#And it just makes me feel so fucking bad. Because I just know that this could have been no problem if you would communicate

[gojosprettyprincess]

₊˚ෆ HOW TOJI DEALS WITH OTHER MEN LIKING YOU <3

Tw- breeding, mentions of violence (not towards you), video recording. Not proofread

“Nuh uh don't hide this fucking pussy, show him how much you're creamin’ on my cock, don’t go all shy on me darling”. Toji laughed mockingly, his large hand effortlessly clasping both of your wandering wrists above your head to prevent any escape while using your phone to zoom in on the icky view of the mess between your mellowed thighs.

A streak of milky wetness glistened all over his massive cock, cascading down to his aching balls that were being captured in the filthy mess anyways because of how it's continuously slamming against your asshole that was coated with the cream that seeped out your gooey cunt.

"Fuck yeah, ya see that? See how this cute little pussy is wetting my dick? She sure as hell must be fucking loving it to be making this hell of a mess," he declared proudly. His deep, husky laugh resonated throughout the room, leaving no doubt that Toji was most likely losing his mind over the situation.

A few minutes earlier you told him about the guy from your class who confessed his feelings to you and you’re very uncertain about how to respond so you asked your boyfriend for some advice and well he decided to matters into his own hands.

“Tojii.. l-let go!” You cried out, attempting to dig your nails into his wrists as if that would make any difference, considering how fucking strong he is that it made your efforts almost laughably worthless.

“Nah don't think I want to darling, this fucker needs to know who the hell you belong to” he gritted his teeth at the thought of the guy even having the audacity to think you'd date him. You're all his and he would go to extreme lengths to ensure it remains that way.

The two of you were undeniably meant for each other and there was no fucking way in hell Toji would let some random fucker take you away from him.

“You wish this was you huh? Too fucking bad it's all mine to stuff and fuck, she belongs to me. Keep texting her and I’ll find you and bash your stupid fucking head in. Ya hear me?”. His brutal words cut through the air with a sharp edge, conveying possessiveness and veiled threats. It reverberated loudly, ensuring every detail was captured in the recording that the guy will be listening to soon after this.

His voice was deeper and harsher than normal, making your little cunt flutter even more around his stiffened shaft.

Which he obviously picked up on. “Ohhh you're such a slutty fucking whore baby, who am I kidding.” his grip on your bruised hands tightened. Threatening to leave more red, angry marks as he buckled his hips harshly into your ruined pussy. The force of his hips as he pushed into you aggressively showed literally no mercy.

“You’ll never fucking leave me, you're too fucking obsessed that your little cunt is twitching around me to the thought of me killing another man for you huh?”.

“N-no—” you stammered, turning your head away to look the other direction which made his grin widen even more as he playfully licked the faded scar on his lips because it had always been an indication of you lying whenever you looked away from him like that.

“Aww, that's fine doll," he murmured softly, his gaze unwavering as he directed the phone towards your fucked out face. His body sank deeper, inching downwards until his face hovered mere inches from your own. "you know what I'm thinking?”.

You peered your eyes at him and held contact in sheer curiosity.

“I’ll just breed this pretty fucking pussy and fuck a baby into you, how's that sound? Huh? You'll be such a good Mommy to our kid” his breath is now fanning against your face. Your body quivered at the thought, a deep longing stirring within you.

The thought of his suggestion made you moan, not just a normal moan. There's no particular way to describe it but the thought of that made your mind blurry and hazed. You and Toji always talked about having children in a few years but there's no harm in one now.

His possessiveness drove you crazy. Sure you knew Toji wasn’t a saint or an angel because at the end of the day, he murdered people for a living and because of that alone— he knew about the lonesome dangers of the world so he’s extremely overprotective and you’d loved every bit of it.

The thought of Toji even thinking you’d leave him for anyone else was an insult towards you because both of you were perfect for each other in every way possible.

“Y-yes! yes please, wanna carry your baby!” you babbled over and over, nodding your head like some stupid bitch as he proudly smirked at your reaction in amusement. “Yeah? Want me to make you a mommy? Get you pregnant so you'll be all full and swollen? Then everyone is gonna fucking know who you belong to”. The glint in Toji’s eyes was so dark, that it almost had you scared for a moment.

“Yesyesyes, please, m’so desperate Toji, fill me up–” you whimpered, tears glistening in your eyes as you pleaded fervently.

“Yeah fuck that, y’know what—” he mumbled to himself with a brief pause to stop the recording on his phone and swiftly hitting the "send" button to the guy that’s currently and patientlyyy waiting for your response in the chat. He casually tossed the device to the side and embraced you tightly, his strong arms enveloping you and wrapped around your neck to hug you before vigorously slamming his hips into you in an intense pace.

Unfortunately, the poor guy never had the chance to witness the adorable blessing you and Toji shared several months later because your boyfriend assassinated him on his way home the very next afternoon because he tried to speak to you again in person.

[plaidos]

The craziest part of all that Dropout discourse about how they almost never feature transfems outside of drag is that dozens of people were saying shit like “Well, if you don’t have any recommendations of trans feminine comics, then you can’t complain and you’re just looking for something to whinge about and you’re just as bad as them”

like first of all, i don’t live in LA and neither to most Dropout fans — it’s their job to find interesting & exciting talent local to them, not ours. secondarily this complaint & belief basically implies that the reason Dropout barely ever features transfeminine talent is because they just haven’t “come across” any. I saw literally dozens of TME people asking “well how do we know any transfems are applying?” — first of all, transfems who applied for positions at Dropout personally reached out to me to tell me that real world staff members of Dropout agree with me & that all of the transfems who are involved behind the scenes in the company do feel like they are being undervalued and underrepresented.

but secondarily, this just implies that Dropout would’ve definitely had more transfems if only they knew about talented transfeminine performers or if ant had applied — and this betrays such an obviously transphobic understanding of this situation. There are not so few trans women comics in LA that it would not be incredibly easy for Dropout to find one, and the belief that we are is indicative that you see us as some niche incredibly rare minority. there are straight up thousands of trans people in LA. LA famously has an incredibly rich & diverse scene for transfeminine talent.

…but even beyond that, the fact that many Dropout fans can’t name any transfem comics to suggest Dropout hire (which, by the way, that’s not how this works, and the reason most of us weren’t doing this is because it doesn’t make any sense to, it would be ridiculous to demand Dimension 20 hire one specific person?) is not an indicator that they “just want to whinge and don’t actually care” — it’s an indicator that transfems are so underrepresented that many people outside of the industry haven’t seen any big popular transfeminine comedians/etc. like… isn’t that fucking sad? isn’t that tragic??? isn’t that absolute proof that we need more people like us highlighted?

it just seems like a good way to punish transfems for complaining. Like I really don’t understand why so many Dropout fans are so upset at the fact that trans women are saying “hey, it’s really disappointing how little we’re represented, could we have more?” other than because they fundamentally don’t want to see us outside of as a drag queen. Like sorry but us wanting more transfem comedians doesn’t make it our responsibility to name each one. It’s giving “if you’re a fan of this band, name five of their albums” Why? Why should transfems have to name ten counterexamples every time they felt underrepresented? It’s an objectively shitty double standard.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

power bottom vi who lets you practice using your strap on her

warnings: 18+ content, power bottom vi x subtop fem reader, slight degradation and praise, clit stim (vi receiving), strap-on sex.

a/n: this is an older request but it's been on my mind for a while!!

Vi watched as you clumsily adjusted the harness around your waist with a skeptical eye. She sighed, leaning back and preparing herself for the worst. She felt bad thinking that, but she knew you. You had been her best friend for as long as you had attended to the same university, and you weren't exactly ever seen with girls. Pretty inexperienced, but adorably eager to please. When you showed up at her dorm with that downturned face, complaining about how you could never fuck a girl properly with a strap because you never get to practice, she found herself offering.

You glanced down at the dildo jutting out from the harness and stifled a laugh. This wasn't supposed to be a joke, though you knew it wasn't all that serious. You did wanna make Vi cum. You needed to be able to actually use one of these, and who better to experiment with than a girl who loves casual?

You tentatively settled between her legs, looking down at her for approval. She raised an eyebrow at you, and your heart did a little flip. "Do you even know how to use it?" She asked.

You scoffed half-heartedly at her accusation. "Yes, I do! I'm frequent LesLez."

"Dude, I did not need to know that."

"Sorry, I just.. well, I'm nervous. I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to do this, and it's making me feel weird." You confessed.

Vi softened a little at that, feeling some guilt for being brash with you. She grabbed your face, pulling it closer. "You don't have to be all dominant, you know." She spoke closely to your ear.

You looked confused, like an old dog being taught a new trick. "What? But I'm the one-"

"Just shut up and let me guide you." She quickly cut off your protest, her tone firm. It unexpectedly made you clit twitch with need.

"O-Okay..yeah." You agreed, steeling yourself.

Vi nodded, relaxing. It wouldn't be as bad to let you practice if she could be in charge. "Okay, just use your fingers on my clit..get me in the mood.." she instructed, letting her own trail down her body and show you what to do. You watched curiously as two of her fingers rubbed circles onto her clit. She then pulled them away, letting you try. You were a bit nervous, but when you glanced up to see Vi bit her lip at the way you touched her, it gave you a bit of confidence.

"Am I doing it right?" You asked, voice wobbly.

She nodded with a soft exhale. "Yeah, just like that."

When it was time for the main event, you felt less nervous. Both of you were. Vi found herself anticipated getting fucked. Maybe you wouldn't be so bad at it. You found yourself feeling like it wouldn't be so hard, and you were chasing her approval.

"Just the tip at first..I'm wet enough to take it." She guided you with eager pants, watching as you parted her slick folds with the head of the strap-on and very carefully letting it slip into her. Vi wanted to tell you that you didn't have to be so slow, but she figured it'd be better for you to be careful than just shove the dick into her and jackhammer-fuck her.

She gasped when she felt it, resting her head against the pillow. "Yeah, see? It's not so bad." She said, trying not to let herself enjoy it too much. This could only be practice. You were only supposed to be her friend.

You, on the other hand, had your head spinning. You eyes were bouncing from the way her pussy took the tip, the way her walls seemed try and suck the rest of the length in. You wanted to bottom out and let her feel every inch, to fuck her and hear her praise you for it. This was definitely getting out of hand.

"Can I fuck you? Please?" You asked, half-mumbling as if you didn't fully want her to process your words, but there was a desperation there that you couldn't hide even if you wanted to.

"Yeah, fuck me." Vi told you, bracing herself.

You didn't miss a beat, slowly pushing into her cunt and letting her adjust to all of it. Vi didn't hold in the moan, and she rubbed her clit with her own fingers to pacify herself from the stretch. It wasn't painful because she was experienced, but it wasn't exactly comfortable yet.

"Fuck me gently at first, don't rush it." She instructed, and you nodded. You reeled back until just the tip remained inside of her, and then slowly pushed back into her welcoming heat. You both moaned, your voice ironically soft and needy, and Vi's deep and raspy. Something about the difference in dynamics had your pussy soaking the harness.

The more you fucked her, the more the practice went from..well, actual practice, to something intense.

"Fuck, you're stretching me so well, aren't you? You like fucking me?" Vi cooed in your ear, her voice making you throb.

You eagerly nodded, a small whimper breaking from your throat as you slammed into her pussy. "Feels so good. Your pussy feels so good."

Vi's legs were wrapped around your waist, and your lips were latched onto her bottom one, sucking on the wet flesh. The room was hot, and you could hear the squelch of Vi's pussy taking you and the sound of your skin meeting.

On a particularly hard thrust, you found her g-spot, making her groan. "There you go. You actually can fuck a girl, can't you?" Her remark was almost condescending, and it ironically turned you on even more. Vi seemed to notice when your thrusts got sloppier, as you got needier. "Gonna make me cum, that's all you're good for," she rasped, and you whined. You whined at that.

"Please, I wanna make you cum. Need to." You whimpered out, fucking her with a newly eager and redoubled effort with the means to try to feel her cum around the silicone cock.

"Just like that, keep fuckin' me. I'm so close." She groaned and smashed her lips onto yours to hide her noises, fearing a complaint to the RA.

When she finally felt her orgasm come over her, her hands were all over your back, nails digging into your skin and making you moan just as loudly. Your breaths were shared, and you could actually feel the wetness mix on both of your thighs when they met, when you bottomed out in her pussy. All you could think about was how your best friend had the best pussy and you never knew. You wished you did sooner, you could be fucking her like this months ago.

You went limp on top of her, both of you breathless and a little sweaty. It felt nice, though. Vi was still in shock that things got so out of hand, but fuck if it wasn't a good feeling to have you laid on top of her like this. It had her a little shaken, trying to figure out how she felt about you. But not long after, the moment was over.

"I've got a physics test to study for, so.." Vi said, voice a bit quiet.

You were a little surprised. You wanted to just cuddle and feel her warmth for a bit, but it seemed like she wanted you to leave. That's what her words implied. So, you silently nodded, getting dressed. You wondered if this would happen again. You couldn't figure out if Vi was thinking the same things that you were, but you knew without a doubt that the friendship would never be the same. For better or worse.

[ill0usainte]

Fuck me like you mad at me, baby!

pairings: colonel!caleb x reader

cw: unprotected sex, office sex, inappropriate use of evol/powers, biting, hickeys, mentions of killing, possessive!caleb (come on it's caleb), crying, dom!caleb, sub!reader, lots of cum, nasty sex, reader getting aroused by Caleb dominating her, reader being called cocksleeve, anger issues

Imagine Colonel!Caleb, who has you pinned down over his office desk. Your wrist trap trapped under his hand as he gripped it tightly. You actually forget how strong Caleb is.

Oh how big of advantage he has with his evol-- just with a touch of it against your legs, makes you fall down to your knees.

Your clothes were scattered around his office-- leaving you bare. You can feel your ass pound against his pelvis behind. The mix of sweat and saliva painted your back--marked with hickeys and hand marks.

He moves his other hand as it reaches for your hip-- gripping the flesh, the other one spanks your ass as it jiggles you can't help but cry out of pleasure.

The way your aching pussy throbs around his gritty cock is intoxicating. This side of Caleb makes you go feral-- it's just so hot to see him so dominating and controlling over you.

Fucking you so good-- like a good cock sleeve you are.

The arousal sends shivers down your body-- because it's no good, this man will fuck you hours with no breaks.

You look so helpless-- but you can't shake the feeling of how his cock is filling you up so good.

The way his cock is bullying your aching pussy relentlessly:(

You knew he was mad. And it's bad for the part of you.

You knew how much Caleb loathes those higher-ups of the fleet. He hates how they treat him like a lap dog. Just a pet to be commanded to do things by their control.

And no shit-- because Caleb doesn't play when it comes to these things.

It angered him so much-- even of how deep his hatred for them, he never shows it. Instead he would let out his anger by fucking you immensely.

"hah- a-and did you know what those assholes told..m-me?" He growls, his hair sticking out on his forehead. You can't help but cry out in response, of how fast the man's pace is. All you can think of is how you're going back to linkon after this.

Caleb's desk was shaking continuously-- all his important paperwork were scattered around, few already drenched with your juices and his cum.

But he doesn't care-- like hell he will.

Tears stream down your cheeks feeling his gritty cock throb inside of your tight little hole. He's fucking you like there's no tomorrow-- as if he's following a rhythm.

"t-they...told me that I s-should stop bringing outsiders...in the fleet..." He breathes out, hand kneading the plush of your ass. The other one reached out to your hardened clit as he rub circles against it making you gasp as your legs trembled.

You were sure your moans were out of control. You'd just hope nobody passes by the colonel's office at this time.

"I can't...help but...want to kill them off instantly.." He leans over your back, his hot breath against your nape as he plants a kiss. It made you squirm, feeling his hot tongue traced over the plush of your skin.

The heat of sensation seeps through your pussy, as it clenches around his hardened cock. The sound of squelching roams around the room, the mix of your juices and his cum are leaking out of your poor pussy.

"Because....it would mean that I will be separated...hah-..f-from you.." He bites down the flesh of your nape making your eyes widened-- letting out a loud moan as you clench your hands-- trying to endure the pain.

Caleb continues on slamming his gritty cock in your warm pussy-- feeling your climax near, the walls of your pussy tightened around his hardened cock.

"hah-...and we w-ouldn't want that right, s-sweetie?" He whispers, leaving a soft kiss over the bite mark making your breath hitch. You nod in response as you felt your climax releasing-- following Caleb's hot loading cum releasing inside your womb. Thrusting it a little more inside--making sure it takes.

There might be complaints tomorrow from the other officers about the questionable noises from the colonel's office.

Fics of Caleb:

(Wo)men in uniform.

Play your gun right!

Lasting Mark.

Mark your territory.

LADS Men as cigarettes after sex songs

Got your head in a headlock!

[dollyyun]

VIDEO CALL ✧ L.HS

SYNOPSIS ✧ you’ve been missing your boyfriend a little too much, yearning him to return to your arms, but you need him more than ever. seeing how desperately you crave him, he offers a solution that eventually leads to the two of you having video sex.

PAIRING ✧ idol bf!heeseung x fem reader

WARNINGS ✧ soft and sappy in the beginning, loverboy heeseung, reader whines a lot, reader is so fucking needy (i know i am), video call sex, masturbations, fingering, clit stimulation, mild degradation, uses of dildo, orgasms, dirty talks, praise kink, daddy kink, heeseung is so in love, idk what else

WORD COUNT✧ 9.4K

A/N ✧ idk how to write a good video call smut (or a good smut in general) but idc bc i HAD to get this out of my system and i enjoyed writing it since i’ve been going insane in oomf’s dm about this weverse live heeseung specifically. oomf told me how i was really down bad for this heeseung and the way he made me so needy for him plsplspls I NEED HIM SO BAD IT ACHES- anyways, this was supposed to be a drabble but i got carried away. enjoy this light and fun fic :3 or don’t.

The thumping of your heart amplifies as soon as his handsome face appears on your phone screen. His hair looks slightly dishevelled, and he is still adorned in the same sweater he was wearing three hours ago when he was doing a Weverse live. God, he looks so good. But a frown slowly pulls at the corners of your lips as you notice a fleeting somnolence in the weight of his hanging eyelids. 

“Hey, baby.” Heeseung greets you affectionately while your heart flutters at the boyish grin on his face, but his raw, husky timbre sends the familiar signals to your throbbing clit that has been yearning for his touch. You squeeze your thighs together, suppressing the arousal that throbs unrelentingly in your bundle of nerves.

“Hi.” You reciprocate shyly with a small smile, your soft voice a mellow to his ears. His eyes darken, narrowing slightly at your bottom lip being tucked in between your teeth, prompting him to stifle a groan while his cock beneath the slacks hardened at the harmless action. Shit, not now. He mentally scolds his own cock. But God, he so badly wants to kiss your lips.

Oblivious to his struggle, you feel the guilt tugging at your heartstrings as you know that he must’ve been asleep before this, considering the timezone he is currently at, whereas it is still early for you to call it a night.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” You ask, your eyes turning crestfallen. You never want to be a clingy girlfriend, nor do you want to disappoint Heeseung in any way because you are aware of how much he appreciates you for being incredibly understanding of this aspect of his career, but this time, you couldn’t hold back any longer, needing him more than ever despite video calling him just yesterday.

Heeseung chuckles breathily as he runs his fingers through his hair, the sound being enough to make the butterflies swarm in your tummy. “Nah, you didn’t. I wasn’t even sleeping.” His attempt at reassuring you fails when he tries to stifle a yawn.

“You’re a bad liar.” You remark, eyeing him disapprovingly while the guilt is twisting painfully at your heartstrings. Maybe you shouldn’t have disturbed your boyfriend and allowed him to have some time of his own, considering he had to perform for the tour concert for two constructive days.

But little do you know that there is an entirely different reason why he looks a tad weary — he was jerking off to every deliciously sinful thought of the things he wanted to do to you before he took a nap — but you didn’t need to know that. Besides, despite being in a relationship for three years, the two of you have never once crossed the boundaries of being that level of sensual intimacy. Sure, he had sex with you every so often whenever he wasn’t needed at his line of work, but there has always been this unspoken boundary that the two of you never dared to cross for some reason. Maybe it has to do with you being incredibly shy when it comes to being more upfront about such salacious matters.

“Well, I couldn’t just ignore an incoming call from my gorgeous girl.” Heeseung casts you a smirk, knowing that you get all shy whenever he praises you, to which you always cover up with a rather cutieful scowl in his eyes. His features slowly soften as he seems to examine you, his eyes practically sparkling with a familiar adoration. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You automatically scrunch up your nose, feeling dubious over his ever-flattering compliment. “What are you talking about? I’m only wearing my comfy home clothes.” You say as you look down at your attire. You’re only sporting a hoodie, his hoodie specifically, and elastic waistband shorts that reach way above your thighs. 

“I’m not talking about your clothes, baby. It’s your face. God, if only I get to wake up to this view every day.” You swear you are about to combust from his excessive compliments, and it doesn’t help that he is looking at you as though you are his whole universe. “I mean it when I say you look really beautiful. How did I ever get so lucky to have you in my life?”

“You’re being weirdly cheesy, Hee.” You huff, feigning indifference as you try to tame the butterflies swarming in your tummy, and yet you know that your boyfriend loves to shower you with compliments and affections, but this time, something feels different in the way he gazes at you. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” He drawls playfully while adjusting to a different position that looks like he is resting his back against the headboard of the bed, one hand placed at the back of his head. “Just looking at your beautiful face is enough to make me feel drunk, and that’s saying a lot about you. My gorgeous girl.”

The warmth in your cheeks travels down to your neck. “Stop it, Hee.” You shoot him another scowl, a pathetic attempt that fails to tame the flutters all over you. 

“Oh, so I can’t compliment my girlfriend now?” He scoffs, his eyebrow raising just slightly before a pout slowly forms on his very kissable lips.

“Don’t pout. It’s not a good look on you at your grown age.” You tease him, breaking the character from your collected facade. You always did like being the one to tease him on rare occasions since he’s the one who does most of the teasing in your relationship.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend insulted me just when I was about to tell her I missed her.” He complains exasperatedly, but you overlook his usual theatrics as his last three words strike a chord deep inside of you. He continues to pout, oblivious to your silence of melancholy. “I’m hurt, sweetheart.”

“You missed me?” You finally ask quietly after a couple beats of silence, your tone sounding as though you are in disbelief that your own boyfriend, the guy who completely adores you, missed you. But this time, it hits differently and deeper that renders you out of breath for a moment.

Any playful mischief or humour dissipates from his countenance while his features soften. “Of course, I did, and I still do.” He reaffirms softly with a small smile unfurling his lips.

“I’ve missed you too.” You tell him after having to swallow the familiar painful lump in your throat, and you hope that he doesn’t notice the palpable tremor in your voice. You clear your throat, now adjusting yourself to get more comfortable on the sofa and curl at the corner with both your knees pressing to your chest. “So, wanna tell me about your day?”

“Nothing much. The boys and I had takeaway dinner in Jungwon’s room after I ended the Weverse live—“ Heeseung continues while you listen attentively; at least you try to because it’s hard to process his words into your brain when all you can think about is how much you miss him. You hum every once in a while to acknowledge him, your eyes focusing on his animated face, but your vision eventually gets blurry with each blink while your throat feels painfully constricted with the bundle of emotions threatening to implode. 

“The practices before the actual concert were tough, and it sucks how I needed my girl more than ever, but I’m miles apart from her.” Heeseung speaks out his frustration before realising that he is getting too carried away, but in the relationship, he’s the one doing most of the talking, whereas you would listen to him and gives your input politely whenever appropriate. He notices how unusually quiet you have gone and the way tears are welling in your waterline, alarming him. “Hey, you okay?”

“Mmhm.” You hum with your lips pressed thinly together, but there is a discernible crack in your voice. You muster a smile that feels painful, trying to maintain the facade you put up. “I’m glad that the tour went well in the end.”

“Sweetheart… you’re crying.” He points out gently, his eyes soften, and his lips downturn into a frown, watching as the teetering tears in your waterline finally cascade down your cheeks.

“I’m not.” You insist, using the end of your sleeves to wipe away the tears, a futile effort as they keep coming down like a waterfall. You hear him calling your name, but you are too absorbed by the whirlwind of emotions within you. An accidental sob leaves your lips as you still busily wipe the tears away. “I’m not crying.” You insist weakly, lacking the resolve to remain strong in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a hard time at work?” Heeseung asks, fussing like a mother hen as his concern for you amplifies. Throughout the years of your relationship, you rarely ever showed him the vulnerable side of you, so to witness you breaking down hits him in the gut. He can only watch you helplessly on his phone screen as you continue to cry, his heart clenching painfully at the sound of your heartbreaking cries and sobs.

“You gotta let me know what’s wrong, baby. It’s hurting my heart to see you like this. Tell me, please?” He pleads, his fingers on his phone tightening as he feels useless and helpless that he isn’t there by your side to comfort you right now. He decides to wait patiently for you to become coherent again while offering you sweet nothings in a gentle tone.

Finally, you manage to calm yourself down, albeit hiccuping every now and then from going nearly hysterical over your emotions. “Work was fine. Everything’s fine. I just—“ You sniffle as you look away from him, your chest tightening with a familiar emotion. When you muster the courage to look at him again, your eyes turn glossy. “I just missed you. I miss you so much, and I need you.” 

Heeseung can feel his own heart breaking at the way you look at him with raw yet intense yearning. “Sweetheart—”

“I know I shouldn’t be like this when I promised that I’d be your most supportive and understanding girlfriend, but it keeps getting harder to be apart from you.” You finally pour out your pent-up emotions, letting him know earnestly without filtering your words. A hiccup leaves your lips, and it takes every ounce of strength in him to hold back an endearing smile as he finds you quite adorable with your slightly puffy eyes and lips. “You know that I’m happy and proud that you’re thriving in your career, but I can’t lie to you anymore when I say it hurts that you’re not here with me. It hurts to be apart from you constantly.” You close your mouth, realising how absurd you are being before looking down, ashamed of how you are acting on your emotions. “I’m being dramatic, aren’t I? I’m sorry, Heeseung.”

“No, sweetheart, don’t ever apologise for speaking out your feelings.” He says sternly, his tone compelling you to look into his eyes, but all you see is how they soften with assurance and reserved affection for you. “We promised each other that we’d be more open and communicate, right?”

You nod your head feebly at his reminder. “It’s just that I don’t want to disappoint you by being a clingy girlfriend who needs you by her side every day, and it’d be unrealistic because you’re a K-pop idol.” You mumble, and tears prick in your eyes again as you feel fear-stricken by your worst nightmare. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“You could never disappoint me, baby. I don’t care if you want to be clingy with me or need my attention 24/7. You’re my girlfriend. I’d give you anything you want.” His words of assurance do little to allay the worst possible outcome that taunts you in your mind. “Besides, it’s going to take more than that for me to leave you, not that I would, ever.” 

But you remain avoidant with your head turned to the side as you hide your face in your arm, eliciting a soft yet patient sigh from him. “Look at me, baby. Let me take a look at your beautiful face, please.” He pleads softly, his tone mellow; you can’t help but be compelled. When your glossy eyes meet his, he gives you a warm smile, a smile that provides comfort over your distressed mind. “You’re okay, sweetheart. We’re okay. I’m not even mad or disappointed.”

This time, you believe him, his assurance putting your frazzled emotions at ease. Seeing how relaxed you are as you lean back against the sofa with your face devoid of any sign of distress, he feels at ease too, knowing that you are no longer in such an intense spiralling of your emotions. “You’re good now?” He asks for confirmation, his tone remaining a soft lull.

“Yeah.” You manage to utter quietly, no longer feeling dubious or embarrassed by the fact that you showed him your raw vulnerability, and instead, you feel closer to him in an unexplainable sense despite him being literally in another country at the moment.

Heeseung seems satisfied by your affirmation. “Let’s focus on you now, yeah? I wanna hear my girl talk about her day.” He says while there is an avid interest in his countenance, rendering you flattered.

You begin to fiddle with the hem of his hoodie subconsciously, hyperaware of his dark, mesmerising eyes being fixated on you in a way that feels intense. “I didn’t do much. Just resting and lazing around since today’s my day off from work.” You tell him, being careful with how you choose your words because he doesn’t need to know the exact truth.

A frown touches his lips. “You didn’t go out? Not even with your friends?” It’s weird because you would usually go out with your friends or do something productive on your off days, not saying that you're unproductive just staying at home. “You must’ve been bored staying at our home all day.”

“No, I wasn’t bored at all.” You counter, and yet you sound weak as the recollection of today plays on your mind while warmth weaves across your every vein. “I was busy with—” You immediately smack your lips shut, nearly revealing the truth to him.

Heeseung is intrigued, really intrigued, because he has never seen you being so meek like you are now. “Busy with?” His question is harmless, a genuine curiosity, but your mind resorts to producing such filth you want him to do with you — the kind of filth you have never done with him, nothing to the usual loving he always did with you.

“Doing stuff.” You mumble, your eyes purposely avoiding his confused ones, probably wondering what part of his question suddenly makes you avoidant, but this time, he can see that you’re flaring with diffidence.

“What kind of stuff?” Heeseung probes, and you know he will remain unrelenting unless you cave into his curiosity. The corner of your lips twitches up when he whines. “Come on. Tell me.”

“The kind of stuff that reminds me of you.” You utter each syllable slowly, but you decide to focus on his prominent Adam’s apple, which is one of your favourite parts of him, and fuck, you can imagine yourself rubbing your clit on it. 

For a moment, Heeseung doesn’t exactly comprehend your words, eliciting an annoyed huff from you, because there is no way your dirty-minded boyfriend does not understand the subtle implication. “Since I’ve been busy missing you too much, I played with the stuff that you bought for me.” You elaborate, your tone being carefully measured, and yet you can feel yourself weakening when a familiar suggestiveness shadows his once-softened features.

“Oh, yeah?” His voice a low rasp, igniting the heat flaring in your lower abdomen. The look in his eyes feels like a silent command as you find yourself slowly parting your legs as they hang over the edge of the sofa. “Did my baby have fun with it?”

You hum as you nod your head, his sultry voice making your clit throb. “Yes, but it wasn’t enough.” You say softly, but you can feel your breathing getting heavier.

“Of course, it wasn’t. It could never be compared to the real thing.” Heeseung smirks, his dark eyes scanning you intensely. He can see how needy you actually are behind this front of yours, and he knows that it won’t be too soon when you finally reveal to him. “My poor baby has been missing me too much — too much to the point that she’s craving my cock.”

You can physically feel your clit pulsating at his lewd words, and damn it, he’s right, because instantly, you drop all pretence, revealing what you have been keeping at bay. “Missed you so much, Hee.” You whimper, your cunt clenching at the smirk on his handsome face.

“I know, baby. You’re needy for me too, yeah?” He swallows down a groan, seeing the glossy look on your face. Maybe it’s because he’s feeling horny, but you look practically fuckable. This time, he doesn’t bother controlling his primal urges as his cock becomes a prominent bulge against his sweatpants.

You hum in an agreeing whine, the sound going straight into his cock. “Need you so badly, Seungie.” You mewl as you arch your back off the sofa while your hand travels down to your clothed cunt. “I need you and your cock to stuff me full.”

“Tell me more.” He demands, his jaw tightening with tension as he becomes intensely aroused by the sultry look on your face. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Things.” You nearly slur in the way you speak as your head spins at the palpable tension that you can feel even through the screen. You stroke your clothed cunt slowly, your fingers itching to remove your garment just to properly touch yourself. “Many things. The filthy kind.”

“You gotta be specific, sweetheart.” He chuckles lowly, his smirking countenance makes it seem like he’s degrading you, and fuck, you feel more turned on than you did before. It’s even better when throughout your sex life with him, he has never once degraded you in any way. “What sort of filth does my naughty girl want me to do to her?”

A needy whine escapes you, getting unbearably turned on as flashes of obscene scenarios appear in your mind while every inch of your skin feels hot. “Want your tongue on my pussy, lick and eat me out messily till I come, do it over and over again, and make me squirt.” You manage to utter such words without feeling any embarrassment, overshadowed by the pure need of your desire for the man beyond your reach. You let your head fall back to the sofa’s back, your eyelids weighing heavy with the lewd imagination playing in your head. “I want you to fuck me hard, fuck me with your cock till I break. Want you to use me as your cocksleeve every day. I need you to ruin me, Hee.”

“Fuck, baby.” Heeseung breathes out harshly, his eyes nearly rolling to the back at such lewd words leaving your once sweet-mouth. Never in his life has he ever heard you talking like that. His eyes flicker down at his very prominent bulge, feeling it painfully hard with incessant need before he directs his focus back on you through the screen. “You wanna be a good girl for me?”

The thought of pleasing him makes you eager, so you nod your head, eliciting a breathy chuckle from him at your enthusiasm. “I want you to grab the dildo I bought for you, and I want you to strip naked for me before you come back.” He instructs firmly, his dark eyes piercing into the screen as he stares at you, sending shivers through your heated body. “And position your phone where I can see every inch of you clearly, alright?”

You nod your head wordlessly in compliance and quickly toss your phone aside on the sofa before proceeding to rush for your room while the sound of your footsteps through the audio of his phone renders him amused at your obvious eagerness. 

Meanwhile, Heeseung decides to lower his sweatpants just enough for his cock to spring free, and damn, it looks angrier than it did just earlier. He is incredibly turned on that his cock remains hanging high, the ridges and veins protruding as a result of being neglected. He clenches his fist, restraining himself from touching his cock, not until you arrive. He closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the headboard, feeling quite surreal that this will be his first video call sex with you ever.

“Heeseung?” Your velvety voice prompts him to snap his eyes open before grabbing his phone at the side that he nearly fumbles with from the unbridled excitement. When he looks at his phone screen, he nearly drops it while his heart pumps harder at the lewd sight of your nudity fitting in the frame as you sit politely on the sofa with the pink dildo in your grasp.

Heeseung marvels at your nudity, his eyes hungrily feasting on every inch of your body, and he swears he can feel blood pumping in his cock as it hardens tighter than it did before. He smirks at the lingering diffidence in your countenance, being aware of his effect on you, even just by his mere gaze. He fucking loves it whenever you become shy all because of him.

“You look so damn beautiful, baby.” He is in complete awe, as though this is the first time you bare your nudity to him. Your clit throbs faintly as you observe the raw hunger in his eyes, his eyes roaming around your tits. You flush warmly at the sound of his low groan through the audio as he sees your perky nipples that look delicious enough to be devoured by his untamed mouth. “We’re going to do something new this time. Are you okay with it?”

“Yes.” You utter softly, earning you a small smile from him. You had placed your phone on the coffee table in front of you with your abandoned ceramic mug supporting your phone horizontally.

“I want you to put aside your dildo first.” He instructs, and you do so without tearing your gaze off his face. You can practically feel her fluttering in excitement as you observe his eyes trailing down to your closed legs. “Now show me your pretty pussy, baby.”

For a moment, you hesitate as it dawns on you that this is the first time you and your boyfriend will be engaged in this type of foreplay. But the encouragement he offers you with a soft, subtle head nod dispels any lingering doubts and embarrassment from you. You allow every muscle in your body to relax before slowly spreading your legs open, shoving down a needy whine in the back of your throat as the action causes your clit to throb incessantly.

You see the way his nose flares slightly just by the mere sight of your shaved mount, and with a daring spirit, you use your fingers to spread it open, revealing your already glistening folds to him. You feel grateful for how easily you can get wet just by the thought of your hot boyfriend.

“There she is. Fuck, she looks so soaked.” He groans as his cock visibly twitches at the explicit view of your pussy. He quickly recovers, wanting to give your needy pussy some attention as he leans his body slightly forward with interest. A grin smears across his lips, his eyes being solely fixated on your pussy. “Hi, princess. You’ve been missing me too much, haven’t you?”

“Heeseung.” Your humourless tone silently indicates your bafflement upon witnessing your boyfriend speaking and cooing to your pussy as though it is a person, and you can practically feel her preening under his overflowing affection. Yet, you can’t deny that there is something hot about this.

“Shhh. I’m still talking to her, baby.” Heeseung playfully admonishes you without meeting your gaze. He continues to entertain exposed pussy, adoration and lust blending in his eyes. “The dildo did not satisfy you enough, did it? You need my cock to keep you warm and full, nice and deep inside of you that you won’t even wanna let go of me.”

You can’t help but instinctively clench at his words. “Look at you, princess. I can see you clenching. It’s too bad that you are not stuffed with my cock right now.” He remarks in amazement, and yet the mockery belies his adoration is not lost on you as you find it undeniably hot. “You love it when I talk to you like this, hmm? Should I talk to my pretty princess like this once I get back?”

“Hee, please.” You plead, having had enough of his teasing, and you must be insane to even feel bits of jealousy that his attention is on your pussy instead of you, as though your pussy is not a part of you.

Heeseung chuckles softly as he is very much amused by your pouty attitude before deciding to cease his teasing, albeit he was very much serious when he was talking to your pussy. “Touch your clit for me, baby.” He finally directs his words to you, and you comply, the padding of your index and middle fingers now touching your clit that throbs under your own touch. “Now rub it nice and slow. That’s it.”

Your fingers continue to rub your button in a circular motion, nice and slow, just as he said. It does not take you a minute when you begin to feel the familiar sensation in your aroused little button as you continue to stimulate it.

Heeseung observes your reaction carefully, drinking in the pleasure that faintly contorts in your mesmerising features. His own hand goes straight to his neglected cock, hissing lowly as he uses the padding of his thumb to stroke the red slit in a repeated up-and-down motion, imagining how good it would feel if he were there with you to use the tip of his cock to rub your clit instead. 

“Does it feel good?” He asks in a slightly strained voice, already feeling sensitive under his own touch, his thumb continuously rubbing the slit in slow yet hard strokes, delaying the peak of his pleasure to arrive as he wants to see you come undone first.

You hum in response, still maintaining your composure as you are focused on rubbing your clit, but when you flicker your gaze to him, you bite down your lip upon seeing how he is evidently caught in a lustful haze, no doubt that he is touching himself. “But your fingers would feel better on it.” You whine softly.

Your words feed into his ego. “Of course, they would. I can easily make you cum just by rubbing your clit with my fingers, because your clit is so sensitive.” He says smugly with a smirk curling at his lips. “It’s actually so fucking adorable. Wonder how you’ll be once I get my tongue to touch your swollen little button instead.” 

“Fuck, Hee.” You moan softly as you arch to your own touch, your imagination going vividly wild — his tongue caressing and licking your clit relentlessly with such precision. 

“Look at you. Already falling apart.” He finds great delight in teasing you just by his lewd words that affect you more than he expected. “You wanna know what I would do just to your cute clit alone?”

“Tell me, please.” You keen, your fingers now rubbing your clit in fast motion, causing your back to arch off the sofa while you spread your legs even more, disregarding the limit to your flexibility. 

“I would rub it with my thumb, giving it a little tease before I go licking it, swirling my tongue slowly around your swollen clit—” He becomes distracted by the pleasurable sensation as he rubs the slit that is now glistening with his arousal. He recovers with a grunt, refocusing on you, and fuck, you look sinfully divine with your body arching to your touch while your tits are pushed out. “And then, I would suck it like how I suck your nipples, and maybe I’d smack your pussy before making you cum hard, repeating the same actions and overstimulating you just to listen to your cute whines till you cry.”

You’re imagining the delicious description of what he would do to you hard, and your building pleasure intensifies as your fingers stimulate your clit at full tilt. You control the moans spilling from your lips as you look at your phone screen. “I wanna see your cock.” You tell him in a demand, earning an eyebrow raised from him.

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?” He asks in a playful drawl, his lips curving into a lazy grin as he enjoys how the expression on your face is bordering on such desperation.

“Please let me see your cock, daddy.” The syllable leaves your lips wantonly as you whine, and it feels absurdly natural to utter such a forbidden endearment to refer to your lover as. You catch a glimpse of a fleeting surprise in his face amidst your desperate, lustful haze before it is replaced by something so primal. “I missed your cock so much.”

“Yeah? You missed daddy’s cock?” Heeseung sounds more than on board with it, practically into it as he gazes at you hungrily while his voice sounds rough at the edges. You whimper out a ‘yes’ with glossy eyes, and that’s all it takes for him to cave into your request as he tilts his phone to the angle where you are greeted by his seven inches. “Look, baby. You got daddy so hard — it’s angry that it’s not inside of my pretty baby’s pussy or mouth right now.”

“S’unfair!” A sob leaves your lips while you pour your pent-up frustration into your fingers as they rub your swollen clit vigorously. “I’m so needy for you, daddy!” Your unabashed moans echo off the walls of your shared apartment with Heeseung, finally letting go of the last thread of your inhibition.

“I know, baby. It’s unfair that I’m not there to give you what you want right now, but daddy will make it up to you soon.” He coos, his features softening with the familiar affection before something dark shadows them, causing his eyes to darken dangerously. “Daddy will stuff you nice and full with his cock soon. I promise you.”

His firm promise is enough to quell the bitterness at the current circumstances that burns indignantly in your heart. You move your hips slightly in tandem to your vigorous fingers, feeling the imminent release that is teetering at the edge while your clit painfully throbs that serves as a warning. “Hee! I feel—"

Heeseung bites back a growl, feeling practically ravenous at the delicious sight of you losing yourself to your own touch as your mouth is partly open, silently moaning with your eyes rolling to the back. “Come for me.” On his command, you let go, your pussy fluttering with the mess of your release as you can feel it sliding down on your skin to your butt.

Heeseung hums lazily, watching you intently as you slump against the sofa while he continues to manipulate his now-wet slit in measured strokes. “Tired already, sweetheart?” He asks mockingly.

Something inside you gets triggered by his mocking, and you refuse to back down from the challenge that he benignly imposes on you. You shoot him a brief glare, defiance burning in your irises that has him smirking. “No.” 

“Good, because we’re not done yet.” His dark chuckles intensify the burning need in you. He looks down at your slick cunt, his tongue darting out to slide across his bottom lip. “Finger yourself. Need you to be prepped because I want to see you fucking yourself with that dildo.”

Your fingers feel like they have muscles of their own as they instinctively heed his command, now travelling down to your weeping cunt. Using your middle and ring fingers, you slowly insert them into your hole, cringing at the unfamiliarity of fingering yourself since you are used to Heeseung doing it for you with his long, slender fingers.

Still, you want to appease him, your fingers thrusting in and out steadily, but it just doesn’t feel right. “I missed your fingers in me.” You whine, your lips forming into a pout that you hope he would get the hint that you’re not into this despite the slick of arousal accumulating as it trickles down on your skin.

“Keep going, baby.” He orders sternly, eliciting more whines of protest from you, but he easily tames you with his dark, penetrating eyes, rendering you completely compliant. It baffles you how he looks collected as you can clearly see that he is rubbing the red tip of his cock. “Use your other fingers and spread your pretty pussy. I wanna see it.”

You hold back a whimper before obeying his command, your other fingers aiding your currently occupied fingers by using your index and middle fingers to finally spread your wet folds open, now giving him the raw obscenity of your fingers plunging into your sopping cunt.

“You’re so soaked, princess.” He comments, his voice a low husk that has your pussy fluttering again. Fuck, he’s so damn attractive in everything he does. “Close your eyes. Imagine that’s my fingers fucking you.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head to the back, your brows pulling together into a soft knit as you try to imagine his fingers fucking you instead of yours, and it’s working as you feel your hips moving in tandem with your fingers.

Heeseung nearly chokes on his saliva, completely mesmerised by the raw sensuality of you as you evidently lose yourself to your own touch. He desperately wants to engrave this moment on his mind, even better if he could record you and save it to his gallery. He stops rubbing his slit, only to begin pumping his cock.

“Look at you. Fucking yourself so desperately, but it isn’t enough, is it?” He sneers, feeling turned on that you seem to like when his words are bordering on mean as you moan in response. “You need daddy’s long fingers deep inside and curl them, fucking you fast and hard till you squirt.”

You fuck yourself harder with your fingers, trying to attain that familiar pleasurable sensation the way you did earlier, but it isn’t enough. “Please! I want your fingers so bad.” You sob out, your eyes seeking him as they plead desperately while the movement of your fingers nearly falters. “I can’t do it. I can’t make myself cum with my fingers alone, daddy.”

Heeseung can’t help but break character just slightly, his concern and affection for you slipping between the cracks. He even loses momentum in pumping his cock that remains hard for you. “But baby, you aren’t properly stretched.” His tone holds the familiar protectiveness.

“I can take it, daddy.” You reassure him after a needy sob leaves you. You look at him with doe-pleading eyes that you know he can’t resist. “Please?”

“Fine. Then take it like a good girl, yeah?” He smirks, resuming to pump his cock at an intensity that has the tip swollen and redder. “Grab that dildo and fuck yourself with it. Don’t forget to keep your legs spread open. Daddy wants to see your pretty pussy taking it.”

You quickly remove your fingers from your hole, eagerly grabbing the pink dildo despite the stickiness of your arousal on your fingers. You position the head of the dildo and align it to your hole before slowly pushing it inside, inch by inch. A gasp leaves your lips at the inevitable stretch of your walls, prompting you to halt halfway.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take it?” His mockery reignites the flame of defiance within you, but his dark eyes feel gradually intimidating, which renders you submissively whiny as you spread your legs further with your back arched. “Come on, baby. You fucked yourself with it earlier, so you can definitely make it fit. How is your cunt going to fit daddy’s cock?”

“I can.” You whimper, tears prickling in your eyes before you muster the courage to continue pushing the dildo into your cunt. The unrelenting stretch elicits more gasps from you, your breathing ragged. “I just need a minute.”

Heeseung is caught in a lustful haze as he zeros in on how your hole takes the dildo, imagining hard at the sensation of your velvety walls being stretched by his girth and eventually enveloping him. With a grunt, he begins to pump himself harder, wanting to test the limit of his endurance in prolonging his orgasm.

Finally, every inch of the dildo is now snuggled in your hole. “There we go. Good girl.” He purrs in satisfaction, making you preen. His dark eyes are heavily fixated on the dildo being stuffed in your dripping cunt. “Now fuck yourself with it. Thrust it into your needy cunt however you want.”

You let out a silent whimper as you begin to pull the dildo, only to push it back in, your walls having to be stretched by the girth, but you know that this is nothing compared to his real cock. You allow your head to rest on the sofa’s back, your chest heaving up and down as you imagine the ridges and veins of his cock grazing against your walls while he fucks you in slow, deep strokes. You moan softly as you increase the tempo of your hand manipulating the dildo into your dripping cunt.

You glance down at your phone screen, only to moan out at the pleasure contorting in his face as he fists his cock with his hand. “I watched some of your concert clips earlier.” You tell him breathlessly as he looks at you with an attractive eyebrow raised. “And you got me so wet, daddy.” You moan again, now reaching for your tits with your other hand, palming and fiddling with your nipples, which intensifies the building pleasure.

“Oh, yeah? Naughty girl.” He teases you, his eyes watching you playing with your tits that he had been dreaming of latching his lips to your suckable nipples. He pumps his angry cock harder, his mind running wild at the scenario — sucking your tits while he fucks you hard with his hips bruisingly snapping into yours. “Which ones are your favourites?” 

“Um—“ Your voice shakes at the instability of having to focus on his question, but the dildo that is fucking into your cunt right now feels good. “Teeth and Future Perfect performances.” You answer in a breathy moan, recalling how you felt when you were watching those clips of him.

You thrust the dildo faster and harder; the squelching sound of your wet cunt reaches your ears while he clenches his jaw at how wet you really are, pissed off that it’s not even his cock that is making you that wet.

“You looked so hot when you were performing those songs, the way you looked angry.” You tell him keenly, practically purring as you recall the intensity in his dark eyes that looked primal when he was performing and how he looked pissed off, making you wetter as you imagine the stuff you want him to do to you. “You should’ve felt how wet I was while I was watching those clips. Got me imagining how you’d fuck me angrily.”

Despite your sultry admission going straight into his hard cock, his eyebrows furrow with a tinge of concern plastered on his face, but he never relents from pumping his cock. “Baby, you know I would never fuck my anger into you.” The reserved softness in his tone elicits a whine of protest from you, needing him to be mean to you instead.

“But it’ll be so hot!” You moan out as you arch your back off the sofa before moving your hips sensually to meet the thrust of your dildo deeper. “I want you to fuck me mean till I’m a sobbing mess. You know you’d want that, daddy.” You purr, your sultry eyes gazing at him with a challenge while his cock twitches angrily at the thought. Fuck yeah, he’d want that. 

“Fuck.” He grits his teeth, faltering in his momentum as his head spins at the scenario of him fucking you ruthlessly till you beg for him to stop, till you cry and sob as he overstimulates you with his cock all night. “Yeah? You want daddy to be mean?” He nearly growls out his words while your cunt clenches around the dildo at the sound.

“Want it so much.” You whine needily as you palm your tits harder, getting crazily turned on as you watch him throw his head to the back with his Adam's apple bobbing up and down attractively while sweats trickle down his neck. “Want you to cuff my wrists and choke me while you fuck me hard. Want you to do mean things to me so badly.”

Your needy yet genuine admission has him reeling in the head. He feels like an animal, growling at the salacious thought of you being restrained to the bed while you take everything he gives to you like a good little fucktoy — nothing like the usual lovemaking. He groans huskily at the image of you in tears as you pathetically plead with him to stop despite your sopping cunt meeting his thrusts.

“I’ll do more than that.” He rasps, his tone darkening with promises that cause your clit to throb and your nipples to perk. When you meet his eyes, you whimper at the intensity that reminds you of those concert clips of him. “I promise you, baby, I’ll give you what you want once I come back.” A cruel smirk touches his lips, shocking you at the dark sensuality he emits. “You want me to be fucking mean while I fuck you senselessly? I’ll do just that. I’ll make you scream and cry while you take everything I give to your needy pussy. You’ll get mean Heeseung, alright.”

“Fuck, daddy!” You moan loudly, getting unbearably turned on by his dark promises as you thrust the dildo harder, hurtling yourself to the edge of ecstasy. You abandon your tits, only to stimulate your clit in fast, circular motion.

“We’ll go all night, never stopping till your needy pussy is leaking with my cum, till your pussy can’t fit any more of my cum, but I’ll make you swallow them.” He lets out a guttural moan as he pumps his cock furiously, his eyes rolling to the back at the height of his pleasure. “I’ll fuck you for days, keeping you satisfied and full till you can’t walk. I’ll fucking do it, because it’s daddy’s job to spoil his princess.”

“Yes, daddy! Want you to spoil his princess!” You’re not sure if you’re referring to yourself or your pussy, but you are deprived of coherency as you get lost in the dual sensation of your cunt and your clit being manipulated by your own hands. “I’m feeling close, Hee!”

“Don’t you dare come before me.” He warns in a growl, sending pleasurable shivers through you. You obey him, whining and moaning as you try your best to stave off your orgasm that is teetering, yet you are rubbing your clit skilfully fast. “Yeah, baby. Keep rubbing your clit for me like that. Cock feels good, hm?”

You hum in response with tears pricking in your eyes. “But not better than daddy’s cock.” You sob out pathetically, and that has him cooing at you with mockery. “Need daddy’s cock to satisfy my needy pussy.” But in the haze of lust, the familiar sentiments manage to grip you tight as your glossy eyes meet his. “I missed you so much, Hee.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He softens up just slightly, seeing the familiar yearning in your pretty eyes. He clenches his jaw, pouring his pent-up emotions he hasn't conveyed to you just yet into pumping his cock while effectively stroking his thumb on his wet slit. “I’m never letting you go, ever. We’ll fuck every day once I get back, and I’ll breed you till you get pregnant with our kids. Daddy will take such good care of you.”

“Yes, yes! Breed me, daddy!” You keenly moan, your hips stuttering as you imagine he pumps his load into you to the brim, breeding you. 

“I’m gonna buy you a ring, and I’m gonna marry you, tying you to me forever.” He pours out what his heart has been yearning for. Despite the lust fogging his head, he looks at you with an intense yearning from the love he harbours for you, desperation contorting in his features fleetingly. “I’ll make you my wife.”

“Nngh! Hee!” You can feel it coming, your teetering orgasm on the brink of being released against your weakened will while the coil in your tummy threatens to snap at any moment. You fuck the dildo into you even faster, sobbing out. “I can’t hold back! I need to come, please!”

“Daddy will make you beg more too. You sound so fucking pretty when you do.” He groans, and with one last pump, his cock spurts out the white, sticky essence that now soaks his sweatpants. He breathes out harshly at the intensity of his own release before looking back at you, only to smirk at how obedient you are, waiting for his command with tears staining your cheeks, such desperation. “Alright, sweetheart, you can let go anytime for me.”

“Thank you, daddy.” Your moan tangles with your sob, and at once, your orgasm comes crashing down on you violently, leaving your legs trembling while you arch your back, your mouth parting with a silent moan as your cunt gushes out with your sticky release.

“That’s my perfect girl, making a mess all over.” He remarks with an unmistakable affection as he watches you with primal hunger, enjoying how ruined you look just from fucking yourself, but not nearly as ruined as he will make you once he returns.

Your heart flutters at his praise while you remain slumped against the sofa, allowing your limbs to rest as the exertion begins to dawn in every part of your muscles. Eventually, you force yourself to remove the dildo from your cunt slowly, whimpering as you do so as it grazes down against your walls. You eye the dildo that is covered by your sticky release before tossing it aside. You can feel how soaked the cushion is beneath you due to your release, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You take a moment to recover while the sound of your boyfriend’s ragged breathing can be heard through the audio. The silence is familiarly comfortable, neither of you uttering a word to each other as you bask in the afterglow of your session. But some of the words he spoke to you in the midst of your lustful haze resonate deep in you. Your heart begins to pound harder while butterflies return in their wake.

“You okay, baby?” He asks softly, now being the sweet and gentle boyfriend that you’re in love with. He is still wiping off the excess of his release with tissues off his now-limp cock, but he grimaces at the apparent stain on his grey sweatpants.

“I’m okay.” You tell him reassuringly, your voice coming out small from the excessive whines and moans that bring your face to flush warmly at how wanton you were earlier. You lean forward, grimacing at the aches in your legs and the stickiness in between your thighs before grabbing your phone. Your eyes soften as he gazes at you. “Heeseung, did you mean what you said?” 

You refer to every word he spoke to you, needing assurance and affirmation from him; otherwise, you’d be overthinking at night. “I meant every word, sweetheart.” He says firmly, his tone lacing with promises.

You bite your inner cheek, feeling nervous about what you are about to ask. “Even about making me your wife?” You ask quietly, your eyes scanning his unreadable expression carefully. 

“Especially that.” His declaration sends a wave of emotions to you as your breath goes hitched in your throat. The raw vulnerability and yearning in his eyes are palpable, as though they are the reflection of your own sentiment. “I really feel the same way too, you know?”

Somehow, you have a strong inkling that he is referring to him missing you. You exhale softly before a small yet weak smile touches your lips. “I know, Hee—“

“No, baby, you don’t understand because I’ve been missing you too much, more than you missed me.” He cuts you off, taking you by complete surprise at the sheer desperation and pain that contorts in his handsome features, because you have never seen him being like this — as though the distance is killing him agonisingly on the inside too. “You’re on my mind constantly, even when I was practicing, and all I could think about is going home to you as soon as possible. I needed you, I still do.”

You try to find your voice, wanting to speak out, anything to ease your lover’s pain, but he continues to pour out the pent-up emotions he had been grappling with. “I hate to say it, but it got me thinking if my being an idol is even worth it if it means that I’d have to leave you again and again for tours.”

This time, something inside of you snaps. “Don’t say that, Hee. I never want it to reach a point where you find yourself in a position of choosing between me or your idol job.” You don’t mean to sound harsh, but you can’t allow it to happen, even if it means that you might lose him to his job. Your voice trembles as you speak again, tears welling in your waterline. “You love being an idol, you love your teammates, you love performing in front of your fans, and you must be crazy to think that I’d even allow you to choose me—“

“But I love you more.” Heeseung declares with vehemence while the devastation painting his handsome face tears a sob out of you. “Yes, I love being an idol, but it could never be compared to the weight of my love for you.”

“Heeseung.” You utter his name weakly as tears cascade down your cheeks freely. His declaration of love is all it takes for you to break down.

He watches you helplessly as you attempt to wipe your tears away. “God, I hate it when I’m not there to wipe your tears for you.” He whispers, his heart clenching painfully when your glossy eyes meet him.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, hating how you are being overly sensitive and getting too carried away with your emotions. 

“No more apologies from you, baby, because I’m the one who should be apologising to you.” He says softly, yet firmly enough for you to grasp his sincerity.

“But you didn’t do anything wrong.” You counter weakly, sniffling. “You’re simply doing your job, and I’m just being a dramatic girlfriend.”

“I did you wrong by leaving your side when you needed me the most.” He says with a rueful smile. “You can expect a lot of apologies from me once I come back home, and a ring too.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, earning you a chuckle from him. “What? You thought I was joking about buying you a ring?” He adorns a boyish grin that you so badly want to kiss him. “I did say that I’d be making you my wife. I’m a man of my words, sweetheart.”

“But it’s still early for us to get married!” You protest despite your heart thumping in agreement to his words. A frown tugs at your lips, determined to make him change his mind as you don’t want him to regret it. “I won’t allow marriage to get in the way of your job. Would your fans even accept the idea of us getting married?”

“Baby, you’re my future and my happiness. If the company wants to kick me out simply for marrying you, then so be it. I can always take over my dad’s business as a source of income. As for my fans, well, they’ll be happy for me — I’m sure they will, at least the real ones will.”

“I don’t know if I’m worth it for you to go through such lengths, Hee.” Your lips quiver, feeling dejected. “I don’t want you to throw away your years of hard work because of me. You went through so much just to get where you are now.”

“You are worth it, worth more than you think.” He says reassuringly, his tone sounding firm with conviction, but it does nothing to alleviate the thoughts he can see swirling in your head, eliciting a soft sigh from him. “If you’re still worried about my consideration in quitting my idol job, then I’ll figure things out and find ways so that I won’t have to leave your side again.”

“Promise me that you won’t quit.” You plead, your voice breaking as you feel immensely conflicted, because you can never deny a part of you that yearns for him to choose you. “I don’t want you to have any regrets if you had chosen that path.”

“Baby, I won’t have any regrets when it comes to you—”

“Just promise me, Heeseung.” You implore as your eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Promise me that you won’t quit because of me.” because of love.

Heeseung doesn’t respond as he examines your teary countenance, noticing how desperate you are and knowing that you won’t back down, even if he can feel your heart breaking. He resigns with a sigh. “I promise.” He hopes that he sounds convincing enough, because you are crazy to think that he would never choose you, but only for now, the idea of marriage is pushed to the back of his mind. 

You feel at ease despite your heartache, but you know that this is for the best for him. You sniffle again, earning an adoring grin from him. You avoid his eyes, a sudden diffidence cloaking you while your cheeks flush warmly. “Besides, how else will I be able to watch you perform on stage? I love watching you perform.”

“I know, baby, because I turn you on whenever I perform.” His mischief returns to his demeanour, a smirk unfurling on his lips while desire burns in his gaze. “What did you tell me earlier? Something about how I looked hot while I was performing Future Perfect and Teeth?”

You smile shyly as you nod your head, and God, he feels like he’s in love with you over and over again. “Mmhmm. You looked like you were angry, but I loved it. It got me all hot and bothered.” You tell him bluntly, oblivious to your words that rouse him.

“Fuck, baby, we should stop now.” He groans, repressing the arousal from reaching his cock. “I don’t think I could handle another round.”

“Right, you need sleep.” You say, pouting as you realise that he is supposed to be asleep right now.

“Don’t pout, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.” He says reassuringly before his lips curve into a smirk again. “I hope you won’t forget what I promised you earlier, because we’re not done yet.”

“Hurry back, then.” You adorn a sultry smile on your lips, and the sensuality of you elicits a breathy cuss from him. “I expect you to ruin me once you return home, daddy.”

“Don’t worry, princess. You’ll get what you asked for. You’re gonna get it.”

You have never felt as anticipated as you are now, but the reality of him returning to you is in two long days. You let out a silent huff before eyeing your pink dildo. Guess that’ll work and keep you company for the next two days.

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[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Chapter 11

Summary: You try to fix your relationship with Wanda.

Yelena struggles to open her eyes. The constant beeping of the alarm annoys her, and she protests.

“Five more minutes” she pleads, reaching out to snooze it.

“Yelena. It’s me” a soft voice says, and she can feel fingers caressing her forehead. “It’s Mama”

“Mama, I don’t wanna go to school” Yelena says, earning a chuckle from Melina.

“You’re in the hospital, sweet girl” her mother says. “You almost drowned”

It all comes back to her in a rush. The feeling of sinking, the freezing water paralyzing her. Your voice, asking her to stay awake.

“Y/N. Is she ok? Where is she?” she tries to stand up, but her mother stops her. Natasha walks in that moment, locking eyes with her sister. “Something happened to Y/N”

“No. She’s ok” Natasha shakes her head.

“Then why do you look so worried? Don’t lie to me” Yelena asks, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m not lying, sestra. You just scared me, that’s all” Natasha promises, leaning her forehead against her sister’s.

She tries to pretend everything’s ok.

—

Wanda is in your arms, reassuring you. It’s overwhelming, to feel her, to hear her.

Knowing what you just did.

And it all comes crashing down.

The stress of the past months, the lack of sleep, your resentment towards your mother and your last encounter. A sob breaks out and you can’t stop crying, because you fucked up.

Wanda’s gonna hate you, she’s going to leave you.

You wish you had drowned, because it’s better to die than to hurt the only person you’ve truly ever loved.

“Wanda, I…” your voice shakes. Your girlfriend looks at you, alarmed. She’s never seen you this shaken.

“Baby, look at me. You’re safe. I’m here” she tries to calm you down, but your sobs intensify.

“What’s wrong?” Darcy appears behind you, trying to check for any internal injuries. “Hey, Y/N. You’re hyperventilating. You know what you need to do. Breathe. In and out. Ok. Just like I’m doing”

You allow Darcy’s voice to guide you, while Wanda stays by your side.

“I…” you stutter.

“I think we should keep her in observation for a bit. Maybe she’s in shock or had a concussion. Did you hit your head?” Darcy asks. “Ok, come with me. Wanda, we will be right back”

“Ok. Hey. It’s ok” she says against your lips. “I’m not leaving”

Wanda’s gonna leave when she finds out. And you won’t blame her. But as your thoughts spiral, and you begin to hyperventilate again, Darcy drags you to an exam room.

“What happened? Talk to me, Y/N”

“I should have died out there. She’s gonna leave me, Darcy” you cry out.

“Damn it, ok, breathe. Do you want me to give you… something? Just to calm you down”

“Ok. And page Carol. I need to talk to her”

“Yeah. Ok”

Carol joins you a couple of minutes later.

“Hey” she looks between you and Darcy, not knowing how much she can say.

“She asked me to page you. What the hell happened? She’s having a nervous breakdown” Darcy hisses. Add her to the list of people who have never seen you lose your shit.

“Just tell her” you mutter, looking away. You need someone to say it out loud, so it’s real. And you can understand how much you fucked up.

“I walked in on Natasha and Y/N kissing just now” Carol says, looking at you with pity in her eyes.

“What the hell were you…?” Darcy’s first instinct is to yell at you, but as she sees you shutting your eyes, she calms down. “Ok, just tell me what happened”

“I don’t know. I walked in to find some gauze for this scratch on my arm and then she was there and she kissed me and I didn’t pull away. Not at first”

“So she kissed you?” Darcy clarifies. “You didn’t go after Natasha?”

“No, I wasn’t… I thought she’d be worried about Yelena and when she came in, I assumed something bad had happened” you stumbled with your words. It’s all a blur.

“You weren’t kissing when I walked in. She had her hands in your neck but you were leaning back” Carol says.

“I don’t give a fuck, it doesn’t matter. Wanda won’t care. I fucked up, it’s over”

“I think it’s important to… make the distinction. That she went after you. If you tell Wand at all” Carol adds.

You sigh, looking at your best friend. The one person who has been a constant in your life, who knows how much you struggle. The only one who understands that Wanda is your world. And how devastated you’ll be if when you lose her.

“I think you should tell her” Darcy says. “I’m sorry, I do. I know you’re honest and you’d never be able to live with yourself if you don’t tell her”

Not only that, but knowing what you know about Wanda and how she got cheated in the past. You can’t lie to her.

Even if it means losing her.

“I’ll do whatever you want” Carol says, squeezing your hand. “I won’t ever judge you, Y/N. If you decide to keep it a secret, I’ll take it to my grave. I swear”

“Thanks, Carol” you sigh, wiping the tears that won’t stop. “I need to get home and calm down. She deserves to hear it when I’m sane and won’t make up a stupid excuse hoping she’ll forgive me”

“I really think you can get past this” Carol says before leaving the room.

“I hope so too” you try to smile.

But the truth is you’re not very optimistic.

—

The next day, you refuse to leave the room. You’re not sure if you catched a cold with the freezing water or it’s your body’s response to the stress of what happened, but you run a fever that knocks you down.

At one point, you dream about the encounter with your mother. But it’s not her outside the hospital. It’s Wanda, and she’s hitting you as she finds out you’re a liar.

Your eyes fly open and you sit up, running to the bathroom to throw up. As you look in the mirror, you understand one thing.

You’re not gonna be able to keep this up any longer. You have to tell Wanda.

She’s nowhere to be found, probably because it’s a school day and someone has to drive the kids. While you wait for her to return, you run a bath and try to clear your head.

How are you even starting?

When you hear Wanda come back, your stomach drops, but you push through, sitting in bed.

“There you are. How are you feeling, my love?” she greets with a smile.

“I’m ok, I guess” you manage to say, looking anywhere but her.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me” Wanda says, knowing something’s changed. Truthfully, she’s expecting to hear that this life and death experience made you realize you want something different in your life.

Someone else.

“I… Wanda. I’m so sorry” you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I didn’t want it to happen”

“What? What are you talking about?”

With a deep breath, you finally say the words that will change your relationship forever.

“Natasha kissed me. We kissed. I mean, I didn’t look for her, she just walked in the room and then she was kissing me, but that doesn’t really make a difference, right?”

Wanda stays silent for a second, and then turns to leave the room.

“I’m going to kill her”

“Wanda” you catch up to her, stopping her at the top of the stairs. “Wait, please”

“No! Who does she think she is? Everything was fine between us, and then she comes and you’re pulling back. And now she thinks she can kiss you and I won’t fight back? Seems like someone should put her in her place”

“I don’t care about her” you plead, taking Wanda’s hand.

“You’re mine”

“Of course I am” you agree, trying to pull Wanda into a hug. She relents, but you can tell she’s tense and struggling with your closeness. “Wanda, I love you. I’m sorry, I didn’t want this to happen, I’ll do anything to make it right, just please, please…”

“Did you kiss her back?” Wanda pushes you away suddenly.

“I… don’t know. It happened so fast. I didn’t even think. I pulled away”

“But before that, did you kiss her back?” Wanda insists, looking at you expectantly.

“Wanda, I don’t know. She just came out of nowhere and I was trying to recover from almost drowning”

“I think… I think you should leave” she interrupts you. “You told me you were different, that you’d never lie to me”

“I didn’t…”

“Please, leave” she raises her hand to stop you. “I just can’t look at you right now”

Looking down, you nod. As you walk back to pack a bag with clothes and other stuff, Wanda stays rooted to her spot in the hallway.

You want to say something, but words are not enough to convey everything you feel. “Sorry” is an understatement. “I love you”? It feels like you lost the right to say that.

So, you walk out of the house, and drive to a hotel, wondering if it’s really that easy to lose your entire world.

—

The next days are hell.

You really wish you’d drown that day on the river.

There’s a hotel close to the hospital, and you stay there, wallowing in self pity and regret. You ignore everyone’s text and calls, because you’ll only answer one person.

She never reaches out.

“Hey, bud” Darcy greets when you get to work after two days. “I take it it didn’t go well”

“Nope” is all you say, not wanting to talk about it at all. You need work, distractions. Or a bus than runs you over. Whichever is fine.

“I’m here if you want to talk” is all she says, knowing you’d rather not.

“Thanks”

Kate greets you, a little too cheerful for your liking. Maybe it’s because she has the ER for herself. Speaking of which, you don’t even know if Yelena was discharged.

“Is Belova ok?” you say, looking at all the reports you need to sign.

“Yes, she left yesterday. And, uh… Doctor Romanoff was asking for you” Kate hesitates.

“I’m not speaking to Romanoff under any circumstances. If she asks again, tell her I said she can go to hell” you answer with a harsh tone.

“Maybe I could say you’re very busy?”

“Whatever keeps her away from me” you agree, walking to the entrance as an ambulance parks outside.

It’s a hectic day and you appreciate it. You also lose track of how many times you go out to smoke. At some point, you give up waiting for Wanda to call you.

Actually, now you don’t want her to reach out at all. You’re not ready to hear her say it’s over, so at least now you can pretend there’s a chance you’ll get past this.

“Did you sleep at all?” Carol says when she sees you next morning.

“For a half hour, maybe”

“Listen, you need to…”

But whatever well intended advice she’s about to give is interrupted by Fury.

“Doctor Romanoff would like a word”

“I’m busy”

“Not for her, you’re not” he cuts you off, practically pushing you in the direction of a conference room.

This is a new low, using Fury to talk to you.

“Doctor Romanoff, I’m so sorry, as you can imagine our Head of Trauma is busy” Fury says, moving so you can step forward. “Meet Doctor Y/L Y/L/N”

Wait, what?

A brunette approaches you with a wide smile. She has the same nose as Natasha, and even if her eyes are more hazel than green, you definitely see the resemblance in the determined stare.

“I can’t thank you enough for saving my daughter’s life”

Right. That Doctor Romanoff.

“Just doing my job” you say, hoping Natasha won’t join you.

“She’s eager to get back to work. Yelena said you’re a fantastic teacher” the woman says, smiling.

“Well, she definitely has a lot to learn” you say, which makes both people in the room turn to you.

“Doctor Y/L/N” Fury warns. But you don’t give a fuck. You want them gone from the hospital and the city and your life.

“Yelena’s good, but she could be better. That reckless behavior almost got me killed. She also needs to move faster and be more precise. Her work can be sloppy”

“Thank you, Doctor Y/L/N. That would be all” Fury cuts you off.

You nod, avoiding Melina’s stare as you leave the room.

Unfortunately for you, one of her daughters is waiting outside.

“Can we talk?” Natasha says. You ignore her, walking back to the ER. “What? Seriously?”

She grabs your wrist and you finally turn around.

“Don’t. I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Romanoff”

“What? Did your girlfriend forbid you to talk to me?”

“You don’t think about her or talk about her or anything related to Wanda. Stay away from me” you say, opening the door. Of course she follows you before you can lock yourself in, blocking the only way out.

“I didn’t think you’d be such a fucking coward, Y/N” she accuses you.

“Excuse me?”

“You kissed me back”

“I did not!” you kick the chair next to you, groaning. “I had just seen my abusive mother and almost drowned saving your sister. Do you really think I had the mental capacity to act rationally? I was still on fight or flight, Natasha”

“Lie to yourself all you want, but you’re not gonna lie to me. I know the way you look at me”

“Which is?”

“Like you’re picturing me naked”

You scoff at that, looking away.

“I don’t hear you denying it” she challenges, stepping closer.

“Don’t”

“If you were really sure about your feelings, you’d tell me to go to hell and move on. You wouldn’t be looking around the room, desperate to find a way out” Natasha says, moving closer and closer, until you’re inches apart. “Because if we stay this close, you know damn well that we’re gonna end up fucking each other”

“Please, stop” you say, trying to push past her. Natasha takes your wrists, and pulls you closer, letting you decide.

And you pull away. You do.

“Don’t mistake attraction with devotion. Wanda is all I want and need. I’m not playing games. Stay away from me”

You try to look composed as you leave the room, but in your mind, you know you hesitated.

A fraction of a second, but it was hesitation nonetheless.

—

Carol finds you outside the hospital, smoking as usual.

“Though shift?”

“You could say that”

You stare at her as she takes the cigarrette from your hands.

“Don’t tell Maria” she warns you and you laugh.

“Nu-uh, you need to be on your best behavior. One of us has to have a happy ending”

“Did you tell her?” Carol asks.

“Yeah. She kicked me out. Which is a very nice reaction. If I were her, I would have run me over repeatedly with her car” you sigh, lighting another one. “And now Natasha’s on my ass, saying I can’t deny that I have feelings for her too, when all I’ve done is be friendly”

“Ok, don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N, but it was obvious you two were flirting” Carol says. You stay quiet, and since you don’t argue, the woman takes it a sign to continue. “Look, when Maria came back… I hesitated too. I never told you this, but I wasn’t just trying to move on from her. I liked you, your committment to work. How kind you are. Honestly, with a little more time I could have seen myself in a different situation”

“But?”

“But Maria came back and I made a choice. What I’m saying is… I don’t think it’s unnatural for people to be attracted to others, even if you’re in a relationship. We seek connection, and surgeons have a fucked up schedule and life that only other doctors understand. Of course you felt something”

“Natasha is… a challenge. She’s funny and stubborn and quick witted. She doesn’t give a fuck about anything except work. It’s like an adventure” you finally admit out loud, knowing Carol understands. “But Wanda is my family. And I can’t lose that”

“There you go. I think admitting that you feel attraction is how you move past this. The important thing is if you act on it” Carol insists.

You think back to the encounter you had with Natasha just now.

You pulled back.

This time, she didn’t just kiss you. She gave you a choice. And you made the decision to step away.

That’s gotta count for something. Right?

“Thanks, Carol” you sigh, feeling better for the first time in days. To your surprise, Darcy comes next.

“Is it my turn now? I’m freezing, Danvers” she complains.

“Turn for what?”

“Well, this is an intervention” Carol explains, leaving the spot next to you so Darcy can sit.

“An intervention? Next to the trash? Really?” you say, looking around.

“You practically live here with all the smoking. Which, by the way, stops now” Darcy says, throwing away the pack you’re holding. “Now, as you know I briefly considered a career in Psychiatry. So I’m going to give you my analysis”

“Ugh, I hate this” you mutter. In spite of everything you’ve been through, you’ve never once considered going to therapy.

You have a job and a life. You’re obviously fine.

“Ready? I’m about to tell you some harsh truths. You can cry if you want to” Darcy says, settling. “You don’t believe you deserve good things. Of course, your mother showing up out of nowhere didn’t help. You’re self sabotaging because you think you don’t deserve Wanda. It’s a self fulfilled propechy. And it’s frankly stupid. You don’t need to fight your demons on this one. Just tell Romanoff to piss off and go get your girl. Speak up, tell her how you feel. This passive shit of wallowing in self pity is beneath you”

“Wow, anything else?” you say, trying not to be offended.

“Yes” Darcy says, looking at you. “You’re my best friend. I want you to be happy. Don’t cry” she snaps when tears roll down your cheeks.

“You just told me I could cry!” you complain, laughing at her.

“Yeah, well. I changed my mind. Now come on” Darcy nudges your side. “I’m freezing”

—

It’s uncharacteriscally quiet lately. No one says anything, but Pietro can feel it.

Your absence is the most obvious sign that something’s wrong.

Wanda can lie to the kids and tell them you’re working day shifts, but Pietro is not easily fooled. He never hears you come in, or leave.

You haven’t been home in a week.

“What’s going on?” he finally asks when Wanda’s doing the dishes, the twins fast asleep.

“What do you mean?” she plays dumb, without turning to look at her brother.

“She’s not working. Did you fight?”

“Leave it” Wanda says.

“No. You’re obviously not fine and I can imagine how Y/N’s doing”

“Y/N is very busy fucking that Russian” Wanda spits out, finally turning to look at her brother.

“You mean she cheated on you?”

“That woman… kissed her. And now, I kicked her out and heaven knows what she must be thinking. It’s perfect for Natasha, isn’t it? She didn’t have to try that hard to break us apart”

“Ok, so it was a kiss? Or more? I think you need to start over” Pietro asks, sitting at the kitchen counter and leaving his crutches against the wall.

So, Wanda tells him everything. How you began to spend more time at the hospital, and she got jealous and pushed you away as response. How her insecurities and your attitude made things harder and put you through a rough patch.

“But… she told you right after it happened?” Pietro tries to understand the timeline. “And it was just a kiss?”

“It’s not about the kiss. It’s about swearing nothing was going on, making me feel like I was acting crazy and…”

“How do you know she didn’t think the same thing?” his brother says, which makes her stop talking. Wanda shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe she thought they were friends. The thing is, she was honest, Wanda”

“Yeah, but…”

“You can’t let your past influence your future. I know he hurt you and it’s not easy to trust people. But not everything’s black and white. Do you honestly think Y/N was trying to hurt you?”

“Of course not” she says, shaking her head. “I just don’t know how I will get over this…”

“So it’s better to pretend nothing’s wrong?”

Pietro couldn’t say it without hurting his sister, but she was always so afraid of taking risks. And now she took the easy way out.

“Look, avoiding the issue won’t solve anything. If you want to fix it, do it. If you really can’t get past what happened, you at least need some closure” he says, his tone becoming softer as Wanda’s eyes well up with tears.

“I just hate this. I wish we could just go back to how everything was” Wanda sobs, covering her mouth. “And I miss her so much”

“Maybe you should tell her that” Pietro struggles to stand up, and goes to hug his sister. “It will be ok, sestra”

—

It’s kind of shitty to be happy over having a lot of injured people on your shift. But you’re so exhausted you’re positive you’ll pass out the minute you get home.

Well, the hotel.

That minor correction stings.

Your room’s a mess, but you’ll clean it up after you get some rest.

There’s a knock on the door right as you plop down in bed and you sigh.

“I don’t need any room cleaning, thank you!”

“It’s Wanda”

You get whiplash at those words, running to open the door.

“Hi” you say, trying to not sound too anxious. There’s a pang of guilt as you notice the bags under Wanda’s eyes.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Sure. Yeah” you step aside. “Uh, sorry about the mess. Work’s been crazy”

“So listen… I think we need to talk” she says, looking back at you.

“Oh”

So she’s here to break up with you. You stay quiet, urging her to continue.

“I… I’m not happy with this situation. Honestly, I really wished you had set boundaries with that woman from the start. I don’t know if you were just being friendly or a part of you was attracted to her at all”

“Wanda, I…”

“I don’t think I’m interested in knowing the answer to that. But I do know that we’re not gonna fix this by staying apart” she says, crossing her arms.

“Oh, so you wanna fix… I thought you were here to break up with me” you sigh, your shoulders relaxing at the realization that she’s giving you another chance.

“I have some conditions”

“Very reasonable. And my answer is yes to everything” you hurry to say, scared that she’ll change her mind.

“You sure you don’t wanna hear them? What if one of them is doing the laundry for a month?” she teases and seeing her smile is like a breath of fresh air.

“Wanda, I’ll cook forever if you ask me to”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s not like we can eat pancakes every day”

You both smile at that, and you let her take the first step, reaching for your hand.

“Pack your things, and I’ll meet you back home” she says, giving you a light squeeze.

“Ok, babe” you nod, wanting to kiss her. But she pulls away before you can lean forward, smiling.

You really hope there’s a way you can fix everything.

Because losing Wanda is simply not something you can deal with.

—

The first week back is definitely challenging.

As soon as you get home the boys run to hug you and you try really hard not to cry. You thought you’d never see them again. Pietro gives you a knowing look but keeps whatever he has to say to himself.

That first night you take the kids out to the arcade and to eat pizza, and though you’re a little disappointed when Wanda declines to join you, you understand she must be exhausted.

When you come home, you find a blanket and a pillow in the sofa. The message is pretty clear, but you take it without complaining and sleep there.

It was unrealistic to expect everything would be back to normal right away.

“How’s work?” Wanda asks one morning when you’re getting some coffee, ready to leave.

“It’s better. We’re not as short staffed anymore. Why? Do you need me to take some time off? I’ll talk to Fury” you hurry to say, desperate to prove your worth to Wanda.

“No, that’s fine. Uh… is she still there? I mean do you still have to take that course?” she asks, looking away.

“Oh. No. I mean, yeah, she’s still there but we don’t talk and I haven’t joined the last sessions. Darcy just brings me up to speed later”

“I don’t want you getting into trouble. I can manage if you have to be there” Wanda says, curious about your answer.

“It’s fine, love. I’m busy in the ER anyway” you appease her, reaching for a Pop-Tart. As you leave, you kiss her cheek out of pure habit, too busy with picking up your things to remember Wanda’s been avoiding physical contact. “Catch you later, have a good day”

“Yeah, you too” Wanda’s hand goes to the spot you just kissed, blushing.

Your day starts as usual, and you make sure you don’t leave the ER unless it is absolutely necessary. Thankfully, Yelena is eager to do any task you assign to her. That way, you avoid running into her sister.

At some point, you do have to go to the front desk to deliver some schedules and signed discharges.

“We have missed you these past sessions” someone says behind you.

You recognise Melina’s voice and answer without looking up.

“ER is very hectic”

You think that’s the end of the conversation until she asks something that almost makes you turn.

“So, which one of my daughter’s pissed you off?”

The only sign of surprise you show is how you stop writing for a second, but then you keep going.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand”

“I think you do, Doctor Y/L/N”

“Excuse me” you say, saved by your pager.

Melina hangs around, waiting for you to come back and finish the conversation, or find either Natasha or Yelena to get them to fess up.

The woman is looking around when a brunette joins her in the front desk, greeting the receptionist.

“I’ll page Doctor Y/L/N”

“Are you a patient of hers?” Melina says, looking at the woman up and down.

“I’m her girlfriend” Wanda answers, feeling like there’s something familiar about the woman.

“Oh, Y/N’s girlfriend. Yes, we’ve heard about you. She’s such a good teacher to my daughter. I’m Doctor Melina Romanoff”

Of course, Romanoff. No wonder Wanda’s gut was telling her to get out of there.

“Y/N’s teaching Natasha?” Wanda says, confused. She thought it was the other way around.

“No, Yelena. She’s working in the ER”

“Oh, good. There’s more than one of you” Wanda grumbles, wondering if Yelena flirts with you too.

“What was that, dear?” Melina says, confused.

“Oh, nothing”

Thankfully, you show up, smiling at Wanda.

“Hey, come here” you say, dragging her away from Melina.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Wanda asks as soon as the woman is out of earshot. You tilt your head, confused. “You’re teaching her sister. The whole family is here”

“Oh, that. Fury made me do it. Trust me, if it were up to me they’d all be long gone” you mumble.

Wanda’s taken aback by your bitter tone. No matter how annoying someone can be, you’re rarely unkind. It seems like they’re really testing your patience.

“Ok, well. I just wanted to drop off these cookies for Darcy”

“For Darcy and none for me?” you pout, taking the container.

“Yours are at home” Wanda says, and you’re busy checking your pager so you don’t notice Wanda looking over your shoulder, eyes locking with Natasha’s.

Wanda pulls you down, meeting your lips in a kiss that is not at all appropriate in the middle of your shift.

“Try not to be late tomorrow” she says and all you can do is nod, taken aback by the sudden display of affection. It only makes sense when you turn around, Natasha staring at you. Rubbing the back of your neck, you walk past her, only looking back once to wave your girlfriend goodbye.

Wanda stands there a little bit longer, arms crossed as she glares at Natasha. When the Russian gets annoyed, she drops her folder and makes her way over to Wanda.

She doesn’t have a chance to say anything, as Kate comes out of nowhere, dropping her coffee in the middle of both women.

“Oh, shoot” she says, not sounding sorry at all.

The sudden intrusion makes Natasha walk back and leave the reception, annoyed at having to keep to herself all the things she wants to say to your girlfriend.

Wanda, on the other hand, leaves the hospital with a smile on her face.

Kate is on the fence about telling you of the almost argument between your girlfriend and Doctor Romanoff.

To those close to you, is very obvious your relationship with the other surgeon went south, and considering how Wanda looked at Natasha, Kate has a very good guess around the reason why.

“I miss Boston a little bit” Yelena is talking your ear off while you check some X-rays. “Mama and Natasha are going back today and I wish I could too. And by the way, why is she acting strange around you?”

“Page Ortho and tell them we have a surgical case. Run lab work for the patient” you ignore her. “Questions?”

“Yes, did you and Natasha fight?”

“About the case, Belova” you clarify, turning to leave.

“Oh. No. So what happened?”

“Bishop, the case is yours now” you snap, annoyed at her insistence. You already had to deal with her mother’s questioning today, and it ran your patience thin. “Belova, you are in charge of post ops” the blonde opens her mouth to protest and you look up. “Reconsider what you’re about to say or I’ll send you to the morgue with Vidal”

Yelena nods, but you can see she’s hurt. A part of you feels guilty, but then you remember her family is incredibly wealthy and they could simply pull their heads out of their asses and hire a new Head of Trauma in Boston.

The rest of your shift is semi chaotic, until the end when you have to stay longer. Wanda doesn’t respond to your text when you explain why you’ll be late, so you’re in a hurry to leave.

“What the hell is your problem?” a voice chases you down the hall, making several people turn. You look over your shoulder at Natasha.

“Can I help you?” you ask in a bored tone, gathering your stuff to leave.

“Whatever happened between us is our business. Don’t be an asshole to my sister because it got into your head that I’m the one that screwed up your perfect relationship”

“Well, if your sister doesn’t like it she can go back to Boston, as I hope you’ll do soon and without any plans to return” you spit out, taking your bag to leave.

“I was so wrong about you” Natasha says when you walk past her.

“I’ll find a way to sleep at night” you mock, but then Natasha hits you where she knows will hurt.

“Yeah. In the couch, I bet”

Her mocking tone makes you turn.

“What a great relationship it must be, if she only likes you when you do what she wants”

Whatever you are about to say is stuck in your throat, so you turn around and leave.

The words repeat like an echo in your head until you get home.

Figuring Wanda must be in the bedroom, you go up and knock.

“Hey, sorry I had to stay longer. I texted you”

“Yeah, I got the text” Wanda nods with certain indifference. So, she’s back to being distant.

“Well, I’ll just grab a change of clothes” you say.

Wanda turns to look at you. Something takes over when she imagines Natasha kissing you, watching as you undress yourself.

Without warning, she turns you around, kissing you.

“Hey, what is it?” you ask, trying to get her to slow down. Instead of replying, she pushes you to the bed, barely giving you time to react when she straddles your lap. “Wanda, maybe we should…”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re mine” when she doesn’t get a reply, she pushes forward. “Are you gonna let me fuck you or not?”

All you can do is nod, and she takes off your pants and underwear. You’re conflicted, because Wanda doesn’t seem to be in a right state of mind, pushed by her insecurities.

And then you feel her tongue on your clit, any coherent thought pushed to the back of your mind as she laps at your folds. Your hands go through her hair, but she pushes them away with a slap.

She doesn’t give you time to protest, moving up until she kisses you. The taste of yourself renders you speechless, except for the moan that leaves your lips when Wanda pushes two fingers inside you.

“Babe, slow…” you plead, overstimulated.

“No, you’re gonna take it” she shuts you up, biting your lip.

Her hand moves faster and you cling to the comforter, moaning until you’re pushed over the edge, squeezing her fingers as you come.

“Wanda” you say, trying to catch your breath. But she stands up immediately. “Where are you going?”

“To pick up the kids”

“Can I come with you?”

“Stay” she answers, leaving the room.

You plop down in bed, the rush of your orgasm quickly forgotten at her cold demeanor.

This wasn’t about pleasure, it was about jealousy, as everything seems to be lately.

She only likes you when you do what she wants.

You take a shower and drift off, appreciating how comfortable the bed is compared to the sofa.

The sound of footsteps and laughs wakes you up, Billy and Tommy entering in a rush to the bedroom.

“You’re here!” they say, jumping on the bed. Lately, they always seem anxious to know exactly where you are, as if they sense you’ll disappear without a trace.

It’s as endearing as it is heartbreaking.

“Hey, there” you laugh when they pile on you, shouting about their day at school. “Ok, ok, one at a time, kids!”

“Boys, no shoes on the bed!” Wanda walks in a minute later, making them go get changed for soccer practise. “Why did you let them do that?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

It’s been a week, of course you’re gonna be in the dog house. But honestly, even when you’re not doing anything, Wanda seems to find a way to be mad at you.

“Why don’t I take the kids to soccer practise?” you offer, thinking she couldn’t possibly be upset about that.

“Pietro has physical therapy, you drive him and I’ll take the kids to soccer”

“Or we can all drive to the rehab clinic and then to practise” you say.

“Ok, I don’t have time to argue. If you’re not gonna be of help, stay out of the way” she snaps, which makes your eyes widen in shock.

“I’ll drive Pietro” you mutter, going out of the room.

You wait for him in the backyard, throwing Sparky’s ball and relaxing when he gets tired and sits next to you. At least someone in this house still likes you.

“What happened now?” Pietro asks from the backseat, and you shrug your shoulders, starting the car.

“She’s just in a mood. I guess it’ll pass”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Come on, no one can stay angry for that long”

Can she?

“Y/N, she hasn’t spoken to our mother in three years because of what happened with Dad” Pietro says.

“Ok, but she lives in a different country and this was a very serious subject…” you try to excuse her.

“Listen, I love Wanda, but it’s hard for her to let go of things. Unless you push a little. Mom’s giving her space, but you live with her and you shouldn’t be hiding forever. We all make mistakes”

“Well, look at you, being a couples counselor and all. You have a backup plan in case snowboarding is out of the picture” you say, opening the door for him.

In a split second, you decide to drive back to practise. Even if Wanda doesn’t want to see you, you want to be there for the boys.

To your surprise, Wanda is laughing alongside a tall man, her hand going to his arm. You walk around the field, standing next to other parents and looking over at her.

They’re both engaged in conversation, standing a bit away from the crowd. Wanda only notices your presence when Billy runs by and waves at you.

“Hey” she walks over to you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pick up Pietro in a bit, I just wanted to see the kids play”

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“So, who’s that?” you say, referring to the man she was talking to.

“Oh, he’s Richard. His son joined recently”

“No missus?”

“They’re separated. So, you know, sometimes he’s here and sometimes she is the one driving Daniel”

“Nice. Glad they make it work” you comment. Tommy waves at you because he’s having issues with his shin guard. “I’ll go”

You jog to him, smiling as you walk past Sharon.

“There you go, kiddo” you ruffle his hair, encouraging him to go back into the field.

“Friend of Wanda’s?” a voice says and you turn around. The so called Richard is smiling at you. “She’s great”

The way he says great makes you want to punch him in the face.

“Yeah. She is”

“Do you know if she’s dating anyone?”

“Me” you say, frowning at him. “Why? Wanna sell us a time share or something?”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry” he turns red. “She didn’t mention you at all”

“Huh. Funny. Just moved in together, it probably slipped her mind” you say, offering your hand. “Doctor Y/L Y/L/N, nice to meet you…”

“Richard”

“Dick” you say, punching his arm a little too harsh as you walk away. “Pleasure”

Asshole.

“Your friend’s nice” you mutter, walking past Wanda. “I’m picking up Pietro”

She didn’t mention you at all.

Funny, you can’t shut up about Wanda but she forgets you exist when someone new shows up.

Fine, whatever.

“What now?” Pietro says, sighing. It must be written all over your face when you go back to take him home.

“Nothing! I didn’t say anything” you defend yourself.

This time he doesn’t push it, probably because he’s too tired from the physical exertion.

You help him out, walk Sparky and then, once the kids are back, spend the rest of the afternoon with them going over homework. Whatever it takes to be away from Wanda.

During dinner, you stay focused in your food and only speak when the kids ask you something.

“Are you gonna be home this weekend?” Billy asks and you nod, smiling when he gets excited.

“Yeah, buddy. Wanna do something fun? We can go catch that movie you wanted”

“Oh” they both turn to look at each other. “We went yesterday with Daniel and his dad”

“Mom told us you wouldn’t have time to go to the movies” Tommy apologizes, looking sorry for something that’s not remotely his fault.

“We can go do something else, kids. Anything you want” you promise, smiling at them.

“Did Darcy like the cookies?” Wanda asks, trying to asses how pissed you are.

“Sure” you mutter, looking anywhere but her. “You know what, I’m not that hungry so I’m going to start cleaning the kitchen”

As you leave, Pietro starts to speak Sokovian in what you think is a reprimand, but who the hell knows.

Everyone else finishes their food and you clean everything, being deliberately slow to avoid Wanda. But there she is, leaning against the counter while you load the dishwasher.

“Wanna come to bed?”

“Nope”

“You don’t have a leg to stand on, Y/N. I was just being nice to Richard”

“He didn’t know about me” you snap, turning to glare at her, “And he wants to ask you out, so don’t let me get in the way. Maybe your next outing should be without the kids”

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“I never once hid you. Everyone I work with knows about you. Everyone I meet, that’s the first thing I tell them. My girlfriend and my kids, because I love them. And I love you”

“It’s just hard for me not to…”

“Not to what?”

“Not to hate you! For hurting me. For lying” she says, looking away.

“That’s fair. If you want to hate me, by all means, Wanda. But then be honest if you think this will always be the case and let me go. Because right now? It hurts a lot more to stay than to walk away”

She bites her lip, fidgeting with her hands as you walk past her.

As you’ve done every night for the past week and a half, you lie down on the couch, wondering if things will ever get better between you.

—

The weekend was nice, if only because you got to spend time with the kids. You asked Wanda if she wanted to join once, more out of politeness than genuine desire for her to come along.

The first time she made an excuse about having to work on the book. So you went to the mini golf course, the arcade, to get some pizza and then buy a couple of videogames.

Billy and Tommy were very happy and that’s all that mattered to you.

On Sunday you went grocery shopping, turning a blind eye when they sneaked a couple of chocolates. There were some nice flowers, so you decided to get them, just to have something that made you smile.

You weren’t planning on sticking around for dinner, having a night shift. As you’re having a snack in the kitchen, scrolling through your phone, Wanda walks in, unsure if she should say something to you.

She’s very aware that with her hot and cold attitude she’s done her share of damage to your relationship.

Wanda’s never been good at forgiving people.

“You’ll spoil your apetite” she tries to joke when she sees you eating a couple of cookies.

“I have a night shift” you smile, briefly looking away from your phone.

“The flowers are nice”

“Yeah, I liked them too” you agree.

Your girlfriend wanders around the kitchen, trying to come up with something that can be remotely interpreted as a peace offering.

Looking at the calendar, she notices a circled date two days from now.

“Did we have plans for anything?” she asks, trying to remember what the date means.

“It’s ten months since our first date” you say, looking away.

“Oh. Ten months? Time flies”

Yeah, it does. Not in a million years would you have guessed that things would go so bad in the course of a few weeks.

Even the ring you were so excited about is now stored away in a box in the garage.

“We should do something” Wanda says. “We could go to dinner to that restaurant you like”

“If you want to” you say, unsure if her mood will be the same two days from now. Hell, maybe she’ll go back to hating your guts by then and it will be an awkward dinner.

“Yes” she hurries to say, standing in front of you when you get up to wash your cup. “I’d want to… I think I’d like to just… talk like we used to. You know?”

Of course you do. That’s all you’ve wanted since this nightmare began but every time you think you’re making progress she pushes you away. And you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Ok. I’ll make the reservation” you agree. “I have to go now. Have a good night”

“Have a good shift at work”

You go up to take your bag and say bye to the kids.

“See you Tuesday after school”

“You promise?” Billy says and you nod, offering your pinky. He links it with yours and you both laugh.

“Be good, kiddos”

At the door, Wanda’s waiting with some food.

“In case you get hungry”

You nod, taking the container and smiling as you walk past her.

Wanda wishes she had the courage to go after you and kiss you. But all she does is watch as you drive away.

—-

“Where’s Belova?” you say, annoyed. She’s supposed to be here and it’s only you and Kate in the ER.

“She said she had a family emergency. And that she’d tried to be here early in the morning”

Right. You can afford to skip a night shift if your mother is a reknowned surgeon.

“Well, go get some rest and if anything urgent comes up I’ll let you know” you say, not feeling very tired.

The brunette nods, grateful for the chance to sleep. Ever since Yelena joined you, she’s been staying longer in the hospital to get whatever cases she can get. You appreciate her commitment.

For once, it’s an easy shift. The worse that comes is a group of college kids that are drunk, one of them breaking his nose as he fell.

“I’m kinda hungry” you tell Barnes as you finish up with the young man.

“Go, I’ll stay here”

“Would you like to join me? I have plenty of food” you offer, suddenly realising you’ve never spoken to Barnes beyond work. He thinks about it for a second and then nods.

“Sounds nice”

You take it as an acheivement, going to a break room where you split Wanda’s lasagna in half, while Barnes comes back with a couple of sodas.

“Thanks… sorry, I call you Barnes, but is there other name…?”

“Bucky” he says, sitting down.

“Alright. Bucky” you nod, following suit. You both eat in silence for a moment.

“You’re a good cook”

“That’s my girlfriend. I can only do some decent pancakes” you admit.

“Oh, is that the woman that came the other day?” he asks and you nod, surprised that he noticed.

“Yeah, that’s her” you say, suddenly remembering everything that’s happened in the past weeks. “She has two kids”

“I like kids” he says, which makes you chuckle. He raises an eyebrow, amused. “What?”

“I’m sorry, but you’re always so serious. I can’t imagine you with kids. I’m being rude” you mumble, watching as his smiles widens.

“Nah, I get it. I’m just not good at making friends. And it feels like everyone knows each other already”

“I’m sorry, I guess we should have made more of an effort to include you” you nod, thinking that it must be awful to be left out. “Tell you what, we’ll all go out for drinks one of these days. There’s a bar close to the hospital”

“Maybe”

“There’s a pool table” you insist and he smiles.

“Ok, yeah” he finally relents and you celebrate. Once you’re done with the food, he hands over a chocolate bar. You appreciate the gesture, and munch on it while holding back a yawn.

“Go get some sleep, I’ll page when there’s something” Bucky says.

“Thanks. This was nice” you pat his shoulder, happy that you got to speak to him.

You’re paged a couple of times but manage to get a few hours of sleep.

The next time someone calls you is to go to the third floor, to a conference room. Of course it’s Melina Romanoff.

“Yes?”

“Oh, good, you’re here. Have a seat, please” she speaks, completely indifferent to your mood.

“I have work” you refuse the offer, but she’s clearly not speaking until you do as she says. You sigh, relenting. Maybe she’s about to rip you to shreds for being an ass to Yelena.

“You know what I like?”

Dancing in the moonlight like a witch?

“No, not really”

“Honesty. Someone who doesn’t care about anything other than the truth. And skills” you remain impassive and then she takes off her glasses, smiling at you. “All those things you said about Yelena are true. She has great potential, but she’s missing the drive. It’s about consistency. And hard work”

“Yeah, and yet she skipped the night shift”

“That was my bad. Her father is in town” she says, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Anyway, the people who have worked for me are always too afraid to tell me the truth. Because they want me to like them. But not you. Which is why…”

Melina extends a letter. An offer letter to be the Head of Trauma at Romanoff Medical.

“I’m not interested” you say, noticing the pay is triple what you currently make.

“And why’s that?”

“My family’s here”

“Hum, I see. We can arrange for relocation. You’ll have enough money to buy a beautiful house”

She’s probably referring to the sign up bonus you get if you accept the job.

“Wanda would never want to move. I appreciate the offer” you hand back the paper and she stops you.

“How long have you been with this girl?”

“Ten months”

“And it’s good? There’s a future?” she insists.

“Maybe”

A month ago you would have said that absolutely there was a future. Now, it’s very uncertain.

“Ok, well… sometimes we have to make choices. This is one of those times, Doctor Y/L/N. You work for Romanoff Medical and everyone will know your name. They’ll try to steal you and I’ll double your pay at some point to get you to stay”

“The money isn’t…”

“It should be. Because you’re good at your job, one of the best I’ve seen. At least take the letter and read it carefully. We’re going back to Boston tonight but call me if you change your mind”

“Thanks” you nod, hearing your pager. You fold the letter and put it on the pocket of your lab coat, finding Kate in the ER struggling with a doppler ultrasound.

You smile at the pregnant woman that is waiting, looking worried.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Y/L/N. What brings you to the ER today?”

“I’m having some pain, and contractions but we’re only at 35 weeks. It can’t possible be…” the woman says.

“We’re having twins, boy and girl” her husband explains.

“Congratulations” you smile. “Twins are fun. You’ll have to get two of everything for Christmas, though”

“Do you have twins?” the woman asks, trying to forget about the pain.

“Two boys. Here” you check for the heartbeats, but notice the woman’s water broke, blood mixed with the fluid. “We’re doing an emergency C-section. Don’t worry, we’ll take great care of you and your babies”

Kate pages OBGYN and Maria for the delivery of the babies.

“Everything will be fine, Miss Hardwick” you say, introducing the surgeons. “Your husband is on his way to the OR, the nurses are helping him scrub in”

“Tell me about your boys” she asks when the procedure begins. You smile, looking at her.

“Well, Billy likes science and art. So I don’t know if he’ll be a scientist or an artist like his mom. Tommy is really fast, the fastest boy in the soccer team”

“Two moms?” the woman says and you tense up, unsure if she’ll have a problem with it. “Your house must be very clean”

Maria and you laugh at that.

“You know, it is. But she does the cooking and I try to keep everything neat, and help with homework and taking out the dog”

“Honey, I think I want to be a lesbian” the woman says, and her husband looks around.

“It’s just the anesthesia talking, she’s joking” you calm him down, smiling.

After an hour of surgery, you admire the new family, though the babies will have to spend a few days in the NICU.

“Thanks, Maria” you smile at the woman as you scrub out. “I’m glad they’re all ok”

“We just need to be careful with the post op, can your team handle it?”

“Yeah, of course” you say.

Yelena finally shows up, with a million apologies about how her dad surprised her with a visit from Russia. You decide her punishment should be sticking to the Hardwick’s post op.

“This was a high risk pregnancy. You’re gonna be checking up on her by the hour, no excuses. Can you handle that?” you say.

“You got it”

“Good. You’re also on ER duty, since I’m sending Bishop home. She just pulled off a 36 hour shift and three surgeries” you grab your charts and turn back to look at her. “Better catch up, Belova. Right now, you’re way behind”

Hoping the rest of the day can be better, you instruct her on how to work the ER and she seems to be eager to follow your instructions.

A little too eager, as Yelena hurries to pull out a knife from a man’s leg and getting you sprayed with an alarming amount of blood.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry” she says, being pushed out of the way by Barnes so he can fix the mess.

You wipe your face and arms. Well, it’s been a while since you’ve had that happen.

“What did you do wrong?” you calmly ask Yelena.

“I… I didn’t take X-rays. Or his BP”

“Yeah, make sure that doesn’t happen again” you say, tired of being too hard on her. It’s clearly not working. “Stitch him up, I gotta get changed”

Cleaning up proves difficult when you don’t have a change of clothes in your bag. This is what you get when you’re in a hurry to leave.

“Don’t” you warn Tony when the elevator doors open and he watches your bloody scrubs.

“Fine. I won’t say I told you so”

“Screw you, Stark”

“Romanoffs! Evil!” he says as you roll your eyes, walking to your car.

Wanda’s reaction is a little different when she sees you come in.

“Oh, my God! Are you ok?”

“Not my blood” you reassure her. “I forgot my other scrubs. I’ll take a shower and throw these away”

“You got some on your lab coat too”

“Damn it” you raise your elbow. That’s gonna be a bitch to clean.

“Leave it, I was doing laundry tomorrow” Wanda says and you nod, smiling.

“Thanks”

Worrying about the mess Yelena could make while alone in the ER makes you hurry up, taking a quick shower and walking out of the bathroom in your underwear, jumping around as you put on your pants.

“In a hurry?” Wanda asks, eyeing you curiously.

“Yeah, she almost got someone killed while I was standing there. Wanna guess what happens if I leave for more than an hour?” you huff, looking for a new pair of sneakers. “Hey, how was it when the twins were born?”

“What do you mean?” Wanda tilts her head.

“I don’t know, we delivered twins today, and it made me wonder, what happened when Billy and Tommy were born, ya know? Was your family there? Did Pietro cry? All that”

“Oh, that’s a long story” Wanda smiles. You stand up, ready to leave and she leans forward. “Why don’t I tell you over dinner?”

“I’d like that” your heart flutters at her beautiful smile. She kisses your cheek.

“See you later”

“Bye, love” you smile, feeling like something’s changed between you two.

Hopefully, for the better.

—

Love: Happy ten months to us.

Love: I love you, detka

You smile at the text you got from Wanda right at midnight.

“It’s feeding time, wanna help?” Maria says as you stand outside of the NICU, watching their oxygen levels and temp.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on”

You both change into special gowns and cover your heads and shoes to avoid contamination. One of the nurses hands you the little girl and you begin to feed her, amazed at how strong she is in spite of being a preemie.

“You’re a natural” Maria comments and you laugh, while the baby wraps her entire hand around one of your fingers.

“Oh, man. It’s happening again. I’m catching baby fever. How have you managed your entire career, Maria?”

“Well, dealing with Carol is a lot like having a kid” she jokes and you both laugh.

Feeding time is over too soon for your liking and you’re honestly thinking you’ll come back before your shift ends just to enjoy this a bit longer.

And then Yelena walks in the room.

“Belova, you’re contaminating everything”

“Mrs. Hardwick is crashing”

“What do you mean, crashing?”

You run out of the NICU, hearing the code blue over the speakers. By the time you get to the room, Bucky is working with compressions. You spring to action, asking for medications and taking over CPR.

“Talk to me, Belova”

“We have a pulse” she says, not taking her eyes off the monitor.

“Ok, let’s do blood work and an ECG. Did you do the post op, Yelena?”

“Yes!”

“Every hour?”

“Every 45 minutes! Y/N, you have to believe me, I did everything. What about? Ok, I know I’m just an intern but I’ve read about peripartum cardiomyopathy?”

“It was a high risk pregnancy. We need to get those lab results to rule it out. The bad news is…”

“That in critical cases, a heart transplant is the only way. And there’s a high rejection rate” Yelena says, and you nod.

“Very good. I wish I could say you’re wrong, but it’s not the case”

The results aren’t good. Neither is your chat with Mr. Hardwick, who’s facing the potential loss of his wife and their children are still in the NICU.

“What are our options?”

“We can start with beta blockers, diuretic, other treatments. If it’s not good enough we will have to consider a heart transplant”

“How long will that take?” he says, desperate.

Your pager interrupts you. Her room again.

“Wait here”

But of course he doesn’t.

“She’s crashing again. Charge to 200”

“We have to do something now” Maria says, helping you with compressions.

“LVAD. It can be a bridge treatment for medical management or heart transplant. Page Ross” you turn to one of the nurses.

“He’s out”

“Then page him and tell him a woman is dying”

“He’s not in the country” Bucky clarifies.

“Alright, whoever’s available in Cardio, Jesus. Is that so hard to find? We’re not wasting any time, tell them to meet us in the OR…”

“Doctor Bernard is two hours away”

“Not good enough” you yell, feeling desperate. All you see is a woman with twins, like Wanda, who needs to see her babies grow up.

“Natasha’s still here” Yelena offers and you nod without hesitation.

“Call her”

The adrenaline makes it seem like it’s been a second since you began to prep for the surgery, and Natasha walks in, ready to go.

“An LVAD can be a temporary solution. But she needs the transplant. My mother is already calling UNOS”

“Ok, let’s begin” you nod. You stand opposite to Natasha, doing everything she asks.

Her movements are calculated and precise. You find yourself looking in awe at her skill.

She was born to be a surgeon.

“There’s a heart in Boston. You need to go now” Melina says when you’re almost done. Tony is right behind her. Seems like everyone wants this case to have a happy ending.

“I’ll go” you and Natasha say at the same time.

“Take the jet” Tony says. “Mine, not Romanoff's”

“Yeah, ok” you look at the clock. You have twelve hours for dinner with Wanda. “Let’s just wrap up before dinner, or my wife will be mad”

“Wife?” Maria says and you look up.

“Girlfriend. Sorry, my mind was elsewhere” you mutter, shaking your head.

“I didn’t know you’d propose. Congratulations” Natasha says, looking at you over her surgical mask.

“Not proposing… Not anytime soon at least, things haven’t been so… nice” you say, focusing on the LVAD.

“I’m sorry” Natasha says, and for the first time, it seems like she means it.

“Not your fault. Not all of it, at least” you joke in a low voice so only Natasha can hear.

“Jerk” she says, but there’s no malice in her tone. “We’re done here. I’ll leave instructions for the post OP while we get the heart”

“Jet’s waiting” Stark confirms.

“Thanks, Tony. You’re my favorite nepo baby” you smile, taking off your gloves.

—

It’s all a blur. People greet Natasha, and it feels like the entire room stops when she walks in. Of course, her family owns this place.

In Stark Hospital, she’s a guest,

Here, Natasha’s the boss.

One of them, at least.

“This is Doctor Y/L/N, scrubbing in with me”

You feel a little intimidated, at the sheer size of the hospital. Twice as big as the one you work at. So, maybe that’s why Tony doesn’t like them that much.

Men and their obsession with size.

“You should see the ER” Natasha says when she catches you looking around the facilities.

“Maybe some other time. Let’s get our heart”

“Now I think I just owe you a pair of lungs” she jokes and you laugh, remembering the time she went to Westview.

Everyone’s ready for the organ harvest but Natasha takes a deep breath, approaching the woman in the operating table.

“You’re about to save a mother’s life. We hope she can see her children grow up. Thank you”

With that, she turns to nod at you.

Again, you are in awe of her technique, even if it’s your third surgery together. You realize the first time you hadn’t noticed because you were too busy joking and admiring her green eyes.

Yeah, the damage to your relationship wasn’t Natasha’s fault at all.

I’m such an idiot.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just worried”

“About being late for dinner?”

“Among other things” you say, avoiding her stare.

“Well, we’re done here. Let’s get back to Westview”

—-

This is the third time she calls you. Wanda looks at her phone, worried that something might have happened to you.

She decides to call the hospital, but it’s Kate who answers the ER line.

“Kate, hi. Is Y/N ok? She hasn’t called or texted” Wanda says, holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, getting the laundry ready. She picks up your lab coat, and a sheet of paper falls.

An offer letter.

To work with the Romanoffs.

“Hi, Miss Maximoff. She’s on her way back from Boston. Her and Doctor Romanoff…”

“She went to Boston? With Natasha?” Wanda stops reading the letter, catching up to what Kate is saying.

“Well yeah, we had a…”

“I have to go” Wanda hangs up, dropping the phone.

She reads the letter one more time before crumpling it in a ball.

—

It’s been a while since you had such an intense shift. I mean, sure, maybe fishing Yelena out of the water was hard, but this was one of those cases that had the entire hospital on edge.

Mrs. Hardwick is in post OP with a new heart, and her twins are getting stronger by the hour. You desperately hope there’s a happy ending.

Also, you made it in time for dinner, with some actual time to shower.

“Hey” you greet Wanda when you walk in. She’s sitting in the dining table, glaring at you.

“You have a lot of nerve to show up”

You’re about to ask what’s wrong when she throws a ball of paper your way. Of course, the offer letter.

“Wanda”

“No, don’t even start. You broke your promise. Why were you in Boston? Looking for a new place?”

“Jesus fuck, Wanda!” you shout, exhausted. “I was in Boston for a heart transplant so a woman who just had twins can live. I mean, a mother could have died, her babies are still in an incubator and you are worried about a job I’m not even gonna take? Get a fucking grip!”

“Don’t talk to me like that. You said that you were done speaking to her, that nothing was happening. And now this?”

“Her mother made the offer that I rejected because my family is here. As for the surgery, well, yeah, I broke my promise for a good reason. What was I supposed to say? Sorry, your wife will have to die because my girlfriend is paranoid?”

“Don’t you dare call me paranoid when you kissed her, not to mention all the times you were calling her Professor Romanoff, or how you always talked about having dinner or going out”

“How do you…?” it takes a moment and Wanda licks her lips nervously, looking away. “You went through my phone”

“What else was I supposed to do? Here she is, this stunning woman that is offering you so much thrill and excitement while I’m nagging you about taking out the trash. And not only that, but a chance at a better life too”

“So you went through my phone and my stuff. That’s great, Wanda. Very healthy and mature” you run your hands over your face, resisting the urge to kick the wall. “I would never sign that stupid contract, in a million years. Our life is here, but no matter what I do, you always doubt I’m committed”

“You’ve been lying to me for weeks and I’m the bad guy” Wanda says, looking defeated. “Is that all you have to say? No apology for hurting me? For betraying me?”

“I apologized over the kiss. I kept my promise and yeah, I broke it to save a life. Natasha’s on a plane back to Boston, and she’s never coming here again. But if you can’t trust me…” you sigh, and wipe the tears that roll down your cheeks. “If you don’t trust me, I don’t see how we can do this. Because then the issue isn’t Natasha. It’s us”

“You’re right” Wanda says after a beat of silence. You relax at her words, thinking the fight is over and you can talk rationally about it. Her next words hit you like a brick wall. “I don’t trust you. And I don’t think I ever will again”

Wanda stares at you, until you look away and sigh.

“Then what? The kids…”

“They are my children. I should have never involved them, that was my mistake and it is one I’ll never make again. We’ve been doing good our whole lives, just the three of us. It’s best if you leave us alone. We will be better”

We’ll be better without you.

“I should go” is all you say, closing the door behind you.

—-

Bucky leaves the hospital, sighing. What a day. He even stopped by the NICU to see those cute babies.

He’s about to get on his motorcycle when he spots you, sitting in a bench.

“Hey. Came to check on your patient?”

“Yeah. And talk to the Chief” you sigh, looking at him. “How about that drink we talked about?”

“I’m kinda tired”

“You sure? Because this is the only chance you’ll get”

“What do you mean?” he asks, noticing the tear that rolls down your cheek.

“Well, I just quit my job”

[wriokitty]

hidden corners — ft. wriothesley

before you read: female reader ; mature content 18+ ; established relationship ; public sex (except it’s not really sex and you don’t get caught) ; dry humping ; wriothesley cums in his pants <3 ; not proof read

The fortress is a big place. Walking to Wriothesley’s office means you get your step count up—but it also means it takes a good few minutes to get there at all.

You’re patient enough to wait. He, on the other hand, sometimes is not.

“Wrio?” Your head tilts to the side. You’re more than a little surprised to see his serious face as he quickly approaches you while you walk towards his office. You grin, teasing glint in your eyes as you hum, “what? You couldn’t wait to see me—oh!”

He’s dragging you by the hand, pulling you along as he turns corners and walks in the very opposite direction of his office with you following in tow (against your will).

“Where are we going?” You ask, blinking. “Your office isn’t this way.”

“There’s an emergency,” he says quickly. Too quickly. You take a good look at him for a moment before you realize something’s off—his coat. It’s not draped over his back like it usually is, instead worn properly over his upper half and buttoned up completely.

Your eyes narrow in confusion. “You’re wearing your coat?”

“Got cold.”

“But the heating has been on for—”

“Heat’s not working in my office.”

“Why don’t you—”

He lets out a shuddering breath, shaky and almost impatient enough that you simply shut your mouth before stressing him out further. He seems to appreciate it, too, because he doesn’t make anymore extra comments—just makes one last turn, pressing you against a hidden corner behind a wall of pipes and caging you with your back against a cold, hard surface.

“Couldn’t wait,” he breathes. “You were taking too long so I met you halfway”

“What do you mean? Wait for wha—” The buttons of his coat come undone quickly enough that you cut yourself off in shock, watching as he flings off the thick, furry material and lets it drop to the floor. “Wriothesley! The floor is dirty and you drape that thing over me all the time, are you insane—oh.”

Oh.

Your eyes land on the clear reason why he’s been so tensely impatient: a heavy, thick bulge in his pants that’s been covered up until now by the mid-length coat that draped over his torso. He lets out a shaky breath, stepping closer as he presses his face deep into your neck and breathes in your scent.

It seems to only make things worse because he lets out a strangled groan and says hoarsely, “I’ll fucking wash it. Now’s not the time.”

“Wriothesley, we’re in the middle of the—”

It seems today is very keen on forcing all of your sentences to cut off halfway because once again, you can’t finish what you want to say. Not before he grunts and presses his heavy, throbbing erection against your clothed cunt and murmurs, “no, we’re in a hidden corner.”

“We’re right by pipes! Have you never heard the way they carry sound?”

“These don’t lead anywhere important.”

“This is absurd,” you say sternly. He rolls his hips stubbornly, grinding the thick girth of his cock against your heat, separated by fabric but brought together by friction.

“Need you, sweetheart,” he moans lowly, “need you so bad I’m tired of waiting. Please.”

You’re nothing if not a doting girlfriend. A very pliant one, at that—so soft and willing to give into Wriothesley and his whims even when they might land you in compromising positions. (How could you say no when he’s pressed up against you like that, though? How could your mind and body respond with anything except yes when he all but molds his body onto yours and drags himself desperately against your own core? Self control was never an easy task in the first place.)

“A little decorum once in a while would be nice, you know,” you huff—still, your arms go right around his neck like they always do, letting his chest firmly press against yours.

He chuckles, low vibrations that you can feel tickle your ribcage as his nose digs into the skin along the crook of your neck. “I told you,” he murmurs, lips tugging into a crooked, wolfish grin, “we’re hidden. And I’m the duke. I know what goes on in this here fortress—no one will find us.”

Smug is one way to describe him—needy is probably better. Far better. Because the way his hips roll to drag his thick, heavy cock along your cunt is far too impatient to be considered anything else but pure need.

You shudder, head leaning back against the wall as a soft, breathy moan spills from your lips at the way his bulge drags along your clit, the pressure from his cock and the friction of your clothes building a steady ache along your core. You can feel the heat of his confined length, the way it twitches in his pants, the way it leaks with pre cum and dampens his fabric enough to match the wet fabric that clothes your cunt.

“Wr-wrio…” you breathe, voice tapering off into a soft, high pitched whine as he roughly glides against your clit particularly harshly. Your hands search for the familiar fur draped on his shoulders to grip onto—only it’s not there.

It’s on the floor along with the rest of his jacket.

He chuckles roughly, voice low and gruff and a tiny bit labored from the air that doesn’t seem to be in his lungs. His hands reach for your wrists, grabbing them gently before guiding them up to his hair, letting them tangle into the strands as he mumbles lowly, “go ahead and pull, sweetheart. I can take it, yeah?”

Large, scarred hands find your waist, fingers digging into plush skin as he pulls your hips forward, rubbing you along his length while he lets out a raw, throaty groan.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “f-fuck, I just couldn’t wait. Couldn’t…couldn’t wait—you understand, right sweetheart? D-don’t be mad.”

He’s babbling. Voice wavering and sweat clinging to his forehead as he hides into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, where he can breathe in the scent of your perfume and feel his cock swell impossibly harder at the sweetness of your perfume. It’s driving him mad. Borderline throwing him into insanity’s clutches from just the sensation of grinding against you.

It’s nothing like being buried to the hilt inside of you. The wet, warm, tight walls that welcome him in every time, the gummy, soft feel of you wrapping around him and constructing with every thrust. He’d like to spill into you, fuck load after load after load until his mess leaks down your thighs and coats your skin with one more layer of proof that your his.

But he’s not particularly patient enough for that. Not willing to wait until he knows you’re stretched out and dripping enough with slick to take the thick girth of him splitting you open—so instead, he takes this. The feeling of you taking over his senses. The feeling of your heat seeping into his body. The smell of your perfume and sweat invading his nose. The rough, unforgiving sting of your fingers tugging at his hair.

He’s pathetically wrapped around your finger tightly enough that even when he craves for more, anything you give is still enough. Maybe he’s not feeling you, but the feeling of you near him is enough to still satisfy that raging, unforgiving ache that settles between his thighs and goes nowhere. Nowhere.

He’s tried—for long enough before your arrival, he’s tried to ignore the way he grows in his pants. Tightening and straining against crisp fabric that’s not meant to stretch and accommodate his cruel problem. It makes his hands tremble as he signs documents. Makes his mind and thoughts race to memories of you—memories on your face, your voice, your ecstasy.

And he can’t wait.

So he finds you half way along the path to his office, dragging you to a hidden corner where the pipes cover your bodies and the walls muffle your sounds.

Wriothesley is the duke. The fortress is his playground. Whatever he says goes—and if he restricts access to the back east wing before he leaves his office…well, he’s confident no one will come. Not because he doesn’t want anyone to catch him seeking relief in the arms of the only person he can call home, but because anyone seeing, hearing, witnessing the way you break from him alone is sinful.

This meant for him. For his eyes. For his ears. For his cock. You’re meant for him.

“I’m close, baby,” he rasps, “fuck, what’re you doing to me? I’m gonna cum right here in my fucking pants. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” you gasp, tugging his hair to pull him away from your neck and press your foreheads together.

He chuckles, breathy pants fanning along your mouth as his lips hover yours while he murmurs, “yeah? That’s what you want?”

“Yes, Wriothesley,” you whimper, “want you to cum and make me cum, too.”

“I think I can do that, sweetheart. Think I can make that happen right now, if that’s what you need.”

And he doesn’t lie. Because his hips give one, two, three rough thrusts against you, rubbing the hard bulge in his pants along your dripping cunt and swollen clit before he stills for a moment and shudders.

Instinctively, your lips both find each other, swallowing shallow gasps and low moans as you both break at the same time. His cock jerks in between his legs, twitching with rope after rope of thick, sticky cum that soils his boxers and leaks through his trousers.

You don’t fare much better. It feels like you’re soaked—your walls gushing around nothing and dripping your slick essence until it leaves a wet patch on your own panties, dampening through them and leaving you to feel the wetness it leaves.

“More, Wrio,” you cry between kisses, rolling your hips in time with his as you ride out the last waves of your pleasure. A string of saliva connects your lips to his as you pull away to speak.

But he chases after you, closing the gap once more before moaning one last deep sound into your mouth as he slumps against you, pecking your lips once and mumbling, “can’t. We’re in the middle of the fortress, remember?”

It’s smug. So cocky for someone who just took you without even properly taking you right here in a dark, cold corner with pipes surrounding you.

You glare at him, watching as he throws you that easy, confident grin before grumbling, “then lead the way to your office, your grace.”

“With my utmost pleasure, my lady,” he laughs, slowly peeling himself off of you, “who knew you could be so impatient?”

You quirk an unamused eyebrow before glancing down at the wet, messy dark spot along his crotch. He follows your gaze, flushing while you point to the coat on the floor and huff, “put that on before someone sees the absolutely sorry state your pants are in, you smug bastard.”

You fix your clothes, smoothing out your appearance before walking out of the dark corner and heading for his office—and he follows soon after as he buttons his coat, trailing after you like an excited, energetically impatient puppy.

I don’t want to talk about what inspired this . Everyone don’t talk to me for one million years thanks 👍

[bisonomy]

I feel like something that people forget when it comes to cheap tat holidays- holidays that have been infected by low taste and workplace acceptable crappy decorations and objects of holiday significance- that there are other ways to enjoy them, and that if they so choose, they can make it theirs in ways that are beautiful that don't automatically mean they're capitulating to the Mars company and Big Plastic.

Holidays are supposed to be fun, or for making time for deep meaning and connection- to others, to your past, to your plans for the future, to the numinous that makes your soul ring deep and low in the center of your being. So instead of sneering at Valentines, or letting it make you fell bad, how about one of these?

Dance (or fuck) your brains out

make a ceremony over remembered loves past, either to cherish the good, or give thanks for the escape

take a leaf out of Miley Cyrus' book and create a perfect date that is peculiar and perfect for you and no one else

blow the money on the vibrator or sex toy you've been coveting but think is too expensive

take the 6 hours to make that Fantcy dessert

colorbound your wardrobe for the week by wearing all the pink and red and purple you can feasibly fit into your outfits

ROM COM MOVIE FEST

Write the most deranged PWP 500 words about your OTP you can think of

Send silly Valentines cards to 20 friends like you are in 3rd grade, bonus points for the worst puns you can think of

Write postcards to the couples in your life that are doing it right, letting them know what you admire specifically about their relationship

Be like OP and savor the silly gimcrack of it all, take a second and appreciate the shininess of the red plastic, as if you are a magpie

Disliking how Others do it is fine, but giving up a chance at a holiday, at making a fuss and occasion for yourself on your terms, that is poverty indeed. Adulthood can suck on many levels, see being the animal and the zookeeper at the same time, but taking time to make meaning for yourself, through the lens of a semi traditional holiday, that can be so fun, or so special, or so satisfying, that it ceases to matter how others play the game. What do you do at your house? Because making it just another day, in FEBRUARY no less, the worst and longest of the months, strikes me as worse than putting up whatever weird decorations Target had in their little deal grotto.

dont understand people who "don't like" valentines day... I personally dgaf that its "made up" and "commercialist"... i love heart shaped things and i love everyone in my life. Its really simple

[azsazz]

Cold Shoulder (Part 3)

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: please i know requests are closed but what happens after cold shoulder 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Warnings: Smut, oral (F receiving).

Word Count: 2202

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown Shots & Spins Sprinkles of Luck and Doubt Cold Shoulder (Part 1) (Part 2)

_________________________________________

“You know,” Azriel huffs, shouldering the bookshelf you have him moving into place. “When I said that I’d do anything to get you to forgive me, I was thinking something along the lines of taking you to dinner or doing some of your homework or eating you out until you accepted my apology.” Your cheeks flare hot as the image his head between your legs flashes through your mind. You carefully cross your ankles where you’re sitting on your bed. “Not rearranging your furniture.”

You’d feel bad about asking Azriel to reposition the furniture in your room, but you couldn’t think of anything else when it came to punishing him for how he’d treated you a few weeks ago in the locker room. If you’d asked for a sexual favor, he’d have been much too eager, and there’s no way you would have been able to hold yourself back from giving him something in return. So, moving furniture it was.

“Well, the feng shui is all off in here and I need better sleep,” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest. You let your eyes trail the tight t-shirt he has on, down to the light gray sweatpants that he knows make you wetter than that shower he abandoned you in. His dark hair is a disheveled mess, too, only adding to the raw sexual power emanating from him. Azriel isn’t playing about wanting you to forgive him, and he’s pulling out all the stops in hopes that you will. “Now, a little to the left, please.”

Truth is, you haven’t been sleeping well for a multitude of reasons, half of which involve the hockey player who shoots you a ‘seriously?’ look before following your direction. You bite your lip to hide your smile as you admire his backside. The few weeks you’ve spent ignoring Azriel have been long and hard, but not as long and hard as his cock, which, you can’t seem to stop thinking about in the late hours of the nights. Your vibrator in no way, shape, or length, compares to what Azriel is packing beneath those light gray sweatpants that sag low on his hips, which would reveal the waistband of his briefs, if he were wearing any.

He knows exactly where your eyes keep drifting to.

You find that you have better sleep when he’s around. Not just because he fucks you to exhaustion. It’s the nights that you aren’t having sex, too. Azriel’s presence alone is calming, and when he scratches your scalp or strokes his hand down your back, you find it much easier to forget the worries of perfecting your routine running rampant in your mind and relax in his strong hold.

“Right there!” You exclaim, grinning sheepishly when Azriel looks over his shoulder at you. “That’s perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Is there anything else you want rearranged?”

You’re sure that he doesn’t mean to phrase it suggestively, but you can’t help that your mind goes to the possibility of Azriel rearranging your guts. In a good way. A really good way.

Fuck.

Your face roasts with a blush. Azriel raises that damn brow again and you swear that you see the corner of his lips twitch in amusement. Like he’s thinking the same exact thing you are. Suddenly, you yearn to see that handsome smile of his.

“Uh, no. I think that’s it,” you answer, tucking your hands carefully under your thighs to keep yourself from reaching out to him.

“You sure?” he teases, prowling closer. You’re frozen to the spot, heart picking up in your chest when he comes to a stop before you, knee to knee. The way he’s staring down at you, like he wants to press you right back into the mattress behind you, causes a full body shiver that’s impossible to hold in. His hazel eyes are dark with arousal, and to further the way you react to him, he plants his hands on either side of you, leaning down until you’re the same height.

“I’m pretty sure,” you breathe, and you’re so close that your lips almost brush. You’ve missed him. Your hands ache to touch, to trail down his broad chest, to hook into the waistband of his pants and pull. Your body yearns for his. All you want right now is for him to lean forward, place all his weight on you while he fucks you into the bed.

Azriel’s voice is husky, and it causes your nipples to tighten beneath your shirt. “You sure I can’t help with anything else? I can move the bed. It looks a little off center.” You know his words aren’t a coincidence this time. He’s making innuendos on purpose, and it just so happens that you like the sound of that.

Your thighs part and Azriel slowly eases between them. If your heart wasn’t racing in your chest before, it is when he lowers himself to his knees before you. No matter how many times you’ve seen him in this position—when he helped you with your skates, the first time he went down on you—it still sets your body on fire. You’re pretty sure your cunt wets partially because Azriel’s conditioned you, praising you with such pretty words each time he does this.

He’s so close you can feel his warmth, but he’s not touching you like you want like you need.

“Yeah, I guess it is a little off center, now that I think about it,” you whisper, loving the way his eyes darken with arousal. From the corner of your vision, you can see his cock twitch in his pants.

“Wouldn’t want the feng shui to be off,” he murmurs back, shuffling forward so you can feel how interested he is in making sure your bed is in perfect position. You inhale softly; a sound that makes him want to fuck into you with fervor. You make him lose his goddamn mind.

Azriel’s hand finds your wrists, gently pulling your hands from where they’re still tucked under your thighs. He wraps one around his shoulder, guiding your fingers to the nape of his neck where you love to pull. Especially when you’re out of your mind, drunk on his tongue or fingers or cock. His hips almost buck when your fingers curl into his black strands, tugging subconsciously.

With the other hand, he intertwines your fingers with his, holding tightly. Gods, he’s fucking missed you. He’s been nothing but a storm cloud since he walked out on you, and everyone has taken notice. Even coach, who told him to fix his shit and get his head in the game or he won’t be playing against the Flyer’s this weekend.

He wants to play, but he wants your forgiveness more.

“Yeah,” you agree distractedly, and pull his mouth to yours.

The kiss doesn’t start slow. It’s fast and hot, the both of you ravaging each other like you’re wild animals devouring a kill. It feels like it’s been much longer since Azriel’s mouth has been on yours.

Your body surges with adrenaline and excitement when his tongue traces the seam of your lips, which part for him like the red fucking sea. Fireworks explode when your tongues touch, a tentative, gentle caress, as if he’s asking you if it’s okay. Your responding tug on his hair has him moving quicker, more assured, his tongue scraping yours in a way that makes you whimper.

“Fuck,” he breathes between kisses. His hands trail down your thighs, pushing higher to dip into the waistband of your sleep shorts. He snaps the elastic and you gasp against his mouth, dragging your free hand down the rippling muscles of his heaving chest. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you pant. You don’t want to pull away from him, not when you just got him back, but Azriel’s pulling at your pants and you do want them off.

Reluctantly, you lean back on your elbows and lift your hips for him. He loves that fucking look in your eyes, your lowered lids, the way you lick across your swollen lips as if chasing the taste of him. You have this fucked-out look on your face and he hasn’t even done anything yet, but he will.

Azriel helps you from your shorts and panties. Your thighs are already, trembling in anticipation, even more so with the way he caresses your sensitive skin.

Those hazel eyes are locked on your pretty cunt. Yeah, he’s missed you in more ways than one. Your taste has been haunting him. You’re like a drug he can’t get enough of, but he’s about to get his fix.

“Az,” you whine when he dips his head and presses featherlight kisses to your thighs. You need him higher and centered now. It’s been too long.

“Okay, okay,” he shushes. He wraps his hands under your legs and pulls you to the edge of the bed, right to where his eager mouth awaits.

You cry out in pleasure at the first swipe of his tongue through your wetness. Your back aches off of the bed and his hands finds your hips, pressing you back into the mattress.

Azriel’s mouth is fucking magical. You knew he was skilled with his hands, but this tongue…for someone usually so quiet he sure knows how to work you to the brink. His tongue flicks in a rhythm so fast that you can’t help but sneak your hand into his hair and grind your hips against his face. He growls, chest puffing with pleasure when you pull.

But he’s teasing you. He sucks and licks at your clit, drawing you closer and closer to euphoria before he moves away, lower, to fuck his tongue into you. He’s not going to let you have it this easily, even if he should.

“Azriel! A little to the left, please,” you whine desperately, repeating your words from earlier. You don’t know how you find it in yourself to tease right now, because the feeling in the pit of your stomach is bubbling into something that’s going to rock your world, but you manage.

Azriel’s eyes are near black when he peers up at you. You yelp when he removes his attention from your clit only to give a harsh nip at the meat of your thigh.

“My baby wants to come?” He asks, teasing a knuckle down your slit. You shudder on the bed and your neck nearly gives out at his touch. His words on the other hand, Azriel knows you love his fucking words.

“Yeah,” you gasp, and this time, when he spreads you with his fingers and licks a long, slow stripe through your wetness, circling slowly around your sensitive clit that aches for release, your neck does give out, your head falling to the mattress.

“You want me to lick this pussy until the bedsheets are soaked in your come?” He sucks, hard, and your back arches off of the bed.

“Yes!” You shout, fingers clawing at his t-shirt covered shoulders. You should have had him take it off, your nails threaten to tear the fabric.

Azriel hums against your clit, and the feeling reverberates to your bones. Your mouth parts and your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling. You’re so close…so so close that you can feel the heat coiling in your body—

“That’s my girl,” Azriel says, ignoring the way you whine impatiently when he removes his mouth from you again. This is just cruel, how he teases you like this. How you secretly love it. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my face,” he says, before diving back into your cunt with even more vigor.

You’re lost to his tongue, to the finger he slips inside of you. He brushes that bundle of nerves and it sends you plummeting over the edge into orgasm.

You writhe against his face, riding out the feeling that washes over you, threatening to drown you with pleasure. Azriel watches from where he’s still flicking his tongue over your clit, cock so hard in his pants that he might just come from watching you.

Your body convulses with sensitivity when you begin to come down from your high. Your thighs threaten to shut around Azriel’s head, but you know for a fact that he likes it when you do that.

“Az,” you keen desperately. He slows, sucking soft kisses against your clit, then slowly moves away when you give a soft, spent moan. He kisses the crook of your leg, your thigh, up to your hipbones. You manage somehow to lift your head to look at him, and your pussy clenches when you see the glistening of your wetness around his lips. He looks as blissed out as you feel, but his eyes suggest that the night isn’t over yet.

You take a deep breath and he watches the heat return to your gaze.

“I think the beds still a little off,” you say, breathlessly.

Azriel grins and your heart soars. “It’s about to be way off by the time I’m done with you tonight, pretty girl. I hope you’re ready.”

Fuck. You are. You really are.

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13 @sunny1616 @lilylilyyyyyy @esahintzkanen

[dollracha]

𐙚 just friends ⋆ l.f x reader

pairing: fwb! lee felix x gender neutral! reader genre: angst, smau, smut warnings: friends with benefits ⋆ no happy ending ⋆ swearing ⋆ special guests: bang chan & lee know ⋆ chan is called chris ⋆ vaguely written sex ⋆ riding (mentioned) ⋆ oral sex (male & gn recieving) ⋆ moody / mean felix ⋆ felix has an ex ⋆ felix is an asshole ⋆ short scenes ⋆ self gaslighting wc: 2.3k synopsis: becoming friends with benefits with felix wasn't a bad idea. that's what you convinced yourself when it started. nothing would change. (that was a lie.) request: hii is your request slot still open? if its not feel free to ignore my request. Soo Im thinking about fwb angst yk? Like maybe Seungmin or Felix. I would rly rly appreciate it if u did the request, have a nice day!! author's note: i wouldn’t call this full on smut but i did write some less descriptive sex scenes. the focus is more on the angst. also felix is mean. i said that once but i'm gonna say it again. (ps. there's no redemption arc pt. 2 because i actually enjoy the suffering of this.)

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

you always thought that most friends with benefits situations would be secret; that you’d sneak around behind your friend’s backs, careless yet careful to make sure they never found out. lee felix proved you wrong.

you’re out at the bar with your friends, he’s got his arm around you. after a few drinks, he’s suggesting you come home with him. or you’re at home on a saturday morning and he asks you to come grocery shopping with him, just for the company. whenever you’re out with your friends, it’s more likely than not that felix is at your side.

all of your friends know about your situation with felix. you used to be embarrassed, but that washed away quickly. you don’t feel anything about it, or at least you try not to. 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“are you two together or something?” chris asks, his face twisted with confusion. it’s a reasonable question. felix has you pulled into his lap. he’s been fiddling with the pendant on your necklace for a few minutes. the two of you have been receiving looks from your friends, entirely noticed by you while felix remains unaware. 

“no?” he drops your pendant, and looks at chris like he’s an idiot for insinuating it. “nobody has a problem when lee know hyung grabs your ass. but suddenly because i’m holding y/n everyone’s got a problem?”

“what?” minho doesn’t move as he glares at felix. ‘the audacity of this kid…’ 

“no one’s got a problem.” chris intervenes between them before it has the chance to escalate. “it was just a question, mate.” 

felix practically shoves you off his lap to stand. you stumble as you try not to fall. “they’re obviously not my fucking partner.” he spits, and heads straight for the door. it stings. you know your dynamic, it’s nothing romantic. you’re just best friends who can’t keep their hands off each other. that doesn’t stop the hurt.

you look between your friends, and felix, and back again. “i’m gonna go make sure he’s okay.” chris shakes his head, but doesn’t say a word nor stop you.

you catch up to felix just before before the elevator door shuts. “felix,” he doesn’t spare you a glance. “wha—” he interrupts you. “—it’s bullshit. they’re all cozy with each other. no problem. that’s fine. but when it comes to me there’s a bunch of questions and shit?” he turns to you finally, posing the question and finally remembering to hit the button for the first floor.

“it was one question, felix.” you try to calm him down, it probably won’t work. he’s been very sensitive to the topic of relationships as of recent. “i don’t think chris is necessarily wrong for asking, and–”

“so you think he has the right to be in my business?” 

“no. that’s not what i said.”

“then what is it?”

“you were a little rough. chris wasn’t rude. you took an unwarranted shot at minho. they’re our friends.” 

“you’re my friend too and you don’t pull that shit.” anyone else would think he was brushing off your point, but you know he’s getting it. he’s reaching out to pull you close, and then the elevator door opens. he walks out first, and spares a glance behind him. 

“come home with me?” he asks, and you nod. 

“let’s go.”

  ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

he’s not always moody, but the 'what are we?' talk always manages to put him in a mood. most of the time, you two are just friends, who fuck each other on the side. nothing more. 

that’s how it started. felix was a few weeks free from a bad breakup. he was pent up, needed to relieve the stress, anger and sadness bottled up inside of him. and there you were, sitting on his couch like a godsend. it started slow. he pulls you into his arms like he has many times before. friends, cuddling together. until it’s not. his hand rests on your knee, it slowly makes its way up your thighs. you only realize how hot his touch makes you feel when his fingers sneak under the hem of your shorts.

“can i?” he asks, his lips brushing against your ear. 

a part of you (that, maybe, you should have listened to) tells you to say no. but you don’t. you nod your head, and for good measure, you say “yes.”

felix decides to try his luck further, his other hand grips your chin, and forces you to look at him. there’s a hunger in his eyes, like he’s ready to devour you whole given the chance. “can i kiss you?” he practically is, his lips brush against yours as he speaks. 

you knew it wouldn’t mean anything. you always took felix as a romantic. the fact that he was so willing to touch you with no ado made everything clear: this was a one time hookup. were you using him, in his emotionally fragile, pent up state? was he using you? you weren’t sure. 

“yes,” it’s another stupid decision, but it doesn’t feel quite wrong when his lips are against yours. when he kisses you with such need, such urgency. you lose all thoughts of moral, of rationale. all that matters is felix.

a few minutes of eager kissing is all he can stand. he slips his shirt off, and pushes up the hem of yours then hesitates. “can i?” again, you should have said no. you don’t.

“please,”

it’s a blur after that. he takes your shirt off. then it’s your shorts, your underwear. he makes you cum on his mouth. he’s reveling in the way you grip his hair, the way you moan his name like it’s the only one that you know. it makes him feel wanted, needed. like for once, in the past few months, he’s doing something right.

he’s got you itching to return the favor, to feel the weight of him on your tongue, taste him and feel as he hits the back of your throat. felix gets impatient. he grips your hair and fucks into your mouth. his cock hits the back of your throat and you tear up. he’s quick to soothe your tears, “i caused them, ‘s only right.” he says.

as he cums, he holds you in place. he looks up at the ceiling, groaning as you take his load. it’s not your name he moans. it’s his ex’s. it gets caught in his throat like a strangled sob–refusing to come out, yet refusing to stay inside. you both pretend it didn’t happen.

for now, it’s all he wants. you continue with your movie night as if nothing happened. 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

it’s almost a routine now. you hook up at least twice a week. he’s always the one to invite you over. sometimes it’s a relief. you’re stressed about something going on in your life and he’s a perfect distraction. other times, he’s the one making your life harder. he’s begging you to come over late, and your problem? you can’t say no. you have the freedom to. you know he’d pout for a second, before telling you to sleep well and you’ll hang out later. 

and when you do come over, which it’s unlikely that you won’t succumb to his request, he’s on you immediately. he doesn’t waste time stripping you, taking you to the bed when he’s patient, and the couch when he can’t wait another moment to have you. 

one thing that felix doesn’t do, is mark you. he’ll kiss you with vigor. he’ll suck at your skin, bite at your chest, but it’s all done with just enough gentleness that your skin remains unmarked. you know, you check in the mirror like you’ll wake up one morning and discover his love lasts on your skin. it’s the disconnect between love and lust. if he loved you, maybe he’d claim you as such. he’d mark your skin with red and purple hickeys. he doesn’t love you. you know that.

you don’t love him as anything more than a friend. you should stop dreaming about things reserved for lovers when you’re just friends.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

sometimes, there’s a domestic bliss that settles between the two of you. It really has you thinking that you could be his. you’ll be in his kitchen, his hands are wrapped around your waist as you cook a quick, late dinner. his head rests on your shoulder and he sways you to the music you put on. 

or you’re cuddling in his bed. he’s the big spoon and you’re the little spoon. he has a pillow propped over his arm, his other hand draped over your waist. you’re talking about everything and nothing, all at once. the weather. his childhood. your first pet. the weirdness of sourdough starter. 

you know that the only love between the two of you is the kind friends share. 

screw the kisses that are so sweet they make you think he’s in love with you. screw the way he moans your name now as he cums. the way he looks up at you as you ride him, something so hungry, so insatiable in his big doe eyes. screw way he holds you as you come down from your high, his hands stable and firm on your shaking hips. it keeps you from floating off into a realm, a universe where lee felix could actually love you like the romantic you’ve seen him be for everyone else he’s had in his bed. there’s no way any of it could be love. at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. if he hadn’t made it abundantly clear to everyone you know that you’re ‘just friends’, you might have mistaken the lust in his eyes for love. every lie becomes true once you repeat it enough. every hope, every desire gets crushed once met with the cruel fist of reality one too many times.

do you punish yourself with the facade that he loves you, or the facade that he doesn’t? either way, you can’t resist him. you can’t say no. he needs you. or is it you that needs him? who gets hurt when nothing was ever supposed to be at stake? if you’re an addict, lee felix is your drug, and you’ve not yet seen the consequences of taking too much.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

six months fly by quickly. six months of being friends with benefits with felix. to the date. it’s a normal day, though you don’t see him. you don’t talk to him. you haven’t talked to him since yesterday afternoon. 

the only warning when glass breaks, is the fall. felix’s absence is the fall. the ‘ping!’ of a text message is the impact on the ground, the shatter into a million pieces.

you should have known better than to think it was going to last. really, what did you expect? felix to confess his love to you, rose petals on the bed and candlelight? every good thing comes to an end. whatever you had with felix was never an exception.

it’s not like you loved him, though. like you had that kind of fantasy. it just felt like a breach of your friendship for him to run back to his ex, and not say a word.

you can’t help the anger that takes over. felix was seeing his ex again? after seven months of being apart. he’s running back into those arms. it disgusts you, so much so that you feel your stomach churn. it makes you want to throw up.

you're crying and you don't even know why. there was nothing going on between you two. everything in the past few months meant nothing. right?

wrong. it was something. you couldn't quite explain it, but it was worth far more than going back to a shitty ex.

usually, when felix causes your tears, he's there to wipe them away. they're because of everything he's doing right. this time, it's all wrong; he's not here to dry them up either.

you know chris wouldn’t lie to you. you also know felix wouldn’t keep that from you.

or would he?

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

[jellymochii]

OT8 SKZ - What Kind of sub are they?

the sequel to dom!skz hcs

𐙚 pairings: ot8 sub!skz x fem!reader

𐙚 genre: SMUTTTTTTTTT

𐙚 cw: oh boy, where do I even start, dom!reader x sub!skz, cnc, pet play, dacryphilia, BDSM, oral (m and f receiving), shibari, masochism, mentions of knives, unprotected s3x (please don't), use of strap-ons, etc.

𐙚 wc: 2k

↪author's note: hello! sorry for procrastinating on this lol I'm still goin thru it. anyways this one contains some themes that may be nasty to some (like eating men out) so reader discretion is advised. Hope you enjoy!

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED**

Chan - Pleasure Sub

My sweet channie bug

He's totally obsessed with being your perfect little fuck doll

PLEASE use him and ride him whenever you want–even if he's busy in the studio, the others can wait.

Looooves when you ride him unprovoked. Feel free to take a seat whenever you feel like it. (Railway Reference lol??)

Even if he's overstimulated from how raw his cock feels from multiple orgasms, he'll always sit still and be your good boy!

“Fuck that's it baby, use my cock however you like.”

This is honestly such a good way for him to relieve stress too. Had a rough day at work? He'll flop into a chair and let you ride him for hours.

And his face is so so cute whenever he's about to cum. He gets all scrunched up with high pitched whines while he holds onto your love handles for dear life.

He's more than happy to let you manhandle him into any position you want for your pleasure–his thick cock can reach every single one of your spots without him even moving it!

Poor baby loves shutting off his brain after a rough day and becoming your brain dead little dollie~!

Subspace is so real and yet so sacred for him. He trusts you enough to treat him with respect no matter how rough you are–especially when he's oh so zoned out from pleasure and overstimulation.

Moral of the story–Chan would do anything to please you and let you use him to your heart's content–all out of love.

Lee Know - Brat

Just like in the previous parts–It's all a game to him.

And he is just soooooo stubborn about it too.

Likes to rile you up and tease you all day because he knows what's coming as soon as dinner is over.

Or, if he’s really misbehaving–you might just punish him then and there over the kitchen counter.

And this man is strong willed. It's gonna take a lot of patience to tame this man–and you're gonna have to do it over and over again each time.

He's decently strong and can handle any punishment you dish out at first, so be prepared to go for hours with him.

Your go to is to cuff his hands to the bottom of the bedframe and hover over him–forcing him to eat your pussy while you smack him if he refuses.

If he’s being extra bratty? Cuff his legs too and tie a vibrator to his dick and leave him there.

“Oh really? You think that's mmph–enough to break me?”

Or even worse, keep edging him with a fleshlight until tears start running down his face from the pain.

Eventually after many hours of smacking and edging, he'll go brain dead and obey your every command! Mindlessly eating you out and begging you to cum.

The worst part? He does all that teasing because of how much he loves being your little bratty whore.

Changbin - Pillow Princess

This one is kind of a hot take but

The man is exhausted. If he's not busting his ass in the studio he's pumping out any of his remaining energy at the gym.

You feel so bad knowing that he'll come home with a raging boner but no energy to do something about it.

That's where you, his sweet baby comes in!

Like Chan, you can ride him as much as you want and he'll take anything you give him.

Sometimes he just prefers to lay back and let you use your strap on him while he holds onto the pillow for dear life.

Eat him out pls!! It feels soooo good to him after a long day at work, and you don't even have to stroke him to make him cum if you do!

“Annngh~that feels so good, jagi.”

Eventually his grunts and moans will turn into high pitched whines when he's close, practically begging you to make him cum.

Binnie has a lot of trust in you in general, he's not used to being this vulnerable physically since he's usually perceived as the big and tough rock of the group.

But it's nice for him to come home and let out all of his emotions while cumming on your strap.

Pls treat him nicely he's gentle on the inside.

Hyunjin - Masochist

Hyunjin is by far one of the most loved idols in all of kpop. Everywhere he goes girls are dying for just a chance to touch his shirt.

But something about you treating him like shit in the bedroom (consensually) just makes him feel so alive.

He's always been the experimental type so when you suggested being the dominant one he was all for it, and over time his taste got more and more filthy–to the point he loved feeling pained.

His favorite position is being handcuffed on his knees while looking up at you with pleading eyes, as if he’s begging to be bruised and battered.

It starts out light–smacking him across the face and twisting his nipples, but his need for further stimulation made him into a starved man.

“More.” Is all he’ll say to earn a kick to his cock while your hand collapses over his throat choking him out.

The first time you ever did it he fell over in pain and…came.

Needless to say both of you were very surprised and he almost considered begging you to do it again right then and there.

His pain tolerance has gotten a lot better, which has made you have to get more aggressive in terms of choking–almost to the point where he’s turnt blue and about to pass out.

Even after you release, he’ll wheeze and look up at you while licking his lips and smirking in satisfaction.

He'd never dare tell anyone that despite his tough and charismatic exterior, he desires nothing more than to be broken down and degraded.

But hey, that's dopamine addict Hyunjin for you.

Han - Rope Bunny

Oh this man is nasty

Loves everything involving sex toys as it is, so when you brought up the idea of doing Shibari he was ecstatic.

And best believe he wants it all–being tied up, blindfolded, ballgagged, and edged to the end of eternity.

Acts so whiny and whimpery like he wasn't the one humping your leg an hour ago begging for you to tie him up and make him cum.

He loves the way your pretty rope designs highlight the best parts of his body ever so delicately. The ropes are so tight and snug around his wrists and ankles, making it impossible for him to move at all and make him feel helpless (he's never been harder.)

Poor whiny baby always begging you to let him cum with tears streaming down his face.

“P-Please, Mommy--I've been a good anghh boy, just please let me cum!”

He's so lost in pleasure he's begging for even just a taste of your sweet pussy to help him cum faster.

I'm a firm believer that he sticks his tongue out and pants like a dog when he's about to cum.

If you're feeling extra fun that night, you can even finger him or eat him out until his cock is spasming from how angry and red it is.

And yes, if it becomes too much for him he will squirt and probably be forced to clean it up later.

His orgasms are so pleasurable for him, he lives for this moment and loves enduring all that pain from being tied up just because of how amazing he feels after.

Felix - Service Sub

My sweet people pleaser lixie

You could tell him to steal a million dollars from Mr Beast and he’d be back in an hour with an extra 5 million.

The point is, he’d stop at nothing to please you.

It doesn't matter how kinky or nasty you’re feeling–he’s gonna deliver on his promise to do whatever you want.

You want him to eat you out for hours and make you cum? He’ll get as many orgasms out of you as possible. You want him tied up and pegged till he’s crying? No problem.

He's always watching your every facial expression attentively to see if there's any sign of satisfaction on your face.

“Mommy…do you like when I do that? I-I'm your good boy, right?”

And a good boy he is, always so doting and loving on you.

He looks up at you with his adorable boba eyes, even when there's tears in his eyes from overstimulation as if to say “You love me, right?”

Sometimes you like to toy with him by seeing how long he can go without cumming. You're often surprised by how long he can hold out, all for you.

Even with his angry red tip spasming from the lightest touch, the sheer overwhelming desire to make you happy lets him stop himself.

He's so sweet, please tell him what a good boy he is for you.

Seungmin - Puppy Sub

Ok so I know in the dom skz hcs I said that he's the one who enjoys treating YOU like a dog but hear me out–

I think it's fun for him both ways, he's the puppy of the group for a reason.

If he's feeling extra subby after a long day he'll put on his collar with your initials on it and snuggle up to you–signaling to you that he wants to let it all out.

Or if he's extra needy he'll crawl up to you on the couch and start humping your leg mercilessly like a dog.

The only difference is that he's not a bratty puppy like you, he's a sweet puppy!

He'll gladly eat you out for hours if it means he'll get his sweet release from you~

If he’s been extra mouthy that day and gotten on your last nerve, he’ll go in the very kennel he's so used to putting you in and have your vibrator tied to his tip while he whines and cries.

You’ll only let him out if he barks like a good puppy, of course.

“Mommy please! I've been a good puppy, I swear!”

You may as well just hold your hand out and let him rut his cock relentlessly into it.

He’ll get you back once he’s the dom though~

Jeongin - Prey Sub

All i gotta say is get ready to run, I hope you’re good on a treadmill.

There's nothing more exhilarating to Jeongin than the feeling of being chased through the woods by you, only to be caught and have his hole brutalized.

You talked this out extensively with him and made absolutely sure that this is what he wanted, and his face lit up with excitement.

You can even chase him down with a knife for extra adrenaline on his part. (pleeeease do not do this unless you know what you're doing.)

Even if you're just at home and you're feeling needy, he’ll look at you with a smug ass smirk and say “Oh yeah? You want me? Well, you better catch me first.”

It's almost comical watching him jump around furniture to “prevent” himself from being caught.

But that's not what he wants, he wants to be caught by you because he knows how good he's gonna feel underneath you–-so he'll run slower on purpose.

He loves feeling small and helpless underneath you (even when he's 10x stronger than you) and letting you use him like a whore.

He's typically face down ass up while you thrust unbearably fast with your strap, earning ungodly guttural moans and pleas of mercy.

The feeling of getting caught and ultimately punished for trying to run away from you makes his head fuzzy from all the primal urges swelling in his body.

And oh boy he could go for HOURS like that too.

It's all worth it to him at the end though, when he's soiled the sheets beneath him with layers of thick white cum.

[almostfoxglove]

MALLORY!!! oh my god, what a perfect follow up to suburban sparks. this is such a lovely balance of I'm-ripping-my-hair-out-with-need smut and aaaachy yearning (the best kind) - I couldn't put it down. my god. I loved it sososo much?? and YEAH IT DID GET ME ALL CHOKED UP, WHAT ABOUT IT asdfkjhsdfkj

I'm popping some of my favorite bits below the cut, but FRICK I'm obsessed with this <3

His tongue licks a path down your neck, tasting the condensation on your skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” is softly repeated against your sensitive skin. The way you softly moan back makes his legs weak. You sound so good, you taste so good, you feel so good.

SDFLKHASDLKHFAL WHAT DO YOU MEAN oh my god. mumbling pussy-drunk javi is actually going to ruin my life like I need him SO bad you don't underSTAND (except clearly you do)

He’d always be the one to call. Phone bill be damned, he made good money.

this feels so perfectly javier?? that really small, unspoken gesture that he'll be the one to shoulder it and take care of her in this really tiny way because it's the way that he can - MY HEAART

He’s not the one for you, though you’re the one for him.

straight up mumbled 'oh my god' under my breath when I read this for the first time, then went back to read the paragraph again like twice more before continuing, because FUCK THE YEARNING IS SO FUCKING PERFECT

He thinks about you curled up on the couch during your late-night calls, wrapped in an oversized sweater, your voice soft and sleepy. He dreams of one day being on that couch with you. In a perfect life that he’ll never have.

:,,,,,) do you see the oceans rising??? that's because of my tears

“Your green shirt.” His spine straightens. “Oh yeah?”

YESSSS GIRL YESSSSS THE GREEN SHIRT YESSSS THAT'S SO CORRECT

Another sleepless night, another internal battle, another lonely sunrise, another cup of black coffee to try to wake him up.

'another lonely sunrise, another cup of black coffee to try to wake him up' is actually so fucking beautiful and so fucking sad and so fucking javi?? I just. I'm standing in that kitchen with him, watching him suffer privately, WISHING I COULD HUG HIM

It doesn’t feel like his place at all, but a Polaroid of you that leans against his bedside lamp makes it feel like home. He'd chosen this place for the view, telling himself it was because he'd always wanted to live somewhere with a skyline again. But deep down, he knows it's because he wanted to look out at the city you love.

oh GOD there are just so many perfect little setting descriptions that just take me right into the room with him, and this is another one. like fuck. my heart is going 'squeeze' in the most delicious, angsty way - you're playing me like a fiDDLE and I LOVE YOU FOR IT

The exact opposite of an old, grizzled DEA agent haunted by his past.

SWEET STUPID JAVIER OH MY GOD SOMEONE LET ME HOLD HIM PLS

“I’d rather be alone than a stranger.”

thinking about him being in the theatre to see her perform as I write this is actually going to make me cry all over again. it's so good. so hopeful and also so sad and UGH. MALLORY. YOU'RE A STAR.

I FUCKING LOVED THIS. I looooove how you incorporated the newspapers from the moodboard - it's such a perfect, both intimate and a little removed way for javi to connect with her, and ugh. my heart. this was so good. thank you SO much for joining the challenge and delivering us this masterpiece :,) I am forever in your debt!!

Long Distance

A followup to Suburban Sparks Pairing: Javier Peña x Steve's Little Sister Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: He knows he shouldn't fall for you, he knows he shouldn't pick up the phone, but you're all he can think about. Warnings: Javi's POV, angst, guilt, yearning, pining, heartbreak, impressionist paintings, using a Clairo lyric as a play monologue, jealousy, smut, phone sex, secret bathroom sex, dirty photos. Takes place after S3. Words: 8,320

A/N: Written for @almostfoxglove's Angst Challenge, who made the GORGEOUS mood board for inspo. It truly fit the vibes of exactly what I was thinking would be the next step for Steve's Little Sister and Javier. My thanks to @devineconjuring, @mothandpidgeon, and @schnarfer for filling up my draft with suggestions, reactions, and edits and always letting me yap and ... them. Masterlist

—-

His heart thuds against his chest with every descending step. He hears the clatter of plates and silverware mixed with soft conversation– hears your voice. You’re awake. His eyes immediately catch yours when he walks into the kitchen. You sit at the breakfast table in an oversized sweatshirt that hangs off a shoulder, the same shoulder he kissed before he snuck out of bed and back to his room across the hall.

You’re so beautiful, he almost falls as he takes a seat.

“Damn, Peña, still drunk?” Steve asks as he flips the last pancake.

“Just tired,” he responds. “Morning,” he casually nods towards you, trying not to let his gaze stay on you for too long.

You nod a casual “hey” as you reach for the orange juice, your fingers wrapping around the glass. He loses his breath as he remembers how those same delicate fingers felt wrapped around him.

“Coffee, Javi?” Connie asks, pulling him from his reverie.

He nods, mumbling a response as you smirk. This is going to be an interesting breakfast.

“Good breakfast, thank you,” you say as you rise. “I’m going to get a shower before I go back home. Landlord still hasn’t fixed the hot water heater.”

“Help yourself,” Steve nods. “And Jesus Christ, find a better place.”

Javier takes a sip of coffee until the thought of you under the warm running water, naked and wet, flashes through his mind. He coughs as he chokes on the hot liquid.

"You okay there, partner?" Steve asks, eyebrow raised.

Javi nods, clearing his throat. "Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe." 

As your footsteps fade upstairs, Javi focuses intently on his breakfast, avoiding Steve's gaze. He can feel Connie's eyes on him, a hint of suspicion in her expression.

He eats his breakfast, listening closely to the rumble of the water heater as Steve and Connie discuss their plans for the day. The water heater turns off, snapping Javi back to the thought of you just upstairs.

"I should get ready too," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he picks up his plate and coffee cup, dropping them off by the sink. "Thanks for breakfast."

“‘Course, you’re our guest,” Steve says.

As he climbs the stairs, his heart races. The guilt over Steve sitting just downstairs getting drowned out by the anticipation of seeing you again.

He passes the bathroom door and then retraces his steps, standing in front of the white wooden blockade. You’re right behind the door. He knocks softly.

The door cracks open, a cloud of steam escaping as you peek out. Your face glistens with moisture, drops of water clinging to your skin. You take his breath away.

Your eyebrow quirks up before you open the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. He slips inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You’re wrapped in a towel–one measly towel. A drop of water trails down your collarbone to between your breasts, and his mouth waters, thinking of how good it’d taste.

"Javier," you whisper.

He steps closer. "I know, I know. We shouldn't."

But, as the words leave his mouth, you’re already reaching for him. His mouth crashes against yours, desperate to taste you again. You instantly mold into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he backs you against the cool tile wall.

The towel slips, pooling at your feet. He breaks the kiss, his eyes reverently roaming your bare skin. “Fuck,” he breathes.

You grab the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down. “We don’t have much time.”

He nods, helping you pull down his boxer briefs, his cock already hard for you, weeping to feel your tight pussy around it.

He lifts you onto the countertop, spreading your legs wide and groaning when he feels how wet you are for him. Your eyes stare into his as he sheaths himself in you, both of you gasping at how good it feels. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer as he begins to move. His hands grip the counter as he quietly fucks into you, the faint sound of his skin against yours and your soft moans echoing off the tile.

His tongue licks a path down your neck, tasting the condensation on your skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” is softly repeated against your sensitive skin. The way you softly moan back makes his legs weak. You sound so good, you taste so good, you feel so good.

Your hips meet his as his thrusts become more urgent as he listens for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He wishes he could savor you, hear you scream his name, fuck into you for hours, but he can’t. He has to be quick. His hand travels down your smooth skin, and his finger begins circling your clit as his other hand grips the plush of your breast, kneading it in his hand. Your head falls back, your bottom lip captured between your teeth to stop yourself from making any more noise.

It’s forbidden and wrong. He knows this, but the way your body trembles underneath his touch, your hands exploring the broadness of his back, your tight pussy beginning to clench around his cock–he can’t say no to you. He circles your clit faster and harder, his fingers working in quick, tight circles as he fucks into you faster. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fight to stay quiet.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers. “I need to feel you cum.”

Your body tenses, a strangled moan escaping your lips before he presses his mouth against yours, swallowing your cries as he chases his own release. You pulse around him, and it’s too much. He buries himself inside you, his body shuddering as he cums, spilling inside of you. He stays buried in your heat, even though he knows he needs to leave. He just can’t. He rests his forehead against yours, listening to your soft gasps, trying to savor the moment for as long as he can.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice lilts in awe.

He nods, trying hard to swallow the guilt. “I know.”

He pulls out slowly, both of you wincing at the loss of each other.

You hop off the counter, grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around yourself again. Javi tucks himself back into his pants and runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

"You should go," you say softly, not meeting his eyes. “You know… just in case.”

He nods, his hand already reaching for the doorknob. "Hey," he says, waiting for you to look at him. When you do, he sees the conflict in your eyes, knowing it mirrors his own, but he ignores it. “What’s your number?”

—-

The phone line hums, building a bridge between Laredo and Washington, D.C. He waits all day to hear the sound of your laughter spill through the receiver–sweet and warm, like honey. Most of the time, silence settles between the two of you, content to just stay on the line with each other 1,800 miles away.

He’d always be the one to call. Phone bill be damned, he made good money.

On some nights, after too many whiskeys or beers, he’d let some of the burden of Colombia off his shoulders. He’d tell you about the girls, the bodies, the nightmares. You’d meet every revelation with understanding and acceptance, letting him talk as little or as much as he wanted. 

It’s simple and comfortable, something he never felt like he deserved. But he can never have simple and comfortable–there’s always a complication. You are Steve’s little sister, after all.

He hates nights like this when the guilt creeps in and gnaws at him. The world is hushed, his thoughts loud. He tosses and turns, sheets tangling around his legs as he wrestles with his heart. He’s falling for you–Steve’s little sister. The same Steve who had his back in Colombia, who became more than just a partner.

He stares at the ceiling, your voice always echoing in his head.

It’s been three months since he met you at that ordinary suburban party. He replays everything in his head to calm himself–your smile, the sweet lilt of your voice, your wide eyes as you stared at him. The sound of your muffled moans escaping from behind his shirt, the warmth of your body pressed against his as you drifted to sleep.

Now, the memory of your soft skin under his fingertips haunts him, an almost bittersweet reminder of what he can never have. It could never work. Steve’s so protective of you that Javi can’t even imagine how he’d react if he knew someone like him was falling for his baby sister. He can’t do that to you… or Steve.

You’re in your twenties, still full of life and promise. While he’s forty, scarred from the long life he’s already lived. He pictures you growing resentful, feeling held back by his world-weariness, longing for someone more carefree and unburdened. He’s not the one for you, though you’re the one for him.

He turns, shuffling his cold sheets up around his shoulder as he stares out the window. One night spent together in his friend’s backyard and guest bedroom. One morning spent in a white-tiled bathroom. Countless nights on the phone.

He thinks about you curled up on the couch during your late-night calls, wrapped in an oversized sweater, your voice soft and sleepy. He dreams of one day being on that couch with you. In a perfect life that he’ll never have.

—-

Javier Peña never reads the news. He doesn’t pay attention to the news. He doesn’t care about the news. He doesn’t want to hear about the news—that is, until you entered his life.

“Any news?” he asks, hearing the rustle of your newspaper crackling through the phone.

“Hmm, lemme see.”

He can imagine you scanning the headlines, your finger running down the text, brows furrowed in concentration. You love the news, love reading and learning, love being informed. Now, Javier Peña reads the news.

"Ohh! The Smithsonian's got a new exhibit opening next week. An Impressionist Sensibility. It says the paintings in the collection are linked through a shared sensibility about American cultural aspirations at the turn of the century."

"Yeah?"

“Yeah, it looks really cool, Jav.”

He loves it when you call him Jav. It’s so casual, so comfortable. Nobody ever calls him Jav besides you. He listens intently as you read, letting the sound of your voice wash over him.

"Sounds pretty interesting. Sounds like something you have to see in person."

You hum in agreement, a wistful note in your voice. "It does. Maybe someday we could…"

The sentence hangs unfinished, both of you acutely aware of the complications that keep you apart. He clears his throat, pushing away the surge of longing that threatens to overwhelm him. Move on, agent.

"My turn," he says, unfolding his paper. "Let's see what thrilling news Laredo's got today."

—

“Tell me I did good, Jav. Tell me to stop obsessing over it. Tell me they didn’t notice I paused a little too long between lines.”

He chuckles. “You did amazing. I’m sure of it, cariño.”

He doesn’t know how you can be so brave, going up onstage in front of auditoriums full of people. All eyes on you. He could never do what you do.

“Really?”

“I’d surely cast you if I could.”

“Mm, I’m sure you would,” you respond. He can hear the smile in your voice.

You’ve been so nervous over the audition for the play. He remembers how you'd practiced your lines with him, how he stayed up late listening to you recite the main monologue over and over just so he could hear your voice. He could hear the emotions. You’re so talented, there’s no way you’re not going to get the part.

“You’re going to get it, cariño.” 

"You really think so?" you ask, a hint of hope in your voice.

"I do. When will you find out?"

"Rehearsals start next month, so hopefully soon," you answer.

"You've got me to keep you distracted."

“I swear, I’d lose my mind without you…”

—-

He’s lying in bed awake again. He’s getting to a point of no turning back with you. He closes his eyes, and all he can see is you.

“I swear, I’d lose my mind without you…” repeats through his head.

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand. It would be so easy to call, to hear your voice one more time. But he can't. He won't.

Instead, he pushes himself out of bed, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor of his apartment to the sparse but functional kitchen. He pours a glass of whiskey, hoping it’ll help drown out his thoughts.

This feeling is so foreign to him. He hasn’t felt this way about anybody since Lorraine–and even then, he fucked that up. He shouldn't have let it go this far. Shouldn't have knocked on the door of that guest room, shouldn't have kissed you like a drowning man praying for air. But he did. And now he can't forget.

You’re too young, too bright, and too adventurous. You’re so full of potential. What the hell are you doing talking to him every single night? He has to step away and let you go. But he won’t. Because underneath all of those accomplishments and pursuits, he’s still a coward.

—-

You softly moan into the phone, and he can hear the swishing of the sheets as you get comfortable on your bed. He can almost see you, feel you, remember how sweet you tasted. He thuds his head against his pillow, an ache of loneliness from his heart traveling down to his cock. 

“You can’t do that, cariño,” he lowly growls.

“Huh?”

“Moan like that,” he responds. Now, he’s the one adjusting. “I–it’s been a while.” 

You chuckle, a low, tempting sound. He’s in trouble. It’s been a month of talking to you almost every night, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t constantly fighting the urge to touch himself while listening to your voice. But he’s resisted, not wanting to cross that line and make things even more complicated than they already are. 

“Sorry, my bed feels really good. Quite lonely, though,” you pout, your voice dripping in saccharine sarcasm. 

Fuck. He’s so needy for you, he’s already growing hard.

“What are you wearing?” he asks, feeling a little ridiculous at the question, hoping you’re just as turned on as him.

“Don’t laugh. Promise you won’t laugh.” 

“What? Why would I laugh?” he smiles, shaking his head.

“Because Javi. Just… don’t laugh or judge.”

“I won’t. Trust me. Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Your green shirt.” 

His spine straightens. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wear it a lot?”

“Mmhmm, I sleep in it all the time.” 

“I’m sure it looks real good on you, doesn’t it?” 

“I think it looked better when it was stuffed in my mouth while you were fucking me.”

He groans, his heart racing as he reaches down and grips the heft of himself tucked away in his shorts. 

“That was a good night, wasn’t it?” he asks, softly squeezing himself. 

“It was one of the best, Javi. I think about it all the time.” 

“Me too,” he divulges, remembering the brightness of your eyes, the sweet taste of your lips, the feel of your pussy clenching him. “I also really liked the morning in the bathroom.” You laugh–a sweet sound that makes his heart beat even faster–before you sigh. “I wish you were here, Javi.” “I do, too, cariño.” 

“What would you do if you were with me?” you ask, your voice low. You’re such a temptress.

His voice drops to a sultry whisper as he closes his eyes and imagines you in his bed. "I'd start by getting you out of that shirt, real slow. I’d get to take my time and kiss every inch of skin."

You let out a soft moan. "Mmm, then what?"

"I'd push you back onto the bed, trail my fingers up your soft thighs." His own hand mimics the motion, sliding up his leg. "I’d spread your legs and kiss my way up, before giving your sweet pussy a long lick, savoring just how good you taste."

"God, Javi. Please," you whimper.

"Touch yourself for me, baby. Pretend it's me."

He can picture you perfectly–laid out on your bed, his shirt bunched up around your waist, your hand between your legs.

You let out a gasp and a long, low moan. He pulls his shorts down and gives himself a tight, slow stroke.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, rubbing the bit of precum he’s leaked out across his head.

“Mmhmm,” you moan. “I love it when you call me baby.”

“Baby,” he groans as he spits in his hand and strokes himself.

“Fuck, I’m so wet,” you breathe into the phone.

“I wish I was there with you, baby. I'd slide two fingers deep inside your tight little pussy, curl them just right to make you moan for me." He strokes himself faster, imagining the slick heat of you clenching around him.

You let out a whimper. “I need you inside me.”

“I need to be inside you too, cariño,” he replies, his hand moving faster along his length. “Tell me how badly you want me.”

“I want you to fuck me hard and fast,” you moan. “God, I think about it all the time, Jav.”

He grunts in response, imagining your body writhing beneath him.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

He squeezes his cock harder, picking up the pace as you whine and moan for him.

“You sound so good. I love the way you moan for me. You’re all I ever want to hear.”

“Fuck,” you pant. “Gonna cum.”

“That’s it, cum for me, cariño.”

You let out a loud moan as your orgasm hits. It floats through the phone into his ear and down to his cock. He lets out a long, low “fuck” as he reaches his own release, grunting your name as his cock pulses in his fist, streams of cum spilling out onto his hand and stomach.

All that can now be heard is heavy breathing and soft moans as you both come down from your highs.

He feels the guilt begin to show its ugly head just as you say his name.

“Javi, that was… wow.”

“I know, baby, I know.” 

—-

He pulls an envelope out of his mailbox. Your handwriting is neat and flowy–he smiles at the bright green marker you chose.

So, this is why you wanted his address.

He’s opening the envelope before his door even shuts. He hasn’t been this excited to open something since Christmas morning thirty years ago.

He pulls out a handmade card–a dark green Christmas tree adorned with little red hearts is painted on the front, with MERRY CHRISTMAS JAV written in cursive above it–and his face lights in a wide grin.

As he opens the card,  a bundle of Polaroid photos tied together with a ribbon falls out and lands on the table.

A simple message is inside the card.

Surprise! I hope you like them. xoxo

With a quick pull on the silky ribbon, the bundle is untied. He slowly flips through each photo, his heart skipping a beat as he assesses each one like evidence.

You’re smiling in a few of them, his green shirt hanging loosely off your shoulders. You look so beautiful, so carefree and happy. He traces a finger over one, wishing he could touch you.

His breath catches in his throat as he flips to the next photo. You’re still in his shirt, but you sit, wearing only that on your bed. Your smooth legs bent to the side of you, your eyes hooded, with a coy smile playing at your lips. He swallows hard as he flips to the next photo.

His mouth goes dry. You’re completely naked, lying back on your bed. Your body is on full display for him. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling slightly dizzy, his cock twitching at the sight of you.

It feels so forbidden, so wrong to have these photos of you.

“Fuck,” he whispers when he turns to the next picture. You’re kneeling on your bed, your hands resting on the back of your neck. Your tits are pushed out, your nipples hard. He can see the glistening wetness between your thighs. He wants to taste you so bad.

The following picture makes him gasp. You’re lying across your bed, one hand gripping the soft swell of your breast while the other is between your legs. Your lip is caught between your teeth. He can almost hear the breathy moans you’re letting out.

He flips to the next one, and his cock throbs painfully against his jeans. You’re on your hands and knees, your head turned, peering over your shoulder at the camera. The sight of your ass makes his mouth water. He wants nothing more than to grab your hips and pull you back onto his aching cock.

With a shaky breath, he reveals the final Polaroid. Your hand is outstretched towards the camera, a drop of your arousal glistening on your fingertip as if you’re offering him a taste of you. The image is so visceral he can almost taste you.

He sits back in his chair, the Polaroids tightly clutched in one hand while the other palms himself through his jeans. This is, without a doubt, the best gift he’s ever received, but he still feels wrong to have it.

—-

“So, any news?” you ask, your voice still a bit slow and low from the orgasm you just moaned out for him. It’s now a nightly ritual–phone sex followed by sharing local articles.

He scans the headlines. “The Laredo Little Theater is putting on a production of Our Town next month.”

“Our Town! I was Emily a few years back.”

“I-I’ve never seen it.” Frankly, he’s never heard of it. He’s never really seen a play–unless he counts the couple of productions Lorraine was in during high school. He wishes he was more cultured for you.

"I still remember my lines. Emily's monologue at the end about realizing what she missed in life. It's always stuck with me."

He leans back against his headboard, intrigued. "Tell me about it, cariño."

You clear your throat softly. "Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it — every, every minute?"

“Wow,” he whispers after a long pause. "That's beautiful, baby.”

“Thanks, Jav. I just wish…”

Your voice trails off, and his chest tightens.

“I know,” he sighs. “Me too.”

He knows exactly what you’re thinking. If only things were different. If only there wasn’t a shadow of guilt and secrecy. He knows he’s already fallen for you.

Silence stretches. He clears his throat. “Your turn, cariño. What’s in the news?”

—-

Another sleepless night, another internal battle, another lonely sunrise, another cup of black coffee to try to wake him up.

The shrill ring of his phone cuts through the silence, startling him from his brooding. He glances at the clock–8:17 a.m.–an unfamiliar number with a DC area code on the screen.

"Peña," he answers gruffly, his voice rough from whiskey and lack of sleep.

"Mr. Peña, this is Agent Thompson from DEA headquarters in Washington. I wanted to inform you personally that we'd like to offer you the position."

The job. The one he'd interviewed for months ago, the reason he'd been in DC. The reason he'd met you. He should feel elated, triumphant even. Instead, dread settles in his stomach and heart.

"Mr. Peña? Are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Thank you for the offer. When, uh, when would you need me to start?"

"We'd like you here in two weeks, if possible. Is that doable?"

Two weeks. Fourteen days to uproot his life, to move across the country. Fourteen days to figure out how to tell you… or if he should tell you at all.

"Mr. Peña?"

"Yes, that's fine. I'll make it work," he says, his mind already racing.

After hanging up, he stands motionless in his kitchen, the half-empty whiskey glass from last night sitting on the counter. The job he'd wanted, the fresh start he'd been seeking for so long–it's all here for him. But now, it feels like a curse.

He imagines being in the same city as you, knowing you're just across town. The temptation to see you, to touch you, would be constant. And Steve–how could he look Steve in the eye, knowing what he's done with you?

The guilt gnaws at him, heavier than the weight of everything else. He should be honest, should tell you about the job offer. But the words stick in his throat every time he thinks about picking up the phone.

Days pass in a blur of packing and paperwork. You try calling, leaving a message each time. They start out sweet until the third day when you sound upset.

"Javi, hi, it’s me. I-I don’t know what’s going on, but please call me.”

Each night, he stares at the phone, his hand reaching to grab it. But he can't bring himself to dial. Can't bear to hear the excitement in your voice when he tells you he's moving to DC.

On the sixth day, you leave another message.

“Hey Javi, it’s me again, I… I hope you’re okay. I… did I do something? Please just call so I know you’re okay.”

He has to call you. Has to think of some way to let you down because he knows, deep down, that he can't have you. Not really. Not without destroying his friendship with Steve, not without ruining your relationship with your brother. Not without tainting the pure, beautiful thing that's grown between you.

By the tenth day, you’re mad.

“Hey, Javier. I ended up having to ask Connie if she had heard anything about you, so that was real fun. Listen… I don’t know what the hell is going on. If you found someone else or… got tired of me, but I just—I hope you’re happy. I… I guess I’ll… I don’t know. I hope you’re fine.”

His heart clenches as your voice cracks on the last words. He can hear the hurt, the confusion in your tone, and it tears him apart. 

He can't take it anymore–the guilt, the longing, the fear. It's all too much. He picks up the phone and dials your number.

Ring… ring… rin–

"Hello?" Your voice is hesitant, guarded.

"It's me," Javier says. "I'm… sorry."

There's a long pause on the other end. He can hear you breathing, can almost feel the tension radiating off of you through the line.

"Javi?" You sound uncertain, like you can't quite believe it's him. "Where have you been? I've been so worried."

He closes his eyes, leaning against the wall. "I know, I'm sorry. There’s been a lot going on. I… I got a job offer last week. The job in DC is mine."

Another pause. "Oh," you say softly. "Javi… that’s great news. Congrats.”

"Thanks," he says before taking a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knows has to be said. "Listen, I-I think it’s best if we don’t keep doing this."

The silence on the other end of the line stretches. He can almost picture you, your eyes wide with confusion and hurt.

“This?” 

“Yeah, talking and… I just fear it’s gone too far.”

"What?" you finally whisper, your voice barely audible. "Why?"

He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels his heart break as the words get caught in his throat, but he forces them out. "It's complicated. I’m so much older than you, and you’re… you're Steve's little sister, and I’ll be working with him again. It's not right. It was never right."

He hears you take a shaky breath. "So, you ignore me for over a week and then call to let me know this? I know you’re older than me. I know I’m Steve’s sister. That’s fucked Javi. How could you? I thought we had something speci—”

"I know," he interrupts. "I know, and that's why we have to stop. Before it goes any further. Before anyone gets hurt."

You gasp, and his heart clenches at the sound. He wants to take it all back, to tell you he didn't mean any of it, but he forces himself to stay silent.

“Yes, before anyone gets hurt…”

“You deserve more than me, cariño. I’m old, and I’ve been through so much. You’re still so young and full of life… I’d only hold you back. I’m sorry.”

"I see," you say, your tone suddenly cold and distant. "Well, thank you for your honesty, Agent Peña. I hope your new job in DC is everything you've ever wanted."

The formality in your voice cuts him deeper than any anger could have. He opens his mouth to speak, but you've already hung up. 

—-

He stands at the windows of his new apartment in Arlington, gazing out at the lights of DC across the Potomac. Snow falls outside, and he reminds himself he needs to buy some warmer clothing. It’s beautiful, he thinks. His eyes search the horizon, wondering if your building is visible.

His apartment is nice–modern and spacious with sleek furniture that doesn’t suit him. It’s more than he needs, really, but the DEA had been generous with their relocation package. It doesn’t feel like his place at all, but a Polaroid of you that leans against his bedside lamp makes it feel like home.

He'd chosen this place for the view, telling himself it was because he'd always wanted to live somewhere with a skyline again. But deep down, he knows it's because he wanted to look out at the city you love.

He imagines what you might be doing right now. Are you curled up on the couch, reading a book? The newspaper? Are you, like him, standing at a window, looking out at the city and wondering what might have been? Or are you out with your friends, trying to meet somebody else? Do you miss him like he misses you?

He tries to dislodge the thoughts with a shake of his head. It’s been two weeks since that phone call. Since he broke things off. Since your cold voice let him go. He tells himself it was the right thing to do, that he’s protecting you from the darkness that follows him.

In a perfect world, you’d be here, looking out the same window as he wrapped his arms around you. You’d lean back against his chest, fitting perfectly in his embrace. There’d be no hesitation, no guilt. Just pure happiness, waking up next to you every morning. In that world, Steve would be happy for you both. In that world, Javier would be happy. But he knows all too well this is not a perfect world.

—-

He goes to the Smithsonian alone, wandering through the halls of the art museum on a quiet Sunday afternoon. The same exhibit you read to him about. The same exhibit he dreamed of taking you to, holding your hand and kissing your cheek as you gazed at the paintings. He moves slowly, hands clasped behind his back, taking in each painting. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, how to describe what he’s seeing, or how to feel… he wishes you were here to help him understand. None of it makes sense to him. Are the paintings supposed to look unfinished and kind of blurry? He imagines you beside him, telling him all about the break from tradition these paintings represented. He’d nod, pretending to understand, the same way he’s nodding as he reads the guidebook.

He pauses before a painting. Vibrant flowers grow amongst the dappled sunlight–the bright colors remind him of the way your eyes light when you laugh. He can almost hear your sweet voice reading the exhibit description to him again. He wonders if you’ve been here, if you’ve stood in this very spot, admiring the same painting.

As he moves to the next painting, a flash of familiar color catches his eye. For a moment, his heart stops. A woman stands across the room, her back to him, wearing a dress in the same exact shade of green as the shirt he’d left you. She resembles you from the back, and he takes a step forward, your name on the tip of his tongue, before she turns.

It’s not you. Of course, it’s not. All that’s left now is a hollow ache in his chest.

What would he do? What would he even say? What is he doing here, a cop trying to be cultured?

He moves on, trying to focus on the art. He thinks of you again, imagines your voice in his ear. “Art is for everyone. There’s no right or wrong way to experience it. Just let yourself feel.”

Feel. He doesn’t want to feel. All he can feel is how much he misses you. How much he knows he’ll never have this with you, seeing the world through your eyes.

Each painting seems to hold a piece of you. The soft light of a Twachtman landscape captures the glow of your skin in the firelight. The bold strokes of a Sargent portrait remind him of your spirit and personality.

He pauses in front of a Renoir. A man leads a woman, her hand in his. His eyes focus on their fingers intertwined with each other’s, imagining the feel of your hand in his. He rubs his hand against the denim of his jeans, trying to warm the coldness running through his veins.

He turns away, unable to bear the sight any longer. The weight of his regret, his longing, settles heavily on his shoulders as he exits the gallery.

He'd pushed you away to protect you, but being here, surrounded by a softer, more beautiful world, he wonders if he made the right choice.

—-

He finds himself driving through the busy streets of Adams Morgan, the same neighborhood you call home. His heart pounds stronger with each turn as he navigates the unfamiliar roads. 

He parks his car and steps out onto the sidewalk, feeling out of place as he takes in the colorful row of houses and stores that line your neighborhood streets. He walks down the street, his eyes scanning the bright buildings until he finds the taco place you’d always rave about.

“I bet it’s just as good as Laredo, Javi,” he remembers you saying. “You have to try it when you’re here.”

He hesitates for a moment before pushing open the door. The small restaurant is packed.

His order is simple: two al pastor tacos and a Topo Chico, just like you’d recommended. He takes a seat at a small table by the window and waits for his order.

How many times have you walked down this very street? Have you sat at this very table?

He takes a bite of the taco. It’s good. Damn good. Almost as good as home. He can practically hear your triumphant "I told you so!"

People pass by on the sidewalk as he eats. He imagines you and him–his arm wrapped around you, your body close to his as you walk around your neighborhood. Your face lighting up as you show him all of your favorite places. He'd follow you, unable to resist your enthusiasm… or you.

The winter wind snaps against his skin as he steps out of the restaurant. He starts walking with no real destination in mind. Colorful murals, bright storefronts, and eclectic homes line the street. This is your world, he realizes. These are the sights you see and sounds you hear every day.

He wonders how close he is to your apartment. He imagines you coming home from work and stopping at one of the little bodegas on the corner for some milk or bread.

He doesn’t think he’d fit in well within this world, but he sure as hell would try, just for you. God, he misses you.

—-

Steve drops a pile of files on Javi’s desk.

“New case. Have some fun. So, how’s DC treating you?” Steve asks, casually leaning against his desk.

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. Trying to hide the sadness that consumes him. “It’s different from Laredo, that’s for sure.”

Steve laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Yeah, I bet. Hey, you should come over for dinner sometime. Connie would love to see you. I’ll invite the usual group.”

Javier’s heart skips a beat as he tries to keep his face neutral. “Yeah, maybe,” he says noncommittally. “Been busy settling in, you know how it is.”

“Well, find time, Peña.”

The guilt, a constant companion these days, gnaws at him as he watches Steve leave.

—-

The early spring evening is warm. His heart beats faster as he gets out of his car and walks up the pathway to Steve’s front porch.

He steps through the front door, breathing in the scent of a happy home, feeling so out of place among the marital bliss and designer furniture.

“Javi,” Connie breezes over, looking like the perfect hostess she always is. She pulls him in for a hug. He’s always liked her, felt comfortable around her.

"Hey, Connie," he says, returning her hug. "Thanks for having me."

"Of course! I’m so happy to see you," she beams. "Come on, everyone’s outside.”

Everyone. Does that include you? He's never been this nervous, not even when he saw Lorraine after all those years.

He follows Connie through the house, his eyes scanning for any sign of you. His heart races as they step out onto the back patio. Steve's at the grill, chatting with a few friends. There are kids running around the yard, couples mingling with drinks in hand. But no sign of you.

It’s as familiar as all those months ago. He felt like an outsider… until he met you. He still searches for you. Still no sign.

"Beer?" Connie offers, already reaching into a cooler.

"Thanks," he nods, taking the cold bottle from her. He takes a long swig, trying to calm his nerves.

"Peña!" Steve calls out, waving him over. "Get over here, man!"

He makes his way across the patio, overhearing a snippet of conversation. He hears your name and slows his pace, straining to hear more.

“She’ll be a little late. Rehearsals for the play ran long.”

The play. You got the part. In a perfect world, he’d be there on opening night, sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers for you. He’d watch you, so proud and in awe of your talent. After the show, he’d wait for you backstage, hold you close, and whisper in your ear how amazing you were.

Pride swells in his chest… until the guilt creeps back in.

“Hey, man,” Steve’s voice breaks through his daydream. “Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry. What?”

"I said, glad you could make it," Steve repeats.

“Oh, yeah, me too.”

“A couple of guys from work are here. I’m sure they’d love to get to know you. I’m tired of answering all of their questions about you.”

He lets out a tense chuckle. The last thing he thinks he can do is pretend to care about a group of rookie agents wanting to get to know the Javier Peña.

He really hates these parties.

—-

An hour passes. The sun begins to set, casting everything in Steve’s picturesque backyard in long shadows. Javi goes through the motions. He makes small talk with his new coworkers and Steve's friends, laughing at jokes he barely hears. His eyes keep darting to the gate, waiting for you to arrive.

He remembers the first time he saw you. You walked through the gate, your flannel shirt tucked haphazardly into your ripped jeans. He couldn’t look away from you. Maybe he knew he needed someone like you in his life–honest, bright, funny, and too cool for him.

He hears the click of the gate latch. His breath catches as he turns.

And there you are.

You look so beautiful. A plaid skirt sits just above your knees, paired with a simple white tank top under a soft, oversized cardigan. His heart hurts as he takes in your beauty, trying not to stare. You look happy, relaxed, glowing. He wonders if you know he’d be here tonight.

His rapidly beating heart sinks when you turn to say something to a man following you through the gate.

The man’s wavy chestnut hair falls perfectly in place, and thick-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose, framing bright green eyes. He’s wearing a vintage t-shirt underneath a well-worn brown leather jacket. Everything about him screams, ‘hip theatre guy.’ The exact opposite of an old, grizzled DEA agent haunted by his past.

He envies the man with everything in his entire being. The way he gets to look at you–a wide smile, soft eyes that get to follow your every movement.

Javi’s jaw clenches as he watches you and your handsome stranger approach a group. Your eyes also scan the backyard, and for too quick of a moment, they meet with his… until you look away and laugh at something your companion just said. The sound feels like a knife twisting into his chest.

He’s hyper-aware of your presence all night, watching you from the corner of his eyes, each sight of you a blessing and a curse.

He tries to focus on his conversations, on Steve, on his coworkers–on anything but you. But his eyes keep drifting back. The man who came with you never strays from your side, his hand often resting on the small of your back or brushing against your arm.

He wants nothing more than to cross the patio, pull you aside, and explain everything. To beg for forgiveness, to tell you how much he misses you. But he stays rooted in place, trapped by his own choices and the consequences that followed.

The gathering begins to thin out as the night goes on. He watches as you say goodbye to a few guests, hugging them warmly. Your eyes sweep across the yard again, and for a moment, he thinks you might look his way. But you turn, whispering something to your companion before heading towards the house alone.

Before he can second-guess himself, he sets down his beer and follows you. He slips through the patio doors and can just make out the soft pad of your footsteps heading upstairs.

He follows you as if you’re a perp, softly ascending the stairs–just like that morning after he first met you. The light escapes under the door of the guest bathroom. He takes a breath, steeling himself as he waits for you to come out.

The knob turns, and his heart races as the door opens, revealing you in the soft light of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"Can I... can I apologize?" Javi asks hesitantly.

You shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, Jav. You can't."

Jav. Fuck. Hearing you say his name makes his heart drop. His hand taps against his thigh, fighting the urge to reach out and pull you into his arms.

"You hurt me," your voice trembles. Each word feels like a dagger in his heart. "I'm... I'm trying to let time pass by. To move on."

“Please, I never meant to—”

His plea is cut short by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs.

Connie appears, her keen eyes taking in the scene before her. She reaches for your hand while shooting Javi a glance. She understands without a single word spoken.

“Go on, love, go back to the party. Elliott is waiting for you,” Connie softly says to you.

He watches as you nod and quickly leave, not even sparing a glance back at him.

“Javier,” Connie says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s happy.” 

He swallows, his brown eyes rounding with the guilt he too often has to hide.

Connie's eyes soften as she looks at him, her hand still resting on his shoulder. She leads him to the guest room where he spent that first night with you.

She closes the door and motions for him to sit on the bed. The same bed he held you close on.

"Javier," she begins, her voice gentle but firm. "I know what happened. I know you care about her. And I know she cares about you. She told me.”

He looks up at her, surprised by her words. "She told you? About us?"

Connie nods, a sad smile on her lips. "She was heartbroken. That first month after you told her not to call, she was a wreck. She tried to hide it, but Steve mentioned you while she was here for dinner one night, and she… she quickly got up and made an excuse. I found her crying in this room. She told me everything.”

“Steve?” he asks, feeling even more guilt wash over him, the weight of his choices crushing his chest.

She shakes her head. “He doesn’t know. I promised not to tell him.”

“I had to let her go–for her, for Steve, for everyone." He hangs his head, staring at his clasped hands. He squeezes them harder, needing to let the pressure out somehow. He searches for the right words. "She’s happy now? With him?"

Connie nods. "Elliott is a good guy," she says gently. "He treats her well. But..." She pauses and then sighs. “But I don’t think he’s you.”

A flicker of hope ignites in his chest. “How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know. If you really want to make things right, you need to tell her how you truly feel."

He nods slowly. “I can't stop thinking about her. About what could have been."

"If you really care for her–if you're willing to face whatever might come from being with her–then you need to let her know. But if you're going to run away again at the first sign of trouble, then you have to let her go. For good this time."

“And Steve?”

“Listen, he’s a big softy underneath it all. Might take him a bit to come around to it, but I’ll hide his gun for you. I know that, in the end, as long as she’s happy, he’ll be happy.”

He nods. He knows you’re the one. “Thanks, Connie.”

She stands, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just think about it, okay? And whatever you decide, be sure. She deserves that much."

Connie leaves him alone in the bedroom. He runs his hand along the comforter, closing his eyes, and can almost feel the warmth of your body curled against his. He wishes he could hold you again.

He takes a deep breath, his decision made.

—-

The house lights dim, the audience hushes, and the stage lights brighten. The curtain draws back, and there you are, center stage, glowing like an ethereal being.

His heart soars with pride as he watches you mesmerize the crowd with your talent. You embody your character completely, and he’s in awe of you even from his seat in the back row.

He hears the familiar lines of the end monologue–the same lines he heard you recite over and over months ago. They transport him back to those nights spent on the phone with you. The familiar ache in his chest gets tighter, squeezing his heart harder. A lone tear wells in his eye as he mouths the final line with you.

“I’d rather be alone than a stranger.”

The crowd erupts into applause as the curtain closes. You were flawless. He knew you’d be amazing.

You return to the stage, a wide smile on your face, the stage lights glinting off unshed tears in your eyes.

Now’s his chance. He slips out the stage door, walking down a side hallway marked "Authorized Personnel Only." In this hand, he clutches a bouquet of bright flowers and the day’s newspaper.

He pauses at each door, reading the names scrawled on makeshift placards. He finally finds yours, glancing over his shoulder before gently turning the doorknob.

He’s never been in a space of yours before. He knows he has to be quick, but he takes a moment to breathe in the scent of your perfume.

He places the bouquet and newspaper on the vanity, before quickly exiting and slipping out the stage door.

—-

Javi paces in his apartment, unable to sit still. He can still hear your voice and picture how you looked under the stage lights.

It’s been hours since he left the flowers in your dressing room. Did you find them? Did you read his note? Has enough time passed?

He pours himself a glass of whiskey, hoping it might calm him.

As he raises the glass to his lips, the shrill ring of his phone cuts through the quiet. He sets down his drink and reaches for the phone.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself before answering. "Hello?"

"Javi." Your voice is soft and hesitant. He closes his eyes, smiling at the sound he's missed so much.

“Hey,” he says, a relieved smile lighting his face. “Congratulations. You were incredible.”

“Thank you. The flowers are beautiful… and the newspaper?"

His heart speeds in his chest. “I-I was hoping we could read the news together like old times?”

Silence hangs between the two of you as he waits for your response.

“I’d… I’d like that. What’s your address?”

[miange1]

donnie darko slightly pushing male reader into having their first time together?!? manipulating him until he craves it just as bad as him now

DONNIE DARKO

male reader, bottom reader, reader isn't a virgin he just hasn't had peen up his booty, manipulation, say gex, sum like that, nervousness, donnie doesn't know what he's doing either, anal sex, rough but soft, linkin park is so yummy, donnie is addicted to sex, persuading with actions rather than words, donnie does NOT know how to fuck but figures it out later

he was nervous, fidgeting the whole day and glancing at you much more often. he felt some sort of weight on his shoulders, he just needed to get it off and if he never told you what was the matter it would never happen would it?

"donnie." you looked over at him, your finger pressing at the TV remote to turn it down. "hm." he looked over at you, eyes roaming over your body by instinct. "don't 'hm' me. you've been creeping the shit outta me all day? you alright?"

he opened his mouth to say yes, but then closed it up again, changing his mind. he got closer to you, bed dipping in the area near you and his hand resting on your leg.

"you ever..fuck before?" you giggled a bit, mostly confused but amused as well. "yeah? of course ive–" he cut you off, "no, i mean." he moved himself closer towards you,

"have you been fucked before, like by another guy?" your heart started to speed up, your body tensing and it felt like it was getting hotter.

"..no?" donnies hands went to your legs, moving towards your thighs and squeezing them a bit. "do you want to?" he was expecting a yes, but he frowned seeing your head shake and your legs move towards your chest.

"donnie," your eyes looked like they were pitying him, looking at him as if he was in the wrong. but he wasn't? "why? why don't you want to— we're together so we have to!" his mind worked differently, and you knew that. he always wanted to get to the 'good stuff', and as messed up as it sounded he still loved you.

"please, i promise.." he went close to you again, hands pulling your ankles and spreading your legs. "it'll feel really good," he's never fucked another guy before, and most likely has never had sex before but he just needed to persuade you somehow.

"donnie, no. my answer is no." your words cut off with your own giggle as he kissed at your face multiple times, making you tell him that it tickled a bit.

then his lips would go lower, slowing his pace down as he kissed at your neck and making them more open mouthed to leave a mark.

"hey..hey, donnie—" you squirmed, hands to his chest to push him away but you just ended up gripping his shirt and wanting more "hm." his fingers went up your shirt, grazing your nipples having your body arch into his touch and whimper into his ear.

"stop..donnie," his pointer and middle finger squeezed the bud, your legs tightened around his hips as he did so. "can't..i can't.." he sounded just as desperate as you, moving his hands back down to your shirt to take it off and toss it some other place.

he let his body get on top of you more, your body sliding down all the way underneath him. he looked at you for a moment, taking it all in. this was really happening

his pace was slow at first, it hurt to him too because he didn't really know he had to use some sort of lubrication. as he had gotten used to it, he completely forgot to think about you.

he was thinking about you, but also wasn't.

"donnie..donnie— donnie!" he could hear you calling out his name, saw your fingers grip at the sheets for dear life as if you were gonna fall off the bed even though he had you by your waist.

"slow...down, oh god it hurts.." but it felt so good, the tears that went down your cheeks were tears of pleasure and your hole would twitch and clench around him and each time he felt it he just couldn't help but go faster and harder.

the headboard hit against the wall, and you prayed that no one was home to hear this because nothing was silent especially you. "feels so good..do you feel good? tell me it feels good." your head nodded, burrying yourself into the pillow cover.

"so good..donnie, don't stop." your words were becoming slurred, turning into mindless jumbles and moans. for a guy who's probably never even fucked a girl, shit he was real good.

it had you wondering how many times he must have thought of what he wanted to do to you.

"don't stop?" your pupils moved to the side, giving donnie a look. "okay.." he flipped you over back onto your back, wiping his forehead from the sweat that dripped.

"i won't stop, i promise." oh, of course he'd take that shit literally.

[kikidoul]

── REALISATION OF FEELINGS.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 심재윤 x fem! reader content enemies to lovers non-idol au college/university au ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content protected sex (pls do it wrapped up) service dom! jake (i think) consent because that's hot of jake pussy eating squirting usage of petnames reader's not a virgin. . . !? 2330 — mlist. | req

note. first time writing jake.. kinda nervous.. hopefully this is readable because i wrote this at work LMAO. ending is kinda ass because i don't want to drag this out so yeah.. can you tell i'm bad at titles too </3 taglist. @tfwbluu

“What the fuck? Why is he here?” You scowled, narrowing your eyes with nothing but disgust written all over your face. 

Your eyes followed a certain figure, watching as he smoothly moved through the crowd that parted for him. You scoffed as he greeted his group of friends while resting his hand on a random girl’s waist. Your grip on the plastic red cup tightened slightly and you would’ve crushed it if your friend didn’t snatch it out of your hand. 

“Stop glaring at him. Just ignore him and enjoy the night,” she said, nudging your elbow, dragging you away and further into the large crowd. You remained oblivious to how a pair of eyes followed your retreating figure, until you were out of his sight. 

Great, now what?

You sighed when you realized that your friend had ditched you for a one-night stand, leaving you stranded and alone at the party. You didn’t have a driver’s license, which means you couldn’t go home by yourself, especially when you were slightly tipsy, but were still able to hold your own ground. Unable to tolerate another second of standing in the crowded living room, you stepped out of the mansion—intending to get fresh air. 

Only for you to groan when you see someone there before you. He turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, expression matching yours when his eyes landed on you. 

“I didn’t expect to see someone like you coming to these kinds of places,” Jake said, downing the remains of his drink in one go, easily crushing the paper cup with his fingers. 

“Shut up, you don’t know anything about me,” you snapped, crossing your arms as you stopped beside him. 

Jake glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, noting how the dress you wore was sleeveless and how you shivered as a gust of wind blew past you. Sighing, he removed his jacket and placed it over your shoulders. You flinched, turning to him with wide eyes. You were about to pull it off but he stopped you, resting a hand above yours. Somehow, his hand was warm and a part of you is tempted to lean forward. 

“Don’t, you can wear it for tonight. Wouldn’t want you to freeze to death,” he murmured, an unreadable expression on his face as he takes in your features. You caught the way his eyes trailed down, only for them to darken when they landed on your parted, glossy lips. 

You weren’t sure what made you gain the courage to make the first move. Maybe it was due to the shitty alcohol you drank. Maybe it was how Jake was constantly on your mind, no matter where you were or what you were doing. A sly grin tugged your lips upward and Jake gulped as you leaned in, invading his personal space. His senses were engulfed with the strong fragrance of your perfume—rose and vanilla. It’s sweet, just like you. 

“Is that so? But, I have another idea on how I won’t freeze to death,” you whispered and if there’s one thing about Jake, it’s that he never backs down from a challenge. 

Grinning, he boldly wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you close until your chests were pressed against one another. He savored the startled gasp you let out at his action, craving for more. 

“Yeah? And what do you have in mind, pretty girl? You're gonna tell me or what?” He coos, leaning in to brush his plump lips against your neck, inhaling a whiff of your perfume. 

You tilted your head back, granting him access to the rest of your neck and Jake accepted the invitation without hesitation. “Jake…” You breathed out, and the way you said his name made his mind spin, sending heat straight down to his pants that tightened. 

“Fuck, your place or mine?” He asks, barely clinging onto his rapidly decreasing self-restraint. 

“Mine’s far from here,” you replied, and he nodded. 

“Alright, then let’s go to my house. It’s not far.”

~ 

You weren’t granted a chance to admire the interior of his house, for you were being pushed up against the nearest wall the moment the door closed. The kiss was filthy, messy and intense. You parted your lips, knees threatening to buckle as Jake explored your cavern with one, thorough lick. He swallowed the muffled sounds you made with his lips, drinking them in like he was your loyal worshipper. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he tapped your thighs twice. Without exchanging a word, you jumped and Jake effortlessly carried you, bringing you to the bedroom without breaking the kiss. You were placed on the sheets with him hovering over you and you had to pull away, your lungs screaming at the lack of oxygen. 

Jake couldn’t tear his eyes away from the breathtaking sight before him. Your hair was spread out like a halo, making you look like an angel that descended from heaven. Your lips were swollen and red. Your eyes were slightly dazed, the straps of your dress falling down your shoulders. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered in awe, mostly to himself but your ears registered his words. 

His words made your heart skip a beat and you weren’t sure why. But you didn’t think much about it when he leaned down, trailing butterfly kisses along the expanse of your unblemished neck. You sighed, eyelids fluttering close as he licked, sucked and bit on your skin, leaving hickeys behind. His hands busied themselves by wandering along your body, tracing your silhouette through the fabric of your dress. Eventually, he reached his limit and hovered them over the straps. 

“Can I?” He asks. 

You nodded but Jake wasn’t pleased. “Use your words, princess. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Careful, you being thoughtful might make me fall for you,” you teased, ignoring how your heart was practically pounding against your chest at his words. 

Jake merely rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, (Name). Use your words and tell me, or I’m stopping.” 

“Fine, go ahead, Jake,” you chuckled, giving him the green light. 

With permission granted, he tugged the straps and dress down, tossing it to the floor without a care. For the second time, Jake found himself staring at you, unable to tear his eyes away from how alluring you looked, wearing nothing but a matching set of black, lacy lingerie that leaves nothing to one’s imagination. If it was possible, his pants tightened and he swore he felt his cock twitched in the constraints of his pants—begging to be freed. 

“You’re staring,” you mumbled, cheeks flushed red at how intense his gaze was. 

“Can’t help it. You’re too beautiful to not stare,” he sighed, sounding as if he was blessed by a God. 

You gulped, watching as he removed his shirt and shifted down, spreading your legs so he could be in between them. You grabbed a pillow, placing it under your hips to support yourself. Your breath involuntarily hitched in your throat, watching as Jake kissed your thighs, moving up slowly until he reached where your clit was throbbing with need. You whined as he hooked his fingers along the thin fabric of your panties, tugging it to the side to reveal your clit. 

“Even your pussy’s pretty,” he breathed out, tracing the bud poking out with his finger. 

You mewled, hips instinctively jerking forward, wanting more but Jake withdrew his finger, eliciting a disappointed whine of protest from you. “Jake, please!” 

“Please what, princess? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he grins, knowing he has you wrapped around his finger. 

“Please touch me,” you begged, lips curling downwards in a pout. 

“Oh? But I am touching you. You need to be more specific than that,” he teases, fingers grazing the area near your clit, chuckling at how you tried to get him to touch your clit instead. 

“Want your mouth….on me,” you muttered, eyes squeezed shut with embarrassment at the words. Thankfully, Jake was satisfied. He didn’t bother removing your panties, further tugging it to the side and dived in. 

“Oh fuck!” You cried out, back arching off the bed as he flatten his tongue to lick your clit. Jake glanced up, taking note of the blissed-out expression on your face. With the determination to drive you insane, he parted your puffy folds with his free hand, sliding his tongue in to lick your gummy walls. 

“Oh—hah, Jae-Jaeyun—fuck,” you moaned, grinding your hips along his tongue, making you looked as if you were riding his face. His bedroom was filled with the loud, lewd sounds of him eating you out, blending in with your shameless moans. 

Your stomach tightened and your legs twitched, feeling your climax approaching rapidly. You tried to warn him but all it took was one skillful flick of your bud with his tongue to push you over the edge. Your body shook with the intensity of your orgasm, nails digging into the sheets. You were trying to catch your breath when your ears picked up the sounds of unzipping followed by rustling of clothes.

You gulped when you saw Jake freed his poor, neglected and forgotten cock from his pants. The tip had turned a dark shade of purplish-red—due to the lack of attention. You tried to close your legs, feeling your clit pulsated at the thought of him entering you. 

“Like what you see?”  He smirks at your staring and silence, wrapping his long, slender fingers around his cock to stroke it a few times. 

You coughed, regaining your composure, observing him as Jake leaned over, reaching into the bedside table to pull out an unwrapped condom. He tore the wrapper with his teeth—unaware of how the small action made heat pooled in your stomach and wore the condom on his cock. He paused, hands resting on your knees to draw circles on your skin. 

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, worried. 

“I’m sure, just fuck me, please Jaeyun,” you whined, neediness dripping from your voice. 

He cursed, wasting no time in pushing in, inch by inch. Eventually, he bottomed out and both of you moaned. Jaeyun felt like he was floating. The way your velvety walls hugged onto his cock nearly made him cum right there and then. As much as he wants to ruin you, make you scream his name, your comfort was his first priority. 

“Baby, you alright?” He asks, waiting for you to give him a verbal response. 

You felt insanely full, with how his cock was reaching the deepest areas that you thought it was impossible. Compared to the other hookups you had done, this was by far the best hookup you had and you refused to admit it out loud, not wanting to increase Jake’s ego. 

“Y-Yes, you can move,” you stuttered and Jake nodded, slowly pulling out before doing an experimental thrust. 

Your mind blanked out at how heavenly it felt, his cock sliding in and out at equal intervals, hitting the same spot, over and over again. You tried to stifle your sounds by covering your mouth but Jake was faster. He grabbed your hands, pinning them above your head, leaving you at his mercy. 

“Don’t hide from me. I want to hear you, let me see you come undone,” he panted, quickening his pace, his hips snapping against yours. 

“Ngh—Jae-Jaeyun, fuck, har-harder, please, please, please!” You mewled, tossing your head back to reveal your neck covered in hickeys. The very same hickeys that Jake left behind. 

Groaning at the thought of everyone seeing your neck, he pushed you further into the sheets, now moving at a ruthless tempo. His hand snaked down to rub your clit, the extra stimulation driving you insane, causing breathless moans to spill from your parted lips. The bra you wore had been unclipped halfway, the straps resting along your shoulders with your breasts bouncing due to the movement. 

To Jake, your current state was something straight out of a porngraphic movie. 

He recognized the telltale signs of you reaching your orgasm—how your legs moved to wrap themselves around his waist, locking him in place, how your breathing quickened and how you fucked yourself back into him. 

“Fuck, you feel so good around me, princess. So tight, so warm. If I keep you here, make you warm my cock everyday, would you like that?” Jake moaned, his words making you whine, frantically nodding your head. 

“Please, gonna cum!” You cried out. 

“Then cum for me, sweetheart.” 

You reached your climax with a loud cry, transparent liquid pathetically squirted from your clit. Some landed on the sheets while some landed on your stomach. Jake followed suit, releasing into the condom but you were able to feel the condom growing sideways, making you wish he didn’t use one in the first place. 

He slowly pulled out, unwrapping the condom and tied it before tossing it into the bin with accurate aim. You whimpered, not used to the sudden feeling of emptiness. You laid on the soaked, dirtied sheets, limbs pliant and too exhausted to move a single finger. Jake got off the bed, heading to the bathroom to grab some damp towels to clean you and him off. You let him do as he pleased, allowing him to help you into his fresh new clothes that he grabbed from his wardrobe. 

“...What does this make us now?” You asked, having to be the one to break the silence. 

Jake hums, tossing on a shirt. You had to get up, leaning against the wall as he pulled the sheets off the bed, replacing them with a new one. “Do you want this to be a one-time thing?” He asks. 

You shook your head, gripping onto your arms. “No, I want this to be more. I want us to be something more than just a hookup.” 

Jake flashes you a genuine smile. “Then I feel the same too.”

[kittysarchive]

Toxicity

warnings- toxic relationship, smut, head cannons, teasing, insults, dom enhypen, jealous enhypen, manipulative enhypen, crappy boyfriends,smut, mostly mean or hard dom enhypen

Heeseung

Heeseung’s toxic trait would be his ability to twist situations to make you feel guilty, even if he’s the one at fault.

He overthinks everything, making you feel like every little thing you do is under scrutiny.

If he’s in a bad mood, he’ll shut you out completely, leaving you guessing what went wrong.

When it comes to him in bed all of these traits merge together

If he cums to early, your fault

If your too quiet, are you cheating! You not cumming tonight

He'll even be quiet in bed, making you think that he should be the one getting the pleasure.

smut-

There were tears in your eyes. Through the loud sound of skin lapping and heeseungs own mumbles, you didn't want to make a sound, you didn't want to disrupt his pleasure.

And so he kept thrusting hard while painfully gripping onto your tours, squeezing them until they were people. What did you actually do to get here?

"do you wanna apologize" Heeseung grunts above you,not once slowing his pace.

"f-for what?" Heeseung quickly pulls out, his delusions tired I you lying. But what had you done? Was saying hello the male barista bad? You were just being polite. Heeseung sighs, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"you know what,you always go around trying to cheat or create a fling behind my back" he grips you legs harshly, pulling them towards you to create a mating press.

"but I always gotta fuck the sense back into my slut' a continues now gripping his cock, waiting for your apology.

"I'm sorry....I won't do it again" you say through pain, this position was uncomfortable, it was burning your legs but saying that would just make him upset, again.

Seeming content, Heeseung opens the draw beside the bed, pulling out the lube. Your skin goes cold as he squeezes it out onto his fingers. Feeling the cold slime on your ass, you knew it was going to be a painful night.

Jay

Jay could be the type of toxic boyfriend who’s overly possessive and jealous,

constantly questioning who you’re talking to and where you’ve been. He’d act like it’s because he “cares too much,” but it would start to feel suffocating.

When angry, he might lash out with harsh words, but he’d always try to win you back with grand gestures every single time.

smut-

Your legs are pulled against you like a mating press, you've gotten used to the pain since this was one of the very limited positions he knew about it at least liked.

"fucking slut, your my girl" he rams his cock into you. Yeah maybe you shouldn't have tried to make small talk while at the bus stop.

"did you want to go home with him huh? Or did you want me to fuck you on the bench right next to him, slut" Jay laughs as if it's some inside joke. You keep quiet, muttering the occasional sorry while teary eyed.

"you see there" he's almost talking to himself as he sees the bulge in your stomach.

"I did that, he couldn't" he presses down on the bulge, groaning at how it feels. A moan slips out of you when he presses down.

"yeah I know my girl well".

Jake

Jake would be the charming toxic boyfriend who knows exactly how to make you forgive him, even when he’s clearly in the wrong.

He’d use his sweetness and affectionate side to manipulate you into thinking you’re overreacting.

If you caught him lying, he’d flip the script and make you feel guilty for doubting him.

smut-

"C'mon baby, if I was cheating I wouldn't enjoy this so much" he says pulling his mouth away from your pussy. You had caught him sending nudes to a random girl online and here he was gas lighting you.

His mouth returns to your pussy, latching onto your clit. His tongue swirls along your clit making you squirm. You couldn't stay mad at him forever though, not when you get this nearly every day.

His hands spread your thighs apart, affectingly rubbing them as his mouth continue to slurp you clean. Pulling away for a second time, he brings out his puppy's eyes.

"So do you forgive me babe?" he says, his chin dripping with your juices, you nod your head, and he dives back down before saying, "You know I love you, stop making up these delusions"

Sunghoon

Sunghoon’s toxic behaviour would come from his tendency to be emotionally unavailable.

He’d avoid deep conversations or confrontation, leaving you feeling like your emotions don’t matter.

When upset, he’d give you the silent treatment, making you feel ignored and unimportant.

smut-

Licking another stripe along his cock, he still ignores you, scrolling on his phone while you on your knees, sucking him off. It always ends this way.

You give his head kitten licks while you fondle his balls, just what he likes. His cocks hard, red and an evident vein bulging on the side of his cock, but this is as much attention as you get from him. Clearly the kitten licks and teasing weren't working. Taking a breath, you place your mouth onto his cock, you lean your head down trying to fit as much of his length into your mouth.

Nearly gagging over him, you continue to suck. A minute goes by of him still ignoring you, still scrolling on his dam phone. You pull yourself off his cock.

"I'm sorry.... for whatever I did.... I was dumb" You break the silence. Sunghoon scoffs at you, finally putting his phone to the side, giving you the attention you weren't.

"You fucking embarrassed me in front of my friends, you better be sorry" Sunghoon grips onto your hair, pulling your mouth back onto his cock, he didn't want to hear another word from you.

Sunoo

Sunoo’s toxic trait would be his passive-aggressive nature.

He’d drop subtle cutting comments about your choices or appearance, masking them as “jokes.”

When he’s upset, he’d pretend everything’s fine but act cold and distant, making you feel like you have to figure out what’s wrong.

smut-

Lying on his back, he made you do all the work. Already tired from another dumb and pointless argument, you were now 'apologising'.

Rolling your hips over your cock, Sunoo seemed almost bored underneath you, but you wouldn't fully know since you chose to turn away from him, you didn't want to see whatever scowl he was holding.

Lightly bouncing on your cock, usually you didn't see say you were tired, Sunoo would just start thrusting his hips up, giving you a break. But moments like this weren't rare, usually it'd end up with you getting tired, and Sunoo getting mad, that you couldn't even finish him off. So, you pull of his cock and sit between his legs.

"Giving up?" He almost laughs.

"No" you say, placing your mouth onto his cock, sucking slightly.

"Always finding the easy way out" he insults, leaning further back into the pillow, actually enjoying himself.

Jungwon

Jungwon’s toxic side would stem from his perfectionist tendencies.

He’d want things done his way and might criticize you if you don’t meet his high expectations.

His controlling behaviour would make you feel like you’re constantly walking on eggshells, trying not to disappoint him.

smut-

Your on your all fours, doggy style while he rams into your pussy from behind. This was purely for him, he didn't want to see your face know, he just wanted to cum. Being with him really felt like a cum slut sometimes.

You hold back your moans because you couldn't deny, he was a good fuck.

"Thats it, stay fucking still" He groans behind you, spreading your ass cheeks so he can go deeper, and you felt him deep. A moan slips out of you.

"Jeez, do I need to invest in a gag or duct tape? I said be fucking still and quiet and you can't even do one of them" He sends a slap to your ass; a mix of a cry and moan falls out of you. You hear his laugh behind you.

You were glad he couldn't see you, even with him ramming his cock into your pussy and squeezing you ass, you still felt embarrassed, you were literally being used,

NIKI

Niki would be the type of toxic boyfriend who’s hot and cold.

One moment, he’s super sweet and affectionate, and the next, he’s distant and uninterested.

He’d enjoy keeping you guessing about his true feelings, using your confusion as a way to maintain control.

smut-

"You always using me huh? Can't even use your own fingers to get off" He harshly puts two of his fingers inside your already wet pussy. Curling them inside you, your cry out in pleasure.

"Thats right, you're just a dumb bunny, you're practically fucking yourself on my fingers" He comments with a laugh. He wasn't lying, you were rolling your hips on his fingers, trying to gain more friction and he curled them against your gummy walls.

"You're nothing without me" Niki sighs, sugar coating his insult, as he brings his other hand to rub your clit.

[themultifanshipper]

I don’t know if your down but I need more mark webber smut or jenson or even both I just can’t find anything for older divers except seb (don’t get me wrong I love them but fuck I need mark and jenson ones so bad ) also love your fics but the foursome one was next level

 After Danica got fired, Jenson hoped there would be no replacement. That he’d be paired up with one of his other SkySports colleagues. 

Instead, you showed up. All pretty eyes and bashful glances, and he didn’t know quite what to do with himself. 

(Yes that is an old pic of Jenson to which I added a beard, you're welcome)

Warnings: smut, age gap, masturbation, making a sex tape, multiple orgasms, Ted Kravitz being cringe at the end (but that’s why I love him don’t @ me), not proofread

Jenson knew you were always nervous around him. Understandable, given how much disdain he’d shown his previous colleague. 

You were incredibly sweet to him, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t immediately smitten with you. Very early on he decided to not get too close to you, for a number of reasons. You were young, definitely too young for him, and he didn’t want to come off as the creepy older colleague infatuated with the woman under his wing, so he kept a reasonable distance. 

It didn’t take you long to get used to the job. You were young, but you were incredibly mature. Never distracted, always asked pertinent questions in interviews, and in no time you felt right at home in front of the cameras. A true professional. 

Which was more than could be said for what went on inside Jenson’s mind every time he looked at you. He didn’t know how to act around you. He didn’t want to come on too strong or you might get the wrong idea, and he didn't want to scare you off.  

Unfortunately, that didn’t translate very well on camera, and just made him look like he didn’t like you at all. 

He admired you, in a way, being one of the youngest in the biz. He knew he stared at you way too much, but you didn’t seem to notice.

He was sure everyone else probably noticed, so he decided to stop staring, and instead tried to look as neutral as possible whenever he was around you. 

“She’s so much nicer than Danica, I don’t get why Jenson doesn’t seem to like her” 

People on twitter didn’t know how to react. 

“Why is Jenson looking at her like he wants to run her over with his car 😭” 

You would spend quite a lot of time reading tweets about you. Sue you, you wanted to see if you were well received by the fans, knowing full well how critical people could be. 

“If Jenson wants to quit his job I’ll gladly take his place if I can be next to her” 

And they were half reassuring, half mortifying. Because yes, they seemed to like you, and appreciate you replacing Danica, but you indeed started noticing how Jenson looked at you during interviews. 

You had no idea why he didn’t like you. You couldn’t remember doing anything to annoy him, and he sure as hell hadn’t said anything to you whenever you talked to him alone, so why did he look at you like he wanted to run you over? 

The actual problem, was that Jenson’s mind wandered. And it wandered into very dangerous territories. 

He knew it was wrong, and he knew he should stop it immediately, but something about having forbidden fantasies about his colleague was too exciting to stop. 

So when he was feeling particularly riled up, or bored, or whenever he was at home, really, he’d think about you. 

About your soft lips that he couldn’t help staring at. About your hands, your delicate fingers wrapped around the microphone while you held it up to whoever you were interviewing. 

He thought about those infuriating shirts you wore. They weren’t low cut, but they were tight. 

He thought about the time he’d been working out in the hotel gym at night, when you sauntered in, in nothing but a sports bra and tight shorts. He didn’t know whether to be thankful or spiteful of the hot Singaporean weather. 

“Oh hi, Jense!” you’d called out cheerfully. 

Jenson’s hips stuttered and he came all over his hand at the memory. Damn you and your tendency to give people affectionate nicknames. 

Sometimes, when he needed... material, he’d pull up your instagram. You had a few photos on there of you in tight dresses at events, and... some of you at the beach, wearing bathing suits with varying degrees of coverage.  

He never lasted long when he pulled those out. 

It never took long for the guilt to set in either, gnawing at him while he did his best to go about his business. He knew he had a problem, but he didn’t know what to do about it. 

He was in half a mind to quit his job, but even that idea failed him when he saw your sweet sweet face look sad when he’d mentioned his retirement. 

So months went by, and you got closer. One could even say you were friends. You got on well, and when you were alone the banter flowed naturally, despite the generational divide. You had the same sense of humour, often jokingly flirting at each other. He called you ‘young lady’, and you called him ‘old man’... and in a way it helped him stay on track, not get too absorbed into the chemistry he had with you.  

But the guilt still gnawed, and when the cameras rolled, he put the stick back up his ass and pretended you were nothing more than Danica’s replacement. 

Who the fuck decided it was a good idea to race in Vegas, in november? 

He felt like he was stuck in a loop. An endless cycle of guilt and pretty eyes and twitter comments. 

...

Whoever it was deserves to get their head bashed in, Jenson thought as he huddled against some tyre warmers. 

Evening sessions were a nightmare, and they just got colder as the days went on. The tyres may have been cold, but you and Jenson were freezing your proverbial nuts off while you waited for the drivers to get out of their cars after qualifying. 

The interviews were fine, but it was clear everyone was just desperate to get back to their hotels to warm themselves up.

Everyone except Jenson, it seemed. 

... 

You ran into him in the lobby of your hotel when you went down to ask for blankets. 

Apparently, the biting cold was fucking with the electricity, so the heating wasn’t great in some of the rooms. And the phones were dead, so you had to go to the lobby if you needed anything. 

It was around 2 AM, and Jenson was at the bar having what appeared to be a whiskey on the rocks. 

“Jense? What are you doing down here?”  

His eyes snapped to you immediately and he sighed. 

“Could ask you the same question, young lady.” he chided, and you rolled your eyes. 

“The heating’s not working properly so I’m going to ask for blankets” you took a seat on the bar stool next to him “What about you, old man?” 

He huffed out a laugh, taking in your polka dot pyjamas peeking out from the fluffy dressing-gown you had on. 

“The heating’s completely off in my room. And they’re out of fucking blankets.” 

Your face fell, the blankets had been your last hope. 

“Shit...” you eyed him as he took another sip. “That’s rough...” 

“Yup” he popped the ‘p’ dramatically, fingers wiping at the condensation on the side of his glass. 

“And your plan is... to stay here and drink until tomorrow?”  

He chuckled. “No, my plan is to drink as many of these bad boys as it takes to not feel the cold anymore, and by that point, I should be slightly happier about being here” 

He winked at you and downed the rest of his glass. You knew he wasn’t a fan of Vegas, and neither were you, so it had become a sort of inside joke. 

“That’s a terrible plan. It’s better to have company in the cold than drink it away on your own.”  

“So... what? Are you going to drink with me?” he chuckled “You going to give an old man some company?” he cringed at his choice of words, the whiskey must have already affected his judgement. 

You leaned in closer with a cheeky smile. “No... I’m inviting the old man up to my hotel room.”  

Jenson’s brain stalled as he stared at his empty glass. 

“I uhh...” he gulped “I’m not sure that’s a good idea” 

“Why not? I’m sure we can find some way to keep warm...” you muttered, sliding off your chair. 

This couldn’t be happening. Jenson tried to keep his cool while his mind went a million miles an hour. He was just imagining things. You were not flirting with him, it was the whiskey making him interpret your words as something else. You weren’t suggesting- 

“If we work together, I bet we’ll be sweating by the end of the night” you purred. 

‘Don’t do it Jenson’, his brain supplied, she’s only joking. She doesn’t want you in that way, you’re much too old for her! Don’t throw your career away over- 

“Besides, what’s the point of touching yourself to my instagram photos, when the real thing is waiting in the next room.” 

Your hand on his thigh made him jump slightly. He turned his head to look at you questionningly. 

“You’re not as slick as you think you are” you smiled, fingers brushing against his rapidly growing bulge. “Did you know that when you accidentally like a pic, then unlike it, it still sends me a notification?” 

Jenson gritted his teeth, but made no effort to move your hand. “Obviously not, no” 

“And did you know” you grinned, movements growing bolder as you rubbed him through his pants “that you’ve liked the same 4 posts about 50 times, and always at night?”  

Your body was pressed against his side, and he was basically throbbing under your touch as he tried to keep his composure. “And you seem to really like the ones of me in Bali...” 

He tried to choke out an excuse, but you cut him off. “I know you want me...” your faces were inches apart, he was panting against your lips as you teased him. “So come and get me” 

You retreated completely, turning on your heel to walk across the lobby. Your heart was beating through your chest at what you’d just done. 

You pressed the button for the elevator and waited with bated breath, not daring to turn around. 

It felt like an age before the doors finally opened, just as you suddenly felt his presence behind you. 

He undid your robe silently and slid a hand into your pyjama pants, and his breath hitched when his fingers came in contact with your wetness. 

He quickly pushed you inside, clicking the button to your floor before pressing you against the mirror.  

“Fucking hell... you’re soaked” 

“Jenson, please” you begged, and he didn’t hesitate to slip a finger inside you, curling it perfectly as you mewled under him. 

“Desperate little thing, aren't you?” he cooed, adding another finger. 

Your eyes rolled back, breath fogging up the mirror as the obscene sound of his slick fingers filled the small space. 

By the time the elevator got to your floor, you were trembling and gasping for air. 

You couldn’t keep your hands off each other all the way down the corridor, slamming each other against various walls and probably making a racket while you were at it, but neither of you gave a damn when it felt so good to be touched.

...

Clothes were thrown haphazardly all over the place, and he wasted no time spreading your legs to get a taste of you. 

Well, he got more than a taste. He buried his face between your thighs, not once coming up for air as his tongue dragged you to edge of a mind numbing orgasm. 

It wasn’t too long before you started to feel the burn of his beard insistently rubbing against your inner thighs as he ate you out with gusto, but his mouth felt so good sucking on your clit, you didn’t care, if anything, it made the sensations more intense. 

But he didn’t stop there, he kept going, sliding his fingers into you, that he curled expertly against your g-spot. 

His extra years of experience hadn't been wasted, you thought. After all, everyone knew what he was like back in the day... and he certainly knew his way around.

That’s how he got you to your second orgasm of the night, thighs clamping down around his head as your hips bucked against his skilled tongue and fingers. 

He crawled over you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, in which your could taste yourself, and feel your wetness cling to his face. The kiss quickly turned sloppy when your hand went down to stroke his cock, thumbing at the tip to spread his precum around. 

“This is definitely better than your holiday in Bali” he groaned and you giggled at the statement. 

He lined himself up with your dripping cunt, ready to slide in and make all his fantasies come true, when you suddenly had an idea. 

“Wait!” you gasped, pushing him away and looking around wildly. “Where’s your phone?”  

“What?” he panted. 

“Or mine, either will do” you spotted one of the two on the floor just next to you so you reached down and took it, turning the camera on. It was Jenson's.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asked, hands wandering across your thighs impatiently. 

“Giving you some new material” you propped it up on the nightstand and started recording. “Lie down” 

You shuffled around until he was laying on his back and you were straddling his hips, his tip poking at your entrance. 

“Ready, old man?” you smirked. 

He scoffed, swatting your hips. “Have some respect for your elders” 

You rolled your eyes playfully and sank down on him.  

Despite your earlier orgasms, it was quite a stretch. His girth was enough to get a punched-out groan from you as you took him all the way to the base. 

You steadied yourself on his chest and rode him slowly at first, getting used to the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open, then set a faster pace, angling your hips to take him deeper. 

“That’s it... bounce on my cock, good girl” he moaned, rolling his hips in time with your thrusts. 

You looked like a goddess, towering over him, brows knit together in pleasure and he couldn’t believe this was real. He half assumed this was a whiskey induced wet dream. 

One of his hands came up to pinch your nipples, and you squealed at the rough treatment, but it only made you wetter as you picked up the pace of your hips. 

His thumb went to circle your clit lazily and you whined, biting your lip at the added intensity of his stimulation on your puffy oversensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Jenson” you gasped. You could feel yourself nearing another orgasm, and he felt you tightening around him, so he wrapped a hand around your neck to pull you down for another kiss, and took the opportunity to thrust up into you. 

You swore loudly, seeing stars as you came around him while he jackhammered his cock into you, chasing his own high.  

You pushed yourself back up, leaning over him to turn his phone off before looking down at his satisfied, dopey smile. 

He came inside you with a low growl, bouncing you on his cock a couple more times before releasing his grip on your hip and neck in favour of cupping your face and deepening the kiss. 

Your body slumped over his, and you reveled in the absolutely filthy kiss he was giving you while one of his hands travelled to your ass and gave it a harsh squeeze.

“You cold?” you asked, trailing a finger through the sweat on his heaving chest. 

“Nope” he panted, grinning at you. 

“Up for round two?” you smirked devilishly. 

“Definitely” he smiled “Give me a minute though, I’m not in my twenties anymore”  

You giggled, finger trailing lower, along the bumps of his toned abs.  

“I don’t know... I think you’re pretty fit for an old man” you teased. 

“Please don’t call me old man when my cock is inside you”

... 

“Helloooo”  

The cheery voice of Ted Kravitz interrupted your thoughts while you were having breakfast the next day. 

“Hey Ted!” you greeted  “What’s up?”  

“In my life... not much. How about you? How’s it going with Jenson? Found any common ground yet?”  

In the beginning, back when Jenson didn’t speak to you much, you’d struck up a friendship with Ted, and told him about your worries. 

“Not much... I still don’t think he likes me very much, to be honest” you sighed. 

“Not really. We don’t see each other much outside of the paddock.” 

“Really? Nothing more than that?”

He looked at you with a knowing smile. You decided to play stupid. 

He snorted. 

“Riiiight.... so it wasn’t you two that I saw stumbling through the hallway last night with your hands down each other’s pants... guess it must’ve been somebody else, it was pretty dark, I suppose.”  

He smirked, getting up and plucking a donut off your plate.

You were forced to watch him strut off, and almost run into Jenson in the doorway.

Jenson said hello, but Ted just cackled and walked away.

"What was that about?" Jenson asked you, noting your terrified expression as your eyes stayed glued to the door.

"I think we have a problem"