hair. 

“Morning, mama.” He reached up and kissed your face until you giggled and told him to back off because his stubble hurt. “Oh it hurts?” He kissed his way down your neck, his hands roaming all over your body, caressing you through the satin PJ set you wore before he began unbuttoning the shirt and lowering the shorts. 

He kissed his way down until he settled in between your legs, your body was still warm – hot rather – from being under the blanket and he couldn’t get enough. His fingers dug into the softness of your thighs as he parted them, bringing his mouth closer to where he desperately wanted to be. 

Kissing you through the thin excuse of an underwear you had on, he asked, “Is it still hurting?” He purposely let his stubble rub against your inner thighs, making you whine and moan as you squirmed under him. “Doesn’t look like it’s hurting.” He teased. 

Your fingers found their way into his hair and you tugged on it to shut him up. He smirked as he went along, letting you guide his mouth to where you wanted him. He licked, and sucked and teased until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you wide open for his mouth and preventing you from moving as he pinned your hips and legs down on the bed as he ate you out. 

This. This right here was his dream. Waking up next to his woman and then rolling over to taste her like she was there only for him to taste. Lando only smiled against your wet folds the louder your moans got. These peaceful mornings were what he lived for. 

But not everyday these past few months have been this peaceful. He still remembered the couple of days following the plane ride here… 

When you woke up on the plane, you immediately started panicking. 

“Baby, it’s okay. We’re just–,” 

“You had no right.” Were the first words you said to him. 

And it pissed him off. “Oh I didn’t? You’re mine, I have every right to do what I think is good for you. And our baby.” 

And then you argued. Big time. You said just the right things to make him mad and he acted like the overbearing, possessive man he was. The only way to get you to listen to him was to bend you over the nearest surface, in this case the bathroom sink, and fuck some sense into you. 

“You belong to me.” He murmured, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. Your mind was a foggy mess as he started rocking into you, making your front bump against the counter each time he fucked into you. “Say it.” He demanded. “Tell me you belong to me.” 

“I hate you so much right now…” you whispered, even as your walls clenched around him, unable to hide just how much you wanted him. 

His thrusts were animalistic, and rough. “I didn’t hear you.” He taunted, pulling his face away. His hand flew to your hair and he grabbed a fistful of it, and tugged on it, tipping your head back so you could see your reflections in the mirror. “I said tell me you’re mine.” His voice sounded menacing as he stared deep into your eyes through the mirror. 

You hated him. You hated how good he looked with that look on his face. His lips parted as his hips moved, burying his cock into you each time. You hated how good it felt to be bent over in front of him, all for him to use. 

You whimpered as he pounded into your core. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you. “I… I’m yours,” You whispered, gritting your teeth, losing this round. But vowing to not forgive him easily. 

You continued watching him through the mirror. He looked absolutely, devilishly handsome with his head thrown back, veins on his muscular neck prominent, eyes closed, his lips parted as groans escaped his lips. With that frown of pleasure he always had whenever he fucked you. 

“You better remember that, baby.” He growled. “You are mine. I love you, and I know how to care for you. So don’t fucking tell me what to do when it comes to you and our kid. You hear me?” 

You nodded despite the death stare you sent his way, moaning as he reached every single sensitive spot inside you. You felt a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in your lower region. You knew you couldn’t hold it any longer. 

And when your walls clenched violently around him. 

“You’re gonna cum for me, mama? Hmm?” He cooed, his voice laced with lust and desire. 

Seeing you didn’t reply, he tilted your head to the side a little. You couldn’t see his reflection anymore, not as he leaned in to kiss your parted lips before pulling away a few inches to spit into your mouth, then leaned in to kiss your swollen lips again. You moaned wantonly as he did, for a moment you forgot all about your anger. 

“Come for me.” He slammed his cock harder into you, and your eyes watered. He felt agonisingly good. It didn’t take much for you to come undone after that. Gushing out around his cock, walls pulsating around him as you came, hard.

He did too, right after you. “All fucking mine.” His warm load shooting inside you, as your body shook against the counter. He gathered you up in his arms again, kissing you as your body shivered and trembled. “I love you. I’m doing this for us, baby.” 

After you landed, he drove you to another one of his houses – though he called this one his main house – which was equally as grand as the one you used to work in. Once he showed you to your shared bedroom, you went straight for a nice, warm, long shower. 

And after that, you didn’t speak to Lando for two whole weeks. 

He tried everything. Sulked, apologised, begged, tried to buy you ridiculous things, begged some more. And it took two weeks of severe grovelling for you to finally accept his apology. 

He was glad you didn’t stay mad for too long. Although those two weeks of silent treatment from you hurt even more than the time he’d been shot twice during a crossfire. 

But he had you now, under him and squirming, moaning in pleasure just how he liked it. And this was perfect. His tongue didn’t stop teasing you until you were properly spent, grinding your hips against his mouth as you calmed down after a gentle, but intense orgasm. 

He kissed along your inner thighs, which were still trembling. But then he groaned in annoyance when he looked up and couldn’t see you because of the bump. “Kid’s getting in the way already,” He murmured, kissing his way back up. “I can’t even see your face when I’m down there now.” 

You giggled at the tone he used. “And whose fault is that?” 

He nuzzled your neck again, kissing it as he held you against him. “I love you.” He whispered into your ear. “It’s time to get some breakfast in you, mama. Let’s go.” 

You sighed in bliss, savouring one last moment in bed with him before you got out of bed and went through your morning routine while he made his way downstairs. This had become a new part of your routine now – him making breakfast each morning. 

You shook your head as you showered. You couldn’t believe this was your life now. New home, new place, new doctors, new staff members who waited on you at all times during the day. You had everything one could want. People all around the house who were ready to bring you whatever you wanted. Multiple cars with chauffeurs ready to take you wherever you wanted. 

Anywhere you wanted, you thought, but not to your hometown. 

Lando didn’t like it when you even mentioned the little town you’d just left. It didn’t have much to offer, but it was still where you were born and raised. You didn’t miss it enough to want to go back and live there. No. But you did miss it enough to want to know how everyone was doing back home. 

Your friends and family. 

You’d tried bringing it up just a few weeks ago… 

“Maybe I should go back once.” 

“What for?” He pulled you against him, arms wrapping around you, kissing your forehead as you both stood on the balcony just outside your bedroom, watching the sun rise. 

“Just to say goodbye properly. I… maybe they’d understand why–,” 

His arms tightened around you before he reached up to cup your face in his large, warm hands. “They won’t.” The finality in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. “If they wanted to talk to you they would’ve reached out by now, don’t you think?” 

Lando knew full well that he was leaving out the part where he threatened your friends and family to never reach out to you if they wanted to keep their heads on their shoulders. He had people watching them at all times. He wasn’t taking any risks. You were his now, and no one was gonna take you away from him. 

That ended that conversation. And you never brought it up again. 

You did think about it even now as you got ready for the day before making your way downstairs. Maybe, you thought, you could check up on them without physically going there. 

– 

A couple of days later, Lando came home after a particularly annoying day and all he wanted was a soothing hug from you, a couple of kisses, and maybe you’d let him bury his face between your thighs again. 

But he walked into the house and immediately, he could tell something was wrong. The guards were all in their places, armed as usual. So that calmed him down a little. Yet, a gut feeling told him something wasn’t right. 

As he made his way up the stairs, he took his phone out and checked the security cameras. Everything was fine outside, the guards walked around on alert as per usual. Then he checked the cams inside his home, trying to find you. And he frowned as he saw you in the corner of his library, typing furiously on the keyboard as your eyes remained glued to the screen of his computer. 

Weird. It was rather late, you should’ve been in bed. He tried zooming in to see what was displayed on the screen but he couldn’t see it. Damn. He should get new, better cameras. 

But without wasting any more time, and seeking to soothe that feeling in his gut, he rushed towards the library. And his heart sank as he kept an eye on the security cam footage while he approached the library. 

He watched how you visibly tensed up the moment he was sure you could hear his footsteps approaching. He watched how you clicked around in panic, typing even faster the closer he got to the library doors. 

He put his phone back in his pocket the moment he pushed the doors open and stepped into the room, finding you at his desk. The screen illuminated only your face while the rest of the room remained fairly dark. 

“Hi!” You said, sounding a little too cheerful. Sounding fake. Fake smile, fake happiness upon seeing him when he knew damn well you were just frowning right before he walked into the room. 

He hated it. The mask you put on just to make everything seem normal. He clenched his jaw before he asked, as calmly as he could, “What are you doing? It’s late, baby. Let’s go to bed.” 

“Yeah,” You gathered the blanket you had wrapped around you. “I was just looking into colour palettes. For the nursery, remember?” 

He nodded slowly, watching how you didn’t move from the desk. “Right now, though? It’s the middle of the night. And why were you in the dark?” Like you were doing something you shouldn’t. 

He noticed how you tensed up the moment he began walking towards you. He watched how you tried to discreetly move your hands towards the touchpad again. But he was quicker. 

And it only took him a moment to lean down so he could see properly, understand, and process what you’d been doing, or what you were about to do. He looked away from the screen and looked down at you. You avoided his eyes and that only pissed him off even more. 

“Care to explain this, mama?” 

Something shifted then. His tone, his demeanour, his presence – all of it getting darker. 

You looked away, sighing in defeat. “I just wanted to know.” There was no point in trying to hide that you’d been secretly emailing a friend of yours from back home. There weren’t too many emails exchanged, only a couple going back to a few days prior where you asked about the wellbeing of your parents and other friends. 

You didn’t risk texting because… that would be too easy for him to find. You couldn’t call either, he would know because his loyal guards watched each move of yours. So emails it was. You’d delete them each time. But this time it seemed you’d been caught before you could. 

“You couldn’t trust me?” He asked. Part of him was relieved that your friend had told you that all was well back there. This meant that your family was behaving like he wanted. 

“It’s not that.” 

“Then what is it?” He grabbed the back of the chair and slowly turned it so you’d have no choice but face him. “Why’d you go behind my back like this? And why lie to me?” 

You looked up at him. Piercing eyes staring down at you as the computer screen illuminated only half of his face. His hands remained on the back of the chair so he was closer now. His scent drove you insane. Damn hormones! Lately all you ever wanted to do was be close to him. His scent… it did things to you. This was unfair. 

“I just wanted to confirm that–,” 

“Why not just trust me?” 

You couldn’t help but say, “Trust you? After you kidnapped me and told me my family didn’t want anything to do with me? I’m supposed to just trust you?” You didn’t mean for it to come out like that but there was no going back now. 

“Kidnapped?” Lando scoffed. “Bringing you home where you belong isn’t kidnapping.” 

You sighed again. “I’m not saying I don’t want to be here with you, Lando. But I needed to make sure all was well at home.” 

“And is it?” 

You nodded sheepishly, looking up at him to find him clenching his jaw in that way that made you think of sinful things. 

Thank fuck, he thought, that your friend kept her mouth shut and didn’t give you any details about just how well things were at home. How your family and friends constantly had his men around them, keeping watch and notifying him of each of their moves. At this point, Lando knew exactly how many times your family went grocery shopping or to the park. He had his people keeping eyes on them at home, at work, following their cars – there was nothing he didn’t know about. 

“Am I not enough for you?” He asked, standing up straight so he could look more menacing as he stared down at you still sitting in front of him. 

Only his stance just made your body throb even more. He looked godly from this angle. Like some dark, tortured, tragic hero in his all black suit which fit him like a second skin. That metal chain hanging from his neck. His pretty eyes on you. You had to take a deep breath and shoo away all the filthy images that filled your head. 

You rolled your eyes at his question. “Don’t be dramatic.” 

“Dramatic?” He scoffed. “You’re reaching out to your friends, talking to people behind my back, then lying to me about it and I’m supposed to just what, do nothing?” He accused. “For now it’s emails, what if in the future some day you decide you want to leave me? Will you expect me to just stand there, not be dramatic, and do nothing?” 

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you tried to stand up but he carefully pushed you back down on the chair. Leaning down so he was staring into your eyes, he said, “Do you want to leave me, mama? Is that what’s going on here?” 

“You’re blowing this out of pro–,” 

He cut you off by pulling his shiny, silver gun out and placing it gently on the desk. Right where you both could clearly see. Within arms’ length, but definitely closer to you. 

His voice dropped as he leaned closer, lips bruising against your cheek as he ignored your side of the argument and said, “If you are thinking of running then you better use this and make sure I’m no longer breathing before you do.” He pulled away to look at you. The proximity, the danger in the air, the inevitable tension, it made you breathless. “Because if you run, I will chase.” He whispered, “And you won’t like what I do to you when I catch you.” 

Your heart was pounding, mind racing and the filthiest of outcomes flooding your brain. Still you asked, “You think I would hurt you?” 

He smirked and he’d never looked more unhinged than he did in that moment. It scared you, about just as much as it excited you. He glanced down at his gun. “Not worth living if I can’t have you anyway.” He whispered. 

“Don’t say that.” You shook your head, finally reaching out to hold his face in your hands. “I need you. We need you.” 

That made him look down at your bump, partially visible now since your little PJ top didn’t cover all of it. He dropped to kneel in front of you, bending to kiss the bump again like he always does. 

“I’m sorry, little one,” He whispered, nuzzling the warmth of your skin. “Daddy has to be mean to mama for a bit. She’s being difficult, you see?” Then he looked up at you and said, “I don’t wanna fight.” 

“Neither do I.” You stood up this time, taking a few steps just to put some distance between you and him so you could think straight and take a deep breath. “I just don’t understand why the thought of me being connected to what used to be my home bothers you so much.” 

He slowly turned to the desk and grabbed his gun. None of that scared you. You were safe with him, you were certain of that. So you watched him. Watched how he slowly turned to you and said, “Because there’s the possibility of you leaving me and going back there.” 

You sighed in frustration. “There’s always going to be the possibility for every single thing. That’s how life works! So what, you’ll wipe the entire town out of existence? Burn it to the ground? Turn it to nothing but ash? All so I won’t even have a home to go back to if I ever leave you?” 

He gave you that same unhinged smirk from earlier. Then said, “Don’t tempt me.” 

“Lando.” You warned. 

“What?” 

“What the fuck do you want, huh?” 

He moved. 

He walked towards you and for each step he took, you took one back. Until your back met with one of the book shelves and he was right in front of you. “I’m getting tired of this conversation.” 

You spat back, “I’m getting tired of your face.” You lied. 

He chuckled, then looked down at the bump between you two, caressing it as he said, “You hear that, little one? Mama’s being a brat.” He looked up at you and said, his voice deeper now, “But don’t you worry, daddy will deal with it.” 

It all happened too quickly. Him getting your clothes off, kissing you to distract you as he walked the two of you over to the nearest couch. You bit his lower lip in annoyance till you almost drew blood, and he just chuckled before kissing you even deeper as he carefully pushed you down on the couch, hovering over you supporting himself with one hand while the other one held his gun right above your face. 

“You’re being difficult again, baby.” He murmured, gently lowering his gun and brushing the barrel against your lips, then slowly dragged it down your chin. “You drive me fucking crazy.” He dragged the tip of his gun all the way down your trembling, naked body, down your thighs and back up till he pressed it against your wet folds. He chuckled when he saw you grinding against it. “Does it feel good? Hmm?” He asked. “Does it make you feel all powerful knowing you piss me off more than anyone ever dares to and can get away with it? All because I love you too much to actually punish you? Does it, baby?” 

You frowned at him, still annoyed. “Shut the fuck up.” You didn’t stop grinding against the cold gun. You whined when he pulled it away from your skin and tossed it to the side. 

He had a mean smirk on his face, calm despite everything. You studied his handsome face for a moment. Your emotions were shifting from guilt to annoyance to lust, and your heart fluttered when he whispered, “Spread those legs for me. Show me what’s mine.” 

The crude casualness of his words would’ve surely made you blush if you weren’t dripping wet and burning with desire. And regardless of how pompous you thought he was, how authoritative and overbearing – and no matter how annoyed you were – you did just as he asked. 

You held his stare as you spread your legs so he could settle in between them. Lando eyed you with a mischievous smirk. “There’s my good girl. Now hold yourself open for me.” He said, then lowered his mouth, watching as you carefully spread your folds open for him. “Fuck…” He murmured as he kissed your knuckles. 

You couldn’t see his face – because of the bump – but his warm breath against your fingers, your wet skin, the soft touch of his fingers as he spread your wetness around, followed by his tongue, all of it had you moaning as you arched your back, leaning into his mouth even more. 

You could see his hips moving while he ate you out, grinding into the couch and for some reason that made you whine even louder. “Lando …” you whimpered. 

He smirked against your inner thighs. “Don’t you dare come just yet.” 

You whined, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth to keep yourself from moaning too loudly. Lando smirked when he craned his neck and saw how you were struggling to keep quiet. He knew just how sensitive your body had become these days, how badly you craved his touch at all times. And right now, he noticed the way your body squirmed under him, and he knew you too well so he could tell that you were so close to coming. 

��Baby… please,” You whined, releasing your swollen lip from your teeth. Your body felt hot, and you needed to just let go and come. 

“Please what?” He taunted, shamelessly ignoring your pleas. “Is it frustrating? Wanting something so badly and having someone else just threatening to take it away? Hmm?” He slid his tongue up and down your slit, careful not to make you come and enjoying the way you growled through gritted teeth. “This is how it feels, baby. Everytime you argue and bring up that little town. The thought of you leaving me here and returning there…” He playfully bit your inner thigh. “This is exactly how it feels. Like I’m a fucking madman ready to do whatever it takes just to have what I want. Which is you next to me. Always.” 

You let out a loud moan as he kissed your throbbing clit ever so gently. “I’m sorry,” You caught yourself whispering. “I’ll… I’ll let it go. I promise. There’s nowhere else I would rather be.” You lifted yourself up on one elbow and looked down at him. He looked up at you, with his lips more pink and fuller than usual. “I want to be here, right next to you. Always.” You promised. 

He seemed proud of that. Nodding gently, he said, “See how easy that was, mama?” He kissed his way up your inner thighs again, “I love you.” He murmured, looking deep into your eyes as if daring you to not say it back. 

You couldn’t resist him. “And I love you.” You melted right under his touch as his tongue gently licked down your folds. 

His hand found yours and he laced his fingers with yours while his other hand rubbed up and down your thigh as he pushed his face further into your wet core, making you whimper in pleasure. Your legs had begun shaking just a little as he took his time and dragged his tongue up and down your slit, teasing your sensitive spots with his warm and wet tongue. 

“Please…” You moaned pathetically. 

Then heard his merciless chuckle as he pulled away, kissing his way up your body again. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth eventually, making you gasp and moan. He quickly placed his fingers where his mouth had been earlier, teasing your clit before shoving two fingers inside of you and stroking your walls so slowly that you were well past caring if the guards could hear you moaning. 

He pulled away just for a moment, to quickly take his suit jacket off, then his shirt. He tossed both somewhere on the floor and bent down to kiss you again. He kissed down your neck, leisurely taking his time as he unzipped his pants. 

“Please,” You whined, sliding your fingers into his soft hair. “I need you. Now.” You spoke through gritted teeth by the end, tugging at the roots of his curly hair. 

“So needy.” He murmured, loving it actually. It made his ego inflate knowing his woman needed him so badly. “I’m here, baby. “I’m gonna take care of you,” He whispered as he lowered his underwear just enough to free his cock. He was rock hard this whole time. It was a fucking miracle he was able to even wait this long. 

With a slow, steady push, he slid his cock into you. You shuddered, moaning as you felt all of him filling you up. Lando held back his moans and growls as he felt your warmth wrap around him so perfectly. He clenched his jaw as he relished the feeling of being inside of you, finally. 

“This what you needed, mama?” he asked, looking down at you, and gently grabbing your face, making you look up at him. 

You just stared at him with parted lips, breathing heavily. Lando smirked, pulling out just a little before pushing back into you again. You closed your eyes and moaned, arching your back, your bare chest pressing against his. 

Lando leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth while he began moving in and out of you. You whined senselessly, overwhelmed by how good he felt deep inside you. 

He leaned down to push his face into your neck as he lifted one of your legs and hooked it to his waist, pushing himself deeper inside you. “Fuck…you’re mine, you hear me?” 

You nodded. 

“Only mine…” Lando quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before. “My woman,” He spoke, his voice thick and deep with lust. “Mine.” He stared down at you with a handsome and arrogant smirk on his face. “Say it.”  

“I’m yours.” You repeated, eyes getting droopy with desire. 

Lando caressed your cheek with his knuckles, his other hand holding him up above you. He looked down at you with nothing but love and fierce adoration in his eyes. “Come for me.” 

You let the pressure build inside you, before simply letting go. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, Lando kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came. You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even as you came. 

You felt your second release approaching even before you could recover from the first one. 

You felt your mind getting foggy again. His lean body hovering above you as he fucked deeper into you, as much as he could while still being careful not to hurt you – it was a new fear of his, that he would somehow hurt you during sex. “Come for me again, baby.” He growled, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him. 

Your body trembled as you came for the second time, walls tightening around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you until he came as well. “Fuck, baby…” His voice cracked in a way that had you clenching even harder around him. 

You were gasping for breath after that, and Lando twisted you both on your sides so you could rest for a while. He knew all too well that you had the habit of drifting off into deep sleep right after some good sex. 

Kissing your forehead, he murmured, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ll get us in bed in a while, okay?” 

You nodded, burrowing deeper into his warm, muscular chest as you let yourself pass out in bliss. 

— 

You began snoring softly in no time, so he was in no rush to get you to move. He grabbed the blanket from before and made sure you were nice and warm before he carefully slid from under you and retrieved his phone from his trousers on the floor. 

Letting the back of his hand gently caress your cheek, and bending down to kiss your bump one last time, Lando moved away from the couch and went towards the desk. Sitting down on the chair, he made a phone call while he kept an eye on what the screen displayed. 

Those damned emails. 

He smirked when he heard the person on the other end answer. He wasn’t calling to have a full conversation – not with you sleeping just a few feet away. 

“You know what to do.” He ordered over the phone. Then ended the call once the person on the other side confirmed that they indeed knew what he was talking about. 

He tossed his phone aside then closed the tabs on his computer. Deleting the emails before he did so. He scoffed, thinking about that damn little town which was being a pain – but not for long. 

He walked back to where you were sleeping. Kneeling beside the couch, he couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss your cheek. “My baby,” He murmured, letting his lips brush against your skin for a while longer. “I love you so much.” He couldn’t get enough of you. “I’m doing this for us.” He smiled, “You’ll understand one day. I’m just making sure that if ever I can’t have you, then no one can.” 

—

a/n: hi!! I won’t be writing any more parts for this story. I’ve been loving fics with open endings lately so yeahhhh (there will be more mob fics tho don’t worry <3)

#lando norris #mob!lando #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Safer to Kiss (part 2) - Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

read part 1 here!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 3236

Summary: the day after drunkenly kissing your best friend and coworker, Spencer Reid, the BAU catches a case. Lots of talking with other members of the team, general group dynamic chaos, and ✨Pining✨

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, normal Criminal Minds violence, maybe some mild cursing? Mostly just pining teehee

A/N: thank you so much to everyone who interacted with part 1! I am so pumped about this lil series, and part 3 is already started 🙈 I love love LOVE hearing from you guys, it makes me so happy and inspired to continue writing. 🥹 also not my gif, all credit to the owner bc LOOK AT HIS LIL FACE

————

Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Suddenly the three glasses of wine and 2 glasses of champagne were null and void, because you felt completely sobered by the time your mouth pulled away from his. The reality of the situation hit you like a bus - you, in a drunken stupor, had stupidly, idiotically, irreversibly kissed your best friend. Right on the lips. There was no excusing it as a friendly peck on the cheek.

Your entire face felt hot as you pulled away, and as Spencer’s hands retracted to his own space. You felt wobbly - okay, maybe you hadn’t sobered up - and when you were once again leaning against the railing of the stairs on your apartment building’s stoop, you blinked a few times.

Spencer blinked a few times, too, as if to process what had just happened. He’d tasted like red wine, which you saw he’d only had one single glass of tonight, and spearmint gum. The combination reminded you of spring.

Your best friend tasted like spring.

Your eyes widened, buggy, as if they might pop out of your head, and you opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Spencer spoke instead, with an earnest expression on his face. “Y/N-“

“Thanks for getting me home in one piece, okay, goodnight!” You rambled off, the words sliding off your tongue like they were on a luge, all blurring together into one, long megaword. You slid in behind the door and stumbled up to your unit before you could say another word.

You couldn’t believe yourself, replaying the moment on your stoop over and over as you locked the door, leaning against it and running your hand over your face. Spencer’s expression had been completely dumbfounded when you pulled away from the kiss. There was no doubt in your mind that he had been about to politely reject you, in that way that only he could do. I’m sorry, Y/N, but I think we’re better off as friends, he would say, simultaneously humiliating you and ripping your heart in half.

That’s why you’d cut him off, before he could say anything, before he could address the situation, before either of you had to acknowledge that it had actually happened.

You slept poorly that night, your anxiety getting the best of you. It was that look on Spencer’s face, how you just knew he was going to tell you in the kindest, most sensitive tone that he didn’t like that you kissed him. And your Nan’s voice ringing in your head - You’ll find someone someday, Button. You’ll be just as happy as your sister someday, Button.

You tossed and turned, and woke up with a violent hangover. All the coffee in the world was not enough to cure the aftershock of the night before.

Your stomach was in knots, a lethal combination of hangover ickies and irreversible mistake anxiety, and as you took a cab to work, you leaned your head against the seat behind you.

You flashed your badge to security and boarded the elevator to ride up to the sixth floor. The doors opened to reveal Penelope Garcia, clutching a stack of folders to her chest, waiting for you.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” Penelope flashed a smile, then grabbed you by the wrist, practically yanking you along behind her as she headed towards the conference room. Your head was pounding and while you loved Penelope with all your heart, in that moment, you wanted to throttle her. “You look horrible. We’ll discuss that later, and don’t even think about trying to internalize it and brush me off. I might not be a super magic genius psychic profiler, but I can tell when one of my love-bugs has had a wild night and I want details. Unfortunately for you, darling, you have a case. Hotch asked me to pull you directly into the conference room. Everyone’s waiting.”

Usually, when Penelope rambled on like that, you were able to keep up. In this weakened state, however, the words hit you like someone throwing putty against a wall, and it took a minute to process. You found yourself standing in front of the closed door of the conference room, with slackened posture and narrowed eyes. “Okay,” you managed to murmur before Penelope dragged you behind her, into the conference room.

You could feel the team’s eyes on you as you slumped into the empty seat. You avoided eye contact with everyone, especially Spencer, projecting to the room that you were not to be asked about your disheveled appearance and obvious headache. You spared a glance at Spencer. He looked perfect, as per freakin’ usual, with a purple button-up dress shirt and a dark tie over it. He sat up straight in his desk chair, as if last night hadn’t affected him in the slightest. You hated that.

Hotchner cleared his throat. “Let’s begin. Garcia?”

Penelope’s eyes lingered on you, fluttering from you to Spencer, and you watched as she seemed to resist the urge to say anything. “Ooookay,” she spoke, drawing the word out as she stood before the table. She used the TV remote to present the case’s info on the monitor. “We’ve got a local case today, my fine furry friends. Three men killed in three weeks,” you took a drink of the water in front of you as Penelope presented three driver’s license photos on the TV screen. “All bodies have been identified. Twenty-three-year-old Harvey Gibson, twenty-nine-year-old Kyle Moore, and twenty-eight-year-old Malcolm Greene. All three were found in alleys in downtown D.C, cause of death multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals.”

You choked on your water when you saw the last photo. Malcolm Greene, as in, Malcolm Greene, the guy you spoke to last night at the art gallery? You remembered spotting him from across the room, and thinking about how Spencer had said he’d gone on a date (albeit, an unsuccessful one) over the weekend, and you wanted to prove to yourself that you could be interested in other men. And then you’d gone over to Malcolm, spoke to him for an embarrassing two minutes and twelve seconds, and walked back to Spencer with a red face. And now he was dead?

Concerns about your relationship with your best friend aside, your eyes met Spencer’s across the conference table and the two of you seemed, for a moment, to fall back into your old dynamic, having a somewhat telepathic conversation with just your expressions.

That’s the guy…? Spencer seemed to say, his brows furrowed slightly.

A subtle bob of your head was how you responded. Yep, that’s him.

Spencer’s mouth formed a straight line, a mannerism that everyone around the table seemed to notice.

“Reid, Y/L/N, what’s going on?” Derek piped up, inclining his head to the side curiously. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

Spencer’s mouth opened as if he were about to spill the beans, but he paused, seemingly deciding not to rattle off whatever he was going to say. Instead, he gestured to you.

“Spencer and I went to an art gallery after work last night,” you sighed, feeling your cheeks turn pink. “I may have… flirted, briefly, with Malcolm Greene.”

Derek let out a low whistle, and you saw Emily and JJ share an amused look. Rossi was even cracking a smirk.

Only Hotch remained as stoic as ever. “How long did you speak with him?” He asked.

“Two minutes, twelve seconds,” you and Spencer said simultaneously, and your eyes snapped to his across the table. You swallowed the lump in your throat and somehow felt your whole face turn even redder.

“Some smooth-talker you are,” Derek snickered, and you shot him a glare. Penelope, standing behind him, smacked his shoulder. “Did you get his digits that fast?”

“I don’t really see how that’s pertinent to the case,” you protested, sitting up straight and crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s just like any other witness interview, Y/N,” Hotch reminded you calmly, shooting the rest of the team a warning glance. “Even the most minute detail could help.” He seemed to realize that you were humiliated, and that the rest of the team’s eyes on you were not helping the situation. “We can talk about it later,” he compromised.

“So, multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals, huh?” Rossi offered as a rough transition back to the topic at hand. Across the table, you heard Emily stifle a laugh.

“Yes, sir. All bodies were posed in a classic casket fashion, arms folded across their chests, eyes closed,” Penelope reported.

“Sign of remorse,” JJ noted, jotting it down on her pad of paper.

“Any cash missing from their wallets, or jewelry missing off their body?” Hotchner asked.

“No, sir, all wallets were found in the clothes of the victims, presumably where they had been kept untouched,” Penelope answered.

“So, not a robbery gone wrong,” Rossi concluded.

“The disposal of the bodies feels inconsistent with the cause of death,” Spencer pointed out, twirling his pen around his finger. His cadence was quick and pensive. “Multiple stab wounds to those particular areas of the body indicate intense rage at the time of the murder, disposing them in alleyways seems to be a choice of opportunity and convenience, but posing the bodies is a sign of remorse, like the UnSub suddenly realizes what he’s done and regrets it.”

“Do the victims have any friends or family in common?” You asked, crossing your ankles beneath the table.

“As far as my preliminary scans can tell, all three men were completely unrelated,” Penelope said. “The only common denominator is how they died and how their bodies were disposed of.”

“Not entirely,” Emily pointed out, standing up and using her pen as a pointer, gesturing to the three ID photos on the screen.

“Don’t these guys all look… strikingly similar?” Emily proposed. All men were white, with aquiline noses, dark hair, and dark eyes. “In fact, don’t they all look exactly like someone we know?”

You took in a sharp breath, just as Penelope let out a small gasp and Derek let out a soft chuckle. “They’re all pretty boys, like Pretty Boy,” Derek laughed.

“So our UnSub has a type,” JJ added.

Derek smirked. “The UnSub and Y/N both have a type.”

Your face turned bright red, and your jaw tensed. You felt Spencer’s eyes on you for a fleeting moment, and before you could say anything, Hotchner stepped in. “Let’s get going on this. Reid, JJ, and Morgan, I want you at the crime scene. Prentiss, Rossi, and Y/L/N, come with me to the local police precinct and interview family and friends. Garcia, too.”

There was an array of agreements murmured, and everyone began to disperse. You wanted to shake Derek by the shoulders for his little comment, especially after all the teasing you took when you realized the man you briefly spoke to last night was now dead.

You were on your way back to your desk when you felt a light touch on your elbow. When you saw it was Spencer, you bit the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk for a second?” He asked, and you shook your head.

Pointing pathetically to your desk, you responded, rather articulately, with, “The case…”

“Yeah, I know. The case. But, Y/N, we have to talk about last night,” Spencer said, looking down at you. Even though you were actually tall for a woman, Spencer still had at least four inches of height on you. Maybe five. “I mean, you just, like, escaped from me the first second that you could. Was it…?”

You furrowed your brows, confused as to what Spencer was trying to say. “Did you mean to kiss me?” He asked.

This was it. This was the out. He was giving it to you, whether he knew it or not. This was the opportunity to take it all back, to say it was a mistake. You could blame it on the wine, on your Nan’s phone call, on Malcolm - what was he gonna do, sell you out?

The chance to save your friendship with Spencer Reid was right there, and you stood there and you looked up at Spencer with your mouth open, words ready to spill out, when -

“Hey, Reid, you coming, man?”

Saved by the Morgan.

You saw Spencer’s jaw tighten, and he exhaled sharply. You were still frozen, unsure of what to say, of how to say it, so when Spencer simply frowned at you and then turned around to join Derek, you weren’t surprised.

You ran your hands over your face, still reeling, foggy from your hangover, thoroughly embarrassed from the entire situation.

“Y/N,” Rossi’s voice piped up, and you turned to see him with an arched brow. “C’mon, we gotta get going,” he gestured for you to follow him.

You sighed, your shoulders slumped, as you joined Rossi. You boarded the elevator with him, just the two of you, to head down to one of the Bureau’s black SUVs. “What’s going on with you?” Rossi asked, furrowing his brows.

In terms of group dynamics, David Rossi was like the team’s mother, in comparison to Hotchner, who was most certainly the patriarch of the BAU. You loved Rossi. He was kind, fairly level-headed, and he always stuck his neck out for the people he cared about. He also was pretty funny, and could make a killer lasagna. All those merits aside, you so did not want to talk about it.

“Not right now, Dave,” you shook your head, leaning against the wall of the elevator, running your palms down your thighs.

Rossi nodded understandingly, but you had an inkling he wasn’t about to just drop it. “I get it. Hungover, in a weird spot with Reid-“

“I’m not in a weird spot with Reid,” you corrected him, and Rossi smirked, knowing he had gotten you to crack. You shot him a (mostly) playful glare. “I had maybe a little too much to drink last night. And I maybe had, accidentally, perhaps…” you groaned, rolling your eyes at the idiocy of your actions the night before. “I kissed Spencer last night. It only lasted for, like, a minute, and right when it was over, I freaked out and went inside my apartment, and now things are just, like, weird between us. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, kiddo,” Rossi began, and you pursed your lips. He always hit you with a kiddo when he was about to tell you something you didn’t want to hear. “As a person who has been with many romantic partners-“

You feigned a gag.

Rossi just chuckled and continued. “I think you have to ask yourself - how do you want Spencer to react? Would you prefer to bury this and never speak of it again, or is this the catalyst you needed to finally tell him how you feel?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean, tell him how I feel?” You asked, playing dumb. Maybe Rossi was just grasping at straws.

“Oh, c’mon, kid, we’ve all seen how you look at each other. The only person who doesn’t know that you’re in love with Spencer is, well, Spencer.”

You felt your entire face flush. “You’re not serious,” you chuckled in disbelief.

Rossi looked at you and batted his eyelashes in a very feminine expression. The expression dropped and he said, “You make this lovestruck school girl expression at him at least once a day.”

“I do not!” You crossed your arms over your chest defensively, just as the elevator dinged, signaling your arrival to the Quantico lobby.

“Yeah, kid, you do. It’s pretty cute, actually. You’re like two lovesick puppies, chasing each other’s tails.”

“He does not think of me like that, Rossi,” you insisted indignantly, your voice taking a more hushed tone as the two of you walked at the same quick pace through the lobby, and outside towards the garage of Bureau vehicles.

The sun hit your face just as Rossi spoke again. “You’re such a good profiler, Y/N. How do you not see it?”

You decided not to dignify Rossi’s opinion with a response. Rather, you just shook your head and continued towards the garage to meet up with Prentiss and Garcia.

When you arrived at the police precinct, Garcia set up in the conference room, and you, Emily and Rossi each took turns interviewing the next of kin for the victims. You interviewed the mother of the first victim, Harvey Gibson.

An art student at Georgetown, steady boyfriend for three years he planned to propose to on Christmas, no criminal record, called his mother every other day. He was a good kid. Comforting his mother, walking her through all the questions the police had asked her three weeks ago — it was always a lot. But with your head already fuzzy and your mind on other Reid-related things, by the time you escorted Mrs. Gibson out of the police station and thanked her for her time, you felt heavy.

It didn’t help when the team reconvened about an hour later, sitting around a conference room at the local police station. You could tell Spencer’s eyes were floating to yours every so often, but you refused to meet them. You were working right now. You couldn’t let the revelation with Rossi distract you from your job.

Penelope took the lead, addressing the entire team. “So, our original thought of the three victims being unrelated actually has turned out to be incorrect,” she began. “Not only do all three of our victims look alike, but they all visited the same art gallery twenty-four hours prior to their murders.”

“Not the one we went to last night?” Spencer asked.

“No,” Penelope clarified. “From Emily’s discussion with Malcolm Greene’s brother, along with tracking the location of the other two victims’ cell phones prior to their deaths, we can determine that all three victims visited a different art gallery - The Restful Owl, just two blocks over from where you and Y/N went last night.”

“So, the victims all meet a certain physical description,” JJ recapped. “Brown hair, brown eyes, early-to-late twenties, and all visited The Restful Owl art gallery.”

“The gallery seems like a solid lead,” Hotch agreed. “All three victims were interested in art in some capacity - Harvey Gibson was studying art, Kyle Moore worked at an art museum, Malcolm Greene was a collector.”

“Perhaps the ruse the UnSub used was related to a particular piece or artist,” Spencer proposed, wrapping and unwrapping his fingers around his pen. “We should get the security tapes from each victim’s visit to the gallery, observe who they spoke to, how they reacted to specific pieces. Maybe the UnSub lured these men to the sites of their deaths by promising them a deal on a work, or something of the sort.”

“Good idea,” said Hotchner. “Prentiss, Morgan, follow up with the gallery. If there’s a specific person or piece all three victims stopped to interact with, I think our next step is pretty clear.”

“What’s that?” Penelope asked.

“We send in someone who just so happens to be exactly the UnSub’s type to the art gallery as bait,” Rossi concluded.

All eyes, including yours, moved across the table, landing on Spencer.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert

[angelwonie]

GUARD DOG || simon 'ghost' riley

PAIRING: simon 'ghost' riley x price’s daughter fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 10.7k (I need to be sedated)

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, bodyguard au?, slowburn

SUMMARY: due to the dangerous circumstances the 141 find themselves in, your father asks his most trusted lieutenant to take care of you. he does.

WARNINGS: smut [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, degradation, praise, daddy kink, AGE GAP (simon’s in his 30s, reader in her 20s), manhandling, dirty talk, pussy + tit slaps, fucking in headlock oops, size kink, brat taming], consumption of alcohol, simon picks reader up.

“Soldiers don’t usually come here.” 

That’s what you’d told Simon Riley on the night he met you—clad in a tight skirt and an even tighter top—at a bar he had visited out of an unidentifiable emotion. Boredom, maybe. Irritation. Work was fucking him. It was on the outskirts of town, cozy and small but filled to the brim. The beer was good. The whores were pretty. Amidst it all, he almost didn’t see you. 

You were perched on a barstool a few seats from him. All alone with a twinkling in your eyes—but it wasn’t inviting enough for him to walk closer, even if you’d spoken to him first. 

He raised a brow, leaning on the counter. “Really?” 

“Mhm. The cops don’t like you guys stealing their women.” 

“Well, I ain’t stealin’ anythin’.” 

“Yet.” 

The side of your face lifted up into more of a smirk than a smile, nails tapping against the cocktail in front of you. He wondered if he could approach—he was yet to get drunk and your head was cocked to the side. Was it a mocking gesture? Encouraging?  He couldn’t tell. 

He decided to take his chances. Two steps and he took the seat to your right, shoulder almost against yours. In this lighting he could see the shade of your eyes, the shape of your nose and lips. 

“You here alone?” he inquired. “This bar don’t look like the ideal place for a pretty girl to be all alone after dark.” 

“It’s a good thing I’m not alone anymore, then.” 

And you had looked at him so amiably—eyes blinking through lashes, lips spread in a smile. Like you wanted him to take care of you. His eyes trailed down your collarbones to the generous cleavage of your shirt, then to your legs, crossed and bare underneath the poor lighting. His tongue flicked over his lower lip. No, he wasn’t drunk, but it felt like he was. 

“Yeah. A very good thing.” 

He found out that night that you were a very cruel woman.

He had dragged you through the whole bar, warm hand wrapped around your smaller one. Once you found a corner to hide in, he pressed you neatly against the wall. His hands sat above your head, the gesture equal parts intimidating as it was arousing. 

You had to look up at him when he lowered his face to breathe hotly against your lips. When you placed your hands on his shoulders, he kissed you. His teeth clashed into yours, but you didn’t mind. He was messy, harsh, clumsy but not exactly inexperienced—smelled of whiskey and Tom Ford cologne. His stubble tickled your upper lip and cheeks. Your fingers dug into his muscles when he leaned half his weight on you, pulling at your lower lip, breathing heavily onto your mouth. 

There were vague sounds of people, but nobody could see the way your hand slid against his upper hip, just grazing the bare skin peeking out from underneath his shirt. A small sigh escaped you as his tongue found its way into your mouth. 

He thought his jeans couldn’t get any tighter. 

“Lovie,” he rasped. “Unless you want to get fucked in this sad excuse of a bar, I suggest you keep those pretty little hands to yourself.” 

But you didn’t let him fuck you in that bar. Or anywhere else, for that matter. 

“It’s not that easy with me,” you told him, lips swollen from kissing. 

He thought he might just explode. His lips parted, he practically begged you to reconsider, but you only shook your head with a smile. 

You were a cruel, cruel woman.

Now is when he understands where you’ve gotten it from. 

“This is my daughter. She’ll be working alongside us from now on.” 

He hardly listens as Price introduces the newest addition to their team.

When it was announced they needed a new secretary, the idea that the Captain’s daughter would take on the job didn’t go through anyone’s heads. 

And it certainly didn’t occur to Simon that the girl he’d taken a liking to would become his new colleague. 

Your father points to your figure, like everyone in the room isn’t already staring you down. You’re wearing a skirt, this time a silky black one, and a blouse that looks expensive as hell. And you’re more intimidating, less off guard than at the bar. The lack of alcohol makes you far more serious, but no less pretty. 

He tries to avoid your gaze, but you’re scanning the room and he has nowhere to hide. Finally your eyes land on him and you raise a brow, but there’s no other indication that you’ve actually recognized him. Your eyes leave him just as quickly as they came, and he wonders indignantly how you can look so calm. Surely, this is an inconvenience to you, too. 

“Okay, get your asses back to work!”

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Price’s voice and forced to retreat like a fallen soldier to his desk across from Johnny’s, a pained expression on his face. 

God, he’s so screwed. 

—

“You better stop staring at the accountant like that, Riley, or Price’s gonna think you want to fuck his daughter.” 

Simon throws a couple files in the face of his partner as a response to the absurd comment. He’s not staring—merely observing. Big difference. He has yet to figure out if you recognize him and, an even more pressing matter, if you plan to ignore him for the rest of both your lives. You’ve been acting as an assistant slash accountant at base for a few days and not spared him one glance. 

Not that he cares. It’s just strange, is all. 

“I ain’t starin’,” he counters, glaring at Johnny. “And mind your own goddamn business, MacTavish.” 

“Whatever you say, man.” 

When he looks back at your desk, he catches you already looking at him. Your head snaps down so quickly he’s worried for your neck. A faint smile tugs at his lips.

That’s one look, at least. Better than nothing. 

You stand up a moment after that, walking to your father’s office. This time you don’t look at him. He strains his ears and hears a muffled version of your voice, though he can’t make out the words. Then, after a minute or so, you walk out with a sour look on your face with Price in tow. 

“Lieutenant Riley, c’mere for a moment.” 

Fuck. He’s screwed. Have you ratted him out?

He tightens his jaw and lifts himself off his chair so he can approach the two of you. He tries to read your expression, but you’re looking at your father, rage swimming in your eyes. 

“Riley, I want you to accompany my daughter to the mall.” 

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter, dad,” you hiss at the man in front of you, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Simon’s still trying to wrap his head around not being torn apart by your father for hooking up with you at a bar when he furrows his brows, sputtering, “Babysitter?” 

“It’s not safe for her to walk outside alone with all the stuff going on now. I want someone experienced to watch over her,” Price says, raising a hand to stop another angry comment from leaving your mouth. “If it’s too much trouble, Riley, I can get someone else to do it.” 

You look to Simon in despair, doe eyes pleading him to take pity on you. 

“Nah, it’s fine,” he shrugs his shoulders, holding back a smile at your scandalized expression. “Don’t have much to do, anyway.” 

You look just about three seconds away from stopping your foot like a petulant child. “But—”

“No buts. And don’t give Lieutenant Riley a hard time, ‘kay, sweetie?”

Your dad attempts patting your head, but you flinch away, scowling. He shakes his head in exasperation, clearly used to these kinds of antics, before shuffling away to the sound of your incredulous scoffs.

You stand in disbelief for another minute before letting out a huff and side-eyeing Simon’s unmoving silhouette. Then, you turn to grab your coat and bag, storming out the door. Simon can do nothing but follow, raising a hand in goodbye to Johnny, who’s staring at him with a mix of poorly hidden interest and even more poorly hidden envy. Getting out of the office to babysit the Captain’s daughter is something just about all of them would sell a kidney for right now. 

“See ya later,” he says to his partner. “Have fun gettin’ the paperwork sorted.”

“Fuck you, Riley!”

He snickers to himself as he closes the door behind him. Once outside, he’s met with your charming scowl and the tapping of your heel-clad foot against the pavement. 

“Open the car,” you demand. “I don’t have all day.”

“No? And what’s the schedule? Running your daddy’s credit card empty?”

Your lips pull into an agitated frown, fingers digging into your elbow. “Don’t think that’s any of your fucking business, Lieutenant Riley.”

He unlocks the car and you sigh in relief. But it doesn’t last long, disrupted by the soft clicking of his tongue when you try to slip in the backseat. He gestures towards the passenger seat, watching the way your scowl deepens as you begrudgingly acquiesce. 

“I’d watch my goddamn mouth if I were you, sweetheart,” Simon says when he’s seated next to you in the car. “You should be thanking me for lettin’ you go on your little shopping spree ‘stead of tellin’ your dad about how you hook up with soldiers in your free time.”

“Why are you saying that like it’s only my fault? It takes two to tango, Riley.”

“Ah!” He lifts his eyebrows tauntingly. “So you do remember.”

You can’t hold back the scoff that rips through your throat. “That’s what this is? You’re butthurt ’cause I didn’t start kicking my feet when you walked into the office?” He feels his jaw tighten as he turns on the engine. You huff out a laugh. “You could have just asked. Guess you soldiers don’t know how to do that.”

He doesn’t reply, muscles taut as he places a hand on the back of your seat to reverse. You try not to stare, but it’s damn near impossible with his hands directly in your face. The veins popping out on his forearms make you avert your gaze hastily, but not before your panties are flooded with a wave of arousal. Great. This is exactly why you usually don’t hook up with random guys in shabby bars. 

“Look, you really don’t have to do this,” you tell him as he starts driving. He spares you a short glance before returning his eyes to the road ahead. “Just drop me off at the mall and go get a drink or something. Dad won’t know.”

Again, he replies with silence. 

You huff, leaning back in your seat. “Fine. I’m really fucking glad I didn’t fuck you.”

This catches his attention.

He extends a warning finger and shakes it in your face. “Hey—” 

You hear it before you see it. Gunshots—and they’re closer than either you or Simon would have liked. In the distance you can see people scattering; from behind them, a couple men with guns. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “Oh my—” 

“Get down.” 

You don’t immediately register Simon’s words. What you do register is his hand grabbing hold of your shoulder and pushing you down. Obligingly, you unclasp the seatbelt and sink onto the floor, then hold on for dear life as he makes a ragged turn. 

You have a full view of his focused face, of his fingers wrapping around the steering wheel and whitening at the ends, of his bulging biceps peeking out of the t-shirt. He takes one hand off the wheel and pulls his gun out of the waistband of his jeans. 

“Don’t fucking shoot anyone,” you whisper-shout. Then, meeting his ice-cold gaze, you add, “Please.” 

His lips lift into a half-smile. “Look so pretty askin’ nicely for things you want. It ain’t that hard, is it?” 

You glare in his direction, but you’ve already lost his attention. He’s maneuvering the car to park half-decently on the other side of the road, gaining distance from the scene. No more gunshots follow, so you dare prop yourself up into a more decent sitting position and peek outside. Some guys are waving guns at each other—somehow, it calms you because it means their weapons were never directed at you. Soon enough, police sirens echo through the air. Simon visibly relaxes, rubbing between his eyes with a sigh of relief. 

“You okay?” he asks you, leaning over the center console to hold you by the shoulders. His gun presses against your tricep as he inspects you. “No bruises?” 

“I’m fine.” You hold onto him for support as you scramble back into the seat. Too hazed to think about putting the seatbelt on, you let Simon lean over to do it for you. The scent of his cologne fills your nose as his arm grazes your heaving chest. To hide your hitching breath, you look out of your side window. “You won’t tell my dad about this, right?” 

“I won’t,” Simon confirms, back in his own seat. “But he might.” 

You follow the motion of his head towards a cop standing only a few feet away. He’s talking into his walkie-talkie, but instead of gathering around the troublemakers like the rest of his team, he’s looking straight into Simon’s car. More accurately, straight at you. 

“Fuck. I’m so dead.” 

And Simon has to let out a laugh, because he’s so fucking dead too. 

—

As expected, once your father finds out about the gunshots, he throws a full-blown tantrum—and that despite Simon’s avid assurances that you were never in danger and that he had everything under control.

You’re back to square one of arguing for your autonomy.

No, actually, as it turns out, you’ve regressed to square minus three, because your dad decides to deprive you of the rest of your freedom. He announces this to you in his office, completely calm despite the color draining from your face as you widen your eyes at him. 

“You’re assigning me a bodyguard? Are you insane?” 

“Not a bodyguard. Just someone to protect you when I’m not there.” 

“That’s literally the book definition of a bodyguard, dad.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t believe this!”

But there isn’t really that much more you can do. Your father signs your two-week leave of absence himself, and hands it to you despite the deadly glare you send him. Then, to make matters worse, he designates none other than Simon Riley as your babysitter for the next two weeks. You must have broken a mirror on your way to work this morning because there’s just no way you’re this unlucky. Perhaps now would be a good moment to stick your head in the sand and choke. 

You stand outside base a mere hour later, two bags in hand and a frown you don’t bother covering up. Once Simon emerges you make sure to showcase your dissatisfaction by sending him the ugliest look you can muster. 

“Whatcha waitin’ for? Get in.” 

The black shirt stretches around his back as he takes the bags from you and throws them into the backseat of his Ford F-150. He runs a hand through the blond strands of his hair, eyes casting an unappreciative look your way. You raise your brows stubbornly and he caves, a grunt of annoyance in your ear as he opens the car door. His hand rests on the small of your back as he pushes you, a little too roughly, inside to sit on the leather seat. 

Simon walks around the car and sits in the driver’s seat. “Buckle your seatbelt,” he says, turning the key in the ignition. The car starts with a roar and rolls slowly along the road. Simon sits with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the compartment between you. 

After five minutes in silence, you sit up straight and look out the window, then turn to Simon with furrowed brows.

“What are you doing?” you ask accusingly. “This isn’t the way to my apartment.” 

“That’s ‘cause we ain’t going to your apartment. I’m takin’ you to mine.” 

You scoff. “Excuse me? Does dad know about this?”

“He authorized it, sweetheart.” 

He makes a right turn, then a left, and you feel dizzy, so you sit back in your seat and close your eyes. Not only do you allegedly need a guard dog—you’re also staying at his apartment? Not to mention the so-called bodyguard also happens to be a freakishly handsome thirty-something lieutenant who you had less than pure dreams about after hooking up with him at that bar. You had spent hours on end with your hands between your thighs that night, regretful you hadn’t invited the man over—certain you wouldn’t see him again. 

Needless to say, you’ve seen plenty of him, and you’re about to see more. 

“This is unfair,” you mumble under your breath. 

Simon only clicks his tongue. “Quit your whinin’.” 

Once the car is parked, he gets your bags and carries them inside. You follow him with tentative steps, carefully closing the door behind you. His apartment is a humble abode, but not too shabby. The kitchen is cluttered with dishes, but in all its glory the house is quite tidy. Even his bedroom, which you catch a glimpse of through the door he left ajar, seems fairly clean. 

You turn towards him, sporting the shadow of a smile. “The military isn’t that eager to churn out millions to provide nice apartments, huh?” 

Simon leaves the question unanswered, but his lips spread in a smile that reveals pearly whites. “You take the bedroom. I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“For two weeks?” you raise your brows. “Fine by me.” 

“Two weeks minimum. Wouldn’t be so optimistic when it’s your daddy we’re talkin’ about.”

“You think he’s gonna make me stay here longer?”

He sits on the couch, legs spread wide and arms resting on the back pillows. “That ain’t none of my business, sweetheart.”

You sigh, running your hands over your face in exasperation, then plop down on the couch as far from Simon as humanly possible when he’s taking up half the space. You badly want to pull all his hair out his head, but you did this to yourself. You really did. You’d like to think if you knew the man you approached at the bar was Simon Riley from the fucking military you wouldn’t have acted so recklessly, but willpower was never your strong suit. Especially not after a tequila or two. 

Leaning forward, you thumb off the lid of Simon’s whiskey carafe and pour some into the second glass that lies beside it. You tilt it almost halfway, for a moment worried it might topple over, but Simon’s fingers wrap around your wrist to set it back. 

“That’s a lot of whiskey for four in the afternoon,” he mumbles, pointing with his chin at the overfilled glass that threatens to spill onto the wooden coffee table. 

“It’s a lot fucking stress for four in the afternoon, too.” You pick the glass up carelessly, taking a solid sip. “I can already feel a headache coming on.” 

Simon hums a response you can’t quite make out. When his glass clinks against yours, you raise your eyes in surprise, but he averts his attention back to the TV and sips his whiskey in silence before you can get in a word. 

You drink. And drink and drink and drink. It’s beginning to vex you, how his eyes are fixed on the screen without a momentary fail or glance in your direction. It’s like you’re not even there. The whiskey is bitter and almost makes you gag—the taste is horrible for someone like you, who has a sweet tooth, and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. By the third glass, you’ve ventured far into the territory of inebriation. 

“How come my dad likes you so much?” you ask suddenly into the air. You angle your whole body towards Simon. “You’re aggravating and irresponsible. There’s really nothing to appreciate.” 

“I’m aggravating?” He raises a brow without turning his head. 

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah.” 

“And where’d ya get irresponsible from?” 

“You did almost get me killed.” 

“Nonsense,” he grumbles. “That wasn’t any of my fault.” 

“Yeah, sure.” You lose the fight against a creeping smile. Tilting your head to the side, you inspect him, giggling to yourself. “Hey, you look a little handsome in this light. Especially if I squint my eyes like this.” 

“Real funny, aren’t ya?” he asks, finally looking at you. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he steals your glass from under your nose. “I think that’s enough alcohol for you.” 

“Noo,” you whine, making grabby hands at your lifeline disappearing into his mouth as he drinks it in one gulp. 

He places the empty glass on the sofa’s armrest. “Too late.” 

“You’re so cruel.”

“That’s life for ya.”

You slap his shoulder. “Jerk.” He doesn’t even flinch.

Now, normally, this wouldn’t anger you. Cause a small irritation, a scrunch of the nose or a trademark scoff, maybe. An excuse to leave, at best. But there’s three glasses of danger-tasting whiskey pooling in your stomach alongside an irreverent need to cause trouble. You think he might as well have insulted you, with the indifference of his gaze and the soft ripple in his muscles resting behind your head. Not touching, because he isn’t doing it for you. He’s just relaxing. 

Well, not for long.

You balance yourself on one knee, swinging a leg over his stomach. His hand jerks in surprise, grasping at your blouse to keep you steady. Reflexes, you fawn, gawking shamelessly at his forearms, fingers, and toned collarbones peeking out from his sluttily unbuttoned shirt. The thought of what’s underneath is unbearable—when did drool gather at the edge of your mouth? 

Your core rubs over his stomach as you reach forward, sloppily wrapping your fingers around the glass he’s holding. His hardened fingertips touch yours and you look at him—down at the sight of his lips twitching, pecs pulling at his tight shirt. You’ve gone insane. You drag your slick cunt, poorly hidden by the skirt around your waist, along his abdominal muscles. 

He splays his hands on your hips. Stop, his touch says. A warning. You move again, disguising the act as trying to rip the glass from his tight grip. Your skirt hikes up your thighs, exposing them indecently. 

Simon grunts gruffly, “What do you think you’re doin’, sweetheart?” 

“Taking my glass back,” you mumble. That’s not what you’re doing at all, obviously, but it’s a harmless lie if it means you can shamelessly drive your hips against his under the pretense of reaching behind his back. 

Finally, he looks. He looks at your pouty lips, at your dilated pupils, at the expression of sheer desperation tugging at your features. Arousal is pouring from your pussy positioned over his stomach, leaking into the thin panties that separate the stickiness from his shirt. He feels the heat of you through the material.

You see his face contort into an expression of pure agony, mouth slipping open in a sigh as his head lulls back onto the couch frame. 

“You want me fuckin’ dead, huh?” 

You put on your nicest expression, puckering your lips. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not sorry,” he huffs. “Sure don’t look like it, at least. You want your daddy to fire a bullet into my head?” You shake your head no. Of course you don’t. He groans in exasperation from underneath you, tonguing his cheek. His hands, big and warm and rough around the edges, run up the expanse of your thighs, pushing your skirt up further towards your hips. 

You want so badly for him to touch you.

You have wanted it since that day in the bar—although you had kept the last shreds of your sanity and not fucked him in a bathroom stall—and you want it still, even if he’s annoying and patronizing and a little bit mean. Maybe you like that he’s a little mean. Maybe you’re drunk. Maybe you just need a little taste to realize you’re being stupid and go back to ignoring him. 

“My dad told you to help me out if I needed it,” you say, angling your hips just a little better. The soft pressure against your clit drives you insane, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “So just help me.” 

“Help you,” he repeats, weighing the words on his tongue, almost mocking in the way his eyes twinkle up at you. 

Fingertips slip soundlessly under the fabric of your blouse, up your stomach until he can grope your tits through the bra you’re wearing. You gasp in muffled shock, thighs squeezing his sides in an involuntary reaction. His fingers work to push the bra down and you bite your lip to keep quiet, in case saying anything would make him stop. He pinches your nipples and watches you squirm, completely soaking your panties. Then his patience seems to run out—he grabs your blouse and pulls it over your head, palming at your now exposed tits. 

“Shit,” he drawls, squeezing and toying as you fight to keep your legs still at his sides. You take it as a compliment, feeling his bulge grow against the swell of your ass. You want to grind against it, but don’t dare make any mold moves when he’s looking at you like that. 

Soon, Simon’s hands slip down to the edge of your skirt. He flicks it up and zeroes in on your panties, stained through the middle. You’re leaking. The fabric clings to your cunt, which is pulsing like a second heartbeat. He runs the pad of one finger over it, slowly and meticulously, with his eyes trained on where you’re joint. 

“You sure you want it, sweetheart?”

It’s a softly spoken question, eyes waiting for an answer. It would be almost touching—if it weren’t for his hand slapping your covered clit as though in disapproval of your delayed reaction. You squeak at the burn spreading in your cunt, tainting your underwear even further. When you practically jump in the air, he holds you down by the hips and delivers another sharp slap between your legs, rendering you dizzy with pleasure. 

“Asked you a fuckin’ question.” 

“Y-yes,” you say. “Yes, I want it.” 

“Alright.” He grabs you by the hips and pushes you back until you’re positioned right atop the uncomfortable bulge in his jeans. “But you’re not getting any more than you deserve.” 

You want to ask what he means—with how much slick is dripping down your legs, you deserve it all—but you don’t manage to before he’s pulled your skirt and panties down your legs. They drop to the floor as you scramble to take a breath. 

Simon’s strong arm wraps around your waist and holds you steady as his hand slides between your legs. He runs two fingers through your folds, feeling the slick coating them. When his pointer catches on your clit, you almost whimper, thighs shaking in an attempt not to close around him. He draws a sharp, whistling breath through his nose, lips pressed together. The highs of his cheeks have turned a delicate shade of pink. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, “how long you been this wet for? Fuckin’ nasty girl.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, the room gets a little blurrier. You barely notice the slap he delivers to your tits before two of his thick fingers are plunged deep into your needy cunt. You mewl his name. Loudly. 

A sting resonates through your scalp as he pulls you forward by the hair, pushing his lips onto yours. You open your mouth to let him in, whimpering against his tongue. He curls his fingers inside of you, wiggling them in a come-hither motion, finding the gummy spot that squeezes a couple stray tears from your eyes. His fingers tighten in your hair as he tilts your head back, so your noses are touching. 

“Shh,” he mumbles against your lips. “The walls here are thin and Johnny’s apartment is right upstairs.” 

“Please,” you plead, although it’s unclear what exactly you’re asking for. 

Simon shushes you again, the sound a faint whistling above your ear. He pulls his fingers out of your cunt, eyes trained on how you grip onto him, as though trying to stop him from leaving. He sees the disappointment in your eyes as soon as his touch leaves you, and with a smile of satisfaction, he pushes them back in again, rubbing against places your own hands couldn’t dream of reaching. 

“That’s it, taking what I give you so well. Just be good and I’ll give you what you want, yeah?” 

You nod and nod, head lulling onto the warmth of his shoulder. The feeling of his thumb pressing on your clit makes you jerk, and he tuts, adding a third finger to slip into your weeping hole. His hand guides your hips onto the fingers he keeps plunging up into you. 

For a while, the only sound reaching your ears are your own moans—not so quiet, unfortunately—and his small grunts in your ear. That’s why it almost goes unnoticed when he throws another command at you. 

“Tell me you’re sorry.” And you don’t hear him the first time, so he pinches your clit so nicely you almost come on the spot. It leaves you with teary eyes trying hard to focus on the contours of his face, as he repeats, “Tell me you’re sorry for bein’ such a fuckin’ brat just ‘cause your pussy needed stuffin’.” 

He flicks his thumb back and forth over your slick nub. Your legs struggle to hold you upright, but you make the effort to ride his fingers despite the burn it ignites. 

“Simon—” you pant, so close to the edge. “Fuck, I’m so— sorry! So sorry!”

“For what?” he raises a brow, ceasing all movement. He lets you do all the work, watching you shamelessly bounce up and down his perfectly angled fingers. 

“For— for—,” you inhale too much air, pulling at the nape of his neck. All he does is slap the side of your thigh urgingly. “For being a brat! I didn’t mean to, I promise!”

He chuckles tauntingly, “You promise?” But he’s taken pity on you. His thumb rubs messy circles along your clit and his hand on your hip resumes its assistance. With his help, you sink further down on his fingers with each ragged roll of your hips. 

Your orgasm hits you suddenly and forcibly. His thumb on your clit, your cunt stretched open by three fingers, his lips behind your ear, suckling at the skin to hear you moan his name. It’s Simon, Simon, Simon! until you’re coming all over his hand. Your cunt clenches and soaks him with arousal as you sob into his ear.

He holds the back of your neck to keep you close until you’re done shaking, until your vision clears enough to make out his face. 

Who do you sue for making him so irresistible?

“That’s my girl.” His hot breath lands on your forehead before his lips do. The kiss is tender against your burning skin—dazed, you smile at him as he strokes your cheek. “Now go to sleep before your daddy decides to pay us a surprise visit, hm?” 

You’re feeling so weak you can’t even protest when he helps you off his couch with a hand securely placed below your shoulders. In the bedroom, you slip beneath the covers, yawning. Simon waits for you to get comfortable before putting on a grin you can’t describe as anything but cheeky. Your voice fails you when he kisses the exposed skin of your shoulder and tells you goodnight. 

“Simon,” you mumble, blinking slowly up at his face. “I hate you so much.” 

“Mhm. Get some sleep, sweetheart.” 

—

He’s got to be kidding. 

He’s got to have some ulterior motive, a part of him that clearly wants to sabotage you, because there’s no other way you can rationalize the dangerous, sizzling warmth bubbling up in your lower stomach at the sight of Simon Riley fresh out of bed, with his hair messy atop his head and sweatpants low, low on his hips. 

It’s nine in the morning and a Saturday—a miracle you’re awake already, but you craved the solitude you knew was only attainable at the ass crack of dawn, when your insufferable militerian guard dog was still snoring away on the sofa. The peacefulness that came with it had lasted all up until now—until Simon’s figure came into view, leaning against the doorway and almost successfully giving you a heart attack. 

Now he waltzes into the kitchen like it’s his own—which, admittedly, it is, but that’s besides the point!—with a groan on his lips, eyes squinting to get used to the light. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

“Making breakfast.” 

Actually, you’re repeating a new mantra in your head: yesterday was impulsive, yesterday was stupid, yesterday was a one time thing… 

“Hm.” He comes closer, so you tenaciously train your eyes on the toast you’re smearing with butter. You feel his soaring breath hit the back of your neck. He lets out a sound walking the fine line between a huff of annoyance and appreciation, nudging your side with a finger. “Your daddy lets you walk around the house like this when he’s got friends over?” 

You fight the urge to lift your gaze as your face grows hot at the question, at the low rumble of his voice in your ear, at the insinuation behind the words. Your teeth nibble at the inside of your cheek. 

“Like what? In my pajamas?” 

The side of his mouth lifts. “Hardly pajamas, though, is it?” He palms at the flimsy material of your silk cami, fingers only centimeters away from your bare waist. The skin erupts in goosebumps; not only there, but everywhere. You really hope he can’t see your nipples straining against the fabric in front. 

“What do you want, Riley?” you ask. 

His eyes meet yours, ice cold against your wavering gaze. He’s taunting you, or maybe just trying to scare you. This man loves eye contact, you’ve come to notice. The muscles on his tricep expand as he leans on the counter, his other hand scratching the back of his head. It makes his shirt slide up just a little. You suck in a breath at the expanse of skin exposed—that happy trail surely lives up to its name swirling in your stomach—then shove a finger into your mouth in a feeble attempt to make it look like it was a reaction to your hand slipping while holding the knife. 

With his tongue against his cheek, Simon finally pries his eyes off of your face and lets them waft over the rest of your body. 

“Nothin’.” The fucker has the audacity to shrug his shoulders, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “This is my apartment, remember? Thought I was allowed to walk wherever I want.” 

A hiss of disbelief. “You are, but—” 

“And call me Simon.” Cheeky grin as he pushes himself off the counter. “I’m gonna go ring up your daddy, tell him you’re doin’ great. If you don’t mind, that is.” 

But he doesn’t even wait for your nod, stealing a buttered toast and sauntering out of the kitchen. You stare after his form, muttering strings of curses under your breath. 

“Fucking military asshole.” 

For another minute, you stand with your fingers turning white from how hard you grip the counter. You swear there’s a drop of sweat rolling down your neck by the time you’ve recaught your breath. Jesus. Nowhere is safe in this fucking apartment. Just like that, all sense of tranquility leaves your body, replaced by a not-so-timid migraine. 

You’re going to die of painkiller overdose before the two weeks are up, that’s for certain. 

You swallow your breakfast in three pieces.

Once it’s down, you lock yourself in your—Simon’s—room and busy yourself with a book you found on the bedside table. It’s about wiretaps and whatnot. You flick through the pages rapidly, only to sink back into the soft cushions with a sigh. The flesh between your thighs burns with the memory of yesterday—you wish you could rip the hippocampus right out of your brain. 

Simon stays away until midday. Somehow, you manage to force your body into slumber that lasts a couple uninterrupted hours, but when he knocks, you jolt awake at once. You force yourself onto your feet and open the door just enough to see him. He’s dressed—jeans fit snugly around his hips and his shirt is partly covered by the jacket on his shoulders. 

“Get dressed,” is all he says. 

“Where are we going?” 

“I’ll tell you later.” 

You scoff as he vanishes from view. “‘Course you will.”

He’s waiting by the car by the time you finally scramble outside. The air is surprisingly warm, the blinding sun rendering you thankful that you remembered to bring your sunglasses. You slide them down to rest on your nose as you approach. 

“Where are we going?” you ask again, but Simon only shakes his head with a self-important smile. You climb into the passenger seat in defeat.  

It turns out he has to run some top-secret, highly classified errands which you are eligible to come along on, but not to know anything about. He forces you to sit by his side like some doll as he talks in hushed tones with bankers, lawyers and God knows what else. He looks quite impressive, you have to admit, with his hair styled and fingers tapping against the barrel of his gun when someone doesn’t quite say what he wants them to. 

A couple of times you find the courage to tap his shoulder, pleading for him to take you somewhere fun, but he only shakes his head. You think you might see the outline of a smile along his lips. 

He drives around town and you follow like a lost, annoyed puppy. One hand on the steering wheel, the other holding a cigarette which he occasionally places between his lips. His eyes flick towards you every other minute. It makes you nervous. Your heart makes strange somersaults when his arm moves to switch the gear. And even though he’s silent, he’s somehow more attentive than before. He asks if you want the AC on. He throws you a pack of tissues when you sneeze. He even buys you a coffee, which you happily sip on during another one of his dull meetings. 

“When are we going home?” you find yourself asking for the seventh time in a row. It’s way past his working hours for certain.  

“Soon,” he emphasizes, glancing at your weary expression. Then, with nothing short of a smile, “A little patience, sweetheart.” 

You glare as the accountant resumes his recollection of whatever event Simon inquired about. You stopped listening a long time ago. Simon spares you a pitiful look as you sink into your seat, sighing theatrically. 

After a minute, he offhandedly says, “Let’s go.” 

You stare at him. “Now?” 

Huffing, he just grabs you by the arm softly. You get the memo, standing up as the accountant grumbles out something about wasting his time. 

Once you and Simon leave the building, you’re met with a dark sky and the realization it’s basically nighttime. And across the street, a shabby locale with neon signs in front.

A club.

No line, but you can see people dancing through the window. 

“Come,” you say in the vague direction of Simon fishing out his car keys.

Simon lifts his head as you disappear into the crowd, walking across the street. He calls out your name, but you have already ventured into the premises. He has no choice but to follow, briefly flashing his ID in the security guard’s sweaty face. Again, he calls your name, but surrounded by loud, tacky music and dozens of inebriated bodies, he can barely hear it himself. 

He rounds a corner, then another one. Passes the bar, ignoring a couple girls calling out to him, and finally sees you on the dancefloor. A cup of red liquid is already in your hand. 

When he finally manages to squeeze past the crowd and grasp your shoulder, you turn around with wide eyes. 

“What do you think you’re doin’, sweetheart?”

You flush. “Come on, I just want to dance.” Then, with the poutiest smile you can muster, and because you know he likes it, you add, “Please?”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. This is what he gets for wanting to fuck his superior’s brat of a daughter. He stares you down, as though in deep thought. There’s a hopeful twinkle in your eyes—it’s admittedly hard to resist when you’re all up in his face, looking gorgeous. Even in the dimly lit room and with not even a drop of alcohol in his system, he wants you. 

He tongues his cheek, hands on his hips. Defeat flashes across his face. “Your daddy’ll kill me for this.” 

“I won’t tell him anything,” you promise. 

Simon can’t deny you anything when you flash him the sweetest smile. He just nods half-heartedly as you down the rest of your drink and drag him deeper into the dancefloor. Your hand fits neatly in his. You throw your arms around his shoulders and smile—not a drunken smile, you’re far from that—but a giddy one which he almost doesn’t have time to reciprocate before you’re dancing with him. Correction—you’re actually dancing more against him than with him, your hips swaying under his tentative fingertips. 

He shouldn’t hold you. He shouldn’t—but when a guy passing by deliberately presses into your backside, his arms move of their own accord.

You’re startled as he pulls you into his chest. 

“Simon—” you start, but he shakes his head sternly. 

The man passing by doesn’t escape so easily—he’s pulled towards Simon by the collar the moment your bodyguard has established you’re sober enough to stand on your own two feet. You’re not even inebriated, especially not with the scene unfolding in front of you, but he commands you to stay close to him anyway and you happily oblige, somewhat hiding and peeking out from above his shoulder. 

The man—through gritted teeth and the embarrassment which comes from the situation imposed by Simon upon him—spits, “Hey, what the fuck, man?”

Simon pushes him away and he tumbles all the way into some other people, who in turn let out annoyed whispers and move away. 

“I think it’s time for you to go home, buddy.” It’s almost a growl, the sound that rumbles through his throat. Goosebumps appear on the skin uncovered by your clothes. “Unless you wanna cause me some more fuckin’ trouble and get your teeth smashed in.” 

For a split second, the man hesitates. He clenches his jaw and breathes heavily, staring at Simon. Then he makes a mistake—his eyes look in your direction, then hastily back again, but it’s too late. Simon noticed. Of course he noticed.

Simon makes the effort to push you further behind his back so you have no view of his fist colliding with the man’s face. But you hear it, the crack of bone and startled yelp. And then you feel it—his warm hands on you, the realization he just hit someone over looking at you a second too long, and the cold air on your skin as he drags you outside. 

His gruff breath tickles your ear as he pushes you into the passenger seat of his car, then slides in next to you. You look at him incredulously, looking around as though to scout for cops or possible witnesses to… whatever just happened. 

“See!”—with your hands extended and waving at him—“this is what I mean by irresponsible!” 

He glares. “The guy had it coming.” 

“Right. For trying to pass by in a crowded space—got it.” 

“For touching what isn’t his.” He draws a breath, ignoring your widened eyes. His fingers tap against the wheel. “This is my job, remember? Takin’ care of ya. So put that fuckin’ seatbelt on, please.” 

Since he asks so nicely, you acquiesce. Not because his glare makes your blood vessels turn into icicles. 

He starts the engine. The drive home is silent—almost a little awkward, with your head too clear and fingers too fidgety. He’s angry. The bulging veins in his neck tell you as much. When he parks, he does it carefully, but the tautness in his jaw doesn’t budge. 

He huffs a breath as you struggle to unclasp your seatbelt. “Why’d you go into that club, anyway? Always fuckin’ causin’ me trouble.”

“I wasn’t causing trouble!” you counter. “It’s you that just punched him. I don’t think my dad is going to like—”

“Suddenly you care what your daddy likes?” 

“Suddenly? I’ve always—” 

He leans to unclasp the seatbelt, suddenly all up in your face. “You’re always fuckin’ talkin’.” He’s being hypocritical, but you let it slide to prevent your voice from wavering as he pats your thigh. “Just quiet down, yeah?” 

His hand stays on your thigh for a little too long. Your lips part, looking from the warmth of his splayed fingers to his focused expression; not on you, unfortunately, but he’s looking at something on the headboard. A thin layer of sweat pools at his temple, probably from the club. You watch it trickle silently into the collar of his too-tight shirt. 

You’re not exactly thinking clearly as you plunge forward to kiss him feverishly. In fact, you might have gone rabid.

The hands that pull him closer by the shoulders cannot be your own, you think. But they are. You feel the curve of his beefy arms beneath your fingertips and it virtually makes you moan into his mouth, lips parting. 

He pushes you away, sternly wrapping his fingers around your wrists.

You look at him through your lashes, trying to figure out if the haziness of his eyes indicates annoyance or the mutual desire you want to see. You’ve crossed the line. Fuck, the line is practically wiped away by now! But this is Simon Riley, tall and scary and he bought you your favorite coffee and punched a guy in the face for drunkenly feeling you up. You want him. 

Simon clicks his tongue. “Like I said, you’re fuckin’ trouble.” 

You want to interject, but he shakes his head so you close your mouth. 

“Makin’ my life so fuckin’ hard.” He lets go of your wrists, trailing his hands down to your hips. They dig into the flesh there and pull you effortlessly—spare for the bulging biceps you see in your peripheral vision—right into his lap. Your thighs lie limply against his sides, your cunt positioned above his crotch. Then his hand cups your face between his pointer and thumb, forcing you to look at him. “I just want to follow your daddy’s orders and you’re throwin’ yourself at me like a cock-hungry slut.” 

Something jumps between your legs, sending static up the length of your spine. God. You stare at him somewhat baffled. 

“You make my life hard too,” you whine. “Like, if my dad wanted to give me a bodyguard, he could’ve at least picked one that didn’t make me wet all the time.” 

A lopsided grin pulls at his lips. “If you keep sayin’ shit like that, you can’t even blame me for not keepin’ it in my pants.” 

“Never said I want you to keep it in your pants.” 

You’ve got him.

Honestly, you’ve had him since that wretched night at the club, and your grip on him has only tightened with every smile, every roll of your eyes, every stupid remark and each of his looks at your exposed legs. 

He likes to think he possesses a good amount of self control, despite Johnny’s constant monologues about his irrationality and whatnot, but it seems he might have been wrong. If he had self control, he wouldn’t have said yes to looking out for you and he wouldn’t have fingered you on his couch because you asked him so nicely. 

And he really, really wouldn’t be considering sticking his cock into you right now. 

He presses his fingers further into your cheeks. “Nothin’ I do is gonna change your mind, huh?” 

Popping the P, “Nope!” 

And you lunge forward again, pushing your lips into his.

This time, his response is immediate. His strong arms force you against him. The bulge in his jeans catches on your cunt and you smile, grinding your hips down. A grunt of your name, and then he’s lifting you out of the car, locking the doors, shoving his tongue past your welcoming lips. He walks with you in his arms, never ceasing the kiss even as you hear the lock turn in his front door. 

As his stubble tickles your face, you break into a fit of giggles. He mumbles something you don’t hear into your mouth. Then unexpectedly, his hands squeeze the flesh of your ass. 

“Simon!” you squeak. 

Now it’s his turn to chuckle. 

Inside the apartment, you stop him from going into the bedroom. “It’s too far away”, you argue, and pull him towards the couch. The side of his face lifts into the semblance of a smirk, and to wipe it off, you kiss him again. 

His arms slide under your shirt, grasping at the supple flesh of your tits. You didn’t wear a bra—of course, he already knew. It was impossible to miss your nipples straining against the material of your shirt in some of the colder offices he took you to. He had trouble keeping his fists at his sides whenever one of the accountant assholes dared to take a considerably too long look at you. Thankfully, a raging boner was a little easier to conceal. Now he pulls the useless shirt over your head. 

“Sit.” 

He says this against your neck, emphasizing with a harsh slap to your exposed tits. You jolt, but obey nevertheless, sinking into the cushions. He kneels on the floor between your legs, pulling down the material of your jeans, discarding it somewhere. You feel naked—only in your panties while he’s fully dressed, the barrel of his gun presumably still in the waistband of his pants. 

His eyes wander along with his fingers; you have to choke back a moan as he pinches your nipple, only to force his palm down on it. His name leaves your mouth in a wavering whisper. 

Simon smiles, pushing a finger between your hip and the waistband of your panties. “You’re insufferable, y’know?”

“You’re not any better than me,” you shoot back. 

He ignores the comment, pulling your panties off. His hands hold you at the hips so he can move freely, tongue darting out to experimentally lick at your cunt. You cry out—hips thrashing uselessly, eyes staring at him in a perverse sort of despair—and he laughs, actually laughs, against the heat of your pussy, with his hot breath on your clit. 

“Wonder what your daddy’d say if he saw you like this. All spread out for your bodyguard, whining like a fuckin’ brat.”

Before you can even think to defend yourself, his lips wrap around the nub of your clit and suck, forcing your legs into a violent jolt. They want to wrap themselves around Simon’s head, but he doesn’t let them, relentless in his grip.

He licks around the sensitive spot, never reaching the center of it but rather picking at your nerves taunting, touching you only as much as he pleases. You’re half certain you’ve soaked his face in the slick arousal pooling out of your anticipating hole. 

The plushness of your thighs gives in to his fingers as they push your legs towards your head. You let out a cry of his name as the hot, wet muscle of his tongue enters your cunt. He licks up everything you give him and then some, nose nudging your clit so nicely you shiver and writhe under his touch. 

A moan reverberates through the room as he moves his face side to side, plunging his tongue deeper into your weeping pussy. “Simon, Simon, God!” 

He retracts his tongue and you gasp for air, hips lifting to meet his face as it slides a few centimeters up. 

“Quit squirmin’ so fuckin’ much.” His voice, brusque against your puffy clit, makes you damn near jump in his hold. He clicks his tongue, lips dragging slowly over the inside of your thigh. They serve as a distraction, but you don’t realize that nearly as fast as you should. By the time you know he’s planning something wicked, his palm has already landed on your spread-out cunt, forcing a choked sob out of your throat. 

“Told ya to stop movin’ sweetheart,” he mumbles, teasing you with a finger tapping on your clit. “Really don’t know how to listen, do you?” 

You try to focus on his words, but it’s a hopeless effort. The vague feeling of his tongue playing with your clit is enough to make your hips twitch. He sighs at this, delivering another slap to your helplessly drooling cunt. 

“What am I gonna do with you, huh?” 

He plunges his tongue back into your hole and it clenches tight, tight around him, your mouth open in a mantra of whimpers. There’s an apology mixed in there, you think, but mostly incoherent babbles about how good it feels to finally have his mouth on you. 

His broad shoulders press against your thighs to keep them in place as he replaces his tongue with two curved fingers that stretch you out. Your head falls back onto the couch pillows. He grunts in appreciation as you spread yourself further for him, allowing his mouth to latch onto your clit. The hot muscle swirls around your nub in tandem with his hips that subconsciously rut into the corner of his couch. 

Within the next minute, he coaxes an orgasm out of you.

The thick fingers that scissor you open don’t stop even as you shake and cry out his name so loudly that Johnny—assuming he’s home for the night—must have heard it loud and clear through the thin walls. 

Your mind is so foggy you barely notice when his mouth and fingers leave you entirely, only coming to your senses when Simon’s arms haul you up to a seating position. He sits across from you, his cock straining against the jeans still around his hips. You move to unzip them, almost drooling at the thought of seeing what’s underneath, but he stops you by gripping your face in one hand. 

He tilts your head up so you have to look at him—forehead sweaty and mouth slick with your arousal, an eyebrow raised. 

“What do you say after someone makes you come this nice?” 

Through hazed eyes, you look at him. You don’t even think about the fact that this is real life and not your nightly imagination as you mumble, “Thank you, daddy.” 

The grip he has on your face loosens momentarily, but as the shock in his face gives out, he pulls your face closer to his. “Say that again.” His other hand pinches your clit so suddenly you let out a squeak. 

“Thank you, daddy!”

He pulls you by the face into a messy kiss, grinding his clothed bulge against your cunt. There’s a new throbbing between your legs already, soaking his jeans and begging wordlessly for him to finally give in. But for someone who loses his mind at seeing you in pajama shorts, he is surprisingly patient when it comes to getting his dick wet. Even your ragged humping against his thigh doesn’t make him pull away from the kiss. You’re the one to push him away with a hand placed on his chest. 

“What, you gettin’ impatient?”

You furrow your eyebrows at his neutral expression. “I want you to fuck me, come on.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Simon,” you whine like a stubborn child. “Need it.” 

“I ain’t givin’ you anything with that attitude.” 

He squeezes your thigh, almost like a warning. You stare at the apparent outline of his muscles now that his shirt is sweaty and clings to his body. The control he has to make you swallow your pride is exceedingly embarrassing, but you swallow the embarrassment, too.

A pout adorns your lips as you tug on the collar of his shirt. “Please.” 

“That all you got?” 

“Fuck me, please—” the throb grows aching, so you rub your thighs together, “ —daddy.” 

That does it. 

Simon pulls you against him, hands on your hips. He groans into your neck. The warmth of his hands atop your own engulfs you as you work to unzip his jeans and push them hurriedly down to his knees along with his briefs. 

His cock is pretty—you can’t justify the heat pooling in your stomach any other way. It’s thick and curved and veiny. Your neurons collectively agree to shut down to give way to the primal desire to pounce on him. Which you do—clawing at his shirt to get it off, off, off, as you not so elegantly whisper into Simon’s ear. 

His arms grab your waist and turn you around before you can even admire him properly.

He maneuvers you with ease to place your chest against the armrest of the couch. Your nipples brush against the leather, pulling a string of mewls from your lips. 

“Shh,” he says, but it’s not as strict as he intended. More of a breath in your direction, lungs retracting as he plays with the flesh of your ass. His cock is achingly hard against your inner thighs, coating them in precum. “Spread those pretty legs f’me, c’mon.”

You do as directed to your best ability. He hums in appreciation as you expose your dripping cunt to his hungry eyes. The slick which earlier was safely tucked between your thighs now starts slowly to soak his couch, but he pays it no mind, spreading you further with his warm hands. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

You preen at the praise.

He rubs his hard cock between your folds, making sure it’s coated in your arousal before he pushes the tip inside. You envelop him tightly and arch into the stretch; he pushes slowly, dragging along your wet walls until you’re breathing heavily. Once he’s fully inside, the tip of his cock nudges the end of your hole. 

“So big,” you mumble. “Almost doesn’t fit.” 

Simon chuckles. “I know, baby. But you’re takin’ it so well.” 

He pulls his cock out, then pushes back inside to the hilt.

You whimper loudly—so loudly he grabs the front of your face and shoves two fingers past your parted lips to shut you up. You suck them into your mouth as he plunges his cock deep into your pussy. It feels so nice you mewl and cry against his hand, drooling down the length of his fingers. 

“That’s it. Such a fuckin’ sight, shit.” He grunts as his pelvis slams into your ass. You push your hips back to meet his thrusts and he lets out a choked, more high pitched sort of noise. “God, baby.”

He retracts his fingers, using them to hoist you up so your back meets his chest. He holds you close as he pushes impossibly deeper into your hole, which wraps around him so nicely, sucking him in despite the stretch. You moan his name as he drapes his arm around your chest, holding your face in his hand. 

He’s so big behind you—bulging muscles all around, fat cock stuffed in your tiny pussy. You’re full of him.

With a swift snap of his hips, he reaches a gummy spot that makes your muscles tighten in his hold. 

Your eyebrows furrow in a choked sob, “God, Simon—” 

“Wrong word, sweetheart.” His fingers press on your cheeks as he tilts your head back until it meets his chest. “Hmm? Come on, you know what to say. Get it right and I’ll make sure your real daddy never knows his little girl begs for cock like a slut.” 

Another wave of your arousal gushes around Simon’s cock. 

A little teary-eyed, you sputter, “Da— da—”

“What was that?”

He kneads the skin of your ass before slapping it. The whimpers you let out momentarily drown out the squelching of your cunt. 

“Daddy, oh, fuck! Feels soo good!” 

This seems to be enough of a satisfying response to him, because he lets go of your face.

Without letting up the relentless rhythm, he curls his bicep around your neck, pulling you against his chest. You gasp at the marginal but sudden restriction of airflow, and at the painful throb in your neglected clit, aching to be touched by him. 

“Yeah? Feel nice to finally have this greedy pussy filled?”

He presses his bicep harder into your soft throat, smiling at your sputtering of words and confirmations that yes, fuck, daddy— I love it! The drag of his heavy cock against your walls makes you clench and unclench around his length. 

From this angle, Simon has a perfect view of both your bouncing tits—which he gropes with his unoccupied hand—and your stretched out pussy as it takes him again and again and again. You grip him so well, so tight, he can feel his balls tightening with every thrust. The small whimpers you let out against his arm don’t help his case, either. 

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling your head further back so your glazed, wide eyes look up at him. “Wanna come, sweetheart? Wanna show daddy what a needy slut you are for him?” 

You nod vigorously. “Y-yeah.”

He slides a hand between your sticky thighs, thumbing at your clit. You claw at his arm, torn between bucking your hips and staying still so he can reach that gummy spot in your cunt. Finally, you settle on something in between—drool forming at the edge of your mouth as you whimper and whine. You’re fucking yourself back on him, hips pushing back desperately, legs spread to accommodate the hand between them. 

He pinches your clit and you’re done for. 

“Good girl, takin’ daddy’s cock so nicely,” he grunts into your ear. 

“Need to— fuck, I’m gonna come, daddy!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” His hips slam against your ass, cock twitching inside you. “Just let go for me, yeah?” 

You nod and nod until you’re brought over the edge. His fingers rub softly at your clit as you cry out, his grip on your neck loosening to let you ride out your high. Nothing but moans of his name and a babbling repetition of daddy, daddy, fuck! leaves your mouth. He holds you up almost entirely, the shaking of your legs making it impossible to hold the balance yourself. 

Your head lulls tiredly onto his bicep and he holds you there, pressing a kiss to your temple.

He comes less than a minute later, breathing out a guttural groan of your name. His sticky cum fills you to the brim, droplets of it falling onto the leather below. 

“That’s a good girl,” he mumbles before pulling out. 

Ropes of his cum leak onto the couch, but he appears not to care at all. He only pulls you away from the puddle and onto the other side of the couch.

His arms envelop your sensitive body and you curl into him, pressing a kiss into his naked shoulder. The scent of sweat, his cologne and what you suppose is the scent of purely him fills your nose. 

You think it’s a scent you could get used to smelling every day. 

“We gotta come up with a way to tell your daddy about this.” 

The leather crinkles as you turn your head up to look at Simon in disbelief. His lips spread in a smile—the one he sends you right before he does something stupid. 

“You wanna tell him?” 

“Yeah.” He leans down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “I never agreed to do this just once, sweetheart.”

———

TAGLIST: @jenoslutie @fixonbreakoff @thevoidwriting

special thanks to @mrkis for putting up with me complaining about this fic + @hwajin for hyping me up<3 mwah

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #cod smut #call of duty smut #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 x reader #ghost smut

[dukeofdelirium]

This is what I will never understand lmao.

Aang DID let her go. He literally did that. On screen. In the finale of Book 2. ????? He did that and then was narratively punished for it lmao. Because the point was never “Aang has to let her go to fulfill xyz”. The exact opposite is stated.

Also, Aang isn’t obsessed with Katara? Lmao. And the idea that Katara has no reciprocal feelings for Aang is such a load of bullshit. It’s very obvious that she has feelings for him. And another thing, it’s not a childish crush that Aang or Katara are just gonna “grow out of” and I resent the idea that Aang’s love for Katara is immature or born out of immaturity.

them: Katara doesn’t have romantic feelings for Aang

Katara:

them: she doesn’t love Aang like that

Katara: what if we kissed? …. haha jk….. unless…? 😳

Aang: what

Katara: sorry. that wasn’t me. someone else sent that

Aang: this is an irl conversation

Like my girl was not even being subtle about it. She was salty as hell any time another girl was even brought up by Aang. When Aang said he saw a girl in the swamp and she was all like “wHaT girl” LMAO, the girls at Kyoshi island, the girl Aang was dancing w in that cave, etc. She also was shamelessly flirting w Aang way back in book 1 when he returned her necklace, then again in book 2 when she very unnecessarily adjusted his waterbending stance purely as an excuse to touch him. She was out here constantly asking how he thought she looked cuz she wanted to know if he thought she was pretty. Who the hell else was she asking? Sokka? Lmao he doesn’t gaf and Toph is fuckin blind 😭

#kataang #pro kataang #avatar the last airbender #atla #Katara

[strawberrymochin]

Springtime Fushiguros♪

Context-: exploring the memories of childhood of fushiguros, marking the spring time of you and satoru gojo.

Gojo gets sick-: you get stuck with 3 kids. (Sick gojo=Horny gojo)

You refilled the ice pack again, handing it to Tsumiki, while the chicken soup boils.

As weird as it may sound, satoru gojo has fever. Being the strongest sorcerer, sick days are something, people don't expect him to afford. It's a rare occurrence though, the last time he caught flu was when he was in his first year student in jujutsu high.

Tsumiki takes the ice pack to gojo, who is currently in your shared bedroom, resting. The kids have school today and you need to hurry. Moreover a sick gojo called for a disaster—a shudder runs through your spine, as the vivid evocation of the lucid night crosses your mind, tainting your cheeks red.

You shake off your thoughts, sensing the soup is ready to be served. 'megumi, can you bring me a bowl to pour the soup, please?'

Megumi obeys handing you a bowl. You pour the soup into it, covering it with a lid, not to let the hot steam escape. You, next, get working on packing the lunches of the kids , then, placing the breakfast on the table, 'Megumi, Tsumiki breakfast's ready! Hurry!'

The kids rush to the table, followed by the pale figure of your boyfriend, eyes feverish , face flushed, messy white locks falling on his brows with a slight pillow crease on his cheek. The sight melted you, wanting to kiss him, but worry washes over you as soon as you recall his health.

'honey! why did you get up? You should be resting now,' you get closer to him, raising the back of your palm, to brush off his silvery moonlight hair, checking his temperature, almost making you gasp, 'you're burnin—'

Before you could finish your sentence, gojo pulls you closer, one hand snaking around your waist, while the other cups your face, leaning in slowly, ever so slowly bringing his mouth to your lips, kissing you.

His eyes close, lashes brushing your cheek.

Time stopped as his lips moved around yours, slow, soft and gentle, as laying down on the dewy grass on a first snowfall, as munching on a cloudy marshmallow, as the stars twinkle in midnight sky.

You would have given in, but taking note on how reverent his touch was, made you realise how in a pyretic daze he was, as you pulled away.

'mmnh...I want more.' gojo groaned, pulling you for a second kiss, when—

'ppfftttt'

The sound made you reconsider your surroundings, which you forgot momentarily. After all, you guys aren't alone and there are two kids around, just of six and seven years old.

You sprung apart from gojo, taking a look at the kids faces. Megumi's one eye was twitching, there were visible remarks of him choking on his glass of milk. Tsumiki's one hand covered her own eyes, peeking from the little gap of her fingers, while the other tried to cover Megumi's, which ofcourse didn't work well blocking the view. This is the first time they saw you guys kiss.

Embarrassed as hell, you disappeared into your room, with an awkward excuse of getting changed to drive the kids school.

Gojo, however, wasn't even a bit shaken by this incident. He walked up nonchalantly to the table joining the kids instead, as Megumi eyed him sickeningly.

'What?' he asked the kid with a default grump face.

'....'

'Can't I even kiss my girl?'

'No. You have fever. Don't want y/n-san to get sick.'

Gojo scoffs at Megumi's remarks. Now, a six year old kid will teach him when to kiss his girlfriend.

'I'm sick. Don't you have anything to say?'

'yeah. Stay away from me.'

Gojo- :⁠,⁠-⁠)

You come back after dropping the kids at school. The chicken soup you made him will probably be finished by now, but to your surprise it was sitting on the counter untouched as you left.

'why didn't you had the soup, satoru? Moreover I told you to rest in the bedroom right?' you frown at gojo laying his head on the table for god knows how long.

'Forget about the soup. Can I have you instead?'

'.....'

'Spoon feed me, then. After that we will continue what we left unfinished.'

#jjk #jjk fluff #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x satoru gojo #megumi fushiguro #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk megumi #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satorugojo #springtime fushiguros #satoru fluff #megumi fluff #fluff #jjk fanfic

[jyoongim]

Okay, can you mabye do a #12 and #7 🟠?

it could be Alastor and really shy reader who sucks at dancing, but he convinces her to try it, I thought it would be so cute 🧡

Prompt 1, #7 & 12: tango kiss/lingering kiss

Why did Alastor ask you to come out?

The red deer had convinced you to come out tonight to Mimzy’s lounge.

You couldnt bare to tell him no, knowing the two of you hardly had time alone.

A drink and good music sounded good.

However…it was dance night.

And you couldn’t dance.

Like you had two left feet.

And Alastor was an AMAZING dancer.

Your eyes watched as he danced with Mimzy, mesmerized at how good he was, even though he had been chugging whiskey.

He had asked you to dance but you declined, feeling shy and embarrassed that you wouldn’t be able to keep up.

You didn’t want to embarrass him since you were a bad dancer.

Alastor hummed as he made his way over to you.

He silently grabbed your hands, slowly pulling you out your seat.

You blinked and tried to make excuses, which fell on deaf ears as Alastor pulled you towards the dance floor.

”A-Al no I-I you know I can’t dance. I just wanna watch. I dont want to step on your toes”

Alastor just ignored you as he pulled you against him and began to follow the dance moves to a song.

You pouted as you looked down, watching your feet, not wanting to step on his shoes, but a finger lifted your chin to make you look into his eyes.

He had a smile on his face as he guided you around the dancefloor

”Just keep your eyes on me darling”

Easier said than done.

One two three

one two three

The tempo of the music made it a little easy to keep up with Alastor’s movement.

You had relaxed a bit, getting used to the steps of the dance. 

It was some sort of tango.

”See? You got it. Now can you keep up?” He flashed you a smile and you grinned back nervously and with a squeak, you were whisked across the dance floor, Alastor essentially twirling you around. 

You kept up pretty good, surprisingly.

You couldnt help but admire Alastor. The dark lights really made his appearance stand out. 

He was gorgeous.

Alastor pulled you towards him and your body buzzed from the close proximity.

You found yourself bent over backwards, back thrown back and Alastor leaning over you.

His red eyes were lidded and filled with an emotion you couldnt quite place.

”A-Al?” You whispered, feeling like you would explode.

Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline or the nature of the music, but Alastor said nothing as his face leaned towards you and his lips pressed against yours.

Your eyes widened and you melted.

He slowly pulled you back up, never breaking the kiss.

It felt like it was only the two of you in the room.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss.

The kiss was like one you had never experienced.

It was filled with unsaid emotion and tension.

He nipped at your lips and coaxed his tongue into your mouth.

When he pulled away,  your cheeks were burning and your lidded eyes looked into his and out of embarrassment, you ducked your head down into his chest.

A deep rumble ran through his chest, a chuckle 

“Oh my dear you were exceptional”

Maybe you should have went out dancing sooner.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #Alastor fluff

[nickypooh]

Whatever we had, can we have it back?

Summary : Seeing Matt with his new girlfriend gets to be too much.

You had been invited to go out to dinner with the triplets and a couple of their other friends. You hadn’t seen them in a few weeks, it wasn’t intentional but seeing Matt with his girlfriend was breaking you more each time. You weren’t sure when your feelings for Matt had started, the two of you had a flirty friendship for a while, and at some point it turned into real flirting from you. You had thought it had for Matt too but when you came over one day to him kissing some other girl you were proven wrong. 

Nick and Chris had been texting you multiple times everyday trying to hang out and figure out why you weren’t coming over as much anymore, but you just brushed them off by saying you were busy. In reality you were just sitting around doing nothing. Matt hadn’t tried to contact you barely at all, just texting to ask if you would reply to one of the other two so he didn’t have to keep hearing about it. It was like the two of you had an unspoken understanding to not talk about what had been going on between the two of you before he got into a relationship, and now you didn’t talk to each other. 

You had walked into the living room of their apartment to see Matt with his arm around a girl and her head on his shoulder while they watched a movie. You could feel your heart break a little at the sight and you went upstairs to Nick's room and stayed there until Matt left to drop his girlfriend off at her house. You hadn’t been back or seen any of them since then and that was over three weeks ago. 

When Nick invited you to dinner you were ready to decline right away as you had been for weeks but seeing that Jake, Johnnie, Larray, Tara, Sam, and Colby were also going to be there helped convince you to go since you thought if they were there then it’d serve as a barrier between you and Matt. Tara, Larray, and you were close too and they knew about how you felt towards Matt so with them there you knew they’d also help distract you.

🎀★🎀★🎀★🎀★🎀

You were getting ready for dinner with Tara. You decided to get ready together since you were getting a ride with her. She had picked out your outfit so it was very her style, along with your makeup. You were usually one for just sticking to a plain outfit with no makeup but Tara claimed since you were getting ready with her you had to go all out. 

When you arrived at dinner only the triplets were there with Larray so you sat next to Nick with Tara on the other side of you next to Larray. You looked around the table and saw Matt with his girlfriend having their own conversation, Chris and Nick were on their phones waiting for the others to show up and Tara and Larray were having their own conversation so you were just sitting there and thinking. 

Eventually the others showed up and you introduced yourself to Jake and Johnnie since you hadn’t officially met them before, and Matt introduced his girlfriend to them as well. Dinner was wrapping up and you all were going to go to TopGolf after. Seeing Matt and his girlfriend be all cute together made you sick to your stomach so you didn’t eat much, which Nick got concerned by. When they were about to leave you excused yourself from the table to have a breather since it was getting more overwhelming sitting there. 

You’d been gone for a while and when you decided you could go back to the table Matt and his girlfriend had already left, everyone else was still there though.

“Where did Matt go?” You asked Nick.

“His girlfriend wanted to leave so Chris and I are getting a ride with Larray.” He said.

You shouldn’t have been surprised by that, Matt had favored his girlfriend over anyone it had seemed lately. Maybe that's just how you felt though. 

🎀★🎀★🎀★🎀★🎀

It had been almost two months since the dinner and you now were able to stay at the triplets place without feeling hurt that Matt was focusing on his girlfriend more than the rest of you. You were getting over your feelings for him, or at least that's what you told yourself. You got a boyfriend now, he was great but he wasn’t Matt. But maybe it was never meant to be. 

WOOOOO first fic on here !! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist, not sure how often I'll post but you never know. Thank you for reading, love you all :))

#nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #🎀 fanfic

[hoonieshoney]

Y/n telling hee that her dad wants to actually meet him but he gets horny in the middle of dinner and drags y/n to the bathroom in secret 🥰

Thank you for the fantastic idea nonnie! [lemme give your brain a smooch 😗] ❤️ I think this is definitely canon in the “I Beg, Save Me” universe. This would take place after, and it’s Heeseungs first time having dinner with readers family (he’s already met them, but this would be his first time in a one on one intimate setting with her parents)

Remember, this fic is dark content based so keep that in mind for this drabble! He’s a manipulative asshole, but we love him lol If you haven’t read it, READ HERE

Let me also take the time to dedicate this small drabble to my fellow writer @rinbowaman , wrote this special just for you, my love ❤️😏

MDNI 18+🛑DarkishContentWarning🛑SMUT🛑

Not proofread, just a small smutty drabble, enjoy ducklings

Sitting at the dinner table, Heeseung can’t help but admire how adorable you look in this setting. A cute cardigan, a long skirt, your pretty barefaced skin glowing, his sweet innocent girl. Laughing with your parents, serving him his dinner plate, refilling his water glass, it was clear your parents raised you with old fashioned gender roles..and he fucking loved it.

Only making his cock throb uncontrollably at the thought of you being his obedient little housewife.

While you are in the middle of talking about the next church food drive you suddenly feel a warm hand on your upper thigh.

“You okay, dear?” Your mom asks seeing your panicked expression.

“Yeah, just a small tummy ache,” you lie. Heeseung smirks and continues to rub his hand on your thigh inching closer and closer to your heat.

“What are you doing?” You whisper to him while your parents are distracted.

“Go to the bathroom and wait for me.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Heeseung..I can’t do-“

“That wasn’t a fucking question, angel. Just do it.” He gives you a warning look, keeping his voice low so your parents wouldn’t hear.

You nod and excuse yourself quietly. You wait a few minutes before the bathroom door opens.

“Why did you-“

He shuts you up with a forceful kiss slipping his tongue into your mouth. Gripping your hips harshly he lifts you up and slams you down on the bathroom counter sink causing you to gasp at the sudden force.

“Shh, angel. Can’t let your parents hear what I’m about to do to their sweet daughter.” He smirks while lifting your long skirt.

“Fuck angel..you soaked right through these cute little panties, is that all for me?”

You whine feeling his fingers press on your dampened crotch.

“Aw angel, what’s wrong? Can’t tell daddy what you want?”

He watches your body shudder and your eyes widen, oh, my sweet innocent girl has a daddy kink.

Slipping the wet fabric down your legs he grabs your throat and forces your nose against his staring deep into your watery eyes.

“When daddy asks you something you answer, angel.”

“S-sorry..”

“Sorry what, angel?” He smiles, perfect teeth on display and a hint of darkness twinkles in his eyes.

“Sorry..daddy..”

He hums, “good girl.”

Unzipping his jeans he releases his aching cock from its restraints and spreads his precum around the swollen tip.

“We don’t have a lot of time, angel, so I can’t prep you, but daddy knows you’ll be a good girl and take it, right?”

“Y-yes daddy…”

He smirks and starts to ease himself inside of you. Your body shudders as you try to move away from the painful intrusion, but he keeps a firm grip on your waist as he stretches you around his cock.

Tears start to fall from your doe eyes and a small pained whine escapes your lips. He moves his hand from your throat and slaps it against your mouth to silence you. As much as he loves to hear your sounds, he can’t risk getting caught by your parents.

He stops after two inches, your tightness becomes too much around him. You were squeezing him too tight, trying to push him out. He’s not going anywhere. He steadies himself again and shoves past the resistance you’re giving him and you squeal behind his hand. He was too big to take without proper prep, he didn’t care, he needed to cum.

You whine as he gets deeper inside of you and the tears stream down your cheeks, only making him smirk. You close your eyes as he snaps his hips to yours, jerking your body harshly against the bathroom mirror.

“You feel so good around me angel, you look so pretty fucked out like this for daddy..”

He grunts feeling you clench tighter around him at his words, dirty fucking girl.

He rutted into you faster, hitting that spot inside of you, “open your eyes and look at me angel..”

You open your wet eyes and look into his dark ones. Sweat adorned his hairline, his eyes hooded, a sinister smirk on his perfect lips. He was so devilishly handsome..

“I want you to look at me when you cum on daddy’s cock.”

You mewl against his hand and let the heat crash over you. Clamping down on his cock, you arch into him and cum. Your vision gets spotty while your head lulled against the mirror “Good girl.”

He didn’t give you anytime to breathe as he fucked into faster having your legs shake uncontrollably around him. He murmured out a string of curses before stilling and letting his cum shoot inside of you painting your womb in white and warmth.

He stays inside for a minute before removing his hand from your mouth and pecking your parted lips. He pulls out watching the creamy mixed mess leak onto the bathroom counter.

“Bad girl wasting daddy’s gift like that..better go tell your parents bye angel. Daddy’s going to have to teach you a lesson for being ungrateful..”

#honey answers #i beg save me #lee heesung x reader #lee heesung smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #enhypen fanfiction

[cameronspecial]

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 5)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Relapse

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: After a fight with his dad, Rafe makes another mistake that could cost him everything.

Masterlist

Stella spots her dad easily in the crowd of parents and runs toward him. He picks her up, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “How was daycare, little witch?” Rafe asks. She moves in his arms to look at him, “Good. It was my turn to feed the fishy today.” For the past few weeks, Rafe has been picking up Stella at daycare and dropping her off at the diner. It was tiring at first to drive back and forward from the Outer Banks to the mainland every day, so he rented an apartment close to Y/N’s house to make the journey shorter. Ward wasn’t too pleased when Rafe started working remotely, but Sarah talked to Ward about it. “That’s sounds fun. Are you still mad at Sabrina?” he asks while buckling the little girl. She finds his eyes through the rearview mirror, “Yes, she stole my boyfriend.” “That’s okay, you’re too young to be dating anyway. Boys are yucky,” he laughs at the pouty face she gives him.

——

Y/N is refilling the sugar container when Rafe walks through the door. Her surprise is written on her face because Stella is at her grandparents’, so he doesn’t need to drop her off this evening. She sets the sugar down, “Hey, is everything okay?” “Yeah, just didn’t really know what to do with my time since I’m not dropping Stella off. I thought I’d keep you company,” he states, sitting down at the counter. She laughs, “I remember the first time my parents took her for the weekend. I had a lot of time on my hands and I didn’t know what to do, so I rearranged my spice cabinet three times.”

“That sounds fun. How did you arrange them?”

“By country of origin, and then by taste, and then by alphabetical order, which is how I already had it. So I’m glad to be your spice cabinet for this evening.” 

Harvey comes out from the kitchen and sees Rafe at the counter, “Hello, Rafe. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” “It’s okay, Harv. I’m going to the kitchen to get something to drink. I’ll put in his order in. You can head on your break once you serve your table,” she informs, putting the sugar back under the countertop. Patty receives his order and Y/N heads back out to stay with Rafe. “How has your day been?” she asks, sitting on the stool across from him still behind the counter. He looks up from his phone, “It was a little disappointing. Work was the same as ever and I didn’t get to see my little witch. Seeing you is the best part of my day. How about you?” Her heart flutters and she uses a cough as an excuse to hide the sparkly in her eye. “I like seeing you too,” she says, focusing on the countertop. He gives a little chuckle, “I was asking more about your day, but it’s good to know you appreciate my company.” 

He knows she turned him down for a date and it hurt at the time, but Rafe hasn’t given up hope. She said that she liked him and timing was the only issue. He just has to show her he can stay sober and be in a relationship with her. Her eyes shy away, “Now, I feel stupid. My day was not bad. Business is better than usual, which means more money for me.” “Don’t feel stupid, Buttercup. It’s a simple mistake. I’m glad that business is going well,” he comforts. 

The two engage in smile talk until Patty comes out to give Rafe his food. “Patty,�� I could’ve brought out his food,” Y/N protests, moving out of the way so Patty can slide the plate directly in front of him. Patty gives him a warm smile, “I know, but I just love seeing this handsome face.” “Aww, Patty. I love seeing you too. If only I was a few years older,” he plays along. She shakes her head, “If only. I would never dream of taking you for Y/N/N though.” “Patty, he isn’t mine. He is free to do whatever he wants,” Y/N interjects, disappointing Rafe. He turns his attention to Y/N, “There isn’t anyone else that I want other than Stella.” She looks at him with shock, understanding the hidden meaning behind the look in his eyes. “Stella is one lucky daughter,” she states while breaking their eye contact. Harvey calls Y/N over to ask her a question and this ends their conversation. “You love her,” Patty remarks. Rafe nods his head, “I do, but she doesn’t love me.” “Just you wait. She’ll come around. You’re already on the right track. Stella is definitely the way to her heart,” Patty returns to the kitchen. 

——

With Stella away, Y/N decides to give Patty and Harvey the rest of the night off and she would close up shop for the day. What she didn’t anticipate was Rafe staying with her until she closed. He spent eight hours with her at the counter. About three hours in, he commandeered her laptop to keep himself busy as she took care of the customers. He would tell her random facts to catch her attention and tell her a joke to hear her melodic laugh. He would steal glances at her every so often. Unbeknownst to him, she would steal some right back. She told him multiple times that he didn’t need to stay, but he insisted he needed her company to fill the hole of Stella being gone. The last customer leaves the diner and Y/N locks up behind him.

She turns toward Rafe, who still hasn’t left, “Do you want something to eat? You have been here for eight hours.” “I could go for some fries, but only if you eat something too. You haven’t eaten since I got here,” he points out. Right on time, her stomach growls in a long low tone. She didn’t realize she skipped dinner and felt butterflies at the fact that Rafe was keeping an eye on her. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

Around fifteen minutes later, she returns with a place full of fries and a burger. She rounds the counter to sit beside Rafe and puts the plate between the two of them. “Do you want to watch a movie?” she questions, pulling her laptop to her to open Disney +.  His hand finds a fry, “Sure.” He lets her pick Ratatouille since it feels like fitting with them being in a restaurant and all. Y/N inspects the fries on the plate and before she can take the fry she decides on, Rafe mindlessly grabs the one she wants. The fry is near his mouth, but she grabs it out of his hand and shoves it in her mouth. “Hey! I was going to eat that, Buttercup,” he complains. She shrugs her shoulders, “I like the crunchy ones, Button. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you have this crunchy goodness.” 

“That’s awfully selfish of you. How are you going to make it up to me?”

The pair had unknowingly gotten closer to each other. Their faces are only about three inches away from each other. His breath finds her lips and it takes everything in him not to bring them to his. She stares into his eyes, trying to figure out what he wants her to say. “Well… I don’t have much, but how about I let Stella sleep over at your place next weekend? Does that make you feel better?” she genuinely offers. Upon seeing she is serious, his face turns to joy, “I would love to have her sleepover. I have to get the spare bedroom ready. Maybe get her a few toys and some-.” “Woah, slow down there, Button. She is only there for a night. You don’t need to do too much for her,” Y/N stops his tangent. 

“I know. I just want her to enjoy her weekend with me so she’ll want to come back. So I can prove that I am a good father.” 

“Rafe, no matter what you do, she will want to be with you. You are her father and that’s all she needs.” 

Her right hand finds the side of his face and she plays with the bottom of his earlobe. He leans into her touch, letting himself be comforted after he is a little vulnerable with her. Her eyes flicker down to his watch and she notices the time. “Damn, it’s late. I should probably start walking back home,” she worries, scrambling off the stool and cleaning up their late-night snack. He looks at his watch, “You are walking home? What happened to your car?” “Joshua asked to borrow it and since Stella is not with me, I said it was fine,” she notes as a matter of fact. He helps her clean up and takes out his car key, “I see. I’ll drive you home then.” “Rafe, you don’t have to. You know it isn’t that far for me to walk,” she tries to refuse. He shakes his head, “Y/N, I’m not letting the mother of my child walk alone close to midnight. So, don’t worry about it and let me drive you.” She stops arguing and gets to work quickly cleaning up.

Once she closes the diner, they walk side by side to his car. He notices the goosebumps running up her arm and shrugs off his grey North Face jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. She whispers a thank you. They get into the car and make their way to her house. He walks her to the door with his fingertips itching to touch hers. At the door, they turn to each other, looking into each other’s eyes. He takes a tentative step forward and she doesn’t move back. He is about to take a chance and lean in for a kiss when the door flings open to reveal Benedict.   

“Finally, you’re back. You sure took your sweet time with closing. Hey, Rafe. Y/N, do you have any mayo? I feel like eating just straight-up mayo,” Benny interrupts, walking away from the door to the kitchen. She pulls away from Rafe and follows her brother inside, devastating Rafe. He slowly enters the house after a few seconds to see the siblings bickering about Benny eating only mayo. The domestic sight makes him feel left out, so he bids goodbye to the pair. He is almost to the door when Y/N catches up to him. “Button, wait,” she calls out, gently grabbing his arm above his elbow. “I wanted to say thank you for keeping me company tonight. And for taking me home. I know you didn’t have to stay and that part of the reason you did is because of me. So thank you.” He looks back at her with a soft smile, “No problem. I have to protect the woman I lo- I have to protect the woman who gave birth to my baby girl.” She caught what he was about to say, nails finding their way between her teeth. “Right, well… goodnight,” she mutters, stepping back into her house. He moves back towards the sidewalk, “Goodnight.” Y/N waits for Rafe to be out of sight before closing the door.

——

Rafe opens the door to his apartment to find Ward Cameron waiting with an annoyed look on his face. “What do you want?” Rafe grumbles, leaving the door open and walking away from it. Ward enters the room, “You can’t keep living here. You need to come back to the Outer Banks.” “No, I don’t. I’ve been keeping up with my work and going back when we had a meeting. So I don’t see a problem,” Rafe argues, going to the kitchen to pour himself some water. 

“When are you going to realize that you are just playing pretend? That you are eventually going to get tired of playing family. It’s better you realized that sooner rather than later.”

“You have no idea what you are talking about. I’m not going to leave my family. You always say that family comes first and that’s what I’m doing.”

“Listen, Rafe. I know you and the only thing that you can stay committed to is coke and the family business. So stop kidding yourself.”

Rafe shakes his head in frustration, “Well, I’ve changed. I want to give my daughter the support you never gave to me but you gave to Sarah.” “When you realize this is all a mistake, don’t come crying to me to fix this problem. I already told you to sign a paper saying you’d only give child support,” Ward warns, heading back out the door. Rafe yells in frustration, throwing a water bottle at the wall. He doesn’t understand the point of his father coming over just to tell him he is going to end up abandoning his family. It drives Rafe crazy that Ward thinks he knows everything about his son when Ward barely takes the time to talk to him. His feelings for his dad come cropping up and he needs something to relieve the stress. 

A knock on the door causes him to stop his tantrum. Shit, he forgot he is supposed to have Stella over for tonight. A second knock comes when he is splashing water on his face to calm down. At the third knock, he opens the door to see an excited Stella and a nervous Y/N. His daughter walks into the apartment as if she lives there while Y/N notices Rafe’s emotion. “Are you okay? She can sleep over next weekend if this is a bad time,” Y/N says. He doesn’t want to talk about it, “I’m fine. She can stay. I could use her company.” She isn’t sure if what he says is the entire truth, but she trusts him to know what he needs and if he needs his daughter, she won’t stop him. “Okay, well call me if you need anything. I’ll be at home all night,” she informs, heading inside to give Stella a kiss before she leaves. Rafe sighs once the door is locked, turning toward his daughter with a fake smile. “What do you want to do, little witch?” She gives him a massive grin and pulls something out from her bag, “Can I practice my face painting on you, Daddy? I can make you into a monster.” “Doesn’t that sound like a great idea? I would love to be your model.”

——

The evening he gets to spend with his daughter is the best he’s ever gotten to spend. They went on a Target run and got a variety of stuff. Toys. Clothes. Food. Board Games. Accessories. Anything she wanted found its way into their cart. He didn’t care about the looks he got for wearing skeleton makeup that Stella put on his face. It may be June, but it is never too early to celebrate the spooky season. They got back home after the shopping spree to make all the food and play all the board games they bought. He had just put her to bed when the bad thoughts started to creep back in. The doubts he is feeling about being a father start to seep through. So far, everything has been great. They always have so much fun. But what happens when the real struggles of parenting start to begin? When Stella won’t simply go to bed because he told her so. When she starts to resist his authority because the newest of having a dad is over. 

His hands are going crazy with fidgeting with his watch. The leg bouncing up and down is the only thing emitting a sound throughout the living room. He goes to call Diana and is sent to voicemail. He wants to call Y/N but thinks twice about it because he doesn’t want to worry her. He knows he shouldn’t but he needs to stop the voices in his head. The DVD case in the TV centre is calling to him. His feet lead him closer to what he shouldn’t be close to. He gets out the case and opens it up to find the little bag of powder. Before this day, he forgot he had stashed it there and that is why he hasn’t got rid of it yet. It’s okay if he has a little bit though, just a little. Maybe if he knows he should control himself, then it will be better than using more. He just needs a little something to stop his brain. 

He forms one line. One line should be enough. The relief he feels, once he snorts the line, begs him to do another. One more couldn’t hurt. He doesn’t realize he has gone through the whole bag until he can’t make any more lines. The energy he feels gets him up and moving. He cleans up the mess they made while cooking and organizes the board games they played. After a while he starts to crash, so he lies down on the couch to try and get some sleep but the coke isn’t letting him. He stares at the ceiling for hours until eventually, the mindlessness of sleep overcomes him, forgetting to clean up the evidence of what he did. 

——

Y/N taps the door as lightly as possible to hopefully not wake up Stella. She wants to help Rafe get breakfast ready for the little girl. The knock goes unanswered, so the next one that comes is a little harder. Rafe opens the door with a confused look that turns to panic when he sees who it is. “Hey, Button. Sorry to wake you up so early. But I thought I could help you make Stells some breakfast. I hope you have some eggs because I was thinking about making some eggs benedict,” she explains, heading toward the kitchen to place down the tote with the food she brought. Rafe scrambles to block her view of his coffee table, “Uh, yeah. The eggs are in the fridge.” He was too late. Her eyes are already narrowed at something in the living room and he knows she saw his last night late activities. 

She heads toward the table to make sure she is actually seeing what she thinks she is seeing. “You relapsed,” she mutters to herself in a calm and worrying tone. Rafe runs to her side, gently turning her to look at him, “Buttercup, I know I did. But I promised it wasn’t that much. I just needed something to stop my thoughts.” Her head starts to shake violently as she yanks her hand out of his hold and walks back slowly toward Stella’s room. The anger she feels is now showing, “If it wasn’t that much, then how come the bag is empty, Rafe? How much was in that bag? HOW MUCH COCAINE DID YOU DO WHILE MY DAUGHTER WAS UNDER YOUR CARE?” The blow comes in twofold. The first, she didn’t call him the playful nickname she always does. The second, she called Stella her daughter instead of theirs. 

“I know I screwed up, Buttercup. But I promise, she wasn’t awake.” 

“You don’t get to call me that right now. I don’t care if she is awake or not. I’m upset at the fact that you did drugs while she was in the house. That she could’ve woken up while you were sleeping and had access to the mess you left. Or worse, you died on the couch because you overdosed. ” 

“Of course, you are allowed to be upset. But it was a mistake. I’m sorry. It will never happen again. Y/N, please.”

“I can’t Rafe. I know that relapsing is sometimes a part of the journey to sobriety and I can forgive that. I can’t forgive putting Stella at risk.”

Y/N walks away in the direction of Stella’s room. All he can do is wait there as he hears the door open. “Stella. Baby, wake up. It’s time to go,” Y/N murmurs, kneeling beside the bed and running her fingers through Stella’s hair. The girl gently stirs, “Why, Mommy? I haven’t had breakfast yet.” “Because, Baby, Daddy needs to go somewhere so we have to go. We can make breakfast at home,” the mother explains, helping her daughter put of the bed. She knows Stella wants to debate more, but isn’t allowed to because Y/N is packing Stella’s stuff as fast as she can. 

Rafe is still standing there when Y/N comes back out with Stella in one arm and the little girl’s bag over the other shoulder. This makes him rush toward her, “Y/N, please. Don’t go. Please.” She ignores him and walks out the door, leaving the food she brought. He can hear Stella demanding to say bye to her Daddy and it rips his heart out as he hears Y/N firmly say no. He slams the door shut, screaming into the oblivion of his pain. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii @dark1paradise @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @alyisdead @emeloyy @js-a-writer @kisstaya @optimisticsandwichgladiator

#a new kind of normal #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #outer banks #rafe #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x you #outer banks rafe #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outerbanks #obx #obx fic #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx x reader

[captain-yeet]

The Fine Line

Summary: Requested by @thiccboinbackpack, all is going well until a new recruit into the Volturi tries to stir the pot. All of the coven learns what happens when someone draws even a speck of blood from Felix's mate.

Word count: 800, short and sweet.

Warnings: Violence, explicit language

Author's Note: I love this person for suggesting this to me because YESSSS. I am a 🥰weakling🥰 for some hyper protectiveness.

Executions were a smooth operation for Felix, same shit different day. Some poor sod doomed for damnation by the Volturi get sentenced, he executes them, time to burn the bodies and clean up, repeat.

Now that he had a mate in the castle - a human mate no less - he took extra precautions around the time of sentencing.

"Promise me you will stay right here?"

You'd nodded, humming in agreement. "Don't worry Felix, I'll keep out of trouble."

The trial was mundane. Another vampire thinking that because they're immortal they didn't have to bow down to any rules or laws. The masters give their sentence. A swift twist of the head. Demetri at his side to assist by holding the accused in place, and another successful trial ended.

Everything was in order.

Felix liked order. Needed it.

As he was disposing the body Heidi came careening into the room, all her decor and poise gone. She locked eyes with Felix and he knew that something wasn't right.

"It's Y/N. There was another vampire - I didn't see. I didn't see him slip away from the rest of his coven."

If his heart could still beat it would have frozen. Wasting no time he dashes out of the room, following the trail of Heidi's scent to find his mate. Climbing staircases and numerous hallways the smell of blood made his throat burn.

Her blood.

His mate's precious blood.

Two lower guards had an unknown vampire pinned to the ground, his mate backed into a corner. A single cut on her cheek and a burst lip sent him over the edge; not in hunger, no, but rage.

Taking long strides to where she stood frozen in place, he took her chin gently, making her look at him. "Did he do this to you?"

You nod weekly, eyes wide in shock. Frozen. Like a deer in headlights.

His gentle, soft and caring mate in a state of such fright... It hurt him.

The culprit had to pay.

"Bring him into the throne room."

"Felix, please don't-"

"Darling, it's alright," he soothed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His body felt like a live wire. Electrified. Ready to burst. "Demetrius..."

His friend knew him like the back of his hand. Being around someone for two thousand years will do that to a relationship. By the dark tone in Felix's voice, the blond already knew what was coming. "Just tell me what you need from me, brother "

"Take Y/N to my room. Keep her there until I return."

Felix locked eyes with Demetri. With a curt nod, he scooped up Y/N and whisked her away to safety.

Leaving Felix with the freedom to succumb to his most primal form. A predator whose mate was just harmed by a lesser life form. And like any other predator, the urge to tear apart this pathetic excuse of a vampire's stone flesh piece of piece powered each step he took towards him.

The rogue vampire blanched at the menacing expression Felix wore. "No, wait, stop! I was just hungry, come now. It's just a human-"

The pleas were cut off by a large hand crushing his windpipe. Squeezing so tight a meek squeak was the only sound the vampire could make. Bending down to eye level, pure rage glowed in Felix's eyes. "My human. Mine," he snarled."

The other guards released the rogue vampire. Anyone who knew Felix recognised that glowering stare by a mile off and knew to steer clear of it.

Quicker than the vampire could keep up with, he was spun about and pinned to the ground, arms held behind his head, freeing his throat. Growls filled the room, Felix being driven on by the need to protect. To kill. To destroy. Effortlessly, he tore the arms from the vampire's body, the sound of a cracking boulder echoing in his ears.

Ignoring the vampire's screams, he lifted him off the ground and sunk his teeth into his neck, ripping away stone flesh until the head rolled free of his shoulders. No one hurts my mate and lives.

Y/N was curled up in Felix's bed when he returned. His expression impassive. The rush of the kill coarsing through his long-dead veins. A small half smile lite of her face. "You killed him, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," Felix huffed, joining her side in the blink of an eye. "You're only the most precious thing to me in the world."

Y/N snorted. Her eyes shimmered with love and adoration. Crawling to her knees, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "My big protector," she sighed against his skin.

A low, content sound rumbled through Felix's chest. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her body, pulling her close to him. "Always will be."

#twilight saga #volturi #felix volturi #twilight fanfiction #its been a whileeeeeeee

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Where do we go from here - Part 1

Summary: Two funerals. Two couples. A tragedy like no other. And one big secret.

A/N: Written for @fandom-free-bingo Here’s something different, I hope you enjoy it. Leave a comment, heart and reblog if you enjoyed the story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, F! Reader x Rhodey, Tony Stark x Reader (eventually)

Warning: 18+ angst, minors DNI, death, infidelity, smoking, mentions of self-harm and suicide. Hurt comfort.

Word count: 2764

Square filled: We deserve much better than we’ve had

Free Fandom Bingo Masterlist

.

Empty.

That’s how you felt. Empty and utterly exhausted. Your eyes were dried and throat scratchy from all the crying, body aching with pain and mind a foggy haze. Forty eight hours it had been since you received the news of the car crash.

James Rhodes. Your husband. Dead.

Pepper Potts. Your best friend. Dead.

You received a call from the hospital while you were wrapping James’ birthday present. A birthday that never arrived. Instead a funeral did. Two consecutive ones. You hadn’t felt grief like this ever.

The service ended, you shook hands and hugged countless people, nodding along as they offered condolences, wanting nothing more than to head home, crash in your bed and never wake up. But you couldn’t. There was another funeral you had to attend, your best friend Pepper’s, you didn’t know if you could go through it all again.

But you had to.

A couple of moments later, you managed to slip away and found yourself sitting on a bench overlooking the graves. The day was actually sunny and bright, wildflowers littered along the gravestones as a gentle breeze blew. What a day for a funeral, you thought sadly.

Not long after you sat, you smelled cigarette smoke in the air before Tony Stark took a seat next to you. Tony was one of your closest family friends, well, he was your husband’s best friend. They practically grew up together, went to school, university and eventually ended up buying houses close to each other too. By way of default, when Pepper and him got married, it brought the four of you closer. She was your best friend and James was his.

It was perfect.

Your mind went back to the last dinner the four of you had at your place, it was only three days ago. Just a day before the accident.

“Here’s to celebrating milestones in friendships!”

James raised his whiskey glass, making you, Tony and Pepper follow suit before you clinked them together with warm smiles. You had cooked a nice dinner to celebrate a year of moving into this home you shared with your loving husband. It may as well have been just an excuse to get together with your friends, which happened too often.

“Thank you for dinner, Y/N. It was delicious. And the blueberry pie too! It is Tony’s favorite.” Pepper announced, making you smile at her husband who returned it, albeit reluctantly. There was something about the way he looked at you, it made you nervous, not in a bad way, per se. It was like he could stare into soul.

“It’s Y/N’s favorite as well.” James chimed in, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

While you cleaned up in the kitchen, Pepper coaxed James to let her take the new SUV out for a spin. She had been trying to persuade Tony to get the same model but apparently he wasn’t too keen on letting his Audi R8 go.

“You think I could sneak in an extra piece of pie?” Tony’s voice took you by surprise as he entered the kitchen.

“Oh! I thought you went along with James and Pep?”

“I mean it was either a piece of pie or Pepper yapping my ear off about how my R8 isn’t exactly ‘fit to be a family car’.” he shrugged, making you chuckle as you took out the remaining pie from the fridge and cut him another slice.

You were suddenly aware of your heartbeat as Tony leaned over to grab the plate from you, the close proximity unfamiliarly welcoming. His fingers grazed over yours ever so lightly, leaving their presence to linger.

What was even going on?

Tony was a good-looking man, there wasn’t a question. He had a handsome face with an impeccably maintained beard that only seemed to suit him best. And his eyes. A light brew of your favorite coffee, the brown doe eyes held as much kindness as they held self assurance. Deep down, you felt an attraction towards the man. It was harmless, wasn’t it?

Only time would tell.

“Y/N?” Tony’s fingers snapped you back to reality, making you realize he had asked you a question.

“Yeah?”

“You went into one of your zones again, didn’t you?” He smiled, taking a bite of the pie and letting out a moan of delight.

“Sorry. One of my zones?”

“Yeah. Your mind tends to wander off when the conversation isn’t interesting for you. I’ve observed.” He wasn’t wrong. The fact that he noticed and pointed it out made your cheeks flush.

“Sorry about that. It’s nothing really. I was just thinking about the time we first got together. I—I mean the four of us.”

“Right. It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

“It was at one of your famous parties. I walked in looking to have a good time, you and I had one too many whiskies and the next thing I know Pepper dragged you back to your house and James ended up dropping me home. And the rest is history.”

“The rest is history.” Tony repeated with a small chuckle as memories of that evening played out in his head.

“Sometimes I wonder if…um. Nevermind.” He shrugged, cutting his sentence short leaving you to frown.

“If what? Go on.”

You saw him take in a deep breath, release it slowly before facing you fully after he kept the plate away.

“I wonder if the whole opposites attract thing truly worked out for us. Or we just settled because it was obvious.”

Tony’s words stuck with you long after that night was over. As did the look he gave you. It had longing and hints of regret. Something that reflected in your eyes as well.

You must’ve been crying again because Tony reached out to wipe tears that had escaped, offering you a cigarette which you accepted, filling your lungs with smoke and closing your eyes.

“You know, I spent half of yesterday just staring at my bottle of sleeping pills, wondering if it would hurt less if I just took them.” you murmured, staring into the distance. The void inside your chest seemed perpetual and only growing, there was no relief, no end to this pain.

Tony remained silent, he probably had the same thoughts running through his mind. But you couldn’t tell. He slid closer, placing his arm over the backrest of the bench.

“I need to speak to you about the accident, Y/N. I found out some things that you have the right to know too.” his brown eyes bore into yours, letting you know the urgency in his voice.

“Tell me now.” Shaking his head, Tony stubbed his cigarette and got up.

“Tomorrow. Come home and we’ll talk.”

“But it’s Pepper’s funeral–”

“I couldn’t care less. Trust me. Tomorrow.”

You were taken aback, watching him walk towards his car before driving off while you sat on the bench, a mess of complex emotions.

.

Your right foot was bouncing against the sofa as you waited for Tony, his house felt oddly quiet and dark now that Pepper was no longer around. Safe to say your own home wasn’t exactly in the best condition either. You couldn’t remember the last time you cleaned, or had a proper meal.

He returned with a familiar looking overnight bag, some papers and a phone. As he laid them out in front of you, a pit began forming in your stomach. This couldn’t be what you were thinking it could be. It couldn’t.

“This is what they recovered from the accident. The bag was in the trunk, the phone was found a few feet away and this.”

He handed you the papers first, it looked like a confirmation of a hotel booking, a hotel located just on the outskirts of the town. It was booked under James Rhodes. Why would he check into a hotel when he was supposed to be out of town for a conference?

“I don’t understand..” you trailed off, not really wanting to know the details but Tony handed you the phone next. What you read, broke your heart into a million pieces. The doubts that you tried to push down resurfaced and had materialized right in front of your eyes.

They were chats. Chats between Pepper and James. Your husband and Tony’s wife.

Your eyes burned but no tears came, you felt betrayed, hurt and angry like you hadn’t ever. It was months and months of private conversations between them, you hadn’t even noticed Pepper’s name saved with a heart emoji on James’s phone, right below was your last message to him, checking up on him to see if he reached safely.

You turned to look at Tony who sat with his arms crossed, jaw ticking and hands balled up against his sides. He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head before getting up to stand in front of the window that overlooked their huge backyard.

“Why didn’t–um, why didn’t the cops bring this to me?” you found your voice again but barely recognized it. It was hoarse from lack of use and weak, fearful of what you’d hear next.

“I asked them not to,” he replied quietly.

“Why?”

“Why? Seriously? You think you would’ve handled it well, Y/N? Given the things you said to me, I would be arranging for a third funeral right about now!” Tony didn’t mean to tell, but he did, because he shared your hurt and pain. He immediately regretted it watching you crumble on the floor, clutching the phone to your chest as you sobbed.

Dropping on his knees, he gathered you in his arms and let you cry, your tears soaked his shirt as you wept, body racking in pain while he held you. Your breath was still uneven but your tears eventually subsided, leaving behind a million questions.

“It had been going on for longer than a year, Y/N.” as if reading your mind, Tony mumbled, his voice muffled against your hair.

“I don’t want to believe it, Tony.”

He hugged you tighter, providing you the comfort you needed, wanted even, his presence grounded you, his scent calmed you.

“You’re staying here.” he declared once you separated, wiping tears from your cheeks and making you look up at him.

“I–I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. And you’re going to. You’re hurting, Y/N. We both are. I don’t think I could live with myself with you gone as well. I can’t.” Tony whispered, resting his forehead against yours, pleading you to stay.

He was right. You couldn’t bear the thought of returning to that house which you shared with James, your husband, also the man who had been cheating on you with your best friend for months. Given a choice, you would probably set it on fire to bury all the memories and destroy them. It wasn’t your happy home anymore.

“Will you stay?”

You nodded as he helped you back up, walking you up the stairs that led to the bedrooms.

“Wait, I can’t stay in the–”

“The guest bedroom is on your left. I’ve been sleeping there. I’ll take the other one. I can’t sleep in our bedroom either.” Tony’s lips were pressed in a thin line, fingers trembling before he hid them in his pockets.

Of course. It was hard for him too. You wondered if he had the same thoughts of burning the house down. You two were in the same boat, one that was drowning in a sea of sorrow, betrayal and tainted memories.

And now all you had was each other.

.

Moonlight streamed through the windows as you lay awake, staring at the ceiling for hours, sleep had evaded you. Checking the clock, it stated it was way past midnight, you turned to your side to attempt a small nap if your mind allowed; however a dull crash fell on your ears from downstairs, making you jump out of bed and scramble to the source.

It was Tony.

Eyes brimmed with tears, a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting atop the kitchen counter and shards of broken glass on the floor. As you stepped closer, you saw a broken picture frame as well, one that housed Tony and Pepper’s wedding day photo, both wide eyed and grinning ear to ear, now with a huge crack along the surface.

“Tony?” you treaded carefully, your voice barely over a whisper as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

His tense muscles relaxed under your touch, a sigh leaving his lips.

“She took a pregnancy test, Y/N.” he murmured so quietly you almost missed it. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you heard him. You knew Tony and Pep had been trying for a kid for a while now, Tony wanted a child more than anything.

“Oh my God.” You croaked, rubbing his back in attempts to comfort him as you saw his eyes brimming with unshed tears, your heart breaking for him.

“Now I can’t even know if it was mine. She was fucking pregnant!” He smashed the glass of whiskey on the opposite wall, the two of you watching the liquid stream down in little rivulets, joining the shattered glass.

Tony’s breaths were coming in erratic and shallow, his eyes unfocused, he was struggling to stand upright.

“Tony hey! Look at me, come on. Let’s get you over here.” You supported him until he was sitting on the barstool while you took a seat opposite him. Bringing your hands up to cup his face, you made him look into your eyes.

“Breathe for me, please. It’s okay.”

You sounded unsure but you hoped it was helping him, he was trying his level best to focus on your words but it was hard. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, all other voices drowning as sweat lined on his forehead.

“Tony. Come on. I know you can do this. Focus. Just breathe.” You placed one of his hands on your chest, taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, waiting for him to follow.

It took a few beats but eventually you succeeded in getting him back to normal. He squeezed your hand gratefully, nodding his head to let you know he was alright. You grabbed him a water before pouring yourself a glass of whiskey, neither of you bothering to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

You sat together in silence, pondering over what your lives had become in a span of a week. The alcohol definitely helped, numbed your pain and made you drowsy.

The sun was starting to rise outside, a dull, gray light filtering through the windows letting you know it was dawn. The word exhausted seemed to be synonymous with your daily routine, it was all you ever felt. You took your empty glass and were heading for the sink when Tony grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

“Where are you going?” The uncertainty in his eyes tugged at your heartstrings.

“Just to keep this. Tony, I’m right here.” You reassured the man who followed you into the kitchen, as if to make sure you wouldn’t disappear all of a sudden.

“Will you leave me?” He whispered shakily.

This wasn’t a side of Tony you had ever seen. You were used to the confident, sassy man who joked around and made you laugh.

“I can’t deal with the pain alone. Stay. Please. You’re all I have, Y/N.”

There wasn’t a muscle in your body that protested, not that you wanted to anyways. Laying his head against your chest, he hugged you, holding onto you with all his might.

“Okay, I’ll stay. I’ll stay as long as you need.”

“You will?”

He felt you nod as your fingers carded through his hair, calming his nerves and reassuring him of your presence. He didn’t know how long it would take for you both to recover, but as long as you were with him and he with you, he felt some semblance of hope. That eventually everything could be okay.

“Of course. You’re all I have too.”

#fandom free bingo #tony stark x reader #tony stark angst #tony stark x pepper potts #james rhodes x reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark #tony stark imagine #tony stark one shot #james rhodes #pepper potts #the stark squad #mostly marvel musings #marvel fanfiction #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you

[em-prentiss]

There’s this stupid thought I keep having and it will not leave my head so I’m just gonna spiral over here; Jack has been begging for a build a bear for months so Aaron and Emily finally take him on a weekend off, and once they go to the store Emily is like what the hell is this place and she just keeps looking around so wondrously and when she sees the tiny little outfits she’s like oh my god this is the cutest thing ever. While they’re helping Jack with the whole process she keeps smiling this tiny little smile and looking around, and Aaron notices so when they’re done with Jack’s he leans in close and tells her to pick one. She immediately turns red and her eyes widen like, excuse you I don’t need a stuffed animal, I’m a grown woman in my 30s, and Aaron’s like reallyyyy and she’s like yep mhm let’s get out of here, Jack already got his stuffed animal but she looks around again as they’re leaving (where was all of this when she was a child?) and Aaron’s like yep you’re getting one and he takes her hand and drags her to the animals. 

She reluctantly chooses a brown bear but when she sees a tiny little suit outfit she doesn’t even pretend not to want it😭 so she starts building a mini bear Aaron that she can cuddle with when he’s gone on cases (she’s switched to counterterrorism) and she chooses to make a sound for it and gives the little recorder to Aaron and mumbles say something and he’s grinning and she’s blushing—her face is so red by this point—and she puts the little voice thing in the bear’s chest after he says something like sleep tight or I miss you and I’m coming home soon. She picks out a heart too and when they give it to her she lets Jack give it a tiny kiss so she can have both of her Hotchner boys close to her <3

Jack is so excited at the thought of both of them having stuffed animals and he starts trying to convince Aaron to get one😭 but Aaron is firmly like no I’m sorry and Jack’s like >:(( whatever at least me and Emily have matching cool plushies.

And then Emily picks out a suit outfit and tiny little shoes and names it something ridiculous like “Bear” because her brain is boiling atp from the heat of her blush, but Aaron is on the lookout for any weird looks she might get and whenever he finds someone with even a slightly confused stare he gives them that unsub glare and they turn away lmfaooo. She’s so red by the time they pay for it and give her the certificate, but you know what, her inner child is healed, so she actually doesn’t give a shit. However, she gets too embarrassed to carry the bag so Aaron carries it for her <3

Future baby hotchniss may or may not love to cuddle with it too🥺

#current brainrot #idk where this came from #my build a bear is princess cadance from mlp #she still remains on top of my bookshelf <3 #anywayy #hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #criminal minds #hotchniss hcs

[elryuse]

WANT YOU BACK

WINTER X MALE READER

Tags : Possessive EX GF Winter, Pregnancy, Cheating, Teasing, Creampie, Quickie

Winter choked back a sob, the smoky jazz club blurring into a canvas of swirling lights and pounding bass. Across the crowded dance floor, Y/n's laughter echoed, a sound that once brought sunshine into her days and now felt like a cruel taunt. He was happy. Genuinely, radiantly happy with his new girlfriend, Karina – a vision of effortless beauty draped on his arm.

Regret gnawed at Winter's insides, a ravenous beast that had been growing stronger with every passing day. A year ago, Y/n had been her world. The kindest, most patient boyfriend a girl could ask for. But Winter, fueled by a twisted yearning for excitement and the allure of a "bad boy" fantasy, had thrown it all away. Now, the sight of his happiness with someone else ignited a firestorm of jealousy and a terrifying realization: what if she'd lost him forever?

Panic clawed at her. She couldn't lose Y/n. Not entirely. A twisted plan, fueled by possessiveness and a warped sense of entitlement, began to take shape in her mind. She would get him back, even if it meant manipulation and control.

Excusing herself from her date, Winter weaved through the throng of dancing bodies, her eyes fixated on Y/n. As she approached, she noticed a flicker of surprise followed by a cautious warmth in his eyes.

"Winter??" he greeted, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension. Karina, sensing the tension, shot her a withering look.

"C-can I talk for a minute… alone?" Winter purred, her voice dripping with forced vulnerability.

Y/n hesitated, his gaze flitting between Winter and Karina. Karina rolled her eyes and reluctantly excused herself. Winter led Y/n to a secluded corner, excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

"I-i shouldn't have done what I did Y/n, " she began, her voice trembling slightly. A performance worthy of an Oscar. "You were the best thing that ever happened to my life, A-and I threw it all away."

Y/n, ever the believer in second chances, looked at her with a mixture of empathy and residual hurt. "W-winter," he started, his voice gentle. "Karina and I—"

"I know," she cut him off, tears welling up in her eyes. "But maybe… just maybe.." she trailed off, letting the unspoken suggestion hang heavy in the air.

Y/n sighed, torn between his loyalty to Karina and his lingering emotions for Winter. "Winter, we can't just—"

Winter leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper. "Just one night, Y/n. Let me show you what I've been missing. What you've been missing."

Her words, laced with a desperate yearning, struck a chord in Y/n. Memories flooded back - stolen kisses, whispered secrets, the warmth of her hand in his. He couldn't deny the lingering feelings, the pull of a familiarity that resonated deep within him.

In the dimly lit corner, away from the prying eyes of the club, they fell into each other's arms. The kiss ignited a spark within them, a wildfire fueled by pent-up emotions and unspoken desires. It was a desperate kiss, raw and hungry, like two drowning souls clinging to a lifeline. "I knew you wanted it..". Winter whispers, Her voice desperate of affection.

Winter's touch was a stark contrast to the carefree affection Karina so readily bestowed upon Y/n. Her fingers dug into his back, a possessive hold that sent shivers down his spine. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as their lips met in a frenzied dance. "Fuck Me Y/n.. Fuck me..". Winter begged, as she began to undress.

"W-winter s-slow down". The air crackled with electricity. Winter's eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, flickered with a possessiveness that made Y/n's breath hitch. There was a hunger in her gaze, a desperate need for control that sent a shiver down his spine. This wasn't the sweet affection they once shared; it was a darkness that both terrified and enticed him. "Cum... Cum inside me... Stay with me like this.. Please..". Winter begged, as finally Y/n released strings of his cum deep inside her womb.

As they stumbled back, breathless and flushed, a sense of foreboding settled over Y/n. There was a possessiveness in Winter's behavior that hadn't been there before. He knew this stolen night was no reconciliation, but a twisted game he was being drawn into against his better judgment.

Winter's eyes gleamed with a predatory glint. "This feels like coming home," she whispered, her voice husky with desire before she kissed him once again.

But in the pit of Y/n's stomach, a chilling premonition bloomed. He wasn't sure he was coming home, but rather entering a dark labyrinth, lured back by a love that had turned possessive and manipulative.

Winter cradled the positive pregnancy test in her hand, her emotions a tangled mess. Relief warred with a horrifying sense of manipulation. This wasn't the happy reunion she'd envisioned. This was a twisted trap sprung on Y/n.

The stolen night in the club had been fuelled by desperation, not love. It had served its purpose, though. Winter had him back, tethered to her by an invisible chain: the baby growing within her.

The next morning, she played the heartbroken victim. Tears streamed down her face as she confessed to Y/n about the test. "We can't pretend this didn't happen," she cried, knowing full well he wouldn't abandon a child.

Y/n, ever the good guy, fell into the trap. He felt responsible, obligated. But every visit to Winter's apartment felt like a descent into a suffocating prison. Her possessiveness escalated with each passing day.

"You can't see Karina anymore," Winter declared one evening, her voice laced with a chilling finality. Y/n protested, reminding her of Karina's innocence in all this. "This is between us, Y/n," Winter hissed, a manic glint in her eyes. "You're mine now."

He tried to explain the situation to Karina, but guilt choked his words. In the end, the confused silence and strained distance became too much for her to bear. She broke up with him, heartbroken and bewildered.

Winter celebrated this "victory" with a chilling smile. Y/n was now truly hers, isolated and trapped. She used the pregnancy as a weapon, a constant reminder of his supposed transgression. "Every scan, every milestone," she'd say, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, "a reminder of what we had."

Yet, with each passing week, the facade of happiness wore thin. Winter felt a growing resentment towards the child, a constant reminder of her deceit. But most of all, she resented Y/n. His forced presence, his hollow attempts at conversation, only amplified the emptiness within her.

One night, as Y/n sat awkwardly on the couch, Winter launched into a tirade. "You don't love me! You never did!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. "Y-you just feel sorry for me!"

Y/n, worn down by the constant emotional abuse, snapped. "I do care about you, Winter," he said, his voice tired. "But I can't love someone who holds me hostage with threats and guilt."

His words hung in the air, heavy and final. Winter recoiled, a flicker of fear replacing the anger in her eyes. She might have trapped him physically, but emotionally, she'd pushed him to the edge.

The flicker of fear in Winter's eyes was fleeting, replaced by a cold glint that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. He'd seen that look before, in the dimly lit corner of the club – the predator assessing its prey.

"Hostage?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with a terrifying calmness. "I gave you a chance, Y/n. A chance to be a family. Maybe you don't love me, but you'll learn."

Her next words were a chilling whisper. "Besides, where would you go? Do you really think Karina would take you back after this?"

Y/n's stomach churned. She was right. Shame choked him, muting any further protest. Winter sensed his resignation and a victorious smile curled her lips. This was where the game truly began.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, baby preparations, and a suffocating sense of control. Winter micromanaged everything, making Y/n feel like a visitor in his own life. His attempts at connecting with the child felt staged, a constant performance under Winter's watchful eye.

Yet, a strange sense of normalcy settled in. Winter stopped mentioning Karina entirely, reveling in the fact that Y/n was trapped. Slowly, she started subtly chipping away at his support system. A "forgotten" work call from Y/n that turned into a week-long business trip. A "sudden illness" that kept his friends from visiting.

Y/n, worn down by the constant emotional manipulation and guilt trips, barely noticed the isolation. He became a ghost in his own life, existing only to fulfill his "duties" as a father and a reluctant partner.

Years passed. Winter birthed two more children, each arrival a twisted celebration of her victory. Y/n remained a shell of his former self, a ghost trapped in a gilded cage of her own making. Winter, however, thrived. Her possessiveness had morphed into a twisted sense of ownership. Y/n belonged to her now, a trophy on her emotional shelf.

One cold evening, as the older children played in the living room, Winter snuggled close to Y/n on the couch. "See?" she purred, her voice laced with satisfaction. "We have a family now. Just like what you always wanted."

Y/n's eyes, devoid of their former warmth, met hers. There was no love in them, no regret, no longing. The years of manipulation had hollowed him out. He was simply a shadow, a reminder of the love she'd destroyed and the life they could have had.

A cold smile settled on Winter's face. In her twisted mind, this was their happy ending. Her ultimate victory. She had Y/n, and that was all that mattered. The love she'd craved, the genuine connection, was a forgotten casualty in her war for control. Winter had built her prison, bricked with manipulation and guilt, and in the process, had become as trapped as the man she held captive.

#aespa winter #winter #kim minjeong #minjeong x reader #aespa minjeong #possessive #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #yandere #update #kpop smut #aespa smut #winter smut #apreciation post

[sortasirius]

centerfold

Fandom: 911

Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Words: 3663 (oops lol)

Rating: M

Summary: It’s all pretty simple. Buck gets up, works out, eats breakfast, goes to his shift, goes home to an empty and cavernous loft, makes dinner, and tries not to think about how much he wants his best friend. Yeah, right. Simple.

Title comes from this song.

Also on AO3 here

“Buck?  You with me?”

“What?” he looked around, blinking at the others, who were all staring at him.

“I asked what you were feeling for dinner, Chinese or Italian?” Bobby’s eyebrows were raised, in that telltale way that made Buck feel like he was being x-rayed.

“Oh,” he blushed, looking everywhere but Eddie, “Italian.”

“You always say Italian,” Hen complained, folding her arms, “you need to see someone for your addiction to bad garlic bread.”

“There’s no such thing as bad garlic bread,” Chim interjected, and the tension was broken. Buck avoided Eddie’s curious gaze, and moved off to the bathroom, not waiting for anyone to call him back.

It had been like this for weeks, ever since he had woken up saying Eddie’s name, curling pleasure receding down his spine, and a wet spot in his boxers and on the sheets of his bed.

He had washed them at two o’clock in the morning, his face burning with shame, and had vowed to never tell anyone about it or think about Eddie like that again.

Unfortunately, once the door had been open in his brain, he hadn’t seemed to be able to close it, and the dreams had vacillated from highly inappropriate to sweet and soft, stolen kisses and curled around each other in the bed, with Buck waking to the echoing whispers of his name in Eddie’s mouth, aching in an entirely different way.

He wasn’t sure which was worse.

He stared into the mirror, grappling with his feelings.  Look, he had…suspected this part of himself for months, maybe even years, ever since Chim said it wasn’t normal to flirt with the pizza delivery guy.

In Buck’s defense, his usual pizza guy was really cute, and always gave him extra garlic sauce without even charging him for it.

But there was a difference from admiring men from afar and wanting his best friend.

And man, did he want Eddie.

He had started noticing things, details that he had overlooked before.  Things that made Eddie laugh, like when Buck would collapse dramatically when Bobby asked him to wash the rig, or when Buck would lose to Chris in Mario Kart (which was every time they played). 

And worst of all, the way he looked at Buck when he would read to Chris at bedtime.  That soft, sweet look that made Buck’s heart stutter in his chest and lose his place in the book, earning a jab from Chris and a laugh from Eddie.

It was driving him crazy, and he had no idea what to do.

He couldn’t say anything, not because he thought Eddie or the others wouldn’t accept him, but because it would change things between him and Eddie, and Eddie and Chris were as much his family as Maddie was.

He couldn’t lose them; he would rather live his entire life like this than ruin what he already had.

“Buck?”

He jumped so violently that he nearly smacked his forehead on the mirror.  He hadn’t even realized that he was leaning over the sink, his head in his hands.  Turning around, he blushed furiously as he met Eddie’s concerned and earnest eyes.

“Oh.  Hey.”

“Are you okay, man?” he moved toward him cautiously, like he was a deer that would startle easily, “I just wanted to check on you.”

“What?” he gave his head a little shake, trying to clear it.  It was Eddie.  He wouldn’t mess this up with Eddie.  “Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, like he could see right through him.

“You sure about that.”

“Yeah,” he straightened up, searching wildly for an excuse for what he was doing, “Just-  Headache.”

Immediately, Eddie’s expression melted to open concern, and he moved towards him, shifting into what Buck always called “dad mode.”

“You take something for it?”

“Yeah,” he lied, hitching a smile on his face, “I’ll be fine as soon as I get my garlic bread.”

He huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes.

“You and your garlic bread,” he looked at him, evidently sizing him up, “You free on Saturday?”

“You know it.”

“You don’t have a date or anything?”

Buck swallowed.  The truth was, he hadn’t been on a date in weeks, not since his first dream about Eddie.

“No, just me and myself.”

“You want to come over?  Have a movie night?”

“Yeah of course, what’s Chris thinking?”

“Well,” he shifted closer to him, “Chris is spending the night at a friend’s house.  So it’d just be you and me.  I was going to make dinner.”

Buck felt his heart pounding in his chest.  Was this a date?  It felt like a date.

No, it couldn’t be a date, because it was with Eddie.  He and Eddie were friends.  Best friends.  Best friends hang out like this.  Best friends don’t date.  Best friends wake up saying each other’s names either, but Buck didn’t have time to worry about that.

“I hope by ‘make dinner’ you mean ‘order takeout.’  Because I don’t think I can live through another casserole of yours.”

Eddie’s smile was wide and bright.

“Fine, but not Italian.”

“Whatever, I’ll pick the movie, then.”

That smile was still on his face.

“Deal.”

It’s not a date.  It’s not a date.  It’s not a date.

Buck told himself this around a thousand times a day leading up to Saturday.  He felt nearly sick with anxiety every time he thought about it.  An entire evening alone with Eddie, without the buffer of Chris between them.

Yes, they had done this many times before, but it felt different for Buck now, and he didn’t know how to force himself to go back to normal.

He wanted to talk to Maddie about it, but Maddie might let it slip to Chim and Chim would tell Hen who would tell Bobby who wouldn’t tell anyone, but the truth might, somehow, get back to Eddie, and Buck just couldn’t bear the shame of the entire 118 knowing that he pined over the best friend he could never have.

Before he could blink, he was pushing open Eddie’s door, swinging a laughing Chris around before he set off for his sleepover, and settling down on the couch like he had a thousand times before.

“Comfortable?” Eddie was leaning against the doorframe, watching Buck scroll mindlessly through the tv guide, looking for something to catch his attention.  Other than the man in the doorway, that is.

“Yeah,” he stretched ostentatiously, grinning up at Eddie, “Your couch is more comfortable than mine.”

“Well, I didn’t have a decorator.  We’re having Indian.”

“Fuck yes,” Buck punched a fist in the air, “I want-”

“I know what you want,” Eddie waved him off, “It’s already on its way.”

“Oh man, I could kiss you right now.”

He said it without thinking, and glanced nervously at Eddie, afraid that he had shown his hand, but Eddie’s smile hadn’t flickered, and he said,

“Wait until after dinner at least.”

Something felt different that night, and Buck didn’t feel like it was just the tangled jumble of confused feelings in his chest.  Eddie was different, touching Buck’s arm, leaning into his space, stealing food off his plate despite Buck’s protestations, doing the dishes with him instead of just leaning against the counter.

They kept knocking into one another, making the kitchen feel four or five times smaller than it really was.

And every brush of skin, every nudge of Eddie’s hip against his, made Buck’s heart race.

He was so in tune with every move he made, he felt like he was a planet orbiting around the sun.

“What’re you looking at?” he broke the easy silence between them, drying his hands and draping the washcloth over the head of the sink.  Eddie didn’t look away from him, but watched him carefully, taking in every inch of him.

“You.”

“Yeah I can see that, Diaz.  You like what you see?”

“Maybe.”

“Just maybe?  Fuck you.”

“What’s been going on with you, Buck?”

Buck felt his heart drop in his chest.

“What do you mean?”

Eddie folded his arms, and Buck definitely didn’t notice the way his t shirt stretched across his chest.

“You know what I mean.  You’ve been weird for the past couple of weeks.  Weird with me.”

“No I haven’t,” he felt himself breaking out in a cold sweat.  He was caught, and all the pep talks in the bathroom mirror in the morning hadn’t worked, he hadn’t been able to hide the truth.

Everything was going to change.

“Yes you have, Buck,” he moved closer to him, “What’s going on?  You can tell me.”

No he couldn’t.

He thought of the worst case scenario, of losing Chris and Eddie, of becoming an outcast among his family, of ruining the best thing he ever had just because he had never known how not to fall in love.

But then, something in his brain shifted, and he thought of the best case scenario.

A confused mix of images, with him and Eddie and Chris all thrown together, of him spending even more time in the house that he wasn’t really a guest in, of him and Eddie changing only slightly, settling into something that was easy and defined.

He wanted that.  He wanted that with all he had.

All he had to do was take the leap.

“I asked you once,” Buck moved forward getting into Eddie’s space, smelling that clean, fresh scent of the cheap body wash he used, “if you wanted a shot at the title.”

He watched Eddie swallow, his wide eyes flickering down to his lips.

He felt like he was dreaming.

“I already smoke you in Mortal Kombat on a weekly basis,” he was trying for his usual bravado, Buck could see that, but he could also hear the tiniest waver in his voice, something of a giveaway, “What title are we talking about?”

Buck’s heart was in his throat, pounding so loudly that he could barely hear himself think. If he was wrong about this…

But he had to know, he didn’t want to live the rest of his life wondering…regretting.

He was willing to, but he didn’t want to.

“The title of the best I’ve ever had.”

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

It might as well have been an eternity.

“That’s easy enough.”

Buck blinked, sure he had misheard him, that his heart that beat for Eddie Diaz had traveled to his brain, whispering things that never would be.

“You-” he said, “You-”

“I would be the best, without any doubt.”

Buck’s brain was catching up, like flirting with Eddie was easy as breathing. And honestly, it was, it always had been.

“Oh yeah?  You talk a big game.”

“So do you.”

They were barely an inch apart, their chests in danger of pressing together. Buck thought he could feel the heat radiating off his own face.

“How’s that?”

“You said you could take me,” Buck’s hammering heart stopped dead as Eddie leaned even closer, “I don’t think you can.”

Buck felt like the world was on fire, that he was engulfed in flames. But these were ones that he didn’t want to put out.

“You wanna bet?” their chests were really touching now, and Buck could feel the all-consuming heat of Eddie through his thin t shirt.

“What’s the wager?” his hand skimmed down Buck’s arm, and he couldn’t repress a shiver.

“You buy dinner for the next two weeks.”

“I always buy dinner,” his breath was ghosting against his face, and even though Buck was the one that had started this whole thing, he felt like he was spinning out of control, unable to find the brake or the throttle.

“Yeah but,” his mouth was dry, and he couldn’t look away from Eddie, from his wide, pretty eyes, and the way he had that line between his eyebrows when he was thinking about something, the way his lips looked soft and a little chapped and just so-

He wasn’t sure, even years later, which one of them had brave enough to take the leap.  Eddie would say it was him, while Buck would swear up and down that it was him. But before Buck could even really formulate another thought, he was kissing Eddie Diaz.

He had dreamed about this for so long, laid awake at night and listened to the quiet rumble of the city around him, staring out at the orange light of the sky through the windows, and thought about exactly this.

He had imagined this scenario a thousand different ways, their first kiss, arguably the most important one.

Sometimes it would be a big dramatic thing, a declaration in front of everyone they knew. Buck would get hurt doing something stupid, and Eddie would kiss him in front of everyone, half angry, half relieved.

Sometimes it was quieter, just the two of them, something similar to this, a normal evening they had had a thousand times before turning into something more, something simmering just below the surface.

And while every scenario in Buck’s head was different, he always ended up touching himself just the same.

But nothing, not his thousands of hours of mindless dreaming about his best friend could have prepared him for the type of kisser that Eddie was.

He was practiced, and he was good.

He licked at Buck’s lips until his mouth gasped open, pulling him forward and bending him back at the same time, so Buck was well and truly trapped under his hands. They were pressed together, one long line, and Buck thought he may as well die now because nothing was ever topping this.

He groaned into Eddie’s open mouth, kissing him back with so much enthusiasm it knocked them off balance and nearly sent them to the floor.

“Calm down,” Eddie chided, smiling against his mouth, “there isn’t a rush.”

But there was a rush to Buck, because he was terrified of waking up.  Because this couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening.  He couldn’t have Eddie under his hands, sighing into his mouth, hands raking down his back, pulling up his t shirt to touch his bare skin.

“More,” he demanded, tearing his shirt over his head, “I want more.”

“Hang on,” Eddie pulled back, leaving Buck chasing his lips, “Slow down, Buck.”

“No,” he said, nearly pitifully, “Come back.”

“I’m right here,” he pressed their foreheads together, “I’m not going anywhere.  I just think-  Should we-  Talk about this?”

“Can we talk after?” he kissed the side of his face, breathing in the smell of him, tugging at the hem of his shirt.  Eddie let him pull it over his head, and Buck allowed himself to take the time to touch Eddie with the reverence that he deserved. 

He traced the scars on his torso, wanting to know the story of every one that he didn’t recognize.

Eddie’s chest was heaving, and there was a vague sort of satisfaction buzzing in Buck’s brain that he wasn’t the only one who was affected here.

“Yeah,” he finally managed, “We can talk after.”

The time between clothed and unclothed was short.  Buck felt desperate, shaky, like he needed a hit of something.  But the hit was Eddie, and Eddie was the greatest drug anyone could ever have.

Any nerves or fear that Buck had melted away the moment that Eddie had pressed his lips to his shoulder and whispered in his ear,

“I’ve got you.”

He relaxed into the experience, allowing Eddie to take the lead.

“How do you-”

“Everyone experiments in the army,” he said simply, “Not much else to do.”

“Oh,” he tried to lean into the feeling of Eddie’s hands, of the feeling of his teeth grazing the shell of his ear, but he seemed to feel him tense up, because he stopped immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, making Buck turn around from his position on the bed to look at him in the face.

“Nothing,” he said, avoiding his gaze, “Just-  I don’t-  I haven’t-”

Eddie took his face in his hands, shushing him quietly.

“I know that, and it’s okay.  But we don’t have to-”

Buck shook his head at the idea violently.

“No,” he said forcefully, “I want to.  I really, really want to.”

Eddie smiled, kissing him sweetly on the lips.

“At your pace.”

Once he had shoved his anxiety to the side, he found that it was easy, as everything with Eddie was.  It wasn’t strange to be with Eddie like this because they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, something that Buck had thought before, but never quite like this.

Eddie encouraged Buck to be vocal, say what he liked and what he didn’t, tell him to stop if he was uncomfortable or wanted to slow down.

But Buck was never one to slow down, and once he had figured out the sensation, and more importantly, figured out the sensation was good, he really only used his voice to tell Eddie to go faster or harder or that he wanted more.  More.  More.

Buck collapsed on the bed when they were done, sweaty and wrung out, but satisfied in a way that he wasn’t sure he had ever been in his entire life.

“Told you you couldn’t take me,” Eddie was standing over him, swiping a warm washcloth down his stomach.

“I think I took you just fine,” he propped himself up on his elbows, “You seemed to like it, anyway.”

“Oh, I definitely liked it.  I also like that I already know that I’m the best you ever had.”

“I never said that,” Buck shifted to watch him walk back to the bathroom, the rippling muscles of his back, the curve of his ass…god damn.

“You didn’t have to, I just know these things,” Eddie leaned away from the sink to tap his temple knowingly.

And the truth was, Buck really had no comeback, because he was the best he had ever had by a huge margin.

“Whatever, you just don’t want to buy dinner,” was what he settled on, and Eddie chuckled as he slid back into the bed with him, pulling Buck on top of him and slotting their legs together.

Eddie’s bed was soft and comfortable, even more so when Buck was tangled together with him, Eddie’s hand tracing up and down his spine, his heart beating strong and steady in his chest, where Buck’s ear rested, his hand curled around Eddie’s forearm.

They were breathing in tandem, the quiet of the night around them broken only by a car rolling by or the sound of a cat passing through the back yard.

“Should we talk about this?” Eddie broke the easy silence, his hand still traveling up and down his back.

Buck turned his face into his chest, so his voice came out muffled.

“Do we have to?”

He heard Eddie huff a laugh, pressing a kiss into the top of his head.  It drove him completely insane.

“Yeah, I think we probably should.”

Buck groaned, but couldn’t find the words to even begin saying how he felt, how this happened.

Fortunately, Eddie took it out of his hands.

“Is this what’s been bothering you?”

“I-” it was hard to admit this, admit something to someone that he had barely even admitted to himself, “I had a dream about you and-  I thought it was just a one-off thing, one of those embarrassing things that you can’t control and you get over.  And then-  Then it kept happening, and then it was happening when I was awake.”

Eddie’s warm weight was reassuring, and it was easier to talk once he had started.

“I didn’t even realize-  I didn’t know that I was-  Like that.  Sure I can appreciate anyone’s ass but I didn’t think that-  That it meant anything.  That I wanted anything with a guy.  Until-  Until you.”

The silence stretched, and it was all Buck could do not to change the subject, talk about something inane, something not quite so…raw.

“It took you long enough.”

Wait.  What?

“Huh?” he twisted around to look at Eddie’s face, half hidden in the dark, but he could tell that he was grinning, “What do you mean it took me long enough?”

“I’ve been giving you signals for at least two months.”

“Two months?  You-�� Two months?”

“Ever since the tsunami,” he gripped him tighter, like even the memory of that horrible day was too much, “The way you protected Chris, the way you did everything you could to find him, save him.  I think I fell in love with you that day.”

“I was the one that lost him,” he mumbled, before his brain caught up with his ears, “Wait-  What do you mean, ‘in love with’ me?”

“You’re not stupid, Buck,” he didn’t have to see Eddie to know he was rolling his eyes, “You heard me.”

“I-  I don’t-”

He didn’t understand how anyone like Eddie, someone so good, so kind, such an amazing father, could be in love with him.

“You don’t see what everyone else does,” Eddie’s quiet voice filled him up like a good glass of whiskey, warming him to the tips of his fingers, “The way you brought everyone to the house for Christmas with Athena.  The way you are with kids.  The way you are with Chris.  God, Buck, how could I not love you?  How could I not want you for myself?  For me and for my kid.”

Buck swallowed loudly.  No one had ever said anything remotely like this to him.  It was so tender, so gentle, and there was no doubt in his mind that Eddie meant it.  Every word.

“I really-” he let out a shaky breath, “I really love you, Eddie.  Sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“That’s okay,” he could feel Eddie’s smile as he pressed his lips into his hair again, “I was willing to wait.”

#buddie #my writing #911 #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #probably first of many lol #buddie fanfic

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

fic idea!! ethan and y/n had a fight but she ended up on her knees sucking him to make it up to him.

they had to quickly go back to school because they all eat lunch with chad tara etc.

ethan has his hand on her thigh as they all talk and laugh, but y/n is still horny after that incredible bj.

he teases her, caresses her thigh, hand going up under her skirt, only slightly brushing against her panties. *with pleasing eyes she whispers* "Please ethan ill be quiet i promise"

he ends up fingering her under the table. bonus if she stops him before orgasming because she knows she'll be too loud and they end up fucking in an empty classroom next to the lunch tables

HI!

I absolutely loved this idea! I hope you like it!💕

Alone Together - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: After a fight with Ethan, you make it up to him. It unfortunately leads to you being a horny mess until he finally takes care of you.

Contains: Angst-ish?, Oral - m receiving, fingering, semi-public sex acts, spanking, unprotected sex but like...pulling out lmao. (If I missed anything, let me know:)

A/N: Dude I'm so close to 500 followers, and I want to write something HUGE for it once I get there. 🥹

You and Ethan rarely argued, but after something simple turned into the first major fight of the relationship, you felt so awful that it got to the point that it did. It all started after you told Ethan about the boy that sat beside you in class, and mentioned how he asked you for your number to talk about assignments. Ethan thought that was the stupidest excuse to get a girl’s number, but you were a little oblivious and didn’t think there were any other intentions, so you did end up giving the guy your number. Ethan got angrier the more you tried to downplay it, and he even started to question what your intentions were.

Once he’d had enough of the conversation, he stormed out. He needed to calm down, because he was so close to saying things that he didn’t mean. As hurt as he felt, he didn’t want to hurt you.

After Ethan didn’t talk to you for the rest of the day, he showed up to your dorm after his morning class. He was hoping the two of you could talk it out, because he did love you, regardless of how irritated he was.

“Hey,” you said, once you’d opened the door for him. You were trying to fight off your tears as soon as you saw him, so he pulled you into a hug.

“I’m sorry I left yesterday, but I was just so mad,” Ethan said, as his hands ran across your back. “I don’t want anyone else to think they can have you.”

“Do you want to break up?” you asked against his chest, as he chuckled.

“I love you too much to do that,” he sighed, “But I’m not going to lie, it hurt my feelings that you just gave your number out like that. I was starting to think that you wanted him to text you.”

“What?” you asked, pulling away to look at him. “You think I’d want to be with someone else?”

“I never did before yesterday,” he said, “Maybe I’m just a little insecure.”

“And a little possessive,” you mumbled, as he leaned down to kiss you.

You knew that Ethan loved you but seeing him get so mad and upset over someone trying to move in on what was his, it showed you how deep his feelings were for you. The simple kiss quickly turned into something more as his hands roamed your body and his tongue moved across your bottom lip. You gasped into his mouth once his hand moved underneath the skirt you were wearing, his hand massaging your ass as he started to back you towards your bed.

“Wait,” you said, as you pulled away. “We don’t have a lot of time for make-up sex.”

“Fuck, I forgot about lunch,” Ethan groaned, running his hand through his hair. “I’m going to be hard for the rest of the day thinking about you.”

“I think I know something that’ll help you,” you said, as you sank to your knees in front of him.

You rubbed your hand over his jeans, smiling once you felt how hard he was for you. You unbuttoned them and slid them down his hips as his eyes stayed on you.

“Are you sure we have time for this?” he asked, as you giggled to yourself.

“You know it doesn’t take me long to make you cum.”

He groaned at your words as you slid his boxers down, and you grabbed his cock as it stood at attention in front of your face. You looked up at him as you leaned in, taking his pink tip past your lips as you swirled your tongue over it.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, as his hand ran across your cheek to rest in your hair.

You were inching him in your mouth as you started to bob your head, taking more of him every time. He groaned at the feeling as your cheeks hollowed, his hand that was loosely resting in your hair gripping it tighter. Once you got to the point that you were gagging around him, your mouth getting even more wet, he started to praise you. “You make me feel so good.” “That’s it, baby. You can take it.” “Fuck, your mouth is so perfect.”

All the things he was saying to you had your core throbbing, because it turned you on so much to make him feel that good. You moved your hand up and down what you couldn’t take, as he whimpered at the feeling. Your hand moved with your mouth, his entire cock getting the attention it needed as he struggled to keep his fluttering eyes on yours. You didn’t look away, though. You loved seeing him like this. The way his breathing got heavier, the rosy tint to his cheeks, the way his head was starting to roll back.

“Fuck, gonna cum,” he panted, as you hummed around him.

His hand was tugging on your hair, the feeling making you moan around him as his eyes screwed shut, a low moan slipping past his lips as the salty liquid coated your taste buds. You bobbed your head a few more times, a lot slower than you had been going because you didn’t want him to get over stimulated, until you slid him out of your mouth, a sweet smile on your lips as he looked down at you.

“I’m definitely not mad at you anymore,” he said with a smile, as his breathing started to return to normal. “Come here, baby.”

He reached down for you to grab his hands as he helped you to your feet before he pulled you into his chest.

“Now I’m the one that gets to be a horny mess all day,” you said, as he ran his hands over your hips.

“Oh, I’ll take care of you later…you won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

Whenever Ethan told you that, he meant it. The idea of him having you in all the positions and him eating it out until you couldn’t take it anymore had your head spinning. You almost wish he hadn’t told you that, because it was all you were going to be able to think about as you tried to make it through the rest of your day.

As you sat at lunch across from Tara and Chad, you were hoping that the conversation would distract you from the not-so-innocent thoughts you were having about your boyfriend.

“Did your boyfriend tell you about what happened to him yesterday?” Chad asked you, as you turned to look at Ethan.

“No…what happened?”

“So he’d just came back from showering, and I came back to our dorm earlier than I was supposed to. He didn’t realize I was there until I said something once he dropped his towel,” Chad said, cracking up as Ethan’s cheeks started to turn bright red. “He fucking screamed, dude. Like, high-pitched and everything.”

You and Tara started to giggle as you thought about it, and it was getting to the point that you couldn’t look at your boyfriend, because you knew you’d only laugh harder.

“Hey, I had a lot going on yesterday. I didn’t expect you to be there,” Ethan said, as Chad wiped a few tears off his cheeks from laughing so hard. He turned to look at you, shaking his head once he noticed how hard you were trying to keep it together. That’s when you felt his hand brush against your thigh before he squeezed it. A strained moan slipped past your lips at the feeling, as he tried to feign innocence. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I accidentally kicked the table,” you lied, trying to play it off as you took a deep breath.

Once Chad and Tara stopped laughing, they brought up the weekend plans that the friend group had been looking forward to. You were trying so hard to be present for that conversation, but once Ethan’s hand inched up further until it was under your skirt, you looked over at him. He met your gaze, and smirked once he noticed your eyes pleading with his. He shook his head before he turned his attention back to Chad, but his hand didn’t stop.

You bit your bottom lip as you felt his hand run over your panties, your eyes going wide as you tried to calm down. Ethan just kept talking, like he had no idea how badly his fingers rubbing over your swollen clit was affecting you.

Once Chad and Tara started to talk about plans that they had for dinner that night, you leaned over to whisper into Ethan’s ear.

“I need more,” you said, as he lightly chuckled. “Please, baby. I’ll be quiet.”

“You promise?” he questioned, as he pushed your panties to the side.

“Yes.”

The way he had his arm angled, it looked like he was just being a sweet boyfriend with his hand resting on your leg. Chad and Tara had no idea that his ring and middle finger were buried inside of you, moving back and forth over that spongy spot inside of your pussy.

You were happy to be getting some of the attention you needed, but it was taking everything in you to keep your breathing steady. Ethan’s pace kept changing, almost like he wanted you to be loud. He’d slow his fingers down, but then he’d start pressing his fingers so hard against that spot that your hands were gripping the sides of the chair.

You felt yourself getting closer, and you knew you couldn’t be quiet, especially after you had to play off a whimper by doubling over like you’d just gotten a bad cramp. You grabbed Ethan’s wrist with both hands, as you tried to get him to stop, but he just kept going. He looked over at you, noticing how fast you were breathing, and how you looked like you could cry from the stimulation. That’s when he realized that he needed to stop, because there was no way you could make it though your orgasm without it being obvious to your friends across the table.

He pulled his fingers out, and once Tara and Chad talked to each other, he looked back over at you and brought the fingers that were covered into your wetness up to his lips. You needed to cum so bad, and once he did that, you were sure you were going to go feral if you didn’t get your orgasm.

“We need to go,” you whispered, as he looked back over to Chad and Tara.

“We’ll leave soon, babe,” he said, as you huffed in frustration.

“If you don’t take me somewhere and fuck me right now, I’m going to go crazy.”

“You need it that bad?” he questioned, looking back at your friends to make sure they were still in their own conversation.

“Please, Ethan.”

“Hey guys, I think we’re going to get out of here,” Ethan said, as Chad and Tara looked at the two of you.

“Is everything okay?” Tara asked, once she noticed that you weren’t really saying anything.

“Yeah, it’s just cramps. I’m going to walk with her back to her dorm really quick before class,” he said, as your friends nodded.

Once you and Ethan got up, he took his hand in yours as he led you away from the table.

“We don’t have time to go back to my dorm,” you said, as he started to laugh.

“That’s not where we’re going,” he said, as he led you down the hall to a room that was used for study groups.

“We’re going to fuck in here? There’s no lock on the door,” you huffed, running your hand through your hair as Ethan grabbed a chair and propped it up under the door knob.

“No one’s getting in here,” he said, as he walked over to you. “I’m going to fuck you right here on this table.”

“Are you sure we won’t get caught?” you asked, as he reached under your skirt and grabbed your panties and slid them down your hips.

“That depends on how loud you are.”

Ethan tuned you around and had you bent over the table, your elbows resting against the wood as you waited for him to fuck you. You heard the zipper to his jeans get slid down before you felt him move your skirt, so it was bunched up on your hips.

“This is going to have to be quick, baby. Is that okay?” he asked, as he pushed the tip of his cock in your dripping pussy.

“Mhm,” you moaned at the feeling, as he slid the rest of himself inside you. “Just..don’t get your cum on my clothes.”

“It’s going to go all over this perfect ass of yours.”

He wasted no time before his cock started to thrust in and out of you, soft moans slipping out of your mouth. He was so focused on you, but once he glanced up at the clock on the wall and noticed you had less time than he originally thought, he started to pound into you. The sudden pace change caught you off guard, and you had to time to process it before you started letting out loud moans. The tip of Ethan’s cock hit your g-spot with every thrust, and after his fingers a few minutes before, you knew it wasn’t going to take much for him to make you cum. His hands were gripping your hips as he pulled them back to meet his thrusts, your hands moving to grip the side of the table so you wouldn’t fall off it.

Seeing you like this, and it being in a slightly public setting ignited something in Ethan. He let go of one of your hips to give a sharp smack to your ass, the feeling making you whimper as he soothingly rubbed over it before he did it again.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, “I’m so close.”

His hand went back to your hip as he mercilessly fucked you, loud whines flooding out of your mouth as the grip you had on the table got even tighter.

Ethan’s heavy breathing turned to groans once your pussy started to squeeze his cock, and you were bringing him so close to his own orgasm, but he was trying so hard to hold out so he could fuck you through yours. The sounds you were making didn’t make it any easier for him, so he finally pulled out.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, once he looked down at his release all over your ass cheek. “You gotta see this.”

You didn’t say anything as you caught your breath against the table, a sweet smile playing on your lips as he walked around to show you his phone.

“Whoa, that’s hot,” you said, as you looked at the picture of the red handprint that was covered in his cum.

“Yeah,” he said, as he walked over to grab some tissues from the other side of the room. “Did you like doing it in here?”

“Yeah, if you want this to be our new spot for quickies, I’m down.”

“I know we just hooked up, but I still want you to come over tonight. I didn’t have enough time for all the things I wanted to do to you,” he said, as he slid his boxers and jeans back up.

“I’d love to, babe,” you said, smiling at him as you stood up.

“Good, because again, you won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I did it again and left it open for a part 2, so if y'all want another part of this where it'll probably consist of nothing but fucking, let me know lmao. It'd definitely be more on the rough side👀

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

[okieedokes]

you can stay with me | don hume x f!reader

summary: don let’s you stay in his room after the party!

word count: 1,141

warnings: none just fluff

Don Hume bows his head shyly to the applause of the crowd below him. It seems that everyone in the auditorium who hadn’t left with their respective sweethearts were joined in celebration of the young athlete.

He steps off the stage to join the group of men who have quickly become his closest friends as they all take turns shaking his shoulders and kissing his head in pride. Becoming flustered by all the attention, Don excuses himself to the bar, hoping another drink will settle his nerves.

Distracted by all the commotion, Don doesn’t notice the girl walking towards him until she crashes into his frame. The drink in her hand splatters the pair, soaking his white button-down and the front of her soft pink dress.

Any feelings or confidence Don had felt prior had been instantly replaced by embarrassment as he steadied the young girl with a hand on her waist.

“I’m so sorry! I’m the biggest clutz!” You exclaim whilst shaking your hands to remove any lingering drops of brown liquid.

Don takes this opportunity to take in the young woman who stood before him. A once pale pink dress perfectly hugs your frame, complimenting the soft curls in your hair and the scarlet tinge of your lips. As your face reddens with embarrassment, Don realises he had been staring in admiration whilst you continue to spew apologies.

“No, it’s okay. It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking.” He reassures, withdrawing his hand in the process.

“I’m sorry. I really should get going before I trip and accidentally kill someone!” You joke, but it fails to fool Don as he catches the tears brewing in your eyes.

“You were great!” You add before running towards the exit as the tears threaten to spill.

Don turns to check that any of his fellow teammates are not watching him, knowing it would be the main topic of conversation at training the next day if they saw him run after a girl.

Once satisfied they were all distracted, he took off in your direction.

Upon leaving the auditorium, the darkness made it difficult to see anything, let alone your slight stature, until he heard faint sobs around the corner of the building. Sure enough, the cries led him straight to you, your arms wrapped around your body that shakes with each sob.

Don raises a gentle hand to your shoulder, careful not to frighten you.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks softly.

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I was just worried about getting caught covered in booze when I returned to the dorms… I’m on a scholarship and need a clean slate to keep it.” You utter between sobs, and Don realises that you both may have more in common than he had once thought.

“I understand; I’m only here because of the team…I’m always worried I’m going to screw it all up.” He confesses, shoving his hands into his pockets nervously.

“Oh, come on, Hume, everyone knows you’re the best stroke Washington’s had in years!” You chuckle; your sweet smile doesn’t go unnoticed by Don.

“Hey, I have clean clothes back at my dorm. If you want to borrow a jacket, or something before you head home?” He doesn’t know why he suggested this, but he’ll do anything not to say goodbye just yet.

“Don’t you want to stay and celebrate?” You sniffle.

“I was about to leave anyways; I got to practice early tomorrow.” Don lies and, without hesitation takes the girl's hand in his as he guides her toward his dormitory.

Upon reaching the dorm, Dons realises his guest may not be impressed by his bare bedroom. However, when he unlocks the door, you enter without hesitation, making yourself comfortable on the edge of his twin bed, feet dangling below.

“So, do you like rowing?” You pipe up as he searches his cupboard for a coat with minimal holes, settling on a fleece bomber jacket.

“Well, I’m getting a job out of it and a room, so yeah.” He mutters, closing the cupboard door behind him.

“I think it’s more than that; I’ve seen how you row.” You tease, a sly smile playing on your lips.

“You’ve been watching me?” Don questions, struggling to believe a girl as beautiful as yourself would ever take notice of him.

“Hard not to.” You admit, smiling softly.

Don notices the goosebumps on your arms and places the jacket around your shoulders. With his tall stature the garment almost swallows you up, but you wrap yourself in it nonetheless.

“I suppose it should be getting home.” You announce after a minute of silence.

“I’ll walk you back.” Don insists, wanting to savour any time left with you.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t; if my hall director sees you walking me home this late, she’ll get the wrong idea.” The girl giggles as Dons face glows bright.

“You can’t walk back alone. It’s nearly midnight.” Don objects, taking your hand in his as if he was pleading. Although he had only known you briefly, the thought of anything bad happening to you made his stomach churn.

“You can stay with me-“ He adds before fully acknowledging the inappropriateness of his offer. To his surprise, your face doesn’t appear disgusted, and instead, you flash your sweet smile.

“What about your bunkmate?” You giggle.

“Oh… I have a feeling he’s not coming back tonight.” Don mutters, glancing over at Shorty’s empty cot.

“Well, if that’s what you want…” You trail off before Don interjects.

“It is,” He assures, Bobby’s encouragement from earlier replays in his head as he bows down to meet your gaze.

You can’t help but lift your hand to brush the loose strands of hair that frame his face back. Don takes this gesture as permission to kiss you.

You intertwine your bodies together as you lower yourselves onto the mattress. You’re unsure whether it’s the liquor or the feeling of Don's strong hands on your body that causes your head to spin as you hesitantly pull away.

“Are you okay?” Don asks, his brow furrowed in concern that he had done something wrong.

“Yeah, my head is sore, probably from all the drinking.” You reply, and he places a calloused hand on your forehead.

“Hmm, you should probably get some sleep,” Don murmurs as he rolls onto his back, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. You tuck your knees up, resting them against his side as he strokes your hair gently.

“Good night, Don…” You’re voice trails off as you fall asleep feeling the safest you’ve been since leaving your childhood home months ago.

Don, who had never been much of a talker, places a soft kiss on your forehead before dozing off himself.

#don hume #don hume x reader #jack mulhern #tbitb #the boys in the boat #callum turner #fem reader #Spotify