#I love them so much y’all don’t under STAND

[msbigredmachine]

Finding Angel: 4

MASTERLIST

Elysian Motion Studios, Midtown Atlanta 

The sounds of sneakers squeaking on polished wood and a booming hip-hop beat fill the massive room. Naima stands at the front of the class, her reflection mirrored endlessly across the walls. The Saturday morning sunlight pours through wide windows, casting long golden streaks across the floor. Normally, this place is her sanctuary, a world apart from the glittering haze of Exotica. Today, though, her mind is elsewhere.

A few days have passed since her clash with Roman in the champagne room. The memory of it clings to her like stubborn smoke, curling into every corner of her thoughts no matter how hard she tries to focus. It’s not her first fight with a guy, but something about this one leaves a raw edge she can’t shake. They haven’t spoken since, and she is not comfortable with how much that bothers her.

“Five, six, seven, eight!” she calls out sharply, clapping her hands to the rhythm with more force than usual.

The students flinch slightly but keep moving. Teenagers with dreams of TikTok fame twirl and pop alongside a few moms laughing at themselves as they stumble through the choreography. A middle-aged man in the back concentrates furiously, determined not to trip over his own feet.

“Don’t overthink it!” Naima encourages, though her tone carries an unintentional bite. She walks through the group with a commanding presence, her movements sharper and more precise than usual. “Feel the beat in your chest, don’t fight it! Let it carry you!”

Phoenix, her teaching partner, leans casually against the mirrored wall, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on his face. His sweat-slick golden brown skin practically glows under the studio lights, and his clean-cut features look like they’ve been sculpted by a Renaissance artist. His usual charm is in full effect as he cracks jokes with the students.

“She’s intense today, ain’t she?” he jokes to a teenage boy trying to keep up.

“She scary, bruh,” the boy mutters, though his grin betrays his admiration.

Naima spins around, catching the exchange. “I heard that! And y’all gon’ thank me when y’all nail this routine.”

The group groans good-naturedly, but her students love her. She has a way of pushing them while making them feel seen, a balance that comes naturally. Today, though, her frustration simmers just below the surface.

After wrapping up the hip-hop session, the atmosphere in the studio shifts. The room clears out, leaving a smaller group of women changing into more form-fitting gear. This is Naima’s second class of the day: pole dancing.

She moves to the next room where the gleaming metal poles are situated, and ties her long natural curls into a high puff on top of her head, and sheds her loose t-shirt and sweatpants for a sleek sports bra and biker shorts. “Alright, ladies, let’s get to it,” she announces, kicking off her sneakers and slipping into her clear heels. “Pole isn’t just about strength. It’s about rhythm, confidence, and owning your space. So, let’s own it.”

Her moves are fluid as she demonstrates a spin and transitions into a graceful climb. The students watch, wide-eyed, some giggling nervously. Normally, she loves showing them what their bodies can do, even if they don’t believe it yet. Today, though, she feels a pang of impatience, like everything around her is moving in slow motion.

Phoenix, ever observant, notices her tension. “You good, Nai?” he asks, stepping closer to her after the pole class is over.

“I’m fine,” she replies quickly, her voice clipped.

Phoenix raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further. He’s known her long enough to steer clear when she’s in this mood. Instead, he takes his place near the camera, ready to film their choreographed routine for their dance studio’s social media handles, all named Elysian Moves.

Naima has been steadily growing her personal and professional Instagram and YouTube following for years, holding on to the hope that the right person might notice her one day, hopefully one of the top choreographers in the world. Sean Bankhead is her ultimate idol, but lately, she’s been inspired by Paris Goebel, whose cutting-edge choreography has made her a global powerhouse. Watching their work is a reminder of where Naima wants to be in the future.

“You ready to make us go viral, queen?” Phoenix teases as Naima adjusts the camera angle.

“You know I was born ready,” she says, though her smirk doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

They nail the routine, a fiery blend of hip-hop and jazz that showcases their creativity. Phoenix replays the footage afterwards, but Naima isn’t absorbing any of it. She should be focused, analyzing her movements, critiquing her form…but her mind keeps drifting.

To him.

To the sharp cut of his jawline, the heat in his gaze, the way he looked at her before everything went sideways. She should have moved the fuck on. But she hasn’t.

His deep voice echoes in her head, low and rough from their last conversation. She wonders if he’s thinking about her too.

Probably not.

Men like him don’t dwell. He’s likely moved on, flashing that easy smirk at someone else.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Phoenix’s voice is quieter now, careful.

Naima blinks, finally meeting his gaze. There’s something there, something warm, patient—more—but she doesn’t reach for it.

She never does.

“I know,” she says, but nothing more.

Instead, she hits play again, pretending she can drown Roman out.

Naima sits at the small kitchen table in her sister’s cozy home, absentmindedly stirring honey into her tea. The late afternoon sun streams through the window, casting a warm light over the space, but it does nothing to calm the storm raging inside her. 

Across from her, Adara leans back in her chair, arms crossed and watching her baby sister with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Adara has always been a steadying presence in Naima’s life. Twelve years older, she practically helped raise Naima with their aging parents. Strong, composed, and fiercely protective, Adara has weathered life’s storms with a quiet strength Naima has always admired. But now, sitting under the weight of her sister’s steady gaze, Naima feels like a teenager caught sneaking out past her curfew.

“So,” Adara prompts gently, her tone calm but firm. “You didn’t come all the way over here just to stare at your tea. What’s going on, Nai?”

Naima hesitates, her fingers tightening around the mug. “It’s…complicated.”

“With you, it usually is,” Adara laughs, leaning forward slightly. “But you’ve got that look, like something big’s happened. Start talkin’.”

Naima takes a deep breath, glancing toward the living room where Adara’s eleven-year-old son Julien’s laughter echoes as he watches wrestling clips on YouTube. Her nephew’s excitement makes this all feel even stranger. “Okay. So…there’s this guy…”

Adara raises an eyebrow, her expression neutral but attentive. “There’s always a guy when you show up like this.”

“No, this is different,” Naima interjects, setting her mug down. “He’s…he’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before. His name’s Roman.”

Adara tilts her head, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. “Roman, huh? He sounds handsome already.”

He’s beautiful. Naima sighs. “He is. He’s a wrestler. Like, a big deal wrestler.”

Adara blinks, clearly taken aback. “A wrestler? Like the ones on TV that Julien keeps yelling about?” she jerks her thumb in her son’s direction.

“Yes,” Naima laughs nervously. “Exactly like that. Julien probably knows who he is better than I do.”

Adara studies her for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And how did you meet this wrestler?”

Naima hesitates, shifting in her seat. “At Exotica.”

Adara’s lips press into a thin line, her expression unreadable. She doesn’t say anything, but the silence is loud.

Naima knows that look. Knows Adara has opinions about her line of work; the same ones she’s been biting back for years. But instead of voicing them, Adara simply waits, her gaze steady, expectant.

“He came in for a private dance,” Naima explains, her voice soft. “And we…clicked. It wasn’t like anything I’ve experienced before, Adara. The way he looked at me, the way he talked to me—it was like I wasn’t just some stripper to him.”

Adara’s expression softens slightly, though her brows remain furrowed. “Okay. And then what happened?”

Naima glances away, her cheeks burning. “I took him home. We…we slept together. And now it feels like it’s moving so fast. Two days ago he came back to Atlanta just to see me, and we had this big argument.”

Adara’s eyebrows shoot up. “An argument already? About what?”

Naima runs a hand through her straight strands of her wig, letting out a frustrated sigh. “He doesn’t like that I work at Exotica. He says it bothers him, that I deserve better. But he doesn’t understand. I need that job. It’s how I survive. It’s how I help you and Julien. And he has no right to tell me how to live my life just because we had sex.”

Adara leans back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “What exactly did he say?”

Naima recounts their argument in the champagne room, the way Roman’s protectiveness had veered into frustration, and how she’d thrown his possessiveness back in his face.

When she finishes, Adara lets out a long breath of her own, tapping her fingers lightly on the table. “Sounds like he’s used to getting his way.”

“Exactly,” Naima says, her voice sharp. “He walks in like he owns the place, like he owns everything he comes across. And from what I’ve seen, he does. But he don’t own me. I don’t give a damn how much money he got or how good he is in bed.”

Adara smirks. “That good, huh?”

“That’s not the point, Sissy,” Naima groans her sister's pet name, covering her face with her hands.

“Okay, okay,” Adara chuckles and holds up her hands in surrender. “Look. I get it. You’re independent, and you’ve worked your ass off to take care of yourself. But maybe this guy’s not trying to control you. Maybe he just doesn’t know how else to show he cares.”

Naima frowns, lowering her hands. “So what, I’m supposed to just let him bulldoze into my life and tell me what to do?”

“No,” Adara says firmly. “But maybe you don’t have to push him away either. You’ve been on your own for so long, it’s okay to let someone worry about you and care for you.”

Naima stares down at her tea, her mind racing. “It’s scary, Adara. Letting someone in like that…it’s overwhelming.”

Adara reaches across the table, taking Naima’s hand in hers. “I know, Nai-Nai. But you don’t have to figure it all out today. Take it one step at a time. And don’t let fear make your decisions for you.”

Before Naima can respond, Julien’s excited voice rings out from the living room. “Auntie Nai, did you say you know Roman Reigns?! The OTC himself?!”

Adara giggles softly as Naima’s head drops to the table. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

Despite herself, Naima manages a small smile, her heart feeling a little lighter. Maybe Adara is right. Maybe she doesn’t have to have all the answers right now.

The following days continue to be heavy with silence between Roman and Naima, each too stubborn to make the first move. Naima engrosses herself into her work, pushing through her sets and her classes with an intensity that leaves her physically exhausted but mentally distracted. Roman, back home in Miami, channels his frustration into grueling workouts and business calls, though his thoughts constantly drift to her; Her voice, her fire; the way she stood her ground. Both feeling slighted and frustrated by how things broke down between them so quickly.

But beneath their anger is a lingering ache, a pull that’s become too magnetic to resist.

Naima is in her apartment this evening, the quiet pressing in around her. She scrolls through her phone, her finger hesitating over Roman’s name in her contacts. Her chest tightens as she remembers his expression when she made him leave, how hurt he looked despite trying to mask it.

“Ugh,” she mutters, tossing the phone aside and burying her face in her hands. Why is he getting under her skin like this?

Meanwhile, the OTC stands on the balcony of his penthouse, the city lights glittering below him. His phone rests on the railing, Naima’s number already pulled up. He clenches his jaw, debating whether to call her. Part of him wants to maintain their distance, but the other part…the part that can’t stop replaying her words…feels like he needs to set things right.

Finally, Roman cracks. With a low, resigned growl, he grabs his phone and dials.

Naima’s phone buzzes on the couch, and she freezes at the sight of his name flashing on the screen. Her heart races as she picks it up, her thumb hovering over the answer button.

“Just answer it,” she whispers to herself, before finally swiping. “Hello?”

Roman’s deep voice comes through, steady but laced with tension. “Hey.”

She swallows hard. “Hey.”

There’s a long, tense pause, both of them struggling to find the right words.

“I don’t like how we left things,” he says finally, his voice quieter than she expects.

“Me neither,” she admits, her fingers gripping the phone tightly.

“I didn’t mean to come at you the way I did,” Roman continues. “I just…It irks me to see you in a place where people don’t treat you right and you’re in harm’s way.”

Though Naima’s heart softens a little, she still feels the need to defend herself. “I know you mean well. But this is my life, and I’ve been handling it on my own for a long time. I don’t need anyone stepping in and trying to fix me or whatever.”

“I’m not trying to fix you,” Roman says, his voice steady but softer than she expects. “I don’t think you’re broken. I just don’t like seeing you deal with shit you don’t deserve. And if I can make things easier for you, even a little, I want to.”

Naima swallows, his words catching her off guard. He barely knows me. Yet, there’s something about the way he says it—no pressure, no expectation—that makes her stomach twist.

“I don’t even know how to let you do that,” she admits. “We just met.”

“I know,” Roman nods. “That’s why there’s no rush. Just…don’t push me away before I even get the chance to be here for you.”

She exhales, blinking against the sudden sting in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t gotta say anything,” he tells her. “Just let me do the work.”

For a moment, she just sits with his words, turning them over in her mind. She isn’t used to this; someone wanting to stand beside her without trying to control her.

Naima nods, even though he can’t see her. “Okay.”

A small silence stretches between them, but this time, it’s not heavy. It feels more like a tentative truce.

“I’ll be back in Atlanta this weekend,” Roman says finally, his tone lighter. “Let me take you out.”

Naima smiles softly, the tension in her chest easing. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “I gotta go. But I’ll talk to you soon, baby girl.”

After they say their goodbyes, Naima sets her phone down and leans back against the couch, a strange sense of relief washing over her. 

The days that follow their conversation brings a quiet yet welcome shift. One of relief and excitement as their reunion inches closer and closer. Naima replays Roman’s sexy voice in her mind as she moves through her routines. At work, her sets have less of the frantic, escapist energy that consumed her just days ago. Instead, she finds herself slowing down, focusing on the movements she loves, and on the art of her dance rather than the hustle.

Roman feels lighter, though his days are no less busy. He powers through his matches and business meetings with renewed clarity, his mind no longer as clouded by frustration. The memory of their call—the vulnerability in Naima’s voice, the way she softened—keeps him grounded. He’s not quite sure where this will go, but for now, the fact that she is willing to let him in is enough.

Naima stands in front of the mirror in her bedroom, a pile of discarded outfits on her bed as she huffs in frustration. “Why does this feel like such a big deal?” she mutters to herself, nervously running her hands down the black dress clinging to her curves.

“Because it is a big deal,” Brandy pipes up behind her, brushing her daughter, Treasure’s hair. The little girl sits quietly, swinging her legs as her mother carefully smooths her hair.

Naima frowns at herself in the mirror. “It’s just a date. And we’ve hung out before.”

Brandy smirks knowingly. “Well, this is a date, date. With a fine ass man who got you actin’ like a teenager before prom,” she finishes, arching a brow. “And don’t even try to deny it.”

Naima rolls her eyes but can’t stop her face from flushing through her carefully done makeup. “I’m not actin’ like a teenager,” she mutters, fiddling with the hem of her dress. “I just…wanna look good, that’s all.”

Brandy lets out a soft laugh as she ties the final curl in Treasure’s hair with a bright pink bow. “Girl, you always look good. You stressin’ cuz this man got you feelin’ somethin’. And that’s okay.”

Treasure turns her wide eyes toward Naima, her little voice chiming in, “Is he a prince, Auntie Nai?”

Naima chuckles despite herself, crouching down to Treasure’s level. “Something like that, baby girl,” she says, unwilling to shatter the little girl’s illusion.

Brandy tilts her head, watching her BFF closely. They’ve known each other for five years, and she’s never seen her like this. “Close enough to make you nervous. This is new, Nai.”

Naima straightens up and shrugs, avoiding her gaze. “He’s just different, I guess.”

Brandy’s smirk deepens as she folds her arms. “Uh-huh. Different enough to have you raiding your closet like it’s life or death.”

“B…”

“I’m just saying! If he makes you nervous, that means you care. And if you care, maybe you should stop pretending it’s just a date.”

Naima sighs, brushing her long straight hair back from her face. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re in denial, but do you.” 

Naima’s heart thuds in her chest. She turns back to the mirror, taking a deep breath. “Just a date,” she whispers to herself again, though the fluttering in her stomach says otherwise. “Is this too much?”

Brandy tilts her head, studying the dress that shows off every curve she owns. “Absolutely not! It’s perfect. You’re going for classy but sexy, not trying-too-hard. Trust me.”

Treasure looks up at Naima and smiles shyly. “You look so pretty, Auntie Nai!”

Naima can’t help but laugh, warmth blooming in her chest. “Thank you, Treasure. You’re my little cheerleader tonight.”

Brandy sets the brush down and moves to stand behind Naima, smoothing down her sleeves. “Roman’s not gonna know what hit him. You look stunning!”

Naima meets her friend’s eyes in the mirror, her nerves clearly showing. “What if it’s awkward? After our fight…”

Brandy’s expression softens. “You two are fine, Naima. He flew back just to see you. He didn’t have to. This ain’t another patron lookin’ for another dance.”

Naima nods slowly, taking another deep breath. “You right. I just…I don’t know, I guess I’m a little scared.”

Brandy gives her a reassuring hug. “You’re allowed to be scared. Just don’t let it stop you. You got this.”

Treasure helps Naima put on her stilettos, beaming that she’s being helpful. “She’s gonna have the best date ever!” 

Naima laughs, scooping the seven-year-old up into a hug. “You’re my good luck charm, huh?”

The sound of a knock at the door freezes her. Her heart races as she sets Treasure down and looks at Brandy with wide eyes. “That’s him.”

Brandy gives her a little shove toward the door. “Go. We’ll finish cleaning up here. And relax, you’ve got this.”

The distance from her room to the front door feels longer than it should. Naima opens the door to find Roman standing there, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever in a fitted dark suit and a crisp black shirt, a bouquet of white roses in his hands. His long hair is neatly tied back, and his usual confidence radiates from him, though there is a softness in his expression when his eyes meet hers.

“Hi,” she says, her voice soft and shy.

“Hi,” he replies, stepping forward and pulling her into a big hug. 

Naima sinks into his embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. They stand there for a long moment, neither of them speaking, just holding each other. The tension from their last conversation seems to melt away, replaced by something warm and unspoken.

Roman finally pulls back just enough to look down at her. “You look incredible,” he gushes, handing the bouquet to her.

“Thank you,” she responds, her cheeks flushing. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckles, his hand lingering on the small of her back. “I wanted tonight to be special. To show you…well, that I mean what I said before. I’m here, Naima. For you.”

Her throat tightens, emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “I know. I’m sorry if I—”

“Hey.” Roman cuts her off with a gentle finger on her lips. “Let’s just enjoy tonight, okay?”

Naima nods, her nerves easing just a little. “Okay.”

Brandy materializes seemingly out of thin air, rushing over to gently relieve Naima of the roses. “I’ll put these in a vase for you,” she says, grinning. “Y’all look like a magazine cover. Go have fun, lovebirds.”

Naima rolls her eyes, laughing softly, while Roman chuckles and gives Brandy a polite nod. “Thanks for helping her out.”

“Anytime, big man,” Brandy says, winking.

As Roman leads Naima out to his Bentley, the warmth of his hand in hers reassures her. She is almost floating on air. The ride is comfortable, both basking in each other’s presence and aura. They eventually pull up to Marcel, an upscale restaurant that Naima never looked at twice because of its sheer opulence. 

“Roman,” she says, her voice a mix of awe and uncertainty, “This is…a lot.”

He parks and turns to her, his expression serious. “Only the best for you, beautiful.”

Her breath hitches at the intensity of his words, but before she can respond, he’s already out of the car and opening her door. He offers his hand, which she takes, feeling a spark as his fingers thread through hers. 

The restaurant is a dream. Its dim lighting, elegant leather banquettes, and vintage décor exude a timeless sophistication that makes every guest feel like a VIP. Naima orders a delicate seafood linguine, the pasta glistening in a light white wine and garlic sauce, topped with fresh shrimp and scallops. Roman opts for a perfectly cooked filet mignon, paired with truffle mashed potatoes and roasted asparagus, the plate a balance of sophistication and hearty flavor. Roman orders her favorite wine without needing to ask. 

The evening passes in a blur of soft laughter, meaningful glances, and the kind of conversation that makes time feel irrelevant. When he later asks about Brandy and her presence at Naima’s apartment, she feeds his curiosity.

“She seems like she’s got your back, “Roman comments, cutting into his steak. “That’s rare in your world, I bet.”

Naima giggles softly, sipping her wine. “Rare don’t even begin to cover it. She’s a badass. She’s been through so much, but she’s so positive. Her daughter, Treasure, she’s adorable. Seven going on seventeen. Keeps Brandy on her toes.”

Roman smirks. “Sounds like a beautiful relationship.”

“It is.” Naima smiles fondly, setting her glass down. “It makes me think of Adara sometimes. She’s always been that steady presence in my life, even when things got tough.”

Roman leans back in his chair, recollecting. “Adara…Your sister, right?”

Naima nods, looking thoughtful. “Mm-hmm. She’s twelve years older than me, so she was more like a second mom growing up. She’s raised her son, Julien, practically on her own. He’s eleven now and—” Her face lights up, “he’s a big wrestling fan. Like, huge. That’s why you looked familiar when I first saw you in Exotica.”

Roman chuckles, his dimples showing. “Yeah? Who's his favorite?”

She raises a teasing eyebrow. “Who do you think?”

He smirks, tapping his chest. “The Tribal Chief, of course.”

“Of course,” Naima laughs, the sound light and musical. “I think you’d like him,” she puts out there, her eyes softening. “You might already be his hero.”

Roman grins. “Well, I’d better meet him soon, then. Can’t let the kid down.”

Her heart swells at his easy confidence, at the way he doesn’t shy away from the idea of meeting her family.

Not too fast now, Naima.

“You’ve got this…presence,” she observes after the waiter he summoned walks away, swirling her glass of wine. “Like, you walk into a room, and everyone just knows you’re in charge.”

Roman leans back in his chair, an air of pride in his demeanor. “It’s useful. But it’s not just about being in charge. It’s about making sure the people I care about are good.” His gaze softens as he looks at her. “That includes you.”

Her heart flutters, and she boldly reaches across the table to take his hand. “You make it hard to keep my guard up, you know that?”

He chuckles, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Good. You don’t need it with me. I gotchu, baby.”

The silence between them is thick, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. Naima breaks it first, a slow, knowing smile tugging at her lips as she tilts her head and teases, “You call me ‘baby’ a lot. What’s that about, huh?”

Roman’s eyes darken, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that sends a slow heat curling through her belly. His voice drops lower, rougher, as he leans in just enough to make her breath hitch. His lips curve, full of promise, full of possession. “Because when I say it, you look at me like you did the night we met…Like you wanna be mine.”

A spark of electricity shoots through her, a rush of heat flooding between her thighs. The way he says it, with that quiet confidence, that raw certainty, makes her pulse stutter. Any other man saying something like that would have made her roll her eyes, maybe even walk away. But him? The way he owns it, the way he owns her in that moment, keeps her rooted in place, breathless.

She forces herself to hold his gaze, to push back against the intoxicating pull of him. Her lips part, and she murmurs, a teasing edge laced in her breathless words, “You’re awful cocky for someone who’s still earning it.”

Roman’s smirk deepens, a slow, wicked curve that makes her toes curl in her stilettos. “It ain’t cocky when you back that shit up. I do, every single time. I know what I want. And I want you, Naima. Period.”

Her chest tightens, a thrill sparking in her veins as she realizes just how serious he is. She bites her lip, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but her inner voice betrays her, a single, undeniable word echoing in her thoughts.

Damn.

The night ends with Roman leading her back to the car, his arm around her slender waist. They don’t speak much on the drive home, but the silence between them feels warm and easy, like they don’t need words.

As he walks her to her door, the tension between them crackles like static in the charged air. She turns to him, their eyes locking in the dim light of the hallway. 

“Thanks. For dinner. For…everything,” she says.

Roman steps closer, his fingers brushing her chin. “Thanks for giving me a chance, baby girl,” he replies, his voice low and steady. “I meant what I said. I’m here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

She looks up at him, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes. Slowly, she steps closer, her hand resting on his bicep.

“I think I’m starting to believe you,” she whispers.

Roman’s smile is soft but firm. “Good. Cuz like I said, I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he murmurs, his tone carrying a weight that quickens her pulse.

It accelerates even more as she finds herself leaning up, her lips brushing against his in a tender, teasing kiss. But the softness doesn’t last. The kiss deepens quickly, their restraint dissolving as desire takes over. His hands slide to her waist, pulling her flush against him. Naima’s fingers curl into his shirt, holding on like she’s afraid to let go. The hours spent pretending to be patient have finally unraveled.

She fumbles with the door, barely managing to push it open before they stumble inside, lips never breaking contact. Roman presses her back against the wall, his hands gripping her hips firmly, grinding himself against her and making her gasp into his mouth.

She feels one hand leave her body, reaching into his pocket to pull out a condom. Naima’s lips curve into a teasing smile, even as her breaths come fast and shallow.

“You came prepared this time,” she observes, her voice laced with amusement.

Roman blushes, a rare flicker of boyishness breaking through his usual confidence. “I was hopeful,” he admits, tearing open the wrapper with swift precision.

“Thank God,” she gasps, hiking her dress up to her waist and ridding herself of her thong while he manages to put on the condom, lifting her fully against the wall in one fluid motion.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Roman mutters against her skin as he pushes inside her, his lips trailing down her neck.

Naima moans out loud, her fingers tangling in his hair as he grips her bare ass. “I do,” she says breathlessly, her voice shaking, “Cuz you do the same to me.” 

The next moments are a blur of heat and intensity, making her dizzy with desire. His thrusts are deep, raw and desperate, his hunger for her taking over. Naima’s moans of pleasure echo around the apartment, her head tipped back against the wall as she clings to him, every nerve in her body ignited by his touch. The way he holds her, kisses her, fucks her…It’s exactly what she needs, a release from all the tension and uncertainty that’s been building between them.

But Roman isn’t finished. Even as they catch their breath, his hands stay on her, possessive and firm as he carries her to the kitchen, setting her on the counter with a controlled urgency that sends a thrill through her.

“This fuckin’ dress,” he says, his voice gravelly as his paws for hands skim her thighs, pushing the fabric higher. “Drove me crazy all night.”

Naima lets out a shaky laugh, her eyes half-lidded with desire. “Good. That was the point,” she teases, her voice unsteady.

Roman’s response is to capture her lips again, silencing any further words. Their remaining clothes disappear, leaving nothing between them. He takes her right there on the counter, and Naima surrenders completely. She loves how he takes charge, the way he doesn’t hold back. He’s deep and hard, rough and unrelenting, leaving her gasping, trembling, desperate for more. Every touch, every kiss, every stroke makes her feel alive, desired, and utterly his.

“Roman,” she gasps, her nails raking down his bare back. She can feel his dick all the way in her, right up against her g-spot, and she's seeing stars. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promises, his voice rough with emotion, his hands gripping her as though he never wants to let go.

Finally, Roman gathers her into his arms, cradling her limp body as he carries her to her bedroom. The urgency of before fades, giving way to something slower, something gentler. He lays her down with a tenderness that makes her chest tighten, his warm gaze sweeping over her. He brushes a stray curl from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek.

“I’m sorry. About last time,” he murmurs, the weight of it heavy in the quiet room.

Naima’s lips curve into a soft, knowing smile. “I’m sorry, too.” She hesitates, searching his eyes. “I didn’t mean to push you away…I just…” She exhales, her fingers tracing the solid lines of his forearm. “I don’t open up to people like this. Not this fast.”

He studies her for a moment, then leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. “I get it. It’s the same with me,” he whispers. “But I don’t wanna fight with you, Naima. I just want you.”

Her hand slides up to his face, fingertips grazing the sharp edge of his jaw. When he turns into her touch, nuzzling his cheek into her palm, something in her chest shatters.

“I want you, too.”

When he enters her this time, it’s unhurried, deliberate. His thrusts are deeper, slower, each movement steeped in need and reverence. His body is heavy against hers in the most delicious way, his lips mapping a path along her jaw, down the column of her throat. Naima clings to him, her nails raking down his back, gripping the firm muscle of his ass, pulling that long, thick dick of his even deeper inside her. Roman groans, burying his face in her neck, murmuring his pleasure like a sacred mantra.

Then she shifts, rolling them over until she’s on top. He exhales a ragged curse as she sinks back down onto him, her pussy incredibly swallowing him whole. The stretch, the fullness…it steals her breath, makes her head fall back as she rides him, her pace measured and devastating.

“Holy shit,” Roman grits out, hands gripping her hips, her ass, anywhere he can hold onto. He meets her movements, pushing deeper, dragging his palms over her skin like he can’t get enough. “Baby, you feel too fuckin’ good.”

Naima’s thighs are already trembling, her hands pressing to his chest as she leans forward, her lips crashing onto his in a hungry kiss. “You’re so deep,” she gasps, voice barely above a breath.

And yet, he wants to be deeper. Needs to be. Roman groans again, his grip on her ass tightening, hips snapping up to meet hers, reveling in her moans and whimpers. He’s lost in her, and she’s just as lost in him.

The pleasure builds between them, sharp and undeniable, a tension coiling in their bodies, ready to snap. Naima shudders first, her nails digging into his chest as a whimpering cry rips from her throat, her walls clenching tight around him. Roman curses, his grip bruising as he thrusts up hard, once, twice, before his own release crashes over him like a wave, stealing his breath. His head tips back, a groan rumbling deep in his chest as he comes hard, his entire body tensing beneath her before finally going slack.

She collapses against him, spent, her beautiful body quivering in the aftershocks. Roman wraps his arms around her, holding her close, anchoring her to him as their breathing slowly evens out. They lie tangled together, bodies slick with sweat, breaths still uneven. Roman’s hand rests on her plump backside, gently, lazily squeezing, like he needs to keep touching her. Naima presses her cheek to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and for a long moment, neither of them speaks. 

They only met a couple of weeks ago, but somehow, it already feels like more. Like they’ve stepped into something neither of them are ready for, something neither of them can ignore. It was supposed to be just desire, just physical, but the way he holds her, the way she melts into him, makes it clear that this is already more than either of them ever expected.

Thoughts? Business is about to pick up 😈

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[marbit-enthusiast]

I’m never not thinking about this scene

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Ballad of Lost Souls

Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader

Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say

Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome

WC: 5.7K I’m sorry

Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.

You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here. 

You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.

Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in. 

You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful. 

Eric remembered that. 

The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.

Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.

The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.

You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name. 

Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares. 

Shit, were you supposed to say something? 

You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face. 

Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him. 

~~~

You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it. 

He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.

“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.

“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.” 

You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.

“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets. 

“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.

Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder. 

“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”

You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head. 

“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.

“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.

He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”

You smiled. 

~~~~~~

“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.

You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.

“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room. 

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.

“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.

“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.

“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.

“Yeah, so?”

You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.

“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.

Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.

“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.

He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes. 

Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.

“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”

“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”

“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.

“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.

“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.

“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.

Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better. 

You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.

His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his. 

“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.” 

He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.

You could not wait to see him again.

~~~~~~

“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.

You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.

“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you. 

“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.

Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours. 

You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit. 

“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot. 

Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you. 

“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face. 

With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.

“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm. 

“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left. 

“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.

“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.

“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”

You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.

~~~~~

The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.

“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.

“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass. 

“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.

“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.” 

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.

“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.

“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.��

You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck. 

“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”

“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”

“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.” 

His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.

“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.

“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days. 

Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.

His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big. 

“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.

“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.

“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.

“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” 

You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.

“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.” 

You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul. 

“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”

“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.” 

Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak. 

“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down. 

Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself. 

Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.

“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.” 

You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.

“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”

“Yeah, forever.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: The Hideout 2.0

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: escaping to the safe haven of the scissor sisters once again

🏷️: @yailtsv , @sitawita , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld

It happens again. A week later to be exact.

Paige and KK are on TikTok Live, and once again, they’re loud.

I love them both, I really do. But between the overlapping voices, the sudden bursts of laughter, and the chaotic vocal stimming, my head starts feeling like it’s in a pressure cooker. It’s not even their fault—it’s just how they are together.

Instead of letting myself crash, I do what I always do: I slip my phone out of my pocket and text Carol.

Me: Coming to your room again

Carol’s response comes instantly.

Carol: Got The Vampire Diaries queued up. Door’s open.

I smile to myself. That’s why she’s my favorite.

Standing up, I move toward Paige, who’s too caught up in whatever nonsense she and KK are on to notice right away. I tap her arm, and she turns her attention to me with a curious expression.

“What’s up, babe?”

“I need a break,” I say softly, leaning in to give her a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll be back later, or I’ll be sleeping.”

She barely has time to react before I slip out the door.

⸻

Carol’s bed is already warm when I crawl in beside her.

Azzi, still working on her classwork, glances up from her laptop. “You on the run again?”

I nod, getting comfortable under the blanket. “I kissed Paige and dipped.”

Carol snorts. “Smooth.”

Azzi chuckles, shaking her head before turning back to her accountant assignment that she swore she was gonna burn.

Carol presses play on The Vampire Diaries, and I instantly feel myself relaxing. It’s become our little routine at this point. My quiet escape.

But while I’m finally unwinding, things on Paige’s Live are… not so quiet.

⸻

Paige doesn’t pay much attention to the comments at first. She’s too busy laughing at something KK said, completely unbothered. But then she notices a repeating question.

Why does Y/N keep leaving the Live and never coming back?

She ignores it at first. But then another comment pops up.

She was texting someone right before she left…

Paige’s brows furrow slightly.

Then comes the kicker.

She’s probably cheating.

That makes her stop mid-laugh. KK, noticing the shift in energy, nudges her. “What’s up?”

Paige exhales sharply, reading the comments again.

She shakes her head, unamused. “Alright, let’s shut this down real quick.”

KK raises an eyebrow but lets Paige talk.

“For everyone saying Y/N is ‘cheating’ or whatever dumb theory y’all are coming up with—shut up.” Her tone is firm, unwavering. “She was texting Caroline, telling her she was going to her room. Because, I dunno, maybe I’m loud as hell and she needs some peace?”

KK nods dramatically. “Yeah, we are pretty loud.”

Paige huffs, clearly annoyed. “Y/N gets overwhelmed easy, and instead of suffering through me and KK being obnoxious, or ruin our fun as she states it, she goes to Carol’s room to chill. That’s it. No cheating, no weird drama, just her needing quiet. Y’all gotta stop jumping to conclusions.”

The chat quiets for a moment before some fans start defending me, calling out the ones spreading rumors.

Satisfied, Paige ends the Live.

Then she gets up.

She’s not letting me hide out this time.

⸻

I don’t hear Paige coming.

I’m too comfortable, curled up with Carol under the blanket, half-watching the episode. Azzi is still at her desk, finishing up her exam, completely unbothered.

Then the door swings open.

Carol and I both look up just in time to see Paige stepping inside with a determined expression.

Before I can react, she’s at the bed, reaching down and—

“Paige—what the—”

She lifts me. Bridal style.

I yelp, grabbing onto her instinctively. “Girl, put me down!”

She ignores me, turning back toward the door. “Nope. You’re coming with me.”

Carol snickers. “Damn, guess our throuple honeymoon phase is over.”

Azzi, without looking up, mutters, “Justice for our wife, Y/N.”

Paige ignores them, carrying me effortlessly down the hall.

Carol calls out when Paige and I are half way to her room, “The scissor sisters will avenge you, we promise.”

I squirm, but she tightens her hold. “Relax, babe. I got you.”

“You could’ve just asked me to come back.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t like waking up alone last time. So I just stole you, simple.”

I stop squirming at that.

Paige sighs, adjusting her grip. “I don’t care if you need space, but you don’t have to run away every time. Just tell me, and I’ll chill out.”

I glance up at her, feeling a little guilty. “I didn’t want to ruin your fun.”

Paige scoffs, finally stepping into her room. “Babe, I’d rather you tell me than disappear.”

She sets me down gently on her bed before climbing in beside me.

I let out a small sigh, settling into her warmth. “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Just talk to me next time.”

I nod, snuggling closer.

KK walks past the open door, peeking in with a smirk. “Damn, you really kidnapped her.”

Paige flips her off. “Mind your business.”

I laugh, finally feeling at ease.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter two. begging and begging

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pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 2.5k

warnings ⇢ curse words, yn overthinking and panicking like usual, second hand embarrassment (i had to stop and pace for a second but that’s me idk), a glimpse of daddy issues y’all its ingrained in me

authors note ⇢ hey……….. i personally am loving this story and hope you are too! i’ve compiled a bit of a taglist but i am very bad at keeping track or forgetting to add to my list so if you aren’t being tagged despite asking that of me, please remind me, preferably through private messaging since the comments can get kinda muddled to me 😭

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Logically, you know you’re not into JJ. He’s cute and funny, sure. But he’s no Jonah. Yet, his message made you nervous. Beyond nervous. You’ve never had any guy speak to you in such a flirty way. Or, send a text like that. You were used to pity compliments from other girls who felt it was their duty as girls who support other girls. So when you sneak out through your window frame and meet his eyes as he stands down on the grass with Kie and Sarah, you play it off as just being nervous. Which you are.

You’ve been at this for five minutes. The girls and JJ are trying to coax you into just coming down. But the distance looks insane from where you sit.

“I’m gonna die!” You whisper-yell down to them. They’re looking up at you with expectant looks, urging you to hop down.

“You’re not gonna die.” Kiara rolls her eyes but you can’t care for any of that as you take another peek down and scare yourself some more.

“My bones are going to shatter.”

“That sounds pretty cool, actually.” Sarah sends a smack to JJ’s chest, wanting him to shut up.

She looks up at you sweetly. “It’s really not a big drop, just put your hands out and jump. Trust, it’s easy.”

You slip down the steep roof part near your window and you let out a little yelp. Immediately, JJ gets to his feet and rushes to where you could possibly land and holds his arms out. This makes a bigger wave of embarrassment flush through you. He’s not the buffest and you’re sure you’re twice his size. To have him stumble and unable to catch you would ruin you. You’d beg your mother to let you go and live with your aunts back in California and never show your face in any Carolina. It’d be too risky to go to either.

The girls are yelling out to you. Something about being careful. That not being prepared for the jump will hurt. You’re panicking. Yelling out to them that you get it. JJ’s promising that he’ll catch you. Too much is going on at once.

“Your mother isn’t home.” The new voice breaks your chatter. The girls and JJ look up at you with wide eyes. You glance over from your window to another to see your step-father peeking his head out at the group and you. “You can just go out the front door.”

Kiara and JJ share a look as Sarah laughs. Your eyebrows furrow at his words. “You’re… you’re okay with this?”

He sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. “No. But you’re going to do it either way. I did a lot worse at your age than you’re doing now. Just… if your mom finds out, I didn’t know about any of this. Seriously, kid, I’ll throw you under the bus without a care.”

“Yo, your dads cool.”

“Step-dad.” You correct JJ. Usually, your mother would scold you for such a thing. There’s no step in a family, she would tell you. But it felt like a betrayal to your real father. You glance over at Anthony just in time to see a flicker of something pass through him.

He shrugs it off though, tapping the windowsill. “Just go through the front door before you break something.”

“Will—“ but you yell as you start slipping off the roof. The girls yell. JJ yells. You land in a thud, JJ’s arms wrapped around you as two tumble to the ground.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Anthony calls from the windowsill. When he gets no response, he waves his arm. “You’re fine. Don’t do drugs.” And he shuts the window.

You’re on your back now, looking up at the night sky. “Is she dead?” You hear Sarah ask.

“I wish I was.” You answer with a huff, your knees aching.

“Told you I’d catch you.” JJ hums with a smirk as he gets up off the floor, dusting off his cargo shorts and holding a hand out to you. “Come on. Pope’s drunk and you’re missing it.”

—

You’d never been to the boneyard before. Not to party, at least. Whenever there was a get together, a bonfire or a party, Scarlett would ask you to come with but you’d always say no. At some point, she stopped asking and you’d find out through Instagram that she was out with her cooler friends.

The bonfire is lit. There are people all over. People you’ve passed by all your years in Kildare but have never spoken to you. You felt the same towards the group you’re with but now… now they’re talking to you and laughing with you like they’ve all known each other for years.

You also never knew that Kook’s and Pogue’s could ever get along. But apparently they can when you’ve had a few cold ones. You’re sitting on a log with JJ on one side and John B on the other. Sarah’s sitting on John B’s lap, and you side eye it for a second, realizing that she and Topper really are done. You pay no mind to it afterwards and keep leaning up against JJ as he dramatically tells a story about his last time surfing, which was this morning, the kid living and breathing the sport.

Your eyes skim the grounds and your eyes immediately fall onto Rafe who’s standing around with his friends, beer at hand. Whatever his friends are saying is amusing him because he’s letting out a laugh, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes like he can’t believe it.

“She’s a pogue now.” JJ pulls you back into the group as he boasts about you. “Beat that Harlet girl.”

“Scarlett.” Sarah corrects the drunken guy.

“Whatever her name is. Can I say the b word?” He asks Kiara who shrugs lamely, taking a sip of her beer. “to beating bitches up!”

“JJ, why would you say that?”

“You just gave me permission!” He scoffs and turns back to you, hands squishing your cheeks and making you pucker up. “Look at that sexy shiner.”

You try to pull away from him with a laugh. If it were anyone else, the constant need to be touching you and being flirty would overwhelm you. But you’ve come to realize that he’s just an affectionate and flirtatious person. Plus, it’s very clear that he has his sights set on Kiara, with the longing looks he constantly sends her way.

“To my girlfriend!” JJ hollers far too loudly for your liking, eyes wide as you look at him, as he’s now dramatically standing on the log you were sitting on.

“N-not! Not his girlfriend!” You grab his hand and try to drag him to take a seat but he’s apparently a goddamn bulldozer when drunk.

Cleo and Pope are tending to the drunken guy when you find the chance to slip away. Luckily, you had brought yourself a sweater so walking down the shoreline at one in the morning isn’t the worst part of your night. It’s calm and cool now, the sound of chattering and music now becoming a distant noise, giving you the solace and warmth you need.

The path you’re on now is one you walked down with Scarlett by your side many times. It was never this late of course, always at a decent time with her dog on a leash before letting him run wild. You’d talk for hours. Despite the tension often felt from her remarks, you had a pleasant time. More than pleasant. Fun even. She’s a bad person. A mean person. A bully. But when it was just the two of you, she was just a girl. A girl with you. And you hate how easily she could have betrayed you.

A motion in the corner of your eye startles you out of your reminiscing thoughts. You see a figure rush between the trees and take notice of who it is. Rafe. If you were in a cartoon, you’d imagine a lightbulb drawn at the top of your head lit brightly. This was your shot. Your time to beg and beg until he agreed to take you under his wing.

With a small skip to your step, you follow after Rafe in between the few trees on the beach. You lose sight of him for a second before you spot him again. His back is facing you but what concerns you is how he’s kneeling to the ground. Carefully, you start approaching him.

“Hey,” you gently reach out and tap his shoulder. This startles him. And before you know it, you feel a thousand grains of sand in your eyes. You yell, hands immediately covering your eyes. “Oh my god! What the fuck?! What the fuck?!”

“Holy shit!” You hear him yell. The two of you are yelling now. You don't think you’ve ever heard such a big and tough man like him yell in the way he does. So high pitched. Or maybe that’s just you. But you’re in too much pain to pay any attention. “Why would you fucking creep up on me?!”

“I thought you weren’t okay!”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?!”

“Cause you were kneeling on the floor like a freak!”

“How does that make me a—“

“I think I'm going blind! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” You can’t help but cry out, unable to open your eyes fully because of the sand in them. “Why the fuck would you throw sand in my eyes?!”

“I thought I was being attacked!”

“I only touched your shoulder! Do you think an attacker would lightly tap your shoulder to attack you?! Take me to the hospital!” You’re screeching. You know this. But you can’t open your eyes and this means to panic. Or at least, it is to you.

He sighs, calming down. Or not. You can’t see anything, eyes shut tight. The way the sand grains feel in your eyes only drives you even deeper into a panic. “You don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Then the eye doctor!”

“It’s one in the morning.”

“Oh my god, I’m never gonna see anything ever again! Do you know how much I like to see things?!”

“I’m assuming a lot?”

“A lot! Oh my—“

“Stop saying ‘oh my god’. Fuck, do you have any other phrase?”

You scoff, eyes still covering your eyes which wouldn’t be able to open either way. “Just help me!”

“Fuck, fine! I’ll help you!” You jump when his hand grabs your wrist, tugging one of your hands off of your face. You figured he would tug and drag you behind him but you’re pleasantly surprised that he’s carefully guiding you through the thick trees and what seems to be back to the boneyard. When your feet hit asphalt, you’re sure you’re in the parking lot, taking you to his truck.

“Just… stay here.” He advises you as your back presses up against the cold touch of a vehicle. You heard a car door click open, some scrounging, the door shuts and he’s back in front of you. You’re not sure what he’s doing as he stands across from you, eyes still shut tight. It’s quiet for a moment except for the sound of distant waves crashing.

“Hello?” You reach out shakily, unsure of where exactly he is. Your hand meets his face in a light smack and he pushes your hand off.

“Get off of me.”

“What the fuck are you doing just standing there? Help me!”

You hear him sigh heavily, the sound of his shoes on asphalt. You aren’t sure what you were expecting but his hand taking a hold of your face, big hand sprawled over your chin and onto your cheeks, puckering your lips out softly isn’t it. It’s oddly tender for a man who’s supposed to be abrasive. “I’m gonna need you to open your eyes for a second. Gonna flush ‘em out with water, alright?”

You have no words, you simply nod gently, opening your slightly burning eyes for him to flush them out. It takes a few gushes of water for your eyes to no longer feel grainy. The sleeve of your sweater is rubbing at your eyes tirelessly, the stinging unbearable. His hand grabs your wrist, pulling you away from your eyes again. “Stop doing that. It’s going to worsen it.”

You glare at him. The blurry version of him from how teary and red your eyes are. “It wouldn’t be bad in the first place if—“

“If you didn’t sneak up on me like a stalker.” His harsh words don’t deter you. His tone would have last week but not anymore. Normally, you'd feel a flutter of embarrassment or shame but after all that's happened in the past 48 hours, you can't find it in you to care.

“A stalker?! God, I just wanted to talk to you. You were kneeling over on the ground like you found a dead fucking puppy. Forgive me for wanting to check up on you.”

“This is a good lesson for you, kid—“

“Kid? Seriously?”

“A lesson to mind your own every now and then.”

You scoff but have no retort to throw back, tired and stinging eyes taking him in. His face is strong as usual, little to no emotion shown in them, even with the ridiculous sight of your extremely reddened eyes and roughed up face, he shows nothing. You wonder why he is the way he is for a second before snapping back into reality. “You owe me for this.”

“Is this that “make you hot“ bullshit?” He snorts out what you think is a laugh. But he would never so you can’t find it in you to stew over it.

“Yeah and wh—“

“I’m not making you hot.”

“Ugh, please! Look, I really need this! And you almost blinded me so you have to.”

“I don’t have to do shit. You put your nose in someone else’s business, that’s what leads to sand in your eyes.”

“Yeah, but—“ you try again but he easily shuts you up by putting a single hand up, palm to your face. A look of amusement flashes through his eyes when he realizes it actually worked and you’re too worked up to fight back. You’re about to speak and he’s about to decline and fight you again when another voice speaks up.

“Yo, fight club!” John B calls out to you, a sleeping Sarah on his back. Beside him, Pope and Cleo are placating a tearful JJ as he hangs off their shoulders between the two of them. Kiara is wearing a random hat that reads ‘Fish Fear Me’, probably stolen by JJ and now a trophy for her. “We’re leaving.”

You turn to speak to Rafe but he’s already gotten into his truck and with a loud sigh of defeat, you walk over to your new group of friends. Kiara brings her arm over your shoulder easily, putting the hat she had on top of your head with a bright smile. They’re talking about god knows what as your eyes turn back to Rafe’s truck one last time. And you’re not sure if you’re making it up but you swear your eyes meet through the slide glass before he drives off.

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taglist. @pinkyqily @chalahyung01 @lunalvrsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @jayjsbaby @yawnzshit @mytimeiswaiting @tsshifting @always-reading @chimchimjiminie16 @ayy1234567 (if your name is red, im not able to tag you and im not sure why, sorry!!)

[olive-main]

Hi hi! Ive just stumbled across your writing and i adore it so much! You capture Azriel so perfectly!! I don't really have much of a specific request in mind (but trust me, I'll think of one and come back if that's okay??) But could I ask for something with our Az and a super strong, independent, sarcastic reader. I just love the idea of totally smitten Azriel and just all the fluff. I'm so sorry this is so vague but

Happy holidays!!

No Damsels Here

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A fiesty Valkyrie with a sharp wit and the brooding Shadowsinger find their lives slowly intertwined through training, quiet moments, and unexpected gestures, leading them to realize there may be a growing connection they can no longer ignore.

Wc: 2.7k

A/N: Ok be honest, did you hack into my account and read my drafts bcs….I had just the fic for this request rotting for far too long. I hope you enjoy, it’s not my fav since I think my writing is better now hence why it’s been in my drafts lol and it’s like semi proofread—BUT thanks to this request y’all get more fluff. Everyone say thank you! :b

Masterlist

——

The morning air is cool and sharp, biting at your skin as you jog toward the training ring, late as usual. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, its rays barely spilling over the horizon, but Nesta is already there stretching, as she is every morning. Ever the Valkyrie.

“You’re late,” she remarks as you step onto the mat beside her.

“Fashionably late,” you correct, tying your hair back. “Besides, I needed an extra five minutes of sleep. Someone decided to keep me up last night with her endless talking about smutty romance novels.”

Nesta doesn’t bother to hide her smirk. “Don’t act as if you’re not interested in my books.”

Before you can retort, Cassian’s booming voice cuts through the quiet. “Alright, enough about your romance book things. You’re here to train, not gossip.”

You glance over the training grounds, your eyes instinctively flicking toward the familiar figure standing on the far edge of the ring. Azriel is adjusting the strap of his leathers, his wings half-furled behind him as he surveys the weapons laid out with his usual quiet focus.

Nesta catches the direction of your gaze and nudges you with her elbow. “Still brooding, isn’t he?”

“He’s not brooding,” you reply, a little too defensively. “He’s… serious.”

Nesta gives you a knowing look but doesn’t press further as Cassian begins pairing everyone off for sparring.

“Y/N,” Cassian calls, grinning wickedly. “You’re with Azriel today.”

You blink, trying not to focus on how your heart jumped. Across the ring, Azriel’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you see the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

—

Sparring with Azriel is both exhilarating and frustrating. He’s fast—almost impossibly so—and he moves with a precision that leaves no openings. You’re strong and quick on your feet, but against Azriel, every strike feels like a gamble.

“You’re hesitating,” he murmurs, dodging your swing with ease.

“I’m calculating,” you snap back, twisting to block his next move.

His lips twitch, the faintest ghost of a smile. “You’re thinking too much.”

“And you’re talking too much,” you retort, aiming a strike at his side.

He blocks it effortlessly, his wings shifting slightly as he steps into your space. For a moment, you’re close enough to catch the faint scent of cedar and something darker, something so distinctly him.

“Focus,” he says, his voice low and even, and you can’t help the way your pulse quickens.

But you don’t let him see that. Instead, you smirk and lunge to the left before sweeping his legs out from under him. He lands on his back with a soft thud, his wings flaring slightly to cushion the fall.

“Gotcha,” you say, planting your hands on your hips.

Azriel props himself up on one elbow, looking up at you with an expression that’s almost impressed. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” you echo, laughing. “That was a textbook takedown.”

From across the ring, Cassian claps his hands. “That’s my girl! Show him who’s boss, Y/N!”

You smile proudly at Cassian, bowing exaggeratedly before turning back to Azriel with a proud smirk.

“Again?” he asks, his tone calm but with a flicker of challenge in his eyes.

“Obviously,” you reply, and the sparring begins anew.

—

You’re sitting on the edge of the ring after the session, toweling the sweat from your face as the others disperse. Nesta sits beside you, nursing a bottle of water and watching Azriel, who’s speaking quietly with Cassian.

“You know he likes you, right?” Nesta says, breaking the silence.

You choke on your water. “What?”

Nesta gives you a look, one brow arched in that infuriatingly smug way of hers. “Don’t play dumb. He’s been watching you all morning.”

“He watches everyone,” you argue, though your voice lacks conviction.

“Not like this,” Nesta counters. “Trust me, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s different.”

You shake your head, refusing to entertain the idea. “He’s just… observant. It’s his job.”

Nesta doesn’t respond, but her silence is louder than words.

—

Over the next few weeks, you start to notice the little things. The way Azriel lingers near you during training, offering quiet pointers or stepping in to demonstrate a move. The way he always seems to know when you’re pushing yourself too hard, handing you a water bottle or calling for a break just as your muscles start to protest.

And then there are the gloves. The day before you’d worn down your leather gloves to their last seam, small tears at the knuckles.

You find them waiting for you one morning, neatly folded and left on the bench where you always sit. They’re sleek and well-crafted, the leather soft and pliable. With your name written on a piece of parchment laid neatly on them, in his writing.

“Nice gloves,” Nesta remarks as you slip them on.

“They’re… new,” you say, frowning slightly.

“Azriel left them,” she says, her tone far too casual.

You freeze, glancing at her. “How do you know that?”

Nesta smirks. “Because I saw him put them there.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Azriel approaches, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Do they fit?” he asks, his gaze flicking to the gloves.

You nod, flexing your fingers. “Perfectly. Thank you.”

He inclines his head, his lips curving into the faintest smile before he turns and walks away.

“Hopeless,” Nesta mutters under her breath, but you don’t bother arguing this time.

—

It’s late one evening when Azriel finds you sitting on the balcony of the House of Wind, staring out at the twinkling lights of Velaris below.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice soft as he steps into the night air.

You glance over your shoulder, surprised but not unwelcome. “Something like that.”

He leans against the railing beside you, his wings folding neatly behind him. For a while, neither of you speaks, the quiet stretching between you like a warm blanket.

Finally, Azriel breaks the silence. “Something is on your mind”

“Oh? Am I that easy to see through Shadowsinger?” you ask, turning to face him.

“No, not always” he says, his hazel eyes meeting yours. “But you only come out here when something is.”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond. But before you can, he continues, his voice low and steady.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “But if you ever want to, I’m here.”

The sincerity in his tone takes you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him.

“Thanks,” you say finally, your voice softer than usual.

He nods, his gaze lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before he turns back to the view.

The silence stretches, comfortable but crackling with unspoken words. You lean your elbows on the railing, the cool metal pressing against your skin. Azriel doesn’t move, his presence steady beside you, a quiet sort of comfort.

“So,” you say at last, breaking the stillness. “Is brooding a full-time job for you, or do you just do it in your free time?”

His lips twitch, though he doesn’t take his eyes off the city below. “Depends. Are you asking because you want tips?”

A laugh escapes you, sharp and unrestrained. “Please, I could out-brood you any day of the week.”

Azriel turns his head slightly, enough that you can see the amusement flickering in his hazel eyes. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, you will,” you quip, straightening up and crossing your arms. “But don’t come crying to me when I leave you in the shadows.”

“I don’t cry,” he replies smoothly, his expression as impassive as ever.

You snort, shaking your head. “No, of course not. The great spymaster of the Night Court doesn’t have emotions, right?”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, and for a moment, you swear you see something softer beneath the usual calm exterior.

“Wrong,” he says quietly.

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. Before you can respond, Azriel shifts, his wings rustling softly as he straightens.

“I should let you get some sleep,” he says, his voice low and even.

“Sure,” you reply, recovering quickly. “I’ll need it for when I take you down in training tomorrow.”

His soft chuckle is the last thing you hear before he disappears into the shadows, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

—

The next morning, you’re determined to shake off the lingering feelings from last night. You throw yourself into training with a vengeance, sparring with Nesta and Cassian until your muscles burn and your breath comes in ragged gasps.

But no matter how hard you push yourself, you can’t ignore the fact that Azriel’s eyes are on you. He’s not overt about it, of course—he never is. But you’ve gotten good at reading him.

“Do you think he’s capable of blinking?” you mutter to Nesta during a break, jerking your chin in Azriel’s direction.

Nesta smirks, following your gaze. “Why? Is it distracting you?”

“Hardly,” you scoff. “I just don’t want him pulling something from all that intense staring.”

“Maybe he’s impressed,” Nesta says, her tone teasing.

You roll your eyes. “He’s impressed by my fighting skills, obviously. Who wouldn’t be?”

“Obviously,” Nesta echoes, her smirk growing.

“Don’t start,” you warn, grabbing your water bottle.

Nesta raises her hands in mock surrender, but you can see the gleam in her eye.

—

After training, you’re stretching near the edge of the ring when Azriel approaches. You glance up, noting the slight crease in his brow as he surveys the scrape on your arm.

“You should get that looked at,” he says, nodding toward the cut.

“It’s nothing,” you reply, brushing it off. “Barely a scratch.”

Azriel doesn’t look convinced. He crouches beside you, pulling a small vial of salve from his pocket.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, reaching for your arm.

You consider protesting, but the look in his eyes stops you. So instead, you sit there, watching as his fingers work with careful precision, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“You know, this is the second time you’ve fussed over me this week,” you say, breaking the silence. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to impress me.”

Azriel doesn’t look up, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Is it working?”

The question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. So instead, you settle for sarcasm.

“Not yet,” you say, grinning. “But keep trying. You might get there eventually.”

His quiet laugh sends warmth curling through your chest, and as he finishes wrapping your arm, you find yourself wishing the moment would last a little longer.

—

Later that evening, you’re in the kitchen with Nesta, raiding the cabinets for a late-night snack.

“So,” she says casually, popping a grape into her mouth. “What’s going on with you and Azriel?”

You freeze mid-reach, turning to glare at her. “What do you mean, ‘what’s going on?’”

Nesta shrugs, far too nonchalant. “I mean, he practically hovered over you all day. And don’t think I didn’t notice him patching you up earlier.”

“It was a cut,” you say defensively. “Hardly life-threatening.”

“Uh-huh.” Nesta leans against the counter, studying you with those sharp eyes of hers. “And the gloves? Or the way he’s always watching you during training?”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m really not,” Nesta replies, a sly smile creeping onto her face.

��Well, even if he does… like me, that’s his problem,” you say, crossing your arms. “I’m not some damsel in distress, waiting for someone to sweep me off my feet.”

“No,” Nesta agrees, smirking. “But maybe you’re someone who could use a little… sweeping.”

You throw a grape at her, and she laughs, ducking out of the way.

—

The realization of Azriel’s attention lingers in your mind longer than you’d like to admit. You try to shake it off—try to convince yourself that it’s just his nature to watch everyone, to care quietly. But there’s a warmth to his gaze when it falls on you, a softness that feels different, deliberate.

And once you notice it, you can’t stop seeing it.

Like during training the next day, when Cassian barks at everyone to do laps. You’re running alongside Nesta, your legs burning and breath hitching, when Azriel quietly falls into step beside you.

“Don’t overthink your breathing,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You glance at him, eyebrows raised. “I’m not overthinking it.”

His lips twitch, almost imperceptibly. “You were counting your breaths.”

You narrow your eyes, your tone laced with mock offense. “You’re watching me breathe now? That’s not creepy at all.”

Azriel doesn’t rise to the bait, but the faintest smirk graces his lips. “Just trying to help.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, rolling your eyes. But when you refocus on your breathing, following his advice, the run feels a little easier.

—

A few days later, you find yourself in the House of Wind’s library, searching for a book Nesta recommended, the one she had mentioned to you a few days ago. You’re muttering under your breath, cursing the ridiculously high shelves, when a familiar voice speaks behind you.

“Need help?”

You whirl around to find Azriel standing there, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Not unless you’ve got a ladder hidden somewhere,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Azriel steps closer, his wings shifting as he glances up at the shelf. “Which one?”

You point to the book near the top, and without a word, Azriel extends a wing, brushing it against the shelf as he pulls the book down with practiced ease.

He hands it to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “There.”

You take the book, trying not to let the warmth of his touch distract you. “Thanks. I guess having wings is good for more than just flying, huh?”

His smile widens slightly. “They’re versatile.”

“Show-off,” you mutter, but there’s no bite to your tone.

Azriel doesn’t respond, just tilts his head as if studying you. The silence stretches, heavy but not uncomfortable, and you find yourself wondering what’s going on behind those hazel eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask finally, your voice sharper than you intend.

Azriel blinks, as though pulled from his thoughts. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to figure something out,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

He hesitates, his gaze steady but unreadable. “Maybe I am.”

Before you can press him further, he nods toward the book in your hands. “Enjoy your reading.” And then he’s gone, slipping back into the shadows as easily as he came.

—

The tension between you grows, subtle but undeniable. It’s not something you can ignore anymore—not when his gaze lingers just a second too long, or when his words carry a weight you can’t quite name.

One evening, after another long day of training, you find yourself wandering the halls of the House of Wind. You end up on the same balcony where Azriel joined you that night, the city lights below twinkling like stars.

You’re not surprised when he appears again, his presence so quiet you almost don’t notice until he’s standing beside you.

“Do you ever sleep?” you ask, glancing at him.

“Rarely,” he admits, his voice soft.

“Figures,” you mutter, leaning against the railing.

The silence stretches, but this time, it feels charged, as though both of you are waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, Azriel breaks the quiet. “You confuse me.”

You blink, turning to face him. “What?”

“You’re strong, stubborn, sarcastic…” He trails off, his lips curving slightly. “But you care. Even when you try not to show it.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he says, his gaze meeting yours, “that you make it very difficult to stay in the shadows.”

His words hang in the air, and for once, you don’t have a witty comeback. You’re too busy trying to process the way your heart is racing, the way his eyes seem to see straight through you.

“Well,” you say finally, your voice quieter than usual. “Maybe it’s time you stepped out of them.”

Azriel’s smile is small, but it’s real. And in that moment, with the stars above and the city below, you feel something shift between both of you—something neither of you are sure you can ignore anymore. Not when he feels that golden thread that glows in his chest, connecting his soul to yours.

——

Are y’all interested in a tag list?? I’m gonna be more consistent in posting hehe.

Thank you for reading my lovely humans. Requests are still very open ;)

[rafesangelita]

can you do like a spin off to the fic you did where rafe went to the strip club, and instead of them making up y/n stands on business and leaves 😭? thank you if you do i love your writing smmm

warnings: angst, cheating

a/n: i heard y’all loud and clear, i hope you guys like this version just as much, if not more <3 based off of this request

“fuck, they don’t make them like this on figure eight.” you watched with watery eyes as rafe’s hands roamed the body of a stranger, his friends hollering in the background. seeing rafe receive a lap dance should’ve been enough for you to click out of instagram and call it quits, but you couldn’t help yourself in watching the rest of kelce’s stories. after skimming through the rest of the photos and videos, you didn’t have any tears left in you to cry.

getting up on shaky legs, you took everything you could fit in a suitcase, ignoring the calls from rafe as you went around your shared bedroom, grabbing your things. just as you were taking your last bag downstairs, the front door opened, revealing the last person you wanted to face right now. “what’s all of this?” your head shot up at the voice, your lips swollen from biting on them so hard. “what’s wrong?” he moved close, making you back away.

“please don’t touch me.” your voice came out weak. rafe scoffed, blinking rapidly as you took a seat on the couch, holding your head in your hands. “what’s wrong with you? why do you have all your shit down here?” he kneeled in front of you, the smell of cheap perfume filling your senses. “you should probably remind your friends to hide me from their story ‘next time you want to let someone put their boobs in your face.” you sniffled, avoiding his gaze.

rafe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he reached for your arm. “baby, please, i can explain everything.” you smiled, shaking your head. “you don’t have to. i really don’t care anymore, i’m leaving.” he narrowed his eyes at you, stumbling over his next words. “w-what the fuck are you talking about?” he grabbed two of your bags, about to take them upstairs before you stopped him. “this isn’t the first time you’ve been unfaithful, rafe, and if i don’t leave right now, it won’t be the last.” your voice cracked.

he shook his head, jogging upstairs, only to see you had cleared everything that belonged to you. rafe’s heart dropped, it looked like you had never been here to begin with. panic settled in his gut. “you can’t leave, i won’t let you.” he came back down, his eyes filled with guilt. “i already have a car on the way.” rafe shouted, punching the air. “y/n, i’m begging you baby, please let’s just go to bed-” you watched him cry, and for the first time you felt nothing. “we’ll forget all about this in the morning, alright? i’ll take you somewhere nice for breakfast, we could spend the day on the druthers the way that you like.” by the way he was talking, it sounded like he was reassuring himself more than you.

“and sweep it under the rug just like the last few times? no.” you laughed bitterly. “you cheat and time and time again i don’t do anything about it. i’m so tired, rafe. ‘tired of hearing the women at the country club call me ‘dumb and clueless’, i’m tired of everyone giving me pitiful looks everytime we walk inside a room.. i’m tired of not being valued.” you looked down at your hand, removing the promise ring that clearly didn’t mean anything.

“hey, hey, come on,” he pulled you up, “i value you, you know i do. i get you everything you want, goddamit, i take care of you!” you flinched at the volume of his voice. “i could get myself whatever i want rafe. all i’ve ever wanted was for you to be faithful, and you can’t even do that.” he watched as you glanced outside. “my ride is here.” he blinked, everything hitting him all at once. “y/n, stop.” he held you in place, not allowing you to move until you shoved him.

“there’s someone out there who is going to love me, and care about my feelings in all situations, someone who isn’t selfish.” you started rolling your suitcase out of the house, rafe following closely behind. “please don’t leave!” he ran his fingers through his hair. he begged and begged until you held the very last bag in your hand. “i hope one day you meet someone like yourself, fall in love with them, and realize that no matter what you do, it will never be enough.” he watched you get into the black suv, feeling nothing but despair as the car drove away.

[ayyy-pee]

Request cowboy Suguru asking reader out but she doesn’t date cowboys at all. She hates them but then she gives him a chance

hi lovely!!! thank you so much for this request! IT WAS FUNNNN!!! i'm really loving the cowboy au lately so i was SUPER excited to get something out! it's fluffy and sweet and Suguru is so down bad for reader! hope you like it! <3

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Sheriff!Suguru Geto x Bartender!Female Reader

Genre: Western/Cowboy AU

Story Warning: fluff and trust issues and Suguru being down bad for reader. what else is new?

Artist Credit: @aransmind

“You again? I already told you no the last time you brought your tail in here.”

You wipe along the countertop of the saloon bar, trying to clean up the mess left behind by beers and shots of whiskey purchased throughout the day. It’s been a long one, and you’re ready to lock up and head home. It’s just a matter of getting this place cleaned up. This bartop is old, the stains still lingering and apparently unremovable. Just like this damn patron who just can’t seem to leave you the hell alone. 

Just like this damn patron who has slowly been worming his way under your skin, despite your best efforts to resist.

Pink lips pout from the other side of the bar, and all you can do is chuckle, shaking your head.

“I haven’t even said a thing!” A man whines. You place his normal drink in front of him, smiling when he dramatically sighs contently after he takes a sip.

You’re back to cleaning up, arranging your glasses. “I already know what’s comin’. Please, no begging today. ”

A soft laugh falls from the man’s lips as he speaks. “I ain’t a beggin’ man, ___. You gotta know that, but you make a beggar outta me every time I come in here and see ya.”

Another chuckle bubbles from your chest as you stare down the man leaning his elbow on your squeaky clean counter now. You smack his arm off with your towel, quickly swiping at the spot left behind. “You’ll just have to keep beggin’ because I said nooooo,” you sing. “And that’s not changin’.”

“But–”

“Sheriff Suguru,” you sigh, no actual annoyance in your tone, because how could you be annoyed when he stares up at you with those pretty eyes of his you’ve gotten used to seeing every day for the last few months? “You’ve been comin’ in here for how long now? Askin’ me the same question and gettin’ the same answer. Don’t you ever know when to quit?”

At this, the Sheriff takes his hat off, placing it on the bar before shooting you what you assume he thinks is his most charming smile. It doesn’t work.

“Now, Miss ___, do you think if I knew when to give up, I woulda made Sheriff?” He combs his fingers through his silky long hair that somehow never seems to hold even a speck of dirt in it, despite you both residing in the dry and dusty desert.

He’s as pretty as the first day he came in.

------

The day Suguru became Sheriff, his buddies brought him into your saloon to celebrate, ordering a shot for damn near everybody in town. Who wouldn’t want to come celebrate the new Sheriff in town? Anybody who was anybody would be there! You were just lucky that the party was happening in your bar, excited to make a good chunk of change for the night.

Did you really want to spend your entire night catering to a bunch of cowboys? Absolutely not. You’re not particularly a fan, but again, the money will make it worth it.

But it’s been almost an hour past close, you’re standing behind the bartop as the deputies are still rowdy and drinking. You don’t mind much, but you are tired and ready to go. Even the idea of making more money doesn’t feel appealing when you’re ready to just crawl into your bath and try not to fall asleep.

“Aren’t you pretty?” Suguru had slurred from across the bar, in the same seat that would soon become his regular spot. “When do ya get off work, Miss…?”

You give him your name, polite but to the point. “And soon as y’all get outta my bar,” you quip, which makes Suguru laugh.

He leans forward, close enough so you could hear him over the noise of his deputies drunkenly singing behind him. “I’ll tell ‘em all to go home right now.”

It’s an offer that’s tempting, but you don’t want to rain on their parade no matter how tired you are. The money will be good, and you need it. So you roll your eyes at playfully, as you ask teasingly. “Won’t you be lonely without all your friends?”

Your cheekiness only makes Suguru grin wider. “Yeah,” he answers quickly. “Probably will be.” He rubs his chin, closing his eyes and pulling his brows together as if he’s in deep thought. “But maybeeee,” he drags the word out. “I won’t be so lonely if a pretty lady like yourself comes home with me.”

You mimic Suguru’s earlier position, closing your eyes and rubbing your chin as you think really hard about his offer. You let the suggestion hang between the two of you, and Suguru takes this time to let his eyes take you in.

Beautiful. Smart, he thinks. Quick on your feet. Makes one hell of a drink, one of the best he’s had. Yeah, he wants you. This town is full of pretty women. He’s not without options. And while he’s already had his fill of some of them, it’s you who’s caught his eye in a way they haven’t. 

He waits for you to give him an answer. But you don’t. Not by any fault of your own. It’s because one of his deputies – Satoru – is now leaning over the bar and giving you his best flirtatious smile now that he’s caught your attention. It’s left Suguru sitting on the sidelines to watch your interaction. It looks like Satoru is getting more out of you than he is.

You’re smiling, laughing as you pour him some water, because he doesn’t drink. But minutes later, you’re still chatting with his colleague, leaned over and a little too close for his liking. You’re supposed to be talking to him, entertaining him. He’s the Sheriff now! Wayyyy more important than some damn bottom of the barrel deputy!

Okay, that’s the liquor talking. But still. He wants to be who you’re focused on.

“Hey, Miss!” Suguru calls, grabbing your attention for a brief moment. “Just waitin’ for your answer.”

He sees the way you seem to barely remember that you were speaking with him before, nodding before you lean your elbow on the bar and yell, loud enough for all to hear, “NO.”

And it…makes Suguru’s heart beat faster, makes his lips curl in a smile that he has to hide behind his whiskey glass. 

Yeah, he likes you. He thinks he’ll come by more often.

------

Months later, and this man hasn’t let up. He’s always been friendly, too friendly in your opinion. That long hair, those pretty eyes and even prettier smile are deadlier than the gun hanging in his holster. He’s a smooth talker, which you’re sure helped him move up the ranks of the town deputies. But you’ve always been resistant to his charms. Or at least, tried to be. 

Sheriff Suguru is extremely attractive, pleasant to talk to when he isn’t trying to ask you on a date, and once again, too friendly. Especially with the women in town. From what you’ve heard, he’s been leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake since he arrived. Which is exactly why you’re not interested in going out on a date with him, no matter how charming and funny you find him to be. You’ll be damned if you end up being another name on his long list of conquests. 

Besides, you’ve dated a few cowboys in your day and they’re all the same; big egos, big mouths and big fuckin’ pains in your ass. And most times not a big enough dick to back all that up. Every one of those relationships were a waste of your time and you’re not interested in wasting any more of it on yet another cowboy.

“Just one date,” Suguru begins his regular spiel. "Lemme take you out somewhere. Promise it’ll be worth it,” Suguru tells you, and you scoff. He sounds just like the rest of them.

“Doubt it.”

“You won’t let me take you out, just one time, Miss?”

“Sheriff, I’ve seen ya ‘round town. You take a lot of ladies out,” you note, watching his eyes widen just slightly. “Why not just ask one of them?”

And it’s true. You’ve seen Suguru in the town square chatting it up with any woman whose direction he looks in. He’s the most eligible bachelor in the town. Kind, handsome, a damn good shot and a damn good Sheriff. Any woman worth their salt wants him. If he were in any other occupation, you’d maybe make an exception. But he’s not. He’s a cowboy.

You don’t date cowboys.

At this Suguru stands, holding a hand up, which he waves a little frantically between you. “Now hold on! I run into a lotta ladies in town. Don’t mean I’m takin’ ‘em out anywhere.” His face is serious now, lips pressed together in a hard line. “I know I got quite a reputation, Miss ___. I ain’t stupid,” Suguru mutters. “I hear the ramblins ‘round town. Not all of ‘em are a lie,” he says honestly. And you’re just about to speak up when he cuts you off. “But, not all of ‘em are true, either.”

You swipe at a spot on the bar, the same stain you know will never come out of the wood. You don’t look at him, you don’t want to look at him. Because you hear sincerity in his tone, and that scares you. It shatters this image you’ve built up of him in your mind of this playboy Sheriff who’s good for nothing but a quick fuck at the brothel. Makes you want to give in because maybe he really isn’t like all the rest.

You don’t know any other cowboys who would be as committed as he seems to be to trying to woo you. Day after day, weeks after weeks, months after months of rejection from you. And yet, he still shows up. He still asks. He still tells you that he’ll treat you right. That he’ll take care of you. Is it really that crazy to think that he’s different?

Giggles coming from the other side of the saloon burst the little bubble you’re in with the Sheriff and your eyes dart to the source. A table of four women, sitting in the back of the saloon and whispering what you’re sure are filthy things as they stare at the back of Suguru’s head. He doesn’t look, eyes glued to you and the way you’re still moving that damned towel over that godforsaken stain that you and him both know ain’t goin’ anywhere.

“I don’t date cowboys, Sheriff,” you mutter weakly. “They don’t take nothin’ serious, and I don’t got time for the heartache.”

Suguru sighs, taking his seat again. “Can’t you see I’m serious about you? I’ve been comin’ here for so long tryin’ to show you I ain’t playin’ any games here, Miss ___.”

‘That don’t change my answer.’ Is what you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat.

You both let the silence hang between you. He lets you get back to work, slowly sipping his drink while you finish tending the bar. But his eyes are still on you, watching how you began gently nibbling on your lip ever since Suguru told you again that he’s really not joking when it comes to you, like you’re lost in thought over his words. 

“Pardon me, Sheriff?” A soft voice calls to Suguru at the bar.

Your back is turned, but your ears perk up when you hear the Sheriff greet someone back, a woman. The conversation is short, her asking him questions that you can’t really hear. There are laughs from her, chuckles from Suguru and then of course, the lady asking him what he’s doing later tonight. The implication is clear, and you roll your eyes, because you almost gave into yet another cowboy and set yourself up for heartbreak.

But Suguru groans, awkwardly running his fingers through his locks as he tells the woman that he’s got plans with someone he’s been waiting to see for a long time.

“Family?” She asks, the disappointment clear in her voice. He laughs, shaking his head.

“No. Well, hope I’m not bein’ too forward, but maybe one day. If she ever lets me in, I think I’ll be able to convince her.”

“Oh!” The woman squeaks, not expecting that. And neither were you, because you freeze halfway through putting a bottle of whiskey back on the shelves behind the bar.

“Special lady then,” the woman mumbles.

“Very.”

She dismisses herself shortly after. And as the noise dies down, and the saloon empties out, you hear the telltale signs of the Sheriff getting ready to go, always the last customer. He sits his hat back atop his head, fishing out his money and leaving it on the bar for you. You meet his gaze, and he gives you a smile. Even with yet another rejection under his belt, he doesn’t seem angry or bitter. There’s no resentment behind his eyes. He harbors no negative feelings towards you. His smile is genuine and kind, like it’s always been every time you shut him down.

“Have a good night, Miss ___. Get home safe,” he says, spinning on his heel.

The quiet jingling of his boot spurs fills the air, and to you, at least in your head, it almost symbolizes alarm bells ringing. And you call out to him, grabbing his attention.

“Sheriff,” you place the towel down, coming out from behind the bar to stand face to face with the man you’ve only ever stood at least four feet away from. This close distance feels more intimate than any other time you’ve been around each other, and your heart pounds loudly in your ears as you ask, “Mind walkin’ me home?”

[cybrasigilism]

Can you do nsfw alphabet w nam-gyu? 🤭

NSFW ALPHABET with Player 124 (Nam-gyu)

warning: smut and all things of the like, the usual | not proofread | lowercase intended | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differs from your own

character: nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: since i have another nam-gyu request lined up and cooking in my drafts i figured this would be a great way to get comfy in writing for him. it’s nice to see some player 124 fans up in the fandom especially since he shouldn’t be getting hate for the same shit thanos was also doing (yes i know he did kill se-mi and he did lose some credit with me for that, but i fear i saw that one coming a mile away). also, THANK YOU GUYS FOR 100 FOLLOWERS? i’m genuinely blown away by the sheer amount of support y’all have given me and I’m eternally grateful :’)

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

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A= Aftercare what they’re like after sex

↳ based on how clingy he is with his friends? yeah, he’s gonna be down for a cuddle post-sex. if it’s a one and done thing though, don’t expect much in the regards of after care. at most he might offer you a smoke but he’s only super affectionate if you guys are in a relationship

B= Body part their favourite body part of theirs + their partners

↳ his and your favourite part of his body is his hands, without a doubt. his favourite part of his partner? hands down we’ve got ourselves another ass man, and who’s surprised?

C= Cum anything to do with cum, really

↳ bites his lip when he gets close (just gonna put this here and run off)

D= Dirty Secret a dirty secret of theirs

↳ really, and i mean really, loves how you look with his hands around your neck

E= Experience how experienced are they? do they know what their doing, etc.

↳ i get the impression that he’s fairly experienced, and he does know what he’s doing in the regards of rougher sex. however he does need guidance when it comes to more intimate, gentler sex

F= Favourite Position this one speaks for itself

↳ any position where you’re riding him is his favourite. he loves being able to feel you up and take as much control as he feels like, while still letting you do most of the work.

G= Goofy are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous, etc.

↳ regardless of whether he’s on top or not, he will be mocking you. it’s all out of love of course, but sometimes that can be called into question

I= Intimate how are they in the moment, the romantic aspect?

↳ it really takes a while for him to warm up to gentler fucking, especially since he’s so used to rough + sloppy one night stands. it’s always jarring to see him get vulnerable with you though

J= Jack off masturbation headcanons

↳ talks you through touching yourself OH MY GOD THIS DAMN WIND AGAIN SOMEONE SHUT THE WINDOWS-

L= Location their favourite place to do the do

↳ semi-public sex turns him on, need i say more?

M= Motivation what turns them on, gets them going?

↳ total cliche, but seeing you in revealing outfits totally gets him aroused. if you’re wearing something that hugs your ass just right, yeah you won’t be wearing it for much longer

N= No something they won’t do

↳ i don’t feel like there’s a lot this guy wouldn’t do, but if anything it’s probably pegging

O= Oral their preference on giving or receiving oral, how skilled are they, etc.

↳ couldn’t care less if he’s eating you out or if you’re sucking his dick, he’s always down for oral sex. hell, he’s probably into doing 69 but that’s for him to know, and for you to find out

P= Pace are they fast + rough? slow + sensual? etc.

↳ he’s typically going to be pretty rough, he’ll be gentle somewhat at the start if you specify that you’re a virgin but trust that the gentle act will cease quite soon into the fucking™️

Q= Quickie their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

↳ he absolutely loves quickies, there’s something about that adrenaline kick that he can’t get enough of

R= Risk are they game to experiment? how do they feel about risk?

↳ if any one of the squid game characters is down to experiment with risk, it’s nam-gyu. if he’s willing to take crazy unknown drugs from thanos in the games, he’s willing to experiment in bed

S= Stamina how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last? etc.

↳ is it the drugs? is it his experience? god knows. but whatever it is, his stamina is pretty crazy. he will usually outlast you in the matter of rounds, but that might also be because of how thankless he is on your pussy

T= Toys do they own any toys? do they use them on themselves or their partner?

↳ i’m not sure he’d be the kind of guy to own crazy toys, definitely owns a couple fleshlights, and he will use vibrators on you if you bring them

U= Unfair how much they like to tease/be teased

↳ lets not kid ourselves here. he is the king of mean teasing, he’ll tease you the whole time if he feels like you deserve it

V= Volume how loud they are, what sounds they make etc.

↳ definitely not much of a moaner, more so grunts and what have you especially if he’s in control. he’ll call you his “personal fucktoy”. something i could totally see him saying while he’s fucking you is “fuck, ‘so tight for me. nice to see what a pathetic little slut you are.”

W= Wildcard a random headcanon for the character

↳ really good with his hands. he will tease your clit if he’s able

X= X-ray what’s going on under those clothes?

↳ is he super jacked? no. does he have a fair amount of muscle on him? yes absolutely. for size, he’s easily 6” hard

Y= Yearning how high is their sex drive?

↳ his sex drive is almost concerning. point blank

Z= Zzz how fast they fall asleep after

↳ don’t expect him to wait up for you. if he’s super worn out he’s heading off to snooze-ville before you do

══════════════════

thanks for the request! i’ve been meaning to write for nam-gyu especially since he does not get enough recognition in the fandom :)

as always, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a gorgeous day all 💋

tags: @gabbystinks

[emiliehornby]

when you get me alone (it’s so simple)

pairing luke castellan x fem! child of aphrodite! reader

synopsis while luke is known for making people’s heads turn at camp, you finally give them a reason to stare after learning how much everyone seems to want him

warnings implied sexual content, descriptions of a make out session

author’s notes happy valentine’s day everyone!! the voices in my head were louder than usual, so i figured we could all use a sweet treat today!! mwah!! i hope y’all enjoy these headcanons

On a particularly slow day, the Aphrodite, Athena, Apollo, and Hermes kids decide to spend their free time around the lake. In a glimpse, Luke can be seen laughing with Chris. A radiant smile is plastered upon his lips while he takes in the sight of you. In the distance, Annabeth sits with Grover on a towel, letting her toes wiggle into the warm earth. She watches the water intently, making sure none of her siblings are in any imminent danger when the giggles from Apollo kids, Sadie and Caroline, drown out her thoughts.

“Gods, what I’d give to be in his arms right now.” Annabeth’s ears can’t help but pick up on the conversation taking place beside her. “It’s no surprise he’s taken. But you’d think as a Hermes kid, he’d go for someone more like…us.” Sadie sighs.

Grover leans in closer to Annabeth, his interest piquing when she rolls her eyes. He fears that the daughter of Athena is going to give them a piece of her mind when she stands, but Annabeth merely picks up the frisbee that lands near her feet. She throws it back to where it came from and sits back down to hear Caroline encouraging Sadie, “Come on, it’s only a matter of time before you’ll get your chance. The Aphrodite charm has to wear off eventually. I mean, it always does.”

This time, Grover can’t stop her from turning to them. “Look, you don’t know how things seem to work around here, so I’m going to explain something to you.”

“What Annabeth means to say is that-” The satyr attempts to soothe the situation, but she cuts him off amidst her stubbornness.

“Now, I know not all the Aphrodite kids are palatable, but Y/N is easily the sweetest one I’ve ever known. And there’s a real reason as to why Luke is so in love with her. But I guess you’ll never find that reason for yourselves if you continue to act like this at camp.” This effectively humbles Sadie and Caroline, who mumble to each other while they make their exit.

As if on cue, you walk up to Grover and Annabeth. You’re laughing with a Hermes kid that soon leaves to join the game of frisbee, but it dies down when you notice Annabeth’s hardened stare. You place a hand on her shoulder, “What’s wrong?” 

Grover stands and hands over your towel while insisting it’s nothing. But Annabeth cuts Grover off again to explain, “Sadie and Caroline were saying things about you…and Luke.” You understand what she’s trying to imply and give her a squeeze.

It was no secret that Luke was well admired among his peers. Most of the time, it isn’t even an issue, but there were campers who thought they could change the course of your relationship every now and then.

Sadie and Caroline easily fall under that category, seeing as they completely ignored your existence when Luke decided to take you with him during their initial tour around camp…then there was the time Caroline pretended to lose her way at camp as an excuse to get Luke away from you and alone with her. And just two weeks ago, Sadie feigned hopelessness during a sword skills session. As the instructor, it was Luke’s job to adjust her form. However, it was glaringly obvious the Apollo girl had an ulterior motive, especially when she threw a snarky smile in your direction when she thought you weren’t looking.

“Oh…You don’t have to worry about that, Annie. I can handle myself just fine.” You reassure Annabeth to the best of your ability. She nods and stands to settle herself into your side.

In your peripheral vision, Luke is jogging over to you with his shirt in hand. You don’t miss the way Sadie and Caroline ogle at the thin layer of sheen coating his flexing muscles and the lines running down Luke’s back that aren’t actually sparring scars, despite what you tell the curious kids that help him out in the infirmary. You smile when he pats Annabeth’s arm and leans over to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, is it time to head back already?” He asks, putting his shirt on as Annabeth checks her watch.

She huffs, “Unfortunately. We should get going if we don’t want to be late. I still have to grab my dagger.”

It’s a comfortable walk back, and when you reach the Athena cabin, Annabeth bids you two goodbye and runs inside. Luke’s hand is loosely intertwined with yours as you lead him to the Aphrodite cabin. He raises his eyebrows, asking, “Did you need something from your cabin? I thought you were working on archery right now.”

You push the door open, sheepishly admitting, “I am, but I was actually thinking of skipping out on lessons today.”

Luke’s tone is suddenly laced with concern, “Are you okay? Did something happen at the lake?” He drops your hand to check you over, but his touch doesn’t stray far from your waist to prevent you from moving away. But the gesture is welcomed and you take a step forward, a shy smile peeking through the corners of your lips.

His worry for you falters, mirroring your love struck expression, “Oh,” Luke pinches your side. You shove his chest with a shriek. “You’re awful.” He tells you, but he’s already got a hand tracing lightly over your cheek.

Your gaze switches from his dark eyes down to his lips, “You love me.” and that’s all it takes for Luke to dip down his head and meet you halfway. Your hands reach down under his shirt, feeling the warmth radiating from his toned torso. You bite down on his lower lip, and you know you’ve sent Luke’s head spinning when he lets out a short whimper. He attempts to deepen the kiss, but you pull away before he gets the chance.

Your eyes flutter open, whispering, “Do you want to skip lessons with me?”

Luke’s lips are lingering above yours when he responds, “Did you even have to ask?” and pulls you onto your bed. He settles his back against the wall and hums in content when you begin to pepper pecks on his jawline. 

After a moment, you pretend to move off of him, “I don’t know…you were pretty excited for combat training earlier. Maybe I should just let you go.”

In retaliation, Luke’s blunt nails dig into your waist, “Don’t you dare.”

A warmth flutters through your stomach when you hear the desperation in his voice. Your fingers itch to tangle themselves in Luke’s ravenous curls, lightly pulling so he can look up at you. A deceptively innocent smile paints your lips and you don’t skip a beat to get him back on you.

Heavy breaths. Discarded shirts. Whispered promises. This is how you spend the next hour in between your skipped lessons and the nightly bonfire. It’s nice, but you know it’s your cue to take a step back when the crowd of kids crawling outside the cabin becomes heavily audible.

You’re still on Luke’s lap when you say, “You look so pretty like this.” Your eyes flicker from his own to his kiss swollen lips and rowdy hair. There’s an urge to run your fingers through them, but you settle for lightly tracing over the fresh love bites that are scattered across his neck and collarbone.

Luke smiles dopily while you admire your work, “I think we should skip lessons more often.”

You finally get off of him, throwing his shirt to his chest while you smooth yours out, “Don’t be such a bad influence, you’re a camp counselor.” You can’t help but stare again when the marks heavily peek out near his collar, fading in between the orange fabric.

Luke notices your longing gaze and walks over to you, “You know, you’re not the only one with charm in this relationship. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go, lover boy.” You roll your eyes and take his hand. You stumble on your way out, but Luke is there to catch you. He chuckles and lets his arm rest over your shoulders while you reach up to hook your hand with his. He helps you find your footing until your legs wake up on the way to the amphitheater.

“Wait,” You halt just before you reach the steps. You grab Luke’s necklace, gently pulling him in. You let your hands rest on each side of his marked up neck and he hisses at the feeling of your fingers gently pressing on his sore skin. Luke bites down on your lip in response, savoring the hint of watermelon that seeps through until you pull away, “Just wanted one more.”

You’re satisfied once you see the hint of pink gloss smeared at the corners of his mouth. He takes your hand again, guiding you inside. You spot some of your sisters, greeting them with a wave. They giggle at you two in response, whispering frantically to each other while you find an empty space at the front of the bonfire.

“Hey, is anyone sitting here?” Luke asks Sadie, who happens to be standing to his left alongside Caroline. Chris, who’s sitting a step above them, unashamedly howls with laughter at the sight. He leans forward to clap Luke on the back, catching the attention of Grover, who sighs in embarrassment, and Annabeth, who’s trying her best not to giggle at the sight of a gobsmacked Sadie. She and Caroline shake their heads frantically, broken words bubbling from their throats as they take in Luke’s glossy, blissful smile that he throws at you.

They finally give you the time of day, noticing that the reason for his contentment comes from your own swollen lips. You look back at them with a smile and take your rightful seat next to Luke, who wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer, watching as they go back to their siblings to start tonight’s singalong.

If the fire glows a little greener as Sadie and Caroline lead the singalong, no one comments on it. They all know better than to mess with the insatiable charm you hold on Luke. After all, you are your mother’s daughter.

[makeupbychio]

divorce? hell nah // logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

Summary: You’d been fighting a lot with your husband Logan lately over pointless stuff, so Laura is worried about the future of her parent’s relationship. So are you.

Warnings: stupid fights, cursing, angst, reader dealing with depression, Logan being the best daddy and husband. Mentions of anxiety, family and work drama. Laura being your daughter so found family. Happy ending, mentions of smut.

Words: 2.5k.

A/N: Once again, a reminder that english is not my first language so I’m sorry if there is a mistake. This takes place in the world of Logan (2017) but everyone’s fine of course, let’s pretend that no one is dy1ng and you adopted Laura. I had a dream about this so enjoy, I wrote it so fast before I forgot it. Love y’all! <3 ALSO, you can read this with my previous Logan fic TRAINING SEASON, this is them in the future.

italics = past.

— — —

“Logan we need to stop fighting like this over stupid shit” you exhaled tired of this. Lately you've been fighting a lot with Logan, so frequent that it feels weird to you. Because not even when you were younger you remember fighting so much, and 80% of the time it was over meaningless stuff. 

The day was over, so both of you were doing your night routine to go to bed. The nostalgia of a sunday night is all over the air. Logan just joined you after putting Laura to sleep, he closed the door of your shared room. You’ve been trying to get up from the bed but the day was really  exhausting mentally for you.

Logan wanted to add that the last fight was you that started it but he held himself to make it worse because it would not add anything mentioning that right now. It was already in the past. “Yeah, I agree.” He just nods and stands far away from you with his hands resting on his hips, he’s looking at the floor thinking for a solution.

You are aware you are not at your best moment, you are dealing with so much lately. You are all the time worried about your family drama, then there are so many things changing at work that are stressing you out too. Also, of course the daily worries that include having a family. 

Logan is aware of this tough moment you are going through and he’s always there to support you, to have a shoulder to cry on, all ears for you so you don’t have to hold anything in your mind. That’s also what you did when he’s dealing with shitty things. 

But lately, god, everything seems to get on your nerves for the both of you. Sometimes the clothes are all spread on the floor, or when you arrived late from work and there is nothing on the fridge left to eat, or when Logan tries to defend Laura for something that really needs a punishment, etc. And it doesn’t help when you had a shitty day at work or keep receiving bad news from your family, so sometimes you just explode and Logan is also mad or had a shitty day so that’s when the fights start. 

“We really need to stop, Laura's been asking if we are okay” you told him with tears in your eyes. “When you went for a run in the morning, she came here to our room and laid next to me in bed so we had breakfast together and she looked under the weather, like she was not having a good time even when we had sweet treats and stuff…” you started to tell him about what happened earlier. “So I asked her if everything was alright and she looked right into my eyes and with a sad face she asked me if we were going to divorce- and- I told you Lo it was the most heartbreaking thing she could possibly ask me and…” you started to sob by remembering that conversation. 

Logan is now sitting next to you at the end of the bed. Holding your hand close to him, all of his attention to you. “And I was so shocked so I put my hands on her face holding her to really pay attention to what I was about to say…” you continued. 

“No, baby. Why are you asking that? Your dad and I love each other so much, and both of us love you so so so so much. We are not getting divorced” you held her face trying your best not to cry in front of her, the thought of being apart from the little family you had with Logan made you sad. 

“I’m asking because last night I heard you guys fighting, I mean you were raising your voices and then dad closed the door really hard. And it’s not the first time” Laura confessed and you felt bad that she had to listen to you argue. “Last week when I was outside playing with Franky I also heard both of you yelling”. 

“I’m sorry, baby. You should not have witnessed that, don’t worry. With your dad we’re okay” you caressed her hair to give her some calm to her mind.

”My friend Dani told me that it happened the same to their parents that are divorced now. So I’m scared that one day dad will leave us just like Dani’s dad” Laura told you with tears in her eyes just at the thought of her dad leaving her and her mom. 

That’s when your heart broke into a million pieces. You kept telling her not to worry, that you were having pointless arguments. You didn’t want to tell her about your problems at work and with your family because she’s a little girl, she should be worried about school and having fun as a kid and not about divorce and her dad leaving. 

So once you noticed she calmed down, you stayed in bed the whole morning and watched a movie together with Franky on Laura’s lap. The dog she adopted never leaves her side especially if he senses that she’s sad. 

And also you made up your mind that things needed to change, to stop these stupid fights with your husband. 

You told Logan about what happened in the morning when he left for his daily workout. Not wanting to tell him during the day because Laura is so concentrated on every attitude of both of you. That’s why you are telling him now that she went to sleep. Logan sighs like never before, like he was holding his breath the whole time you were talking, but never letting go of your hands together. “I know our daughter is smart and so empathetic just like you, so I get why she’s worried. I had to admit that I closed the door so hard, that’s on me. We need to stop fighting over bullshit, babe. We need to fix this, but I’m not leaving you guys”. Logan let go of your hand to stand in front of you squatting down holding your knees, “I’ll NEVER leave you, you hear me? We had been through so much worse, remember? And we made it because I fucking love you and I know you love me”. Logan reassured you too in case the same thought that Laura has is placed in your mind too.

You caressed his cheek and looked into those beautiful eyes of his, “I love our family, Logan. Like you said we made it through so much worse, I’m sorry I’ve been irritated lately. That’s on me, I’m going to do my best” tears flowing down your face. Logan quickly wiped them off. 

“Babe, I’m right here. I don’t know why but when you’re in a dark time you always felt free to cry and told me about it but this time it feels like you’re holding all of this sadness to bury it deep down. What 's going on? What changed?” Logan asked with curiosity because you’ve been together for years. 

“I don’t know, Lo. Maybe the hormones, maybe I don’t want to be a burden for you guys. Like I have to be strong for Laura, she’s my number one priority right now and she had an awful life before she found us so I don’t want to give her all of my shit, she’s a kid. Like I said, she should be worried about school and having the childhood she deserves” you poured your heart out to your husband. 

“My love you’ll never be a burden for me, you hear me? I need you to say it so that you understand. Besides, Laura needs to see us sad too, we can’t lie to her that life is all the time just joy. I’m not saying to tell her all of our problems, but that is valid if we feel some kind of way, we would be faking if we were smiling or just okay all the time”. Logan, the angry wolverine you used to know was gone the moment he met you back then in Charles’s mansion. Anger stopped being his only emotion, you made him feel in that same moment that he was always going to be able to show his real emotions and stopped playing this character of the angry and intimidating man. 

“I understand, Lo”. You finally gave him a smile. It is not fair for you to struggle alone and let go of this stress by fighting. You really need to start saying what’s going on, and Logan is always going to be there for it. Just by thinking of the huge difference of the fights you used to have in the past, a small laugh escaped your mouth. Logan looks at you surprised but happy that you got something off your chest. 

“What’s on your mind now, sugar?” Logan asked curiously. 

“I just remember the things we used to fight when we started dating, I mean we were younger and sometimes really stupid. And also the fights we used to have for mistakes we made on missions. We still fight when the other is on the field out there in danger, the worry about losing the other one always starts an argument…” you answered. 

“Yeah but those always ended up with a make out session…” Logan gave you a flirty grin, his dirty mind already enjoying the memories. To be honest, after a mission with or without an argument it always ends with both of you giving each other so much pleasure and comfort for being safe and sound. 

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! THAT WAS WAY TO DANGEROUS!!” Logan losing his mind because you almost got killed out there. 

“I HAD TO DO IT, I COULDN’T LEAVE THEM RIGHT THERE!!” you explained yourself why you came back to the field and risked your life. “IF I DIDN’T HELP THEM, NOBODY’S WAS GOING TO!”. 

God, your empathy is one of Logan’s favorite things about you, but more than once it has given him almost a heart attack. 

“NOT ALL THE TIMES WE CAN SAVE THEM ALL, I NEED YOU TO UNDERSTAND THAT. I CAN’T LOSE YOU, PRINCESS” Logan holding your shoulders steady.

Once you were back at the mansion, and in the privacy of your shared room, Logan wanted to keep talking about the risk you made, but you just wanted to take a shower to take off all of the work done. “Honey, I’m right here in one piece. I’m fine” you brushed his hair with your fingers to calm him down. Trying to get a smile from him. 

“I insist, I can’t lose you. You’ll be freaking out too if it was me in your position” Logan raised his brow knowing you’ll be worried too about him. 

“I know, I’ll be way worse hysterical” you admitted, but at the same time just trying to calm him down. Right now both of you need to relax after a hard mission. You kept brushing his hair until he stopped talking and just leaned into your touch. Both of you ended up taking a bath together and stayed all afternoon in the sheets making love. Other times the fights after missions didn’t seem to stop and led to angry sex. 

“Now that you said that, it reminds me of Laura explaining to me something she realized when she heard us fighting last night and…” you started laughing but also felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, honey. We didn’t mean to raise our voices, we didn’t mean for you to hear us but sometimes with your dad we had our differences. But everything is fine now, we talked about it and it’s okay now” you didn’t lie. One thing you and Logan hate is to go to bed angry, it’s also true that you didn’t want Laura to hear it.

“Yeah, I know you were fighting because it wasn’t the happy screams you and dad make at night sometimes”. Laura said with the innocent intention a kid has. You almost choked on your cup of tea.

You don’t know if it was because of her powers that she heard the happy screams she’s talking about, because the house is huge and her room is not that close to your shared room. And since she arrived, every time you have sex with Logan both of you are really aware that there is someone else in the house so you keep your voice low and always lock the door. You don’t want to traumatize your daughter.

Not like before having kids, or when Laura is staying the night somewhere else, that Logan asks you to be loud so the neighbors can hear his name.

“Are you fucking kidding me she said that?” Logan laughing at your face, red like a tomato. 

“Don’t laugh at that, Lo! It was so embarrassing to explain to her that it was a conversation for another day…” you hid your face in your palms, Logan still teasing you about your sudden shyness. “So I told her that her daddy was going to explain someday when she was older why adults make those happy screams” now you are teasing him because his face almost dropped. Already anxious about how he’s going to explain to his daughter how babies come to the world and all that stuff. 

“Nope, because she’s never going to grow up. She'll always be our little girl” he tried to convince himself about that. You gave him a pat on his back that he can handle that. 

“Our little girl is almost 12, babe. So you’ll have to have THAT talk sooner that you think with her. But don’t worry I’m sure you’re going to nail that because you are the best daddy”. You assured him.

God, you can picture in your mind the reaction of Logan when teenager Laura will bring her first partner. You’ll need to be there for him because your daughter is about to experience a lot of things and your husband will need your help. 

“Don’t be a brat with me please, sweetheart I’m begging you” Logan easily put you on his lap, brushing your hair out of your face. “What if instead of giving me more anxiety you help me get rid of that anxiety we’ve been dealing with lately?” he kissed your neck, his breath so warm against your skin. 

“What do you suggest, big boy?” his hand now traveling down your spine and you hold his face close to your chest, Logan leaving kisses on top of your clothed breasts. God, you miss this, you miss him being this closer. 

“Maybe a bath or I can fuck you like this right now but we have to be really careful with the noises, especially you doll. I know you like to scream my name and how good I make you feel” Logan already taking his shirt off to whatever option you are down to. You smacked his toned chest at the insinuation, pulling him closer to kiss you with the eagerness you missed so much. He lifted you from your spot heading to take that bath, it was going to be a long night and tomorrow morning you both need to be up early to drop Laura off at school.

[harrywavycurly]

YES TO A PART 2 PLEASE!!!

Hiii babes!!! So happy y’all wanted a part 2! So here it is and I hope y’all enjoy💖

A/N: if y’all want more updates on these two let me know because I lowkey love them so much✨

-find all things Lonely here✨

Tag List: @blckburd @fangirl509east @ell0ra-br3kk3r

Summary: You’re ready to talk to Harry but are you ready to hear what he has to say? Aka you tell Harry how you feel and he asks you to marry him…again✨

Harry cant help the smile that takes over his face as he sees you walk into his living room. His eyes glance down to your left hand and he’s pleased to see you still have on the gold band he slid onto your ring finger in your backyard a little over twenty four hours ago. He makes a move to get up from his spot on the couch but you quickly put a hand up making him raise an eyebrow as he pauses his movements. He watches as you let out a deep breath before finally making eye contact with him and his feels his smile morph into a slight frown when he sees the sadness that’s written all over your face. Your eyes are red and the tip of your nose is pink and if he was standing closer to you he knows he’d hear you sniffling letting him know you were crying not too long ago.

“You can’t marry me Harry.” He hates how your voice sounds shaky as your eyes go from looking at him to down to your shoes. “You deserve to be with someone you’re already in love with and not someone you just hope one day you’ll wake up and magically be in love with.” He stands up and ignores your warning glare when he sees your hand start to grab at the ring on your left hand trying to slip it off.

“I love you.” His words make you want to let out a sob as he takes your hands in his and ducks his head down so you have no choice but to look at him. “I know it’s not the same as being in love okay? But I also know that I’ve never allowed myself to think about you in any other way than as a friend because I knew from that very first night when we met all those years ago that I needed you in my life and I know that feelings and friendships don’t usually mix well.” You feel his warm hands give yours a gentle squeeze as he brings them up to his lips.

“I just couldn’t risk losing you so I never let myself see you as anything other than my bestfriend.” His lips are soft against the skin of your knuckles, he hears you let out a small sigh as your shoulders relax a bit. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t. I already know the moment I let myself actually see you as someone that’s not just my bestfriend but as someone I’m allowed to be in love with my life is going to change forever but I can’t take that leap unless you’re taking it with me.” He can’t help but feel his heart begin to beat faster as he watches his words fully register with you. He feels his heart drop to his stomach when you just shake your head and close your eyes as an attempt to avoid his intense stare.

“I already took the leap Harry.” He raises an eyebrow as you turn your head and open your eyes, you know if you look at him he will make you crumble and you can’t, not yet at least not until you tell him the truth. “I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t remember a time where I just loved you as my bestfriend.” Harry hasn’t ever wished he could change how he feels about someone more than he does in this moment, he wishes so badly he could tell you he’s in love with you too but he just can’t and you know it. “So I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” Your words come out like a whisper as you slide your hands out of his.

You try to turn and make your way to his front door but Harry knows you so he anticipates your escape attempt so he is quick to grab your hand before you can even try. You make a small squeaking sound of surprise when you feel him tug at your hand bringing you closer to him and when you look up at him and see a playful glare in his eyes as he just lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head you know he’s not upset but more so just annoyed and you don’t understand why until he starts to speak.

“You always have to beat me at everything don’t you?” You can’t help but shrug as a small chuckle escapes his lips causing the energy in the room to shift from sad and borderline heartbreaking to more optimistic and comfortable. “Can’t even let me try to fall in love with you first you have to go and admit that you’ve loved me for a while now and then in the same breath you want to tell me you can’t do this?” He gives your hand another tug bringing you even closer to him making you have to brace yourself with your free hand so you don’t crash into his chest as he looks down at you with a pout you know isn’t genuine because the way the corners of his mouth twitch in an attempt to hold back his smile. “I don’t think so sweetheart.”

“Harry I-”

“Just let me catch up to you love.” He closes his eyes as he leans down and rests his forehead against yours. You can feel how desperately he wants you to give him a chance. “I just need some time to catch up to you that’s all, you have a bit of a head start so just give me a little time please?” You interlock your fingers with his in the hand that he’s holding, this little sign of affection makes him smile as he opens his eyes and stands up a bit straighter.

“What if you never feel the same? Will you tell me?” He just nods as he brings your hand to rest on his chest right where his heart is. “Good so then I’ll be able to divorce you and take half of everything and move to Italy.” He rolls his eyes the moment you mention Italy.

“You’d never move to Italy without me.”

“I totally would if I was divorcing you because you realized you can’t ever love me the way I love you.”

“So you’d take half of everything and you’d take Italy from me?” You just nod as Harry lets out a scoff as he gives your hand a squeeze. “That’s just cruel love.” He brings your hand up to his lips and gives your knuckles a little kiss before he lets it go allowing him to use both hands to cup the sides of your face. “You won’t have to divorce me though.” His voice is soothing as his thumbs gently run across your cheekbones and you know you look a mess with your red eyes and puffy face from crying but Harry doesn’t care.

“How can you be so sure?” You need him to explain it to you, to make you understand why he’s so confident in his decision that you should be his wife. Your question just makes him grin as he leans down and places a quick kiss to your forehead making your knees want to give out.

“Because how could I not fall in love with you? For starters I feel like it is my duty to remind you how beautiful you are because I could literally stand here all day and explain to you exactly why I find you so stunning but I also know you hate that sort of thing so we will just move on.” Harry shoots you a playful wink but you know him enough to know he means it, if you wanted him to he’d stand there and give you a detailed explanation on why he finds you so beautiful because he’s done it once before when the two of you were drunk and you called yourself ugly and he wasn’t having it.

“You’re funny and you even find me funny at times which is a huge boost to my ego every time you laugh at one of my horrible dad jokes. You’re so smart and I love the way your mind works because you see things in a way that I don’t which is why we make such a great team. You challenge me constantly. You tell me when I’m being an idiot which is often and you allow me to make my own mistakes but you always let me know you’re going to be there when it falls apart.” You lean into his touch as he talks and you feel your cheeks get warm as he looks at you with such intensity you want to look away but you don’t, you know he’s saying these things to you because he desperately needs you to believe him when he says he can love you the way you love him.

“I think the love has been there this whole time I just refused to see it because I didn’t want to lose you.” He breaks the eye contact and drops his hands from your face as he tilts his head upward and looks towards his ceiling as he lets out a deep breath before you watch him look back down at you while taking a few steps backwards. “Now I’m going to do this one more time and honestly if you tell me no I’m never doing it again so no pressure but the future of the Styles name is sort of resting on your lovely shoulders.” You want to roll your eyes and make a joke but you can’t, all you can do is stare at him as he quickly reaches into his back pocket for something before he drops down to one knee for the second time right in front of you.

“I know how to make you happy and I know how to make you laugh. I also know exactly which buttons to press to make you want to smother me in my sleep while I’m taking a nap on the couch, I know this seems crazy but if you think about it we’ve kinda been dating for the last ten years and we have everything two people need in order to have a very happy and healthy marriage.” You smile and give him a small but encouraging nod as he reaches for your left hand.

“We have the foundation of over a decade long friendship and we have respect and for the most part we don’t judge each other even though I know you sometimes send photos of my outfits to Niall and you two talk shit but that’s okay because I sometimes talk to Mitch about the things you would tell me about all your tinder hook ups.” He watches in amusement as your eyes go slightly wide at his confession and before you can say anything your attention is brought back to your ring finger as Harry starts to slowly slide off the gold band. “But most importantly we trust each other and we’d never do anything to hurt one another and also it doesn’t hurt I quite like how you look nak-”

“I will say no right now if you bring up how I look naked in the middle of your second marriage proposal.” Your voice is teasing but Harry doesn’t want to risk it so he just nods as the gold band is now off your ring finger and you don’t even know how he does it because it’s so quick but he manages to switch it with a ring that you know you’ve seen before but you just can’t quite remember where.

“It was my Nan’s but you’ve probably seen my sister wearing it but after an intense evening of negotiating I managed to get her to agree to give it to me.” You feel your eyes get that familiar sting to them as he slips the ring on your finger. “I hope you don’t mind Gemma as a name for our first born child because that was one of the conditions as well as letting her be my best woman at the wedding but the main condition she had for giving me this ring was,” Harry smiles at how well the ring fits you and how good it looks on your finger before he looks up at you, and that’s when you feel the first few tears roll down your cheeks because he’s looking at you almost as if it’s the first time and you watch as his smile grows and his eyes light up. “You had to be the one wearing it.” You look from Harry’s eyes down to the ring and then back to him as you feel your heart begin to race as you prepare for him to ask you the question this has all be leading up to.

“Will you please marry me and allow me to prove to you just how easy it’ll be for me to love you for the rest of my life?” Harry watches with a hopeful smile as a few more tears roll down your cheeks and when you just nod your head he feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders as he lets out a deep sigh of relief but to your surprise he doesn’t move he just stares at you for a moment. “I really need to hear you say it. Please.” You’ve never been one to deny him especially when he asks so nicely.

“Yes Harry I’ll marry you.” His smile turns into a grin that makes his dimples pop out and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he finally stands up and wraps his arms around your shoulders pulling you into his chest.

“Thank god.” You let out a giggle as he mumbles into the top of your head while your arms wrap around his middle so you can press your cheek against the soft material of his shirt. The two of you stay like that for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Harry is the one to break away from the embrace but just enough so he can look down at you with a quirked brow. “Would it be weird if we kissed? I know we’ve kissed a handful of times before and it wasn’t weird but is it different now? Or-” His words get cut off by you pressing your lips to his in a very rushed kiss but one that still makes him smile when you pull away.

“It is different now but it’s not a weird different.” You explain and Harry just licks his lips as he nods his head and before you can say anything else his lips are on yours but this time the kiss isn’t rushed and it feels like how kissing someone you just got engaged to is supposed to be, soft and sweet leaving you both with grins on your faces when he pulls away.

“So does next week work for you to get married?” You roll your eyes at him and ignore his question as you rest your head back on his chest.

“God we have to like actually plan a wedding now.”Harry laughs as you let out a groan and he knows you’re making a mental checklist of all the things that need to get done. “Where are we going to live?” He looks down at you and offers you a casual shrug making you roll your eyes at him yet again.

“We can live here if you’re comfortable with that? Or if you want we can look at some houses and find something that feels like it’s more us so you don’t feel like you’re moving into my house? Because no offense lovey but your house isn’t an option you have two bedrooms and one of them is the size of the closet I just have for my shoes and accessories.” You ignore his rude statement about the size of your house and smile at the idea of finding a place that feels like it’s just for the two of you rather than you moving into his house that he’s had for years and has seen a few other woman move in and out of it.

“Okay I like the idea of us finding a place together.” He just nods as his hands begin running up and down your back. “Who’s going to be your first call?” You know his answer but you want to hear him say it anyway.

“My mum so she can get all her ugly crying out of the way and I’m sure I’m going to have to talk her out of booking a flight out here and try to tell her to save it for the engagement party or something but we both know she doesn’t listen to me half the time so she’s more than likely going to ring my doorbell in a few days.” You laugh as he rambles on about his mom and you know even though his tone is teasing that he adores his mother and he’ll be a big teary eyed mess the moment she wraps her arms around him when she arrives.

“Mine is Niall because-”

“Niall Horan? That’s the first person you’re telling about our engagement? Really?”

“Yes because if he finds out through someone else it’ll just wreck him, you know he’s sensitive and besides I need him to get the big brother type conversation with you out of the way as soon as possible.” Harry rolls his eyes at the idea of Niall trying to have a brotherly conversation with him but he knows Niall has always been like a protective older brother to you and he’s been there for you at times Harry couldn’t so he’ll let Niall say whatever it is he needs to say and be done with it.

“You know he’s going to be a mess right? He’s going to cry and be all dramatic-”

“You’re one to talk about being dramatic Harry when you’ve literally proposed to me twice now.”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it twice if you would’ve just said yes the first time.”

“Someone has to keep you humble.” You feel Harry’s chest vibrate as he laughs making you smile, his laugh has always been one of your favorite sounds.

“And you do such a good job at it sweetheart.” You give him a little squeeze as he rests his cheek on top of your head. You feel your body start to relax as you look down at the ring on your finger. It’s a beautiful reminder that Harry Styles, your bestfriend for over ten years really did ask you to marry him and you really said yes because you love him and you believe him when he tells you that if you give him some time he will love you in the exact same way.

[natalicss]

kwon ji-yong x american popstar!reader headcanons

summary: just a bunch of random lore drops about reader & g-dragons relationship with american popstar!reader

warnings: tbh i don’t think there’s really any but if im wrong lemme know. just chaotic random nonsense. if this sucks it’s cause i wrote most of it half awake at 4am soo SORRYYY

nat’s notes: hey y’all!! i just wanted to put out random fun facts about jiyong & american!reader. i thought it’d be funny and unserious and i think yall might enjoy this!! if you don’t…don’t read it and don’t tell me LMAO. if yall want more of these lemme know??? i guesss???

“it’s hard to say who fell first—“ it was jiyong. you’d been hanging out together during your first time in seoul. you two talked about music, art, the industry, and every conversation jiyong found himself more and more fascinated. the way you shared so many of the same views as he did, the way you carried yourself so beautifully and confidently, the way you truly listened and hung onto every word he said. it all intrigued him, and by the end of your visit in seoul jiyong knew he was crushing and crushing hard.

you two didn’t get together right away, tho. no you two stayed good friends for a solid 2-3 months before any romance even started. and neither of you really know who initiated it. seemingly both? you two were at a dinner together as you were visiting seoul again (claiming to be working, but your truly wanted to see him). you both kept staring at each other. the tension was thick. you didn’t even know who kissed who first. one minute, you’re staring at each other like the rest of the restaurant wasn’t there, and the next you two were kissing softly under the dim lights.

taeyang is the first person who finds out about your relationship. not on purpose either. it was like he manifested it. he’d discovered your music and was listening to it. you two ended up having mutual friends, and you were visiting seoul for ‘vacation’, so you two had ended up meeting. you loved him and hyo-rin. but you struggled acting like you had no idea who they were. acting like you weren’t dating his group member. taeyang mentions his group to you, how he should introduce you to daesung and jiyong, how you’d love them. you try not to freak out.

how he found out is fairly simple (but he found it to be hilarious). he was heading to jiyongs home to hang out, something that they’d planned weeks before (it was hard with their schedules), but jiyong had completely forgotten about it. taeyang walked in, only to find you standing in the kitchen wearing jiyongs pajamas and drinking a glass of water. the two of you stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide and completely silent. then, taeyang bursts out laughing. the sound causes jiyong to come out from wherever he’d been, his face dropping in realization. “this makes so much sense!” taeyang exclaims. “i was wondering why you were traveling so much.” he points at jiyong, and then he looks at you. “and you! you kept telling me you were here for work! hyo-rin called it! we knew you were dating someone! we just didn’t know it was each other!”

you and daesung are jiyongs worst nightmare. the way you two become instant chaotic besties. at first, jiyong is even a little jealous. the two of you became friends so easily and so quickly it gave him whiplash. he gets over it pretty easily (after all, you are absolutely obsessed with your man & remind him of that), but he still partially regrets introducing you to daesung because you two are now both menaces in his life and constantly give the other new ideas.

jiyong loves visiting you in america. sure he’s famous over there, obviously, but it didn’t feel as intense as it did at home. plus, you had mastered the skills of avoiding the paparazzi. the two of you always going on trips to more rural areas to spend time together without anyone noticing you

he loves spoiling you. sure, he knows you have plenty of your own money. but he can’t help himself! when he sees a cute jacket that he knows would look good on you, he can’t help it but snatch it for you.

but its a mutual exchange. you can’t help but grab him gifts too. whether it’s fun scarves, or a one-of-a-kind sweater, you’re always getting him things. you never tell him, either. you tell a person on his team that he’ll be receiving a gift from you in the mail, and they keep it a secret until he’s opening the package. both of you complain about the other getting you things, but neither of you stop either

the first time a dating rumor spiked about you, the two of you were constantly waiting to see who. you were hardly seen in public anyways, so who in the world could they be conspiring you were with? when it turned out to be a famous musician who had recently asked you to feature on their album, jiyong felt both slightly jealous and relieved. relieved because he didn’t want you facing the wrath of knetizens & the media for dating him, but slightly jealous because he wasn’t blind to the comments shipping you and the other musician. talking about how cute you two were, how he was so talented, your babies would be cute, the couple made so much sense blah blah blah. dare i say he was a little bit of a pouty baby about it, which you teased him for relentlessly

you had your own jealousy moments! the two of you were at a chanel event, neither of you interacting or acknowledging each other at all as it was very early in your secret relationship. you couldn’t help but overhear as a woman asked jiyong if he was single. of course, he said yes. that part didn’t bother you. what bothered you was the way the woman’s face lit up as she continued to talk to him. jiyong, on the other hand, was completely unaware. he was usually attentive and noticed things like that, but in this particular moment he was far too aware of you to think about the woman’s advances. when he did eventually catch on, he kindly shut her down and excused himself. he didn’t miss the way you glared at her. and he certainly commented on it when you got back to your hotel room. “were you jealous, baby?” he’d say with some smirk that makes your entire body blush. “it’s a good look on you, but you know i’m in love with you.”

you offered to dye his hair, and the first few times he said no. when he started dying it around the time of the comeback, you were begging at that point. he lets you dye it mint<3 and you did a damn good job too

you don’t comment on his posts or on the 8lo8lo8lowme posts, but you DOOOO text him like a crazy person. “WHO LET YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE LOOKING SO FINE” “booking a flight back there rn. quitting the tour, quitting my entire career so i can come be your trophy wife. setting back feminism by 400 years” “ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME???” “hope you’re okay with being a dilf”

how he reacts depends. he’s either confused as fuck, flustered as fuck, or laughing at his phone and getting weird looks from his friends.

i feel like it wouldn’t be very often he’d match your energy, but when he does you get even more excited and probably up the insanity by a million. if he ever one-ups you you probably reply with something blunt like “👁️👄👁️ alright get back here rn cause we’re about to have the craziest sex-“ PFFFTTTT

when you two go public, you still keep the relationship private!!! you post him once or twice, you get featured a couple times on 8lo8lo8lowme’s instagram, but otherwise fans get crumbs from paparazzi & yall liking each others posts

however i definitely could see jiyong liking edits or posts about you because mans is always on there let’s be real

he joins you on tour & it’s definitely different for him. it’s not often he’s at a concert where he’s not one of the main focuses. but he does love it, watching you in your element. it helps when the crew doesn’t know who he is, and just knows he’s with you somehow. watching you get ready, watching you warm up, helping you with your hair and your wardrobe, he loves it all. what he loves most is watching you perform. sometimes he was backstage, but other times he’d find a spot in the VIP section and watch with the rest of the crowd. he thinks that might be when you’re most beautiful, doing things you love most.

overall yall are probably the fluffiest couple to ever exist it’s sickening. daesung reminds you of that every time yall act flirty in any way.

[dilfl0v3rss]

Tattoo artist Connie and ony??? This is y/n first tattoo and they’re real nervous so con and ony gotta help them relax 🤭

might end up tattooing their name on that pus- nvm…

i love love love thisssss😩

first ink

cw: needles, smuttt

word count: 2.4k

never in your life did you plan on getting a tattoo. it was too scary and you absolutely hated needles. if your mom didn’t get it done when you were a baby, you doubt you would’ve even had your ears pierced. you were getting older though, and the sight of the pretty art of your friend’s bodies swayed your judgement. you became very infatuated with them, always running your fingers along them when they were with you.

“girl just go get one. tired of you caressing my stomach like i’m pregnant or sum” sasha sighed, rolling her eyes as you laughed. “sorryyyy. it’s just so pretty” your friend put her hand on top of yours, squeezing it as she looked deep into your eyes. “i love you so ima touch your hand as i say this. you need to stop being pussy and get some ink. you look like a child.” you rolled your eyes, yanking your hand from under hers as she laughed at you. that was your last straw. you told her that day that you will finally get a tattoo, making her jump for joy as she called up two of the best artists she knew.

as the two of you walked in the shop your eyes instantly met the light brown orbs of a tall man. “buenos tardes ladies. what can i do f’yo-…oh hey sash” the man came across the counter he was standing at, giving sasha a side hug before outreaching his hand towards you. “hola mami, my name’s connie. you must be y/n” he gave you a kind smile, his gold grills shining in the light before he gave you a light peck on your hand. “boy move she here for some ink, not a pregnancy scare” connie rolled his eyes, lifting his hands in surrender before walking deeper into the shop. thats when another man came out from the curtain in the back.

“wasgood sash” the man said as he walked towards his booth before sitting in the spacious chair. “this her?” he mumbled. sasha pushed you up towards them. you haven’t said a word since you got here. too in awe at the beauty of these too men. “don’t talk much do she?” connie chuckled as him and ony continued to look you over. sasha knew how you got when you met new people so she didn’t try to push you to speak. instead she wrapped her arm around you while she did the talking. “this my girl right here. she never got any shit done before other than the piercings in her ears and that was when she was a baby so i need y’all t’be real delicate with her ‘kay?”

ony and connie shared a look, eyes widening as they realized that sasha was telling the truth. there wasn’t a single thing on your body other than your small stud earrings in your ears. “yea we gotchu. come sit while i set up.” ony said, getting up from the chair to let you sit down. the sound of sasha’s phone ringing brought your attention to her. “what….girl call your mother….ughhh why i gotta do it?…whatever whatever bye” you gave her a confused look as she carried an annoyed look her her face. “i gotta get my cousin from summer school, her bad ass. i’ll be back right after i take her home ‘kay?” you gave her a wide eyed look, her cousin lived almost an hour and a half from where you were. your fear was clearly showing on your face. you couldn’t get a tattoo alone.

as if reading your mind sasha gave you a tight hug whispering in your ear. “girl i’ll be right backkkk. don’t be scared. jus breathe and focus on something else, you’ll be fine” with that she gave the two men behind you stern looks, pointing her acrylic finger at them as she spoke. “behave yourselves. it’s her first time” ony and connie both gave her quick nods before she went out the door. as ony set up his stuff you slowly sat down in the chair waiting for him. “so it’s your first time huh ma?” he said, noticing your nervousness as he looked up at your pretty face. “mhm”. your response made him chuckle as he got up from his seat next to you. “what you gettin and where you want it”

you showed him your desired tattoo, making his eyes widen as he looked at the photo. “you sure?” sasha told you that this was an easy spot so you listened to her, nodding your head quickly as a reply. ony gave you a small smile before turning towards connie, who was in one of the other chairs scrolling on his phone. “baby turn some music on. it’s quiet at hell in here”.

baby? you turned your head towards ony’s face, your quizzical look making him chuckle. “sasha ain’t tell you?” you shook your head. “of course she didn’t” before ony could speak again, the sound of psa by kay flock started to play. making ony and connie rap along to the lyrics as they continued on with what they were doing. “so what you getting mami? a butterfly?” connie asked, inked hand rubbing on his boyfriends durag covered head. “she getting a thigh tat, cute lil sun” connie nodded his head as he listened, looking at your legging covered thighs. “well y’know you gotta lose those right?” he said, pointing to the fabric. you had totally forgot, eyes widening as you internally sighed. today was not your day.

“i mean…we don’t mind, could close up the blinds and lock the doors so it can seem like we closed right now. since sasha won’t be back for awhile and ion want you just sitting here waiting f’her” you thought about his words. they seemed like nice, respectful guys. and if sasha trusts them then you knew they wouldn’t do you wrong. “okay” your soft voice made the both of their heads turn to you, making you shy away and put your gaze on your lap. “so she does speak” they both say.

~about an hour later~

“listen mama, if you don’t calm down i can’t get started. i can’t tattoo you while you shaking like this” ony said softly as he watched you twitch away from the needle for the fifth time. you had no problem taking your pants off and letting them put the stencil on you, but as soon as you heard the machine start you couldn’t get it together. “he’s right mami, y’gotta relax for us ‘kay. we not gon hurt you”

you were trying, you really were, but your body just wouldn’t relax. and you weren’t helping them either, ony was ready to pass out from the sight of your ass making your thong practically disappear. and connie was trying his hardest to make his hard on as least noticeable as possible at the sight of your teary eyes staring up at him. your pretty hands gripping his tightly as you tried your best to be calm.

“what we gotta do t’help you relax huh? you want a snack?” connie asked, smiling softly at you as you nodded your head eagerly. ony got up from his seat behind you, walking towards the back to grab you some fruit snacks. “sit up and eat em. ion want you choking or nun” he said as he passed you the packet and walked back behind the curtains. you sat up on your knees as you tried your best to open it, but your hands were too sweaty from how nervous you were. connie saw you struggling so he helped, looking down at your pretty eyes as he slowly opened it. you didn’t even notice, too focused on his pretty light brown eyes as he slowly took a fruit snack from the packet.

on instinct you opened your mouth, not knowing what came over you as you slowly sucked on his finger after he put the small miniature orange in your mouth. “you want sum else t’help you relax mami?” you couldn’t help but nod your head yes. these men were fine, and you were desperate to relax. “pa c’mere! she said she need our help to relax” ony made his was to his boyfriends side, smirking down at you as he realized what he meant. “oh we can help you with that real good”

before you knew it you were laid back in the chair, this time with your back on the end of it as connie eagerly ate your pussy on one side, and ony fed you his long dick in your mouth on the other. “that’s right ma, keep suckin it jus like that. don’t you feel better? no more shakin and cryin” ony’s words went straight to your core, making your arousal increase as you began to leak onto connie’s face. “taste so good mama, you like when he talks t’you like that huh? talks to me like that too at home. y’wanna come home wit us baby?” you instantly replied with a “mhm”. the vibrations of your voice sending ony over the edge as he shot his thick ropes down your throat.

“shittt you suck me so well mama. you gon let connie make you feel good, gon let him fuck you?” as he spoke connie began lining himself up with your entrance, rubbing his inked hands all over your stomach as he waited for you to reply. “y-yes” you said in a small voice, turning the both of them on more as connie slowly sunk into you. the stinging stretch of his dick making you whine as you tightly gripped ony’s arm. “we know mama, s’okay we here” ony coo’d at you, helping you relax as he gave connie the signal to speed up. before then he was pounding you into the chair, long light brown dick pulling loud moans and cries from you as ony stood behind him, whispering dirty words in his ear as he’d occasionally kiss up and down his boyfriends neck. his eyes never left yours as he did this, controlling the tempo of connie’s thrusts without having to lift a finger.

“there you go pretty boy. makin her feel so good” connie’s eyes were closed as he focused on the words of the man behind him. “i wanna cum in her” he whined as ony gave you a small smirk. he knew the sight of them was driving you crazy so to pleasure you further he slowly gripped connie’s neck, turning his head towards his to give him a sloppy kiss. your pussy clenched at the sight, making connie whimper into ony’s mouth as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. “m’finna cum, you want papi t’cum in you mami?” his deep voice rang in your ears, pushing your release closer as you moaned out at loud “yes”

with that connie spilled his seed deep into you, his thrusts halting to a stop as he made sure to keep you full of him. you watched ony whisper something in his here, making connie slowly pull out of you before ony took his place. “gonna make me feel good too now, that okay baby?” you quickly nodded your head yes, but he wanted more. ony teased you, rubbing his tip all over your wet clit to make you whine. “let daddy hear that pretty voice. want y’to talk me through it like i did connie” connie helped you up as ony spoke, kissing your neck as his boyfriend waited patiently in between your legs. “listen t’him mami. or he won’t give you what you want” your brain was clouded with pure lust right now as you finally replied to the man in front of you. “want you t-to fuck me”

“that’s a good girl”

~a couple hours later~

“alright all done pretty girl” ony chirped as he began to wipe the last bit of ink off your freshly done tattoo. “she’s still asleep” connie chuckled out as he sat in the chair with your pantsless body on his chest. as soon as they finished fucking you, you fell asleep so they woke you up to ask you if you still wanted the tattoo and you said yes, and who were they to deny a pretty thing like you especially after you were so good for them.

as you stirred awake you noticed you were still in the chair, a warm blanket draped over your body. you went to get up, but were stopped by a little stinging pain in your leg. “she’s up pa” connie said as he watched you from one of the couches in the waiting area, a bag of chips in his hand as he watched his show. “heyy pretty girl, we ain’t wanna wake you so we just put the blanket on t'keep you from getting cold. want some water?” you eagerly nodded your head yes as you reached for the water bottle in ony’s hand. before you got to grab it he pulled it back towards him. “lemme hear that pretty voice baby” a shy smile planted onto your face as you looked up at him. “can i have some?” a smile spread to ony’s face as well, his big inked hand transferring the bottle into your much smaller one. “good girl”

as you drank the water, connie made his way towards the two of you, a small smirk on his lips as he looked down at you next to ony. “you not gon look at your new ink?” he said. you had honestly forgot, but excitement bloomed in your stomach as you slowly moved the blanket from your thigh. there sat the beautiful sun you asked for, prettily wrapped up along with something else you didn’t see in the picture. there sat an infinity symbol in the middle of the sun with two letters in the spaces. an o and a c.

“you said you wanted t’come home wit us right? if you gon be ours you gotta rep us.” connie said before him and ony pulled up their shirts, the same infinity symbol showing on their sides with each others initials and yours in the spaces. your mouth dropped to the floor at the sight of the pretty tattoos, stomach doing flips in excitement as you realized what you had gotten yourself into.

“you ours now mama”

[almostempty]

Cargo

(joel x f!reader, din x f!reader, frankie x f!reader) | wc: 4.9k | other fics | Ao3

summary: smuggler!joel finds you and brings you to his partner in crime, with a side of gratuitous smut and a special guest along the way (full spoiler summary under the warnings/tags) 

note: this is for my lovely @auterdelabre, and it was inspired by the line you wrote when i joked about joel using “cargo” as a pet name (and a couple other things i had to mix in there) 

extra note: i hope this can bring a lil distraction in light of the heavy reality of today, fuck fascists – just don’t fuck them

warnings/tags: mdni explicit, smut, smuggler!joel, dubcon, oral, piv, degradation, ‘whore’ and one (1) ‘slut’, truly pwp - like the plot is just p, pls let me know if i missed anything important, weds warnings: doin’ it/fillin’ it up unprotected with no consequences bc it’s fiction and in the words of Wu-Tang Clan’s Ol’ Dirty Bastard in Shimmy Shimmy Ya - Ooooh, Baby, I like it raw; f!reader is able-bodied–this time this bish has hair that joel can worm his fingers into, no y/n, likely many mistakes bc i yam who i yam 

FULL SPOILER SUMMARY: crackfic crossover: au star wars smuggler!joel finds you and y’all fuck, he brings you to his partner dark!din and y’all fuck, but surprise! smuggler!joel and dark!din were your co-stars for your independent porn. your bf, Frankie (who played the Mandalorian), is just so turned on watching you edit the video that…you guessed it! y’all fuck) 

The clear water rushes downstream, rippling around your legs as you step toward the bank and the soft grass. The sunlight filtering through the forest canopy makes the surface of the stream sparkle like glitter. But, you. You are the star of the scene. 

You glow like you’re a creature drawn from the sun and the soil, from the woods and the water. Crystal-clear droplets of water race along your skin, rolling over your curves and dripping back into the current to flow down, down, down to another body of water. 

You appear meditative, attuned to nature's tranquility, disregarding the universe's relentlessly unjust chaos. The ugliness and the violence. The balance. The dark. 

Joel lurks in the trees, waiting to make his presence known. Holding out for an opportunity to strike. He creeps out of the treeline with deft precision, like a shadow. You’re only partially dressed, still bent over your bag, searching for something when he gets close.  

“Don’t think you’ll need to worry about that anymore.” 

He’s not loud, but his gruff voice still disturbs the serenity. A jarring interruption to the leaves rustling in the breeze and the birdsongs echoing above. You take one long breath before you look him in the eye. Dropping your bag, you raise your hands in surrender. 

You have nothing. No weapons, no defense, no chance of getting far if he’s tracked you down already. “How did you find me?” You square your shoulders, standing your ground despite your disadvantaged position. 

“It’s my job,” he replies simply. 

He circles around you slowly, appraising you, eyes roaming over your exposed skin. Your tight shorts and thin undershirt don’t leave much for him to imagine, but you refuse to shrink or hide. You assess him yourself, and realization spreads across your face. You mutter his name aloud. Joel. 

He pauses just behind you and hooks a finger under the thin strap along your shoulder, teasing down the skin before snapping it like a rubber band. You stifle a wince. Just because he has you alone and barely dressed in the wilderness doesn’t mean you intend to give easily. You keep your chin raised in a proudly defiant stance. 

Joel chuckles dangerously at you, stepping closer. He rests his large palms atop your shoulders. It would be a sweet portrait of the two of you if it weren’t for the reality of the circumstance. Instead, his body is oppressive, so broad compared to you that it’s like you’re caged in, locked in a gravitational pull towards him, despite being in the open air. 

Your distaste for his presence has your body rigid and tense. You’re holding your breath as he leers at your body over your shoulder. His fingers dig into the flesh over the ridge of your clavicle like the claws of a predator ready to fly you away or tear you apart. 

“Are you going to come along willingly now?” he asks. The bass of his voice sends a shiver down your spine despite his furnace of a chest radiating into your back. The question hangs ominously between you. The or left unsaid. 

You swallow slowly, muttering an agreement and turning so you’re face to face. Your eyes dart across his features, and it’s strangely intimate. Something heavy in the closeness of your mouths, the shared breaths you take. His humanity is so apparent. You could reach out to trace every line of his face, but his stoic expression morphs into something sinister.

“That’s too bad,” he tuts, disappointed, “I was hoping you’d put up a fight.” 

You scowl, shifting your weight to lean away from him. He laughs harshly at your response. It’s a grating, barking sound, baring his teeth. 

You’re still thinking about what he was hoping for as he binds your wrists together, but he’s not revealing anything else. He grabs your upper arm and begins leading you toward the dense trees. You stumble, adjusting to his pace and trying to find your stride. 

“Where are you taking me?” you complain, trying to jerk your arm out of his grip, but he’s latched on tight. He’s unfazed by your attempt to break away from him as if it’s a natural part of his day-to-day to wrestle with an unwilling companion. 

It’s an exertion to keep up with him; he moves with purpose and little regard for you. Unaware of the small branches and shoots of new growth in the forest whip at your face, arms, and ankles. Uncaring that they obstruct your vision as you let him lead. 

You take his strength, size, and foul-tempered look apparent from his profile. You follow half a step behind, visibly less enthused about his single-minded pursuit. 

“Not far.” He’s blunt. Unhelpful. Answering you without a glance in your direction. 

“What do you want with me?”

“That’s not my decision,” he shrugs as if he isn’t talking about what happens to your life. Not wasting a word to ease your panic. 

“Who sent you?” Fear cracks through your voice. Ugly and raw. 

“Don’t know.” 

He’s so short with you. Brutish and rushed. Trudging along indifferent to your world crashing down. 

“You don’t know?” There’s an edge to your tone, frustration apparent. Joel shoots you a scathing look. He has a handsome face, but his dark eyes show no kindness. 

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” He turns away, looking forward as you make your way along. 

He moves confidently, like a force of nature. Twigs snap under his boots as he creates his path without regard for the destruction. 

“Then what’s in it for you? Why not just let me go?” You press sulkily. 

“I get paid for delivering you, not making decisions, sweet thing.” 

His response is gross and detached. Sweet thing. The pet name drips with sarcasm. You’re just an object. You scoff at him. 

“You’re despicable,” you cut under your breath as you weave through the underbrush. Disgust warps your features as you make your way along.

“Watch it,” Joel snaps. A low tolerance threshold. Fitting for a surly smuggler. 

“It’s true,” you snap right back. He doesn’t take it lightly, stopping and yanking you around roughly so you’re facing him again. 

“You’re heartless,” you jab, “scum. You don’t care about anything but your own profit.” 

Fed up, he backs you into the nearest tree. The bark digs into your shoulder blades. His hand grips your throat menacingly. His face is so close to yours. The deep line between his brows, the depth of his dark eyes, and his plush lower lips are all you can see. 

“Keep it up,” he goads. His fingers are merely a threat, resting along your arteries. Tempting you to talk back. “We both know you aren’t innocent,” he adds. 

You snarl at that, arguing that he doesn’t know the first thing about you, but he only grins darkly. 

Joel enjoys the way you detest him. He also enjoys the sight of you pinned under his hand. The way it only takes one to have you helplessly trapped. You’re still muttering insults at him, but he’s ignoring your words. He’s too interested in the arch in your spine tilting you towards him. The rising and falling as your breath is shallow and quick. 

Your thin top is still damp from your dip in the water, and from his point of view, it’s a scene that deserves to be photographed. You seem so delicate in contrast to him. His wide palm covering your throat, his vascular forearm so masculine against your supple skin. You look at him through your lashes, your eyes narrow and scornful, but his eyes trail down as your voice trails off. 

Joel has a perfect view of your hard nipples under the thin material of your shirt. The fabric clings to you like you’re in a wet t-shirt contest, and the longer he stares, the more he starts to lose his sense of urgency in taking you anywhere.

“What?” you interrupt his ogling, forcing your features into a disapproving glower to overcompensate for the breathlessness. 

He’s amused by your contempt and disobedience. He can tell there’s a struggle forming beneath the surface. The twitch between your brows where they threaten to saddle in pleasure if he applies the right pressure. The lust flickering behind your eyes. The disdain tugging at the corners of your frown only makes his blood run hotter. 

“You think you’re better than me,” His voice drops, sinfully low. You stare blankly, not arguing. “You think you’re special,” he continues cruelly. 

“You aren’t.” His fingers squeeze along just the sides of your neck; playing god with you, he restricts the blood pumping through your arteries. “No, sweet thing, you’re just another runaway whore with a bad attitude. That sure as hell doesn’t make you special.”

“I’m not a whore.” You spit his words back in his face. 

“No?” He mocks, tilting his head and dragging his eyes over your frame. His lecherous gaze highlights your compromising position. You’re on display for him, at his mercy, alone. It all comes into focus as your throat runs dry. “Could’ve fooled me.” He lifts the pressure off your neck, and the blood rushes to your head. 

Your gasp switches into a tight frown. His cocky smirk only widens. 

“Argue all you want, but your body doesn’t lie,” he coos arrogantly. 

“Can feel your pulse beating faster,” his fingers massage deliberately at your neck. You steel your breathing, eyes searching for something on his face to focus on. Something to ground you. But he leans in close, his breath hot along your ear. “So desperate,” he inhales deeply like he’s cataloging your scent, “just for me?” 

His other hand traces the angle of your jaw. 

“Maybe that’s just a human response to being pinned to a tree in the middle of nowhere by a smuggler,” you hiss. 

“Maybe.” He releases you, and you stagger forward at the sudden loss of support. Losing your balance and unable to steady yourself with your hands bound, you’re toppling forward to your knees as Joel half catches you—stopping you from landing with your face in the dirt. 

He shakes his head at you in disbelief. Every time you move, you pose just to tempt him. Here you are on your knees, glowing in the soft light as you tilt your face up at him. The fear that flitters over your face twists into something else. Something that makes you both pause. 

Joel moves first, resting a hand on your cheek. Reflexively, your lips part, and he can’t stop slipping his thumb into your mouth. You try to recalibrate, reversing the involuntary responses, but he’s already seen them. The way your breath hitched and the way your eyes darkened. 

He raises a brow slightly, entertained by how easy it is to read the signs. “It’s too late to hide it.” He pulls his thumb back, dragging it slowly over your bottom lip and down to your chin, leaving a trail of saliva that catches the light and glistens. “You think I can’t see how bad you want it?” 

You shake your head lightly in defiance, murmuring that he’s wrong and dropping your gaze. You’re sat at eye level with his belt and his one hand with the thumb hooked on a belt loop. You study every ridge of his hand, the scars along his knuckles, the sun-tanned brown skin. 

The bulge highlighted by his fitted jeans catches your attention, and you look back up to meet his eyes.  

Joel slips his hand past your face, fingers weaving into your hair, cupping the back of your head. He doesn’t add much pressure, and you don’t have to lean far to rest your cheek along the worn denim on his upper thigh. 

“Yeah,” he growls above you, “take it out.” 

You move hurriedly, dissolving your denial. It’s easy work to unbuckle his belt and pop open the button of his jeans, even with your wrists bound. You wet your lips unconsciously as you tug the band of his boxers down until his cock springs free. Only half-hard, it hangs imposing and proud. So close to your face, you can see the tiniest twitch as he responds to your warm breath fanning over his skin. 

“Get to it,” he orders. 

You blink up at him, resistance fading on the tip of your tongue. “Or get up so we can get a move on; doesn’t matter to me.” he challenges. You curl your fingers around the base of his shaft. It’s smooth and hot under your fingertips. Experimentally, you run your tongue along the underside. His fingers tighten their grip in your hair. 

You open wide, laying your tongue out flat, and he guides you. Joel’s eyes are glued to your mouth as he slides his cock past your lips. You stare back, studying every expression that crosses his face. His hard eyes don’t soften, but you could swear his blinking slows. The hint of a snarl deepens as he picks up the pace. 

Using you. Fucking your wet mouth until he’s pressing into the back of your throat, seeking more. 

Your eyes tear up, but he doesn’t stop, and you don’t resist. 

You quickly acclimate, working in rhythm, breathing, taking it all. When your eyelids flutter shut and a moan buzzes in your throat, Joel laughs darkly. “If you aren’t a whore,” he pauses to make a throaty noise that spears right to your core, “why do you take my cock down your throat just like one?” 

You choke at his assertion, and he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. 

“Not a very good one, I guess,” he says flatly, yet with a particularly pleased expression still faintly etched in the lines of his face. You wipe the spit coating your chin onto the back of your hands. 

He doesn’t reach for you again; instead, he takes his cock in his own hand. Impatient. Slick with your saliva, he strokes himself lewdly, grunting with pleasure as he flicks his wrist. 

“You’re deranged,” you mutter, voice hoarse. 

He doesn’t like that. He moves without a word, shoving you forward onto your elbows and knees. He holds you down against the soft grass with one hand as the other crudely pulls your shorts down. He runs his palm along the curve of your spine, over the contour of your ass. Both hands grip the back of your knees, readjusting you to his liking. 

Then he takes his time. 

Kneading your ass and thighs, landing one firm smack on that has you jolting forward, cheek pressing flat into the grass. The sharp sensation disorients you and leaves you sucking in air. 

Joel is undisturbed by your reactions. He takes both of his thumbs to spread you open wider, revealing the glossy sheen of your core. Your cunt drips, slick and swollen for him. 

“You think I’m so despicable,” his gravelly voice makes your mind fuzzy, “how come you’re so fuckin’ wet for me?” 

You can only manage to whine into the ground, pushing back towards him. “You don’t move,” he says harshly, one wide palm gripping your hip to hold you still. When the blunt head of his cock glides along your seam, you let out a broken moan. His fingers dig into your soft flesh in warning. 

He pauses, with his tip resting at the core of your throbbing pussy, to marvel at the visual before sinking into you. You gasp at the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely. You don’t have time to adjust before he’s pulling back and slamming into you again. He drags against every nerve inside of you, intensifying every motion. 

Joel isn’t gentle. He holds you firmly and uses your body, fucking into you with rough thrusts that make your thighs tremble. “Take it,” he grunts, pounding into you deeply until his hips meet your bare thighs. 

It’s all wet noises, heaving breathing, and skin slapping against skin. He watches the plush curves of your ass ripple as he drives into you harder and faster. The force of his movement pulls sharp, ragged cries from you as he fucks you so hard it pushes the air out of your lungs. 

“This is all you get.” Joel groans behind you, curling over you with his broad frame. Your bodies are sweaty where your naked skin slips against each other, and you writhe against him, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back as he fucks deeply into you. 

“You’re nothing to me,” he snarls, punctuated with his hips snapping into you brutally. “Just fuckin’ cargo.” 

“Shit,” he mutters, hips stuttering as you whimper. “You like that. Can feel you clenching around me,” he keeps talking. You’re mindless beneath him. A winded, drooling mess. “Ain’t even worth the hassle to deliver. Better use taking my cock,” he grunts, hips canting more erratically until he stills, pulsing inside of you with a throaty groan. 

You’re boneless, propped up on shaky knees as he pulls out and watches his come leak out of you for a moment. Then he’s crassly yanking your shorts up and ordering you to stand. You’re wobbly when you get back to your feet, and he huffs at you agitatedly. “Figure out how to walk, or I’ll drag your ass the rest of the way.” 

You can’t say how long it takes before you reach your destination. Everything was a blur as you clumsily trotted along, outpaced by Joel’s long stride. You’re breathing loudly through your mouth, a sheen of sweat between your shoulder blades and on your chest. Joel, apparently well-conditioned for the cardio, is frustratingly collected. He holds you tightly as he opens the door and pushes you inside. 

He jerks you towards a makeshift seat on a crate and raps a fist against the wall behind you. You can hear heavy footsteps. Joel ignores you as you try to read his expression. In seconds, the fully armored Mandalorian enters the room. 

He moves swiftly, barely glancing in your direction as Joel meets him on the far side of the room. 

“You were delayed,” the Mandalorian remarks in his modulated voice, his tone unrevealing. Joel steps in closer, muttering in a hushed tone that you can’t pick up. Something makes the Mandalorian laugh abrasively. His voice cracks through the air, fraught with a hazardous edge. 

You sit still, chest tight, as the helmet swivels towards you. Expressionless metal, he gives nothing away. Harsh lights beat down on your damp skin, making it hard to stay still. 

Joel is menacing, but this guy is impossible to read. The Mandalorian stalks towards you like a predator. 

Joel leaves the room, presumably off to shower, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks away. 

“Let’s see then,” the Mandalorian commands as he approaches. 

“See what?”

He pulls you to your feet, a gloved hand jerking your head side to side as he examines you. 

He steps forward, and you back away in synchronized steps until your heel hits something. The Mandalorian has you trapped between the cold wall and his cold metal armor. 

He removes the cuffs that bind your hands, tossing them aside, drawing a confused look from you. Instead, with one hand, he pins both your wrists above your head, causing your legs to spread instinctively. You squeeze your eyes shut as if you can control yourself without looking. 

“He said you’re not worth the fuel to return.” The Mandalorian gestures toward the direction Joel disappeared in with just a subtle tilt of his head. “That you’re a distraction and a whore.” 

“Then let me go.” 

“No.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t say more. He watches you. He is still and statuesque, whereas you’re so human. In the thick air, your breathing sounds too loud. Your heart beats too violently. Your limbs tremble too weakly. You give away so much, just with your body, your face, your eyes. 

“What do you want with me?” 

“I ask the questions,” he negates coolly. 

He squeezes your jaw tightly, “Is it your mouth?” His fingers squish the insides of your cheeks against your teeth. 

“No…it can’t be this needy cunt, hmm?” 

You’re shuddering, soft, and pliant. Warm, flesh and blood. You can’t form a response for him, even when he releases your jaw. Your gape at him with wide eyes and wet lips. 

Then, unceremoniously, he’s shoving his hand into your leggings. Wedging his thick fingers between your slippery, swollen folds. He growls like an animal beneath the helmet.

“You’re soaked,” he says. “Getting fucked full of Joel’s cock wasn’t enough?” He pulls his hand out, letting the band of your leggings snap against your belly. You stare back. Your body trembles lightly, arms straining in his grip. 

“Answer me,” he orders quietly. 

It’s soft. Your throat is still hoarse. “No.” 

Then he’s groping at you with an intensity that makes you writhe against the cool steel wall. 

He pinches at your strained nipples, rolling them between his fingers and making you bite your own lip to distract from the twisted pain and pleasure he’s unleashing on you. You can’t keep back all the noises, though, and he pauses when you moan and arch into his hand. 

“You’re not a whore,” he decides and he wedges his thigh between your legs. You roll along the ridged plate of armor, needily grinding against him. 

Without warning, the Mandalorian tears your top off of your body like a starved animal. Primal and desperate, but with precision. A tremor runs through you at the exposure and ferocity, making you gasp. 

“No. You like this too much to be whore.” He drops your hands and they fly to his shoulders. You wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you across the room dropping you onto the bed. 

He pulls your leggings down, tossing them to the floor. You’re breathing so heavily, anticipating his next move. He pulls his cock out of his pants and you can’t take your eyes off of it. The only part of him exposed aside from his hand. The only glimpse of the true man beneath the metal. 

He taps his drooling head on your clit and you make a hungry sound, spreading your legs wide to make room for him. With a firm grip, he guides himself through your throbbing folds and into your hot, wet cunt. 

You groan as he meets the end of you. Your walls flutter around him as he splits you open, and then he starts to rock in and out and you keen. “Shut up,” he growls and covers your mouth with his palm. 

He saws into you relentlessly and you choke down your cries of pleasure. “Listen to how wet you are,” he mutters. “Such a filthy slut.” Your body jolts with every thrust, breasts bouncing and legs shaking as he keeps your mouth covered. 

“You think she can take us both?” 

You strain under the Mandalorian’s hand trying to turn your head and Joel moves in closer. 

“She’s just cargo,” Joel muses darkly, “she’ll take what we give.” 

…….

You pause the video on your laptop, freezing the scene just as it cuts back to your reaction to Joel. The fucked out smile in your eyes apparent, even with your mouth covered. 

You whip your head over to look at your boyfriend lounging next to you on the sofa. Your brow is furrowed critically, and he can see the wheels turning in your mind. His eyes, though, are clouded with lust. 

“Would’ve been better if we could’ve made a set that looked like the Razor Crest,” you grumble. You chew on your bottom lip as you consider the rest of your critique. 

“Do you think I should’ve kept in more of the dialogue between you and Joel? And the continuity with your gloves—do you really think it’s not that noticeable?” 

“Baby,” Frankie mutters in his thick, husky voice. “I don’t think anyone is worried about the plot or the fucking gloves.” 

You sigh deeply at that, returning to your video editing software with irritation. “You’re just saying that because you aren’t worried about those things,” you admonish him, continuing with your work. 

You play another clip of the scene that the two of you shot. Hearing your moaning and whimpering for him through the laptop speakers drives him fucking crazy. He’s pretty sure he could wear a banana suit and people would still happily pay to watch you get railed by him. 

“I’m not just saying that,” he argues, deciding to hold back on the banana comment. 

“Come here. It’s late, take a break.” He can practically hear your eyes roll as you ignore him and continue poring over details that only you would notice. He doesn’t have much patience left, already desperately turned on both from the video you made and from how sexy you look next to him. So focused. In your element. 

He lowers his voice into that rumbly, bassy register that he knows you can’t resist. “Are you going to make me repeat myself?” Your head swivels, and he gives you a dark glare with a gleam in his eye. He can see the feisty remark swirling on the tip of your tongue. “Come here,” he orders. 

You close the laptop, pushing it towards the middle of the coffee table. “Are you going to punish me?” you murmur, crawling onto his lap slowly. “I can get the helmet back out,” you joke with a playful smirk before you curl into him, pressing soft kisses along his warm neck. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, “I should punish you.” He grabs your hips, guiding you closer to where he wants you. You gasp at the same time as he groans when your core rubs against the long ridge of his erection. “You feel that?” he growls lowly. The friction and heat between you radiates up his spine and down to his toes. “You feel how hard you make me?” he asks. 

“Yes.” You grind against him. He feels huge through his soft sweats. You roll your hips, savoring the pressure of his hard cock teasing you. It sends sparks from your cunt to your nipples, lighting up your nerves. He slips one hand under the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing–his t-shirt– to palm your tits and pinch at your nipples as if he could read your mind or, rather, your body. 

“That’s how hard every jerkoff that watches us is gonna be.” 

His statement makes you giggle softly against his neck. “Yeah?” you ask breathily. 

“Yeah,” he confirms before capturing your lips with a hungry kiss that makes you moan into his mouth. You melt into each other on the sofa. Tongues sliding against each other, hips rocking against each other, and hearts beating against each other through your ribcages. 

He cradles you in his arms as he shifts. Releasing you once you’re flat beneath him on the sofa, “They’ll never know what it’s like to feel your sweet cunt come around their cock, though.” He says as he lifts your legs, sliding off your soaked panties before spreading you open. 

You can only hum in agreement, entranced by the sight of him pushing down his sweatpants. He’s lost in you. The desire in your eyes and the arousal shining on the folds of your core. You wrap your legs around him, hitching one knee up high to give him deeper access. 

“Please,” you groan. He teases you with the wide head of his cock, nudging at your clit as he coats himself in the fresh wave of slick flooding around him. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, fuck me. Now.” 

A warm puff of air comes out of his nose. Amused with your impatience. But when he starts to feed himself into you slowly, it’s no longer funny. He’s possessed by the same urgency. Gripped by the plush heat of your cunt as you stretch around him. When he’s fully seated, hips flush to your pelvis, his cock throbs inside of you, and you dig your fingernails into the musculature of his shoulders. Silently demanding more, so he moves. 

He fucks into you with a fervor made of possession and pride. Filling you so deeply that it’s like he’s connected to your soul, slotted perfectly into the heart of your cunt. Every ridge of him designed to caress every nerve inside of you. But beyond fitting together physically, he knows exactly what you want. 

He snaps his hips harder. Faster. With a force that makes your eyelids heavy and your head bob limply as he drives into you with such strength that it makes you mindless with pleasure. He gives and gives. And you take and take. You cry out his name when he finds the perfect angle to launch you into a euphoric orgasm. It’s not long before he’s coming, too, stuffing you full and deep as your walls constrict and contract around him. 

Time feels fuzzy as you lay together. Sticky but satisfied. His arm and leg thrown over you weigh heavily as he relaxes. He could drift off like this, and he’s about to say so when he catches that look on your face. You just figured something out. 

“What are you plotting?” he asks in a sleepy voice. 

“I’ve got an idea for our next video.” 

“Yeah?”

“Do you still have those zip ties?” 

pls let me know if enjoyed or hated any of it <3

Dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

ty: to @gothcsz for reminding me that pwp is pwp when i spent days getting hung up on some unnecessary details, and to @magneticecstasy for an idea that didn’t make it in, but will not leave my brain now 

gen tags for some babes: 

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy

[tinkerbelle05]

How about a 1016 miles x fem reader where his mom catches them kissing in his room 😭😭 I feel Rio would not play

Caught Red Handed

Characters: 1610!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff & slight Angst

Summary: (Requested) Thanks beautiful ♥️

Warnings: awkwardness, snooping parents, Rio’s rage

A/N: Omg Rio would never play like that. I think it took a lot of convincing for you and Miles to be in the same room. Welp that's gone now. Also for my own peace of mind, Miles and Reader is 16+

You loved kissing Miles. You loved leaving a trail of kisses on his jaw, traveling down to his neck, and traveling further down into the depths of his collarbone.

You were doing it right now. Both of you laying on his bed with you draped over his body and his hands on your thighs for stability. You heard a chuckle under his breath and you paused to look at him.

“That made you tickle,” it was more of a statement, an observation really, than a question. He didn’t answer, just avoided your eyes. You took your finger and lightly trailed leaving goosebumps in it’a wakes, leaving him a laughing mess.

“You're such a tease,” he grumbles and kisses your lips.

The both of you were so entrapped in your own world that you didn’t hear Miles’ door opening, and you most definitely didn’t notice Rio standing at the doorway with lunch in her hands.

“What are you two doing?!” You hear a yell. It sounded too much like Ms. Morales for your liking.

Both of you froze with fear and slowly turned around to see a fuming Ms. Morales. She was gripping the tray for dear life and fierce glare on her face.

You practically jump off Miles, white hot embarrassment fills every part of your body. You avoid her line of sight as you brace yourself for the inevitable verbal lashing. You don’t even dare to look at Miles, not even a secret glance in his general direction.

“So this is why y’all wanna keep the door closed all the time huh?” She questions and laughs in a mocking tone.

“Mom-“

“Don’t,” she cuts him off harshly. She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. She opens them and they land in the space between you and Miles. “Have you two..?”

“No, we haven't,” Miles answers quickly, and somehow your embarrassment grew deeper.

She gives out a sigh and pinches her nose, “Okay, okay that's good because I will not become a grandmother right now, do you both understand?”

Both of you nod in unison. There was something more terrifying about her calm rage. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in anxiety.

She clears her throat, “Since neither of you clearly paid enough attention during sex-ed in school, I will re-teach you.”

“Huh? Mami please no. You really don’t have to,” Miles protested while you sink further into despair.

She ignores Miles and grabs a chair to sit in, “Okay so when..”

This was going to be a long night but it could definitely have been worse.

“Oh and you both are severely grounded for at least a month,” she adds before she continues on.

It was one of the worst 30 minutes of your life. Ms. Morales went really in depth on every subject related to sex education. The diseases you could catch, different methods of practicing safe sex, and the consequences of failing to do so. She painted horrifyingly graphic demonstrations too.

By the end of it, all you wanted to do was go home and erase this idea from your memory forever.

And at the end, she said, “Now maybe a month from now, after some reflection I can trust you two to be in the same room with the door open. But not right now. Do you need a ride home?” She turned to you, her gaze and voice softer than it was a moment ago

You quickly shake your head no and grab your things. As much as a car ride home would beat the 2 trains and a bus commute you had, your already cringing at the thought of how awkward and tense the car ride would be.

“No, no it’s fine Ms. Morales, I can get home on my own,” you tell her and with a quick goodbye to both of them, you were out the door.

Halfway through your train ride home and the Renaissance album you get a text from Miles. You were surprised he still has his phone.

“I’m sooo sorry for that. Shoulda locked the door next time. I'll make it up to you, promise 🙏🏿”

“I'll hold it to you Morales”

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