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gf2bellamy · 2 months ago

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good morning athena! if it’s okay with you i would like to request a spencer reid x reader fic where they go out on their first date to play pool (billiard). like they are cute and everything it’s their first date and spence is like holding her and helping her aim if you know what i mean and maybe in the end after he keeps winning he purposefully looses by hitting the 8 ball and reader gets so happy she won she lands a kiss on him hehe. thank you if you write this silly little request! 🥰

billiard — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing a/n: hi hi !! such a lovely idea <3 hope you like this !

“Wait, what? So I have to—” you trailed off, eyes narrowing as you tried to wrap your head around what he’d just explained.

Spencer, bless him, didn’t laugh at your confusion. He just smiled, all soft and patient like he always was. “You have to hit the cue ball,” he said, pointing gently. “The white one.” You glanced down at the billiard table, then back at the cue in your hands like it was a foreign object.

The two of you were on your first date, an actual sit-down, proper-dinner kind of date, not just a coffee during a case or a moment in a hallway. You’d eaten at a cozy little restaurant, someplace warm with string lights in the windows and jazz in the background.You’d thought dinner was the main event, but then Spencer had spotted the pool table nestled in the corner of the restaurant’s lounge. His eyes had lit up like a kid, and the next thing you knew, you were standing here, cue stick in hand, staring helplessly at a sea of colorful balls.

“Right,” you muttered, trying to sound like you understood. “Totally.”

He smiled again, that crooked, endearing smile that made your stomach flutter. “Why don’t I start?” he offered, already stepping forward.

“Yeah, okay. Knock yourself out,” you said, waving him ahead.

Spencer leaned over the table , lining up his shot. And, of course, when he finally made his move, the crack of the cue ball against the others echoed perfectly, and two striped balls sank neatly into the pockets like he’d rehearsed it.

You blinked. “Show-off,” you muttered under your breath, teasing as you gave him a grin.

His lips twitched into a full smile. “Beginner’s luck,” he said, feigning modesty. But you knew better. Spencer didn’t really do luck. Everything he did was precise, calculated. That just made him more charming, really.

Then it was your turn.

You stepped up, tried to mimic the way he held the cue, bent your knees a little, angled your arms. Spencer stood just to the side, close enough that you could feel his gaze but far enough to give you space.

Which, honestly, was worse somehow, it made you more nervous. This was your first date. With Spencer Reid. Literal genius, national treasure of a man, and you were about to completely embarrass yourself with a stick and some balls.

You took your shot.

The cue ball rolled two inches… and stopped dead. No contact. Just a sad little nudge and silence. There was a long pause. You stared at the ball like you could will it to move further.

“Oh no,” you said under your breath, then louder, “That was... that was really bad.” You turned toward him, fully prepared to crawl under the table and live there forever.

But Spencer was smiling again, that soft, really unfair smile that made his eyes crinkle just at the corners. “You missed impressively,” he said gently, and then added, “Want me to show you how to line it up?”

You exhaled, pretending to be put-out. “Only if you promise not to put this in some mental file labeled ‘reasons not to go on a second date.’”

“Absolutely not,” he said, stepping closer. “This is going in the file under ‘reasons I really like her.’”

You tried not to melt.

Spencer hesitated as he stepped closer, hovering just behind you. “Okay—” he began, his voice quieter now, like he was talking more to himself than to you. He was trying to calm down, that much was obvious. You could almost feel the tension radiating off him, the careful way he moved, like he didn’t want to mess anything up by getting too close too fast.

You smiled softly to yourself. “It’s okay, Spencer,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly. Your voice was reassuring. You reached back gently and tugged him forward by the edge of his sleeve, encouraging him to close the space between you. His chest was at your back now, and you could feel the warmth of him.

He paused again, his breath catching. “So, um… try to hold the cue like this,” he said finally, voice just a little shaky, as if he were still trying to remember whether he was supposed to be teaching you or falling for you.

You nodded, letting him guide your hands. His fingertips brushed over yours as he adjusted your grip. You could feel his breath ghost across your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“There,” he said, a little steadier now. “Now, line up your shot... just like that.”

You could hardly focus on the game anymore, not with him so close, not with his voice in your ear and his hand resting over yours like. “I’m really bad at this,” you whispered with a half-laugh, more to break the tension than anything else.

“You’re doing fine,” he said, his voice softer now, comforting. His words made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, now pull the cue back and make the shot,” he instructed gently. You could feel his breath warm against the side of your face as he spoke.

You took a deep breath and focused on the table. Spencer’s hand over yours was reassuring, though it made the simple task of lining up the shot feel a little more intense. You pulled the cue stick back, trying to steady your hand.

And then you did it.

You hit the cue ball, and it sailed forward with just the right amount of force. You held your breath as you watched, and then the ball dropped into a pocket with a satisfying thud.

“Oh my god, yes!” you cheered, almost jumping out of your skin. You felt the excitement bubble up as you turned to Spencer, grinning like you’d just won an Olympic gold medal.

Spencer stepped back, his smile wide. "Nice shot," he said, his voice warm with approval, though his cheeks were flushed with adoration at your sudden burst of enthusiasm.

The rest of the game consisted of small victories. You began to hit your shots with more confidence, gradually getting better with each turn. Spencer didn’t make it hard for you, offering encouragement whenever you missed, never mocking or teasing.

By the time you both reached the last few balls, you and Spencer were tied. Spencer stood there, cue stick in hand, preparing for the final shot. You could see the concentration in his face, his brow furrowed slightly.He lined up his shot and the cue ball bounced off the edge, grazing one of the other balls but failing to sink it into a pocket. He exhaled a sigh, a little exaggerated, as if disappointed in his own performance.

You didn’t think anything of it. “Nice try, Reid,” you teased.But Spencer’s smile was a little too knowing, his eyes gleaming with something that seemed playful. You didn’t catch on immediately.

“Looks like it's your turn,” he said, stepping back and motioning for you to take the shot.

You glanced at the table, the remaining ball just barely within reach, and felt a small rush of adrenaline. If you sank this ball you would win. Spencer was watching you with a big smile. He wanted you to win.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Just focus.” The cue stick glided effortlessly as you took the shot, and the final ball dropped neatly into the pocket.

You froze for a second. And then, as realization set in, a grin broke across your face. “I won!” you exclaimed, half-laughing at the shock of it.

Without thinking, you turned around and wrapped your arms around Spencer, pulling him into a tight hug. You felt his arms around you almost instantly, as he returned the embrace, his grin spreading wide as he whispered, “Congratulations, you earned it.”

Before you even realized what you were doing, you pulled back slightly. And in that soft, breathless pause, without thinking, you pressed your lips to his.It was just a gentle brush at first, a sweet, unexpected kiss that caught both of you off guard. For a brief moment, neither of you moved, both of you frozen in shock, realizing what had just happened. You felt your heart skip as you slowly pulled back, your eyes wide in surprise at your own boldness.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you whispered. You could feel the embarrassment creeping in. “I didn’t mean—”

But before you could finish, Spencer’s hand reached up to cup your face, his touch warm. “Don’t be,” he murmured softly, reassuring you with the simplicity of the words.

And then, before you could process it, Spencer leaned in. His lips found yours again, this time with more certainty. The kiss was soft at first, as if he were savoring the moment, testing the waters. And when you didn’t pull away, when you kissed him back just as gently, he deepened the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

It was like time stopped for just a moment.

When the kiss finally broke, you both pulled back slowly. Spencer’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted as if he was still trying to process everything that had just happened.

But his smile, his smile was soft, warm, and so utterly genuine that it made your heart flutter all over again.

"Can't wait to win on our next date," you mumbled, the words escaping you before you could stop them, a nervous laugh accompanying the statement.

Spencers hands still rested gently on your face, as though he didn’t want to let go of you. He tilted his head slightly. "Why’s that?" he asked softly.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit embarassed. It was hard to admit what you really meant, but you couldn’t quite hold back the words. "So I can kiss you again," you mumbled, the confession slipping out before you could think too much about it.

Spencer’s expression softened even further, his lips curving into that smile you’d quickly come to adore. He was quiet for a moment, just looking at you.

"You don’t have to win to do that," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. His thumb gently brushed across your cheek, sending a small shiver through you.

And before you could respond, before you could even process what he meant, Spencer closed the gap between you once more, his lips meeting yours with a gentleness that made your heart soar.

#criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

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kitkatscabinet · 2 years ago

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Don't feed him he'll come back

simon riley x neighbour! reader

summary: The ghost that lives in your apartment is a solitary man, people tend to stay out of his way, giving him a wide berth. You can't help but think he seems a little bit lonely, cue pestering him with bad jokes and food.

word count: 1.6k

part 2 here

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment block. Though it feels more accurate to say he’s an occasional visitor. He comes and goes, like a lost spirit, unsure and aimlessly wandering. He slinks silently through the hallways like a wraith in the few instances when he is there.

The first time you see him is just a glimpse from the corner of your eye, a large hulking shadow standing at the door next to your apartment as you step out from yours.

Your feet stutter to a stop, the landlord had mentioned a neighbour but in the 3 months you’d lived there you’d never seen him. As if sensing your eyes lingering curiously on his form, deep brown eyes turn to meet yours. You can make out no other details of his face, the black material of his balaclava obscuring most of his features.

A century could have passed in those few seconds and you doubt you’d have noticed. Despite the weariness in his gaze, you found yourself pulled into the deep pools of those stunning eyes. Like a predator, his gaze never moves from your body, even as you offer him a friendly smile and wave before walking down the hall to continue your day.

You’d heard the uneasily whispered tales of the Ghost that haunted the apartment next to yours from some of the older tenants, though you’d never put much stock into the idle gossip. His burning gaze bores into your back and follows until the doors of the elevator close and you suppose you should feel intimidated.

It’s hard to conjure up any such feelings, even with the knowledge of the wariness he elicits in others. It’s hard to fear the hulking figure of the Ghost when he had such sad eyes.

He hid it well but you recognised the loneliness that lined his shoulders, the bone-deep exhaustion for life that managed to slip through tiny cracks in his self-imposed shield.

You suppose at that moment that even Ghosts can be haunted.

Maybe that’s why you found yourself knocking on his door later that evening with the tray of pasta bake. Initially, you’d made a large batch to have a few days left over for yourself. Yet just as you opened your fridge you’d hesitated, mind flashing to the man next door. Did he have any food for himself? There was likely nothing fresh, and he’d seemed too exhausted to pull himself to the grocery store during the brief encounter earlier.

Donning your Crocs, you’d marched over and knocked on his door before it properly registered that you were in pyjamas. The door swings open and your eyes trail up, the balaclava is gone, replaced with a simple black face mask letting you glimpse blond hair.

“Sorry if this is a bit intrusive, but I figured you probably didn’t have any food so…” you trailed off, pushing the tray towards him, expectantly waiting for him to grab it. It took a few seconds before he robotically took the tray, probably out of sheer confusion more than anything else. Stepping back before he could return the food you offered one last smile before fleeing to the sanctuary of your apartment.

Two days later you exit your apartment to an empty and cleaned tray, a small note with a simple ‘thank you’ placed within.

His name’s Simon, and apart from an introduction and the occasional dish left at his door, you don’t actually interact with him again until nearly a month later. And that had simply been a case of forced proximity a la broken elevator style.

Simon remained unflappable as ever, and it’s at that moment you decide to try and get a reaction that isn’t stoic silence.

“A bear walks into a bar and says give me a whiskey and …cola” Brown eyes turned to look at you curiously, brow raised to let you know he was listening. “Why the big pause? Asks the bartender. The bear shrugged. I’m not sure, I was born with them.”

The joke doesn’t land, silence is the only reward for your comedy genius. “Ok, playing hardball. Alright then… Why did Susan fall off the swings?” Again, there is no answer, but a glance at his relaxed posture indicates he’s listening. “Because she had no arms.”

No laugh but you blaze ahead.

“Knock knock.” It takes a few seconds but with a playful glare, he responds quietly and with a tinge of amusement.

“Who’s there?” It’s not the first time you’ve heard his voice, but it still births a serious case of butterflies in your gut that takes more than a few seconds to fight down and regain your composure.

“Not Susan.” You can’t stop the peal of your giggles at that one, and while you swear you see the corner of his cheek curve upwards a little it’s not enough for you to be satisfied.

“I can’t believe it’s come to this, but I guess it’s time for the big guns. You better prepare yourself Riley 'cause I’m done holding back.” You pause for a few seconds to let the anticipation settle.

“What is… Whitney Houston’s favourite type of coordination?” You take a deep breath before positively belting out, “HAAAAAAAND-EEEEEYE.” Whether it’s the shock from the sudden musical number or the joke itself you’re finally rewarded with a faint chuckle.

“Aha!” you shout in triumph, a smug grin splitting your face, “I heard that laugh, you can do more scowl!”

The doors suddenly open with a ding and Simon pushes off the wall, but not before rolling his eyes playfully your way. Silence once again descends during the walk to your respective apartments, yet it’s not uncomfortable. Swiping your key card it’s just as you step through the threshold that you hear it,

“Why did the chicken go the seance? To get to the other side.” Whipping your head around, you are met with the sight of his door closing behind his large frame, but a win is a win and you celebrate mentally over the exchange.

The next time you leave a dish at his door it comes with a written joke. Sure enough, a few days later you received one back. The months start to blur, and your Ghost comes and goes, but the jokes remain.

Month three sees you snagging his number, a daily joke sent his way even when he can’t respond. Because as much as Simon Riley tried to hide his hurts from the world, he couldn’t hide them from you.

You’ve loved a soldier before in your brother, can see the signs and smell the gunsmoke and blood from miles away. Apart from his team, it becomes obvious the man has nobody left, and believes he doesn’t deserve to be cared for.

You’re not foolish enough to think you can be that for him, but you are understanding enough to give him the choice. So you continue to send him jokes, puns, pictures of your cat Bingbong and anything that you think will get him to at least smile.

Three months turns to six turns to eight. He’s not physically there most of the time but you take every opportunity he is to coax him from the loneliness of his apartment like a stray kitten.

Once-a-week dinners at least. Freely sharing your life’s story without expecting anything in return. One evening you’d plopped your chunky tuxedo cat down on his lap and watched him freeze, hands hovering with wide eyes as he considered the ball of fur making biscuits on his thigh.

It was cute. He was cute. Even when he whipped around to glare when you took a photo, the corners of his lips downturned and tugged at the scars on his face. His bare face wasn’t necessarily a new sight but it causes your breath to hitch nonetheless.

Something you think he notices given the way his lips quirked up suddenly in a smirk. Rolling your eyes you huffed before plonking yourself down next to him on the couch. Bingbong doesn’t scramble onto your lap like you expect, instead deciding to remain on his new favourite human, traitor.

You pay very little attention to the movie even though you’d chosen it, too acutely focused on the large bulk of Simon next to you. Your shoulder rests against his arm, his body heat emanating from beneath his hoodie and absorbing into your skin.

You’ve never been one to fall asleep during movies, but there’s something about Simon’s presence that soothes you, lulling you into a restful slumber as you slump against his chest. Bingbong meows his discontent as you accidentally squish him, jumping away with a huff, none of which you notice.

It’s the sun shining straight onto your face through the open blinds that wakes you the next morning, a groan of confusion leaving your lips as you stretch and look around to orient yourself.

Sitting up, the blanket that you just now realised covered your form fell down to your waist. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes your phone falls to the floor when you stand, the screen flicking on to display the time.

It’s not until you sleepily stumble into your bedroom, plugging your nearly dead phone in and face-planting onto your pillow that you realise Simon must have tucked you in. The smile that covers your face is so wide it is painful and you fall asleep once more, dreaming of the phantom sensation of his arms wrapped around you.

#x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost cod

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castielscaplan · 2 months ago

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Jealousy (Dean W.)

Summary: You, Dean, and Sam are working a case that brings you to an old hunter hangout. While Sam grabs info, you run into an old friend—Caleb, a flirty, rugged hunter you used to run with before you joined the Winchesters. Dean watches from the bar.

WC: 794

Warnings: Jealousy, possessiveness

Read on Ao3!

The bar was loud, alive with the low hum of classic rock and the occasional clink of pool cues. You weren’t even looking for anyone when you heard it—

“Is that really you, sweetheart?”

You turned, and your breath caught. “Caleb?” you said, blinking. “Jesus, I thought you were dead.”

He gave a crooked grin, stepping in for a one-armed hug that lingered just a little too long. “You know me. Too stubborn for Hell, too pretty for Heaven.”

You laughed, relaxing into the familiar rhythm of someone who’d once been shoulder-to-shoulder with you in blood and fire. “What are you doing here?”

“Passing through. Working a case. But hell, you look good. I always told you the hunter life would never rough you up the way it did the rest of us.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. You didn’t notice the way his hand brushed your arm. Or the way his eyes dropped a little too long to your lips.

But Dean did.

From across the bar, he’d been watching. Still. Silent. His beer forgotten in his hand, mouth pulled into something tight and unreadable. Sam tried to get his attention twice—he didn’t flinch.

Your laugh, too light. Caleb’s fingers brushing your shoulder, too familiar.

Dean’s pulse throbbed behind his jaw.

Sam muttered under his breath, “Dean, don’t.”

But Dean was already moving.

You felt him before you saw him—heat, coiled and tense, stepping up behind you like a loaded gun.

“Everything good over here?” Dean’s voice came from just behind your shoulder. Low. Smooth. But his eyes locked on Caleb with something colder than steel.

You turned to face him, blinking. “Yeah, Dean. Caleb was just—”

“—telling her about the black dog nest in Tulsa,” Caleb said easily, tone a little too smug. “We handled worse back in the day, right?” He looked at you when he said it. Not Dean. And Dean noticed. Caleb smirked, adding, “She used to run with better partners.”

Dean’s head tilted just slightly, lips curling—but the smile never reached his eyes. “That right?” He stepped closer, and without asking, slid a hand around your waist. Not possessive. Claiming. The message was clear. She’s with me.

You stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away.

Caleb held his beer like a shield, glancing between you. “Didn’t realize I was interrupting.”

“You are,” Dean said flatly.

You cleared your throat, “Dean, come on—”

Dean’s fingers pressed just a little harder against your hip, pulling you in closer. His voice dropped an octave.

“He always touch you like that when you ran together?”

There was a tight, hard pause. Caleb gave a soft laugh and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

Dean didn’t answer. Not with words.

Caleb lingered only a second longer before melting back into the crowd. Once he was gone, Dean’s hand didn’t move. If anything, it gripped tighter, like he wasn’t ready to let go.

You turned to him fully, your face still flushed. “What the hell was that?”

He didn’t flinch. “What do you think?”

“You jealous?”

He scoffed under his breath. “I’m not jealous.” You waited, but something flickered in his eyes. Not anger. Not exactly. “I’m possessive,” he added, lower. “Big difference.”

Your breath caught.

He stepped in close again, one hand still anchored at your waist, the other raising to brush hair from your cheek. “And I don’t like sharing.”

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, you barely had time to exhale before Dean was on you.

He pressed you back against the door like gravity pulled him there, his hands braced on either side of your head. His eyes searched your face, fierce and unrelenting.

“You don’t get it,” he said. “I see some guy with his hands on you, laughing like he knows you, like maybe he had you—”

You swallowed hard. “He didn’t. Not like that.”

Dean’s jaw flexed. “Doesn’t matter. I still wanted to put him through a wall.”

You reached up slowly, fingers brushing his chest where his heart beat too fast.

“Why, Dean?”

He didn’t answer with words.

He kissed you instead. Hard. Desperate. Like he’d been holding back for weeks and just snapped the leash.

His hands dropped to your hips, gripping tight as he hauled you up, and you wrapped your legs around him without a second thought. He carried you across the room like it was nothing, dropping you onto the edge of the bed, following you down with a growl.

“I don’t care how many people you’ve known before me,” he whispered into your skin. “But I’ll be damned if anyone else touches you now.”

You breathed out, soft and shaken. “Then show me I’m yours.”

His eyes darkened. “Gladly.”

TipJar

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kooyabooya · 8 months ago

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INTERLUDE

haewon x m reader

9k words

You’ll give credit where it’s due.

If not for her, you wouldn’t be here - and if not for you, she would have quit the logistical side of the show business a long, long time ago.

She's written her own sweet, tragic, but beautiful tale of madness; willing to stay amidst the whirlwinds of shit she’s put herself through, and you can somewhat see as to why.

It’s when she’s let herself into the space of your apartment, hours past of the usual and typical workday. Most of the reasons in this case have their own tales and periods of reflection the next morning - though, a common thread of events that you’ve been accustomed to is the trail of her heels leading a path to the couch, her handbag tossed off to the opposite end, sinking into the cushions. She’s tired, and very unbothered.

You’re doing your own pat down not far from her. A jacket’s tossed onto the nearby chair of your dining table; the usual essentials of your phone, wallet, and one of many pairs of glasses also find their place away from your reach.

“Since when the hell did you snag my keys from me?” You ask, patting down the quartet of pockets to realize the sudden item wasn’t part of the things you rummaged off your body.

“It’s called sleight of hand, dear.” Haewon says, a phone spinning in the air and to a nearby pillow, “That’s what happens when you leave a key with me after our last outing. Have someone to blame? Let that be yourself.”

“I was wondering why you were taking longer getting out of the car.”

“Girls like to take their sweet time.”

“Your point being?”

“My point?” She sits up and leans forward, diverting her attention towards one of the gacha items that you got as a gift from one of her clients - a token of gratitude, for being wonderful with me - you recall the memory for a split second, and Haewon keeps on flipping it around between her fingers. “Don’t get too pressed now. It’s not like you would be locked out of your house for that long. Besides, your landlord’s seen me with you more times than he can count. If I were to ask him for the master key, he’d probably say yes.”

“Speculation,” you breathe, “Honestly, you can try, and I think you could be on his good side for all I know.”

A few wisps of her hair fall far off the side, and she pulls it back with a single finger. Even in the dimmest of lightings, you can still see the small twinge of her nose pulling back, flaring her nostrils. Then she flicks her eyes back toward you, hooking. “You’ve always let me lead the way, and you’re following not far behind.”

You’re tending to the cuffs of your shirt, rolling them up just below the elbows. “I do a whole lot more than just my job.”

“Tch,” Haewon’s got the tip of her tongue on her upper teeth. “You know well enough that it cuts both ways.”

Almost as if this was practiced on cue, these sliding strides you make as Haewon picks herself up from her seat, it’s like two characters taking center stage. The lighting’s barely peeking through for you to see where everything’s leveled. Doesn’t matter how much effort you put into it, Haewon’s frame is the only thing you see, the weight on your shoulders start to droop from the imaginary weight on them. You can probably settle with how the luminating radiance of the night sky showers her porcelain skin or the way her silhouette molds itself in the meshing colors of this cozy dark blue pooling through behind her. There’s also the fleeting realization that this is your space that she’s nestling in. But you can’t ignore the sudden occasional chill that sweeps through every time she walks in - even when it’s after hours, the effect is still in play.

Haewon’s treating another few strands of her hair behind her ear before looking down at the small toy on your table top. “Not a bad idea for you to start a collection going.”

You glance over her shoulder and pull a firm grin across your face. “You know, I was a bit perplexed in why she gave that to me in the first place - after I politely refused so many times.” A shake of your head and a sigh follows instantly after. “But the more I look at it, it’s pretty cute to have. Brings a whole lot of variety in the place right off the bat.”

Haewon dips her head down, hiding a subtle smirk when touches the tips of her socks on the floor. “I know that you fancy your books and everything but, I was happy that you took her gift in the end.”

“Expecting me to just say no?”

“Blind boxes are a life lesson too. People expect one thing and when they don’t get what they want, they’re pretty torn to whether to be happy or not with what they pulled. Now that I think about it, the same lesson can be seen in Forrest Gump when he’s sitting on the bench with the old lady.”

“A lot of people can resonate with Forrest in that moment. Probably because almost everybody’s got something that they didn’t want in the first place, and I’ll take your word for it.” You slide your hands into your pockets, rolling your shoulders back. “Makes people appreciate the many things they have.”

Haewon cocks her head towards her left, bringing it back upright once her body’s facing yours. You’re holding your breath here for a second, swallowing a lump of nervousness down your throat. She’s got it all: the intellect, the beauty, the poise. Each and every single one of those thoughts crosses both ways in your mind, it’s been like that since you got paired with her. The authenticity of her presence doubles down what’s written on paper. Like any fool in this scenario, you carry on, thinking about all of the things you’d never thought you’d do with her - the way she tries to hide the growing blush on her face when your arms hold her, how her eyelids lower their guard when you’re closing the proximity to mere inches, how she sighs with a finger pressed to her temple before whipping some of her hair back - adorable, and perfect. There’s really no other way to describe it, or her; even if she’s not very adamant into accepting the meaningful compliments.

“Maybe you’re right.” Her small frame nestles itself easily at your front and she’s happily dancing her fingers at the pointe end of your necktie, fiddling along with the button beneath it. You’re deluding yourself at the imaginary tug she has on you and she’s barely laid a finger. “Scratch that, I wholeheartedly agree.”

You’d wish that you could make a quick snapshot back to the very time you first unraveled her in your home, on an evening whim just like this. The proposition of pulling up a mental calendar and ripping off the pages backwards to a full two years of working with her. Though, you’re able to automatically deduce the fact of the time you and her actually spent working together - a good portion of those cases in the sheets which is worth considering - but despite all that, there’s a good report to draw up in your head where the times flowed in fluctuations, much like in a spectrogram. Some of the days with her peaked higher than the rest, and others were on the opposite end of the spectrum. That’s just how this rapport- this relationship was.

Haewon never really dabbled with the idea of putting a label on this ‘thing’ you have with her.

It could be a relationship, or maybe it couldn’t. She would always immediately shut down that thought circling around your brain.

A tried and true method in getting your hopes up. And each and every time she shot your heart down. It would send you in limbo for what feels like an endless string of days, the firm tone with her delivery very clear and straight to the point. You can’t help yourself in waiting for something to change; heck, it’s possibly everything you ever wanted with her.

It also didn’t help when the people in your inner circle were already in their own walks of life, blooming into something beautiful with their significant others; while you’re sitting off to the side, watching them from a distance as it feels like with every passing day, you’re falling further and further behind. There isn’t enough space in your journal, let alone the selection of drinks to choose from after being downed, but the feeling remains all the same - it’s a harrowing want to fill that depression oh-so desperately.

“Whatever happened to ‘keeping things professional’?” Dipping your head down as the tip of your nose hovers right above her head, catching the first few whiffs of that oceanic scent used in her shampoo. “Wasn’t it your words exclusively that we would stop what we’re doing now? At this moment?”

This time, you were the one to raise that wall up, hoping that it’ll stick after being broken down so many times.

“Mine?” Haewon blurts out once her hands finally reach to the lines of your shoulders, palms sliding along the fabric of your shirt. “What about it? Don’t try to flip this back on me when we were just talking outside in the staircase and then you decided to push me against the door, perch my chin up and-”

“Haewon.”

“One night. That one night. You-”

“Haewon.” You know that she’s primarily the one who likes to repeat herself at times to get her point across, but not tonight.

She sighs, head falling forward in your chest. “Alright, I’ll bite. Yes, those were my words, and I stand by them. She’s trying her hardest to ignore your overwhelming stature, because she knows your truth; she knows, and knows, and knows.“But that doesn’t mean that what I tell you is enough to sway your mind, nor your choice.”

Her words tell you one thing, but her body welled up against yours tells you another.

“Haewon,” you repeat again, blinking it through. Your voice slightly chokes up when her thumb skates up the line of your jaw, letting her pull get the best of you, breath canvassing the slope where your chin and neck meet. “You’re not helping yourself here.”

“It’s been a long day,” she admits, kissing you foolishly, her fingers slither to the back of your head. Your hands have a mind of their own while it tries to scrounge up what’s left of her melting figure, humming gently into your skin. “You could’ve like- taken me home, or something. Rather than bring me here, because we both know how this story goes.”

“Don’t get all sensical with me now,” you say to her, hand quick to her wrist in an attempt to stop her, but she’s seen that card played before. “You were the one to tell me to get the hell out of the office as fast as we could, and here we are.”

Haewon flashes her eyes at you, narrowing her expression with the simple tilt of her head. “I guess you’re right. Either I call a cab home or have you as my personal driver. Looks like the second option was the best one to pick between the two.”

“You did look tired.”

“Because I am.” Her eyebrows ruffle against each other when you drop the blunt response as she returns to the slacked neck along with her wrists. “After the shitstorm with Bae, and then with Sullyoon? God, don’t even get me started. You were there when everything went down.”

“In fact I was.”

She scowls with a much more dragged out tone with her voice, the stress pressing down on her lips returning to their familiar parted place. “I’m trying so hard to not think about it, but it’s just- ugh.”

“A problem to be dealt with tomorrow,” you tell her, hands bringing her closer to your waist. “Just don’t think.”

“Easy for you to say.” Haewon deadpans, her face shifting flat with dead eyes. “And it’s easier for it to be said than done.”

“Why not do it, then?”

“Huh?”

“I’m asking you to not focus on work for once, genius.”

“This is me not focusing on work,” she says, pouting, “you’re the one who’s not letting me go in the first place.”

You manage to look away for a quick second, closing your eyes to fight back the growing cringe rising on your face. “Says the one who waltzed into my house and arms right now.”

Haewon lets out another dry laugh, resting the side of her face below your collar, pulling down on the slightly untied knot. “Well, I guess I can let you have that over me. I’ll admit that.”

A deep inhale puffs up your chest as you’re carding your fingers into those coffee brown locks of her hair, massaging her temple.

“Consider that to be one of your few wins against my arguments. Why bother tell you my personal thoughts about the details we talked about in the meetings earlier, or even in the office.” She sighs again deeply, burrowing herself into your embrace. “What I would do to give that pretty dumbass a-”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already said that to her earlier, by the way.”

Haewon looks up again, recalling for a quick second, closing her lips before sounding a simple hum. “Right, I guess I did.”

“You don’t have to handle this all by yourself, you know.”

“What if I want to, hm?” She beams. The flip in her mood is always an anomaly in the way that she’s brushing herself up closer to you. “You know my business - my affairs, but I didn’t tell you all of them.”

You’re well familiar with the playing field she’s setting up here. It’s a battleground that’s seen it all between the two of you, the losses outweighing the victories (and by an overwhelming margin on her end too). She’s always the one to initiate, to set up, your thoughts already getting ahead with the same downward tilt of your head, hands caressing the fabric of her skirt, finding a familiar hold of her hips like one would always do at the start of every slow dance.

Of course you stay silent, blinking. “Well- Haewon, I’ve got no other choice but to hear you ramble all about them, since it’s my job.”

“You know most of them.”

“Like you said: most.”

Haewon rests herself into you, the lines of tape gradually coming undone. The scent of her shampoo hits your nose a little bit harder this time, her palms sliding up across your chest again. She innocently tilts her head up, parting her lips; tiny, rosy, and dangerously inviting. You have no other thought filling your mind but to lift her up and capture her all to yourself.

Her lips are like putty - easy to form and mold into the shape that you like. But you pull yourself back, a last line of defense before her eyes and hands have their own say. “Could you say that this is a choice too?”

“Hm.” She tilts herself upwards into the line of your neck, each quick kiss sending both your heart and mind into echelons higher than cloud nine, melting with every touch until she has your head in between her palms, holding you gently. The blinks she gives are slow, and her breath hitting your face leaves you to your own devices. “What you do with me is always a choice.”

You retreat for a moment, pulling yourself far away where you can, Haewon’s body still within reach in your arms, forming a wall of air between the space of your chest and hers. “I feel like what we do is already risky as it seems, no? Sure, we see each other on a regular basis, deal with what needs to be done with the day, talking to clients, making sure things are right for the events, going back and forth with no definite pause in between.” Didn’t matter if she was out of the country or mere inches away from you, she’s always about work it seems - like that was the only mode programmed in her mind. “More often than not, I’m treating what damage is done which usually ends up with a few bottles of beer and don’t even get me started on how bad of a lightweight you are-”

“Uh, rude.” Haewon pays no attention to you. Her thumb grazes your cheek again, and you can’t help the way that you’re leaning into her touch, once realizing that what you said might be too much. You feel your head being reeled in lower and lower, until you feel the tip of her nose hit the cuff of your ear. “But you’re not wrong, and I’m sorry that you have to put up with me that way.”

Nodding was something that you always used to acknowledge her opinions or thoughts, and it isn’t any different here.

However, your hands are playing a different role: traversing their way into the two small divots below the small of her back, resting just right above her ass. She’s getting herself more and more comfortable, undoing the first three buttons of her shirt, inviting you to dive into the new opening. You keep on gazing into her slightly swollen lips, studying at how quickly her tongue wets the bottom part, and you draw another swift inhale past your teeth before answering, “There’s no need for you to apologize, especially to me.”

Haewon keeps on pulling the undone tie, the knot basically nonexistent the more she pulls down, eventually sliding it out of your collar and onto the floor. She gives it a quick glance when it pools over her feet and yours, and her lapin eyes land on yours again, bottom lip captured between her teeth. “I just feel bad, you know? And part of me thinks that it’s only a matter of time until you’ve had enough and want to-”

You shut her up before she keeps up the self-lament, meshing her lips against yours, wanting her to be persuaded in a different manner - one with less words and more actions.

Drawing back, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. And even if I ever had the chance to, I’d straight up say no.”

“Look at you, so easygoing.”

“I-”

“At some point,” she breathes, ghosting her face over yours, tugging on that want for you to chase after. “I’d thought you’d give up on forgiving me.”

“For?”

“Anything, really.” Haewon answers admittedly. “Whether it’s here or in the office, you have that same look in your eyes, the one filled with sorrow. It hurt me a bit.”

Maybe right now would be the time to remind her that what she’s thinking is nothing but complete bullshit.

So you lean down again, and pull her close. Another snapshot taken in the back of your mind.

Two years is a long time. Two years of the same routine over and over, of working with her, unwinding after the long hours hidden away from everyone else, watching her work herself down to the bone, doing all of these things as if she’s going to die in the next five seconds if she doesn’t keep going. She’s rising to every occasion that she can, moving so fast that you can’t even bear to keep up with her. You’d admire from a distance, in awe, all while you’re at her right-hand side, unwilling to say anything to her. Obviously when she needed to get her mind off of something, or everything for that matter, she wasn’t the kind of person to be upfront about what she wants and let you read into the signs. Luckily, you’ve always noticed at a glance, and even if she isn’t the one to puff out her lips and kiss you first. No. Never. That’s a luxury that’s reserved for you and only you. Because all it takes is one look into your eyes, and the way she’s broken you down like this, she’s very aware of what your downfall is: her.

All of this is a continuation of a growing culmination, her own personal anthology sprouted from her brain, one which you’ve caught wind of gradually.

When you’re kissing into her again, hard, you start to feel everything around you collapse. It’s in the way that she smiles against your lips, matching every curve you give her - it’s amazing, and you could write poems of all the good things about Haewon - you’re reminded again and again how out of all the moments in the high achieving days and miserable nights, these instances feel just right. She’s drawing air into her nose, grazing your cheek, never wanting to pull each other away; until you’re sucking the oxygen out of each other’s mouths that leaves the both of you suffocating a bit. It’s all foolish, maybe just a bit, and to hell with the consequences awaiting you at the end of the bridge, because she knows that she’ll be in a safe place as long as it’s with you.

The arch in her back rises, and you’re clinging tighter into her smaller frame, shoulder bunching up next to her neck, making it easier for you to hold. You can tell her breaths and hums are getting desperate, her own little mess up the more she melts into you.

You’re not helping her in this situation, and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve done this to her. She’s hooking her arm well around your neck, the only line of support while you’re taking care of the rest, letting her wrists fall slack as you keep on your loving siege on her lips.

She’s had a rough one this week. A red eye flight back from a fashion week, an entire day of going to ten different locations with one of her top clients, then there’s the whole incident with Bae and Sullyoon back to back. Amongst all of those things, you’d wish that you’d sweep her away for just a second and take her mind off from all the pressures and stress (and you definitely wished you didn’t wait until now to finally do it).

“Mmmm,” Haewon lets her voice rumble in her throat, tightening her grip in the back of your collar, signaling you to pull away. When you do, her eyes pool into yours, shimmering pupils working overtime to map out the lines of your face. You could feel the heat from her cheeks grow warmer. Her eyes cross for a second. She lets her head go crestfallen, pulling this one smile, her simplest smile, the rarest one she could ever have that not a lot of people have had the pleasure of seeing. The gentlest and most genuine one that she could have, it sells the whole thing to you. Despite her tough shell, you realize that she’s one of the rare few that sends your heart flipping, every time she’s got your guard lowered - exactly in the way like this - it’s impossible to ignore the outshining tempts when all of your inhibitions are at their lowest.

Her head goes one side, and then the opposite, “I don’t expect you to forgive me for this.”

Today’s been one of those days. You’re tired, even beyond tired. If she didn’t come with you, the bed would’ve been full by now. Two years of the on and off and the off and on, it’s draining. You don’t say anything, as always. Instead, you swoop down beneath her thighs and carry her, taking her lips all to yourself.

She hums this heavenly noise when you press her against the wall, her legs hooking to a familiar spot where it hasn’t been in a while. Some of the buttons in her shirt come more undone not to your knowledge, but you play the counterpart when tending to the clip and zipper of her skirt. Luckily your body can work in two places at once, returning your focus to Haewon’s face, a sweep of her tongue over your bottom lip.

The pressure to her waist is not too little nor too much, but just the right amount of press when your leg plays this momentary support underneath her legs, helping her slip out of her shirt while she does the same to you. Almost like you’re opening the pages of a book you finished reading, but flipping through to a certain part like the untouched skin of her chest with her simple black bra playing as the final back line of garments waiting to be discarded. She does that part all by herself, indulging on the breadth of her collarbone, forcing her to bite down a soft moan.

Haewon here isn't one to play nice. There’s a bit of a tug-of-war going on with your mouths until you gnaw on her lips a bit too hard, wanting you to do that again the way her face is chasing after yours. But her eyes find their place in line again, gaze softening - you’re cursing at yourself because of how beautiful she looks like this. She’s always been one to have a heart of steel, create that dam covering her fragile trust, her arms wrap you in her embrace, eyes hinting at a sign of concern. The flame in your heart has gone cold, but she’s always been the one fanning the fire back to life.

When you let her down gently, back sliding against the smooth drywall, her arms shift over her head - opening up the area of her midriff to see, to feel. Your palms have never felt anything smoother until they’re slipping the skirt off from her hips, curling over the waistband of her underwear and she fills the open space between your mouths, “fix me up baby, please.”

Most of her solid-colored panties get caught between your knuckles, skating down her thigh - you’re hunting, searching, till you reach that empowering heat between her thighs. You could feel the top part of her forearm press firmly on the nape of your neck while one of her shoulder blades drags itself against the wall behind her.

A drag up, then down across her folds, and she rasps.

You get a finger in, maybe two just to test, feeling her body tense and grasp and hook onto anything within her reach. Little by little, piece by piece, Haewon’s gradually reduced to these mere meeked noises and hums the more your hands and lips begin their grand assault across the fine canvas of her body. The wetness consumes your fingers, and your mouth increasingly gets greedy as you’re nibbling away at the firm mound of her now exposed breasts, her bra gone in one swift move, mind focusing on too many feelings all at once.

Her head lolls up and over, opening up the left side of her neck for you to take, gasping. She can’t stop squirming in place, and you’ll deal with that soon enough. “I love your hands,” she sighs. “God, you sure know how to satisfy a woman.”

Your brain is working on the clock, finding all of the niche places and spots on her body to get her needy for more, and she’s playing spectator, the pad of your tongue swipes upward at the midline of her chest, capturing the hard bud of her nipple between your thumb and index, twisting without a care of her quick pain.

Haewon gets both of her hands around your head, pulling you up from drowning beneath her neck, showering your face with kisses, forehead pressing against yours, “Happy with your reward?”

You’ll give credit where it’s due. You hate how intoxicating she is with the snarky remarks and fast banter, but you love how simple she is to break down - send her mind into a downward spiral. She could let you ruin her life, and it would be the same for you.

It takes a moment too long to consider, your brain is running through the playbook of all the moves and positions you could have her in, which spot in your house would be the most ideal place to simply just bend her over and tear her insides apart until she won’t be able to walk or think straight. A woman like her: clothes pooled and scattered everywhere at her feet, swollen lips and tattered skin just waiting to be ruined.

Haewon knows you well, where all she has to do is say something to snap your attention back to her: “How do you want me?”

She’s selfish, there’s no denying that. Though, she doesn’t really care what you think when she’s kissing you shamelessly once more, smushing and smacking her lips across your face, letting her have her way and to sink into her body again. But here is where she forgets, another callback of the few other times she got too ahead of the curve too soon-

“I think I find you to be prettier when you’re like this,” you tell her, quickly sinking down to your knees moving her thighs over your shoulders; get your face close to that warm, delightful fountain between her thighs when you lift her up from the floor, holding her there.

-to realize that you too, are also selfish in your own accord; at some point, there’s a time to prove who has what between the two of you, and the sigh of acknowledgment slipping out of her lips gives just enough that you’re doing something right.

It all could’ve gone wrong for Haewon at any given point in the time you’ve been working with her. All it took was a few mishaps both in and out of her control and she would’ve snapped. In those dire times of need, she had you. Whether it’d be your mouth or your fingers, the way you settle into these well-practiced strokes of your tongue and cock, and she loves to travel down the little rite of passage when you shut her up with a palm on her mouth or a hand to her throat. She knows that you have your limits, and it’s all in her cards for when she’s able to unshackle you from your common sensibilities. A hand is raked into your hair as you’re shifting your head closer and closer, until your breath starts to blanket her leaking entrance, awaiting for your arrival.

There’s a few mumbles spilling out of her lips when you gently kiss her folds, brush your nose right up against her clit, to where her head bucks forward, giving an unintentional style of wispy bangs the more your mouth starts to scoop up the mess that you’ve created. Her hips buck and jerk, pressing your head deeper into her quivering pussy lips, wanting to get that ache so much faster than intended.

“God, yes baby- right there,” is all she says, and she can barely manage to prop her head upright when you look up from below.

A chuckle leaves your nose, arming a coy smile before you carry on your attention onto her swollen clit, sucking and teasing on it shamelessly until you start to feel the insides of her thighs shake against your ears, digging her nails deep into your scalp.

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, feeling the pressure of Haewon’s legs crushing your skull from within. “Looks like you’ve been pent up for a while now, no?”

Haewon digs a heel into your back, making you secure the tops of her thighs with your fingers, hitting her head back on the wall. “Among other things.”

“Really.” You reply flatly, giving her another swift lick of your tongue into her aching cunt, her slick pooling across the wet pad. “Because judging how your body’s reacting, you’ve been wanting me badly since the last time.”

“Sounds perfectly right.”

She loses that hefty persona pretty damn quickly when you’re diving into her pussy again, stifling a moan, grinding her hips into your head, wanting you to keep on licking until she’s had enough (spoiler alert: she hasn’t.) “Do tell me more,” you’re telling her, smacking your lips to the heat, “if you’re able to, of course.”

“Seriously. Fuck you.”

“Says the one who’s technically my boss.”

“Not when it’s after hours I’m not.”

“What are you implying?”

Haewon’s eyes squint a bit, trying to keep focus, doubling down on the indulgence of your tongue over her folds. Her face is in a rosy shade of pink, similar to when she’s usually drunk - but this shade however, you’d prefer to see her more in. “Stop pretending to play dumb. I know you can read between the lines here.”

“And what if I want to be oblivious for once? Like in every situation that we’re in while at work?”

“You’re not, ah-”

You’re not giving her any chance to breathe here. She doesn’t deserve it. And when you lather her pussy up in your spit, it’s less than an act of mercy, helplessly whining at the harshful gnawing you’re doing to her poor cunt - it’s what she wants, and she has no one to blame for making you like this but herself.

“If you’re not my boss during these hours, then what are you?” You inquire.

“I’ll be anything but your boss. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

That’s all the confirmation that you needed, forcefully plummeting her down to her inevitable demise. You feel the muscles in her thighs clench in shock from the unexpected anticipation, biting down her shriek the more you dive into the endless depths of her entrance, satisfying that want that you and her so desperately wanted.

“Oh,” Haewon sighs out as some epiphany. But the moment of relief washes over her in no time, her layers folding. Collapsing. Her entire body wiggles in this circular motion. “Oh.”

The heavenly chorus of her mewls fill your ears when you’re cementing your pace, wreaking havoc between her thighs. She’s still got her hand gripping the back of your head, the other flat on the wall. Her stomach bucks and folds at the weight of your tongue, moving your head around in different directions to make sure that you’re hitting every spot with the right approach. The pleasure is building in all of the right places, and you can feel the curl of her toes on your back, ensuring that you’re doing the exact job as her personal toy. “Fuck. Right there, right there.”

It only increases the flood by tenfold. She’s spilling more and more you kiss, swirl, nibble, and tease - doing everything you can to make sure she reaches that unimaginable peak first. “You’re so good. You’re so so good. Baby- don’t stop, oh my god-”

Haewon can’t help herself here, leaning her back deeper into the wall and dragging her hips outward, keeping both legs on your shoulders to the best that she can, unable to let up with the bucks and jolts her hips are making into your face. Every quick rush of air past her teeth only holds so much until she starts to feel her stomach bunch up in knots.

“T-tongue, dear. Oh jesus, you’re so good at- fuck!” she yelps, the tailends of her breaths tattered in these hushed moans, picking up in volume the more you slurp up her pussy to your heart’s content. “Almost, almost.”

You’re well aware of the fact that Haewon is one of the main catalysts when it comes to operating her job. She’s second to none. The standard. The spearhead. She’s got one of the most sizable clientele’s for a reason. But the jaws of work can consume anybody in this climate, no matter how on top or perfect they can be. It would only be a matter of time for the fatigue to get to her - and with the recent events happening around the office, it did just that. Everyone needs a break from time to time, and she’s no different here. A tongue laps up one spot past the clit, there’s a nibble of her swollen folds between your teeth, and here is where you step up to the role of ensuring that Haewon gets her much deserved intermission here.

“Right there, I’m gonna-ah! -umming,” Haewon wails, failing to let up with the oral assault on her quivering cunt, her cries filling up your ears, the muscles of her legs locking your back in place, fingers tugging the roots of your hair. “Cumming. I’m fucking cumming.”

These puppy eyes you do to look up, she gazes down, bottom lip still stuck to her teeth as her expression tears, coming down from her needed stress relief. You stay the course in holding her steady, taking account of the lingering twitches and tensions of muscle her body does.

And not long after, you finally let her down from the wall. Her arms slither around the familiar profiles of your back, lazily planting her lips onto your skin again - Haewon wants another taste of you. It’s also kind of cute how her toes stack up on top of your feet, prompting you to lead the way into the bedroom while she’s closely tethered to you.

“Love it. Love it so much.” Haewon sighs out, half-lidded eyes caught in your vision. “Love it when you make me cum like that.”

It’s one of the few moments where she doesn’t expect a response from you, because it’s already true.

Above everything, you carry on with your steps as Haewon’s lips continue to spell out these hushed curses - all the things that she wants you to do to her - her fantasies, the praises, what she likes you doing and what she wants to do to you with the intent of returning the favor. Her figure is so light in your hands and on your feet, limbs loose enough to bend and twist, a marked up canvas ready for another brush-to-paper moment.

Gravity here does it’s own thing when she falls backward onto the mattress of your room, her arms doing this natural reflex of going above her head, carving up these unbelievable curves in real time to where her back is off the comforters and her left foot is inching up against her inner right thigh. This image alone was enough for you to mindlessly slip out of your pants and underwear, eyes fixed on Haewon rolling her body: belly facing down, back up, her knees dig deep into the sheets, the upper half stretching a bit while her lower half rises up past your thighs, rounding out her hips.

Her knees spread wider across the sheets and her back dips, you think - just a bit, and the look she does over her shoulder is the right amount of lethality. You don’t even flinch when she manages to get her fingers onto the length of your cock, telling you the only thing she wants you to do:

“Take this cock and fuck me.”

You’d follow her words no matter what.

Like a siren’s call out in the sea, the sound of Haewon’s voice comes off as this daring risk where the mind starts to slowly reduce itself around her hand, languidly pumping you to the point where the urge to rip the fun out of her is impossible to ignore.

“I’ve always wondered,” she starts to say.

You lean down to shower a few kisses to her neck, fingers sliding up to her waist, pressing for a firm hold while an airy giggle passes her lips.

“How long have you dealt with me? Being like this?

“Where would I even start?” You hunch over with a trail of kisses down her lower back, cupping the swell of her ass while noting that most of her slick has spread past the underside and to the back of her thighs. “I don’t even remember who made the first move back then.”

Haewon reaches out for one of your pillows, setting it between her arms and chest, “I’m sure it was you, or maybe it was me. Maybe-”

A wistful gasp stops her from talking when you slowly press your cock into her leaking pussy, lips slicked up and inviting between those lovely thighs of hers. You drink in the sight of the grip she has around your length as you continue to ease yourself into her, keeping it together poorly before the heat and her pulse gets to your head.

“Maybe what?” you tell her, attempting to bring back her train of thought from fleeing away.

This girl who’s backside is arched so high up in the air and stomach buried deep into the sheets looks over her shoulder again, eyes filled with tension - a fire blazing beneath the irises. “Maybe- you were just oblivious about the signals I was sending you, but now that we’re here, I guess you can say that you made the curve.”

“I won’t deny anything here-” Everything about this is the reality, anyway. You drag and push yourself into the fluttering heat of her second pair of lips. Her body is so responsive in the wants and needs just from the wetness alone, but she knows that you’re not easy to take. “That was an argument I lost a while ago.”

Your hips flush with Haewon’s and she whines, shoving her face into the pillow set in front of her as she relaxes into the stable pace. A simple yank of her waist back to your thighs serves the only preamble, the quick groan ripped out of your chest, that rush of wanting this tightness and addicting feeling more and more.

“Right?” You’re asking again, meshing her hips with yours, leaning forward and down to the nape of her neck. Sighs joining together in an impromptu chorus, “I’m not denying you winning me over.”

Haewon’s hands here go a bit haywire, shooting up and out. One of them comes to grips with the comforter beneath her. You watch her body move, ass rippling through every pump back into her cunt. “Yeah, but you-”

Her head then dips down into the pillow again, writhing in the twists left and right. You catch yourself hobbling over her upper body once more, lip trapped to your teeth. “You said ‘yeah’. Let’s keep it that way.”

A gradual rhythm gets developed here, taking in every wonderful inch of Haewon’s dripping cunt, shaft picking up more and more slick with ease in every passing stroke. She’s so wonderfully tight around your length, molding to your cock like it’s the missing piece that makes her feel complete, and whole. There’s an attempt to level herself parallel to the mattress, but you don’t give her any kind of luxury whatsoever, pushing down on the small of her back that deepens the arch, nudging your cockhead down further past the threshold of her calefaction.

You’re blinking, you’re believing, and you’re pretty much swearing to the heavens above at the thought out realization that Haewon was meant to be yours - like she was made for only you. She’s in the right position, taking you at just the right angle, all sensibilities hanging on a singular thread. Every hit spills out a quick phrase of pants, watch her struggle in keeping her head upright, a slacking neck in response with the consistent slaps of your hips into hers.

Her slick creates these scattered strings across the skin - not only to the tops of your thighs, but to her ass as well, the sound of her moans bouncing off the walls once they start to rise up a bit in volume.

“Fucking-” and it’s right at this moment, where she sounds relieved, it all comes down with a firm grind of her teeth, “fuck.”

“Yeah?” You hum.

“It’s so-” the blowback of your cock into her cunt becomes a little too much to bear, “it’s so fucking good.”

You’re holding her in place, right at the hips, the unbelievable form of her ass rocking back and forth with every shift of motion caused by you. The low light of your humidifier works its hours on the nightstand, illuminating the comfy and watered colors onto her skin. She’s drenched in this soft honey shade, laying ruin of the pale sheets on her knees and elbows - face gazing to the window, proffering up these listless praises to fill up your head.

The thing is: this isn’t the first time that you and her were like this. There’s an absolute certainty that someone living in either the floors above or below your room has heard everything that’s happened within these walls. Surely someone minding their own business walking along the sidewalk outside has seen Haewon’s gorgeous tits pressed up against the glass, her face full of rapture and pleasure - not having any sense of respect or decency to keep it in the room. You remember railing her poor pussy out on the balcony one time; and that was an issue for the landlord to bring up the following day, but neither you nor her really cared.

What really mattered here, was fucking her brains out. Easy as that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god-”

Every word that’s punctuated out of her lips starts to collapse on top of each other, the impact of your thrusts siphoning the last bits of air trapped in her lungs. She isn’t making her condition any better, suffocating herself deep into the pillow, hoping to drown out the wet noises of her cunt slipping your cock in with refined precision. This choking grip is more dangerous than her hands, her hitched breaths are in no comparison to your labored huffs, slowing your movements with one forceful drive in, a massage of her asscheeks here, another drag and thrust back into her tight cunt, and a playful slap to her ass, tainting the slick skin in red.

“Baby, your fucking cunt,” you hiss. “Jesus christ.”

A whiny ‘mhm-” is all you manage to get out of Haewon, breaking underneath your weight. Her ass is still facing up, face shoved into the pillow, nicking her neck up for air, fucking her down the curve of her spine. “Oh my goodness. You got it so deep. Hit me hard. Please, and I swear to fuck - ngh-”

You’re groaning, increasing the sway of your hips into hers, “So fucking tight.” Haewon’s hands manage to find yours, holding the swell of her ass together, moving her body the opposite direction away from you, meeting the impact down the middle which sends your balls lightly tapping the nub of her clit. She knows that you’ve been working a bit too much for your own sake, so she goes on ahead and has her own fun, fucking herself back onto your cock, the recoil alone enough for you to just freeze on your knees and take it.

“S’that feel good?” she asks innocently.

Spilling out another expletive, you angle your hips up as her ass comes crashing down.

“You’re so hard for me,” Haewon continues, looking over with her body still pressed against the sheets, the left side of her face smiling at the sight of you trying to hold it together. “This cock fits so well inside- jesus, ah- had to let yourself go for a bit, didn’t you?”

“If you keep your hips moving with my hands tied, I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

The plot was already lost from the first dirty thought you had with her.

Her ass keeps your lower half in check, unknowingly moving through muscle memory while the walls of your room continue to reverberate the stuttering breaths and quick curses slipping out of both of your lips. Your hands hold still in tandem with her fingers and start to claw into your palms, pleasure spiking everywhere in her body, skin hot to the touch as the claps start to increase in tempo - the rate shifting to something more desperate, erratic.

“My fucking god, shit!” She wails, her hands shooting down to her ass, spreading herself wider while you lock your eyes at the sight of your cock buried into her cunt becomes a whole lot more clearer now, “Right there baby, holy fuck- this cock is just-” Haewon’s demeanor is diminishing by the second, words and sighs tumbling over in loops, but the pitch in her whines hit a familiar key or tone, gradually crescendoing when she gives up in squirming between your fingers.

“Pound my ass- yes, fuck- this dick is amazing.” Her head swivels up before ducking below into the open cavity of her chest and arms, sucking in her stomach with whatever strength she has left, “Give me more,” she’s panting, head spinning and spinning like a ceiling fan, “Give it to me. I need more-”

There’s not much left for you to take other than the stray tit that’s captured into your hand when you hunch yourself over her again, lift the upper half of her body upwards so that she’s in line with yours, entrapping that heat away from the cool air, trembling. Your mouth is back to her ear again, eyes half-lidded, fingers moving around your neck while the warmth of her cunt starts to burn across your length - the new lane created where your cock slides into her that creates this sequence of events of her convulsing, shuddering, pulling her hips back with a sole purpose to just ruin her. You’re hearing a slight wheeze out of her, maybe a sob too, the head of your cock’s hit a spot past her threshold where it literally makes her go stupid; mind and body into putty, exactly the way you like it.

Her fingers continue to hold tight, cunt clenching around your thick shaft when you’ve finally got her past that edge. There’s a bit of a moment of pause when you and her are stacked on top of each other, exhaustion finally breaking through, coaxing her second orgasm as you’re keeping your cock warm inside of her, feeling her hips spaz out of control while you endure in fucking her poor, spent, pretty pussy. Both heels of her feet bend towards the backside of your thighs, pressing her waist into the mattress, sliding yourself out the tightness before teasing her with the half of your shaft.

“There we go, Haewon. I’ve got you,” you’re telling her. The tone of your voice drowned out by the keening shattering through. “You’re perfect. Cum over this cock, baby. You deserved it.”

She keeps on sighing when she comes down from her second high, summoning this lazy grin while you’re peppering her face with kisses, an indication for a job well done. But she taps the top of your hand twice, resting at the crease of her hips - and the shimmy of her hips still embedded with your cock tells you only one thing:

“I wanna make you cum.”

The insanity this woman has. It does something to you.

So you waste no time at all. It’s enormously more than just a mess with how fucked up she is.

When you give her what she needs: flipping on her back was the way to go, yanking her hips back into yours until you see her eyes go wide at the sudden stroke before rolling up behind her head and past her eyelids - everything starts to fall into place with the way the back of her ankles hold your waist, which only leaves you with the sole choice of pounding her so fucking hard that you’d have to hook yourself into the arch of her back where she’ll have no where to go - it’s a position well practiced, your ol’ reliable: firing your cock on all cylinders at a pace so inhuman until she’s able to look you in the eyes and cast a spell for you to finish on her pretty face and leave her there with the damage when it’s all said and done - the assurance that you’ll give her what she wants and have you craving for more - kissing you shamelessly like she’ll be stoned to a rock come the next day, and when you’re feeling the pit of your stomach open more and more, the muscles in your hips and legs moving and tensing in the midst of this sex-filled frenzy, there was only one instinct in your mind where it didn’t take much to pump and dump your load inside her.

You can feel yourself getting close, head dizzying. “Haewon-”

“I know, handsome boy,” she praises, pulling you so that your forehead touches hers, “can feel you throbbing down there.”

She lets out this airy laugh when you wince a bit, hands reined at the small of her back and bringing her waist in, the impact of your cock rebounds her body once the pace starts to decrease.

“Fill me up, like you always do,” Haewon husks, voice barely a whisper in contrast to your hoarseness, “Put a baby in me.”

There’s this sort of tension in the air along with your body, driving your cock deep into her, burying your cum into the crevices of her pulsing hotness. Haewon lets out a sigh of relief, telling you to keep cumming inside of her, feeling every hot thread of your release coating her slopped walls.

You can feel yourself get light-headed - the warmth alone, not to mention how wet and tight her pussy is still, a place where everything feels right - but the lust filled in your head starts to fade, blackened vision returning to normal; and before you know it, you’re coming back to earth.

Neither of you move a muscle. Instead, you lay there for a bit, taking in the dwindling time of exploring each other’s bodies, holding yourselves together while your lips are conducting one final battle for that last dominance, the stench of sex and sweat still fresh and out to the open air.

Haewon manages to wrap both of her arms around your neck, kissing the slope of her neck and collarbone, scratching the back of your head, looking up to the ceiling with a lazy smile, one plastered with satisfaction. She taps your shoulder to grab your attention, but all you could come up with was a simple hum, which seemed to be enough for her.

“Go get me some lemons and water. I owe you a special something and a ride.”

–

Morning rolls around not long after, and assessing the lay of the land of your living space with one eye open. Everything seems to be in their place, tv remotes, work bag next to the neighboring desk, and the singular cup on the counter next to the fridge. Another thing to note, Haewon already got a jump start to the day.

You’re sliding across the floor with said singular cup being put into the kitchen sink, but with the other eye open now, you notice something at the corner of the kitchen island: a small box left open.

“I wonder what she has for me this time,” you say to yourself, examining the box which turned out to be a contraceptive tablet. A note also slips out with a card attached.

“Take today off. I’ll be coming over later. By the way, I hope you won’t get mad at me for snatching your little gift from Jiwoo. It was too cute for you to have sitting on your nightstand or coffee table, so I took it for myself.

p.s

Don’t worry about last night so much. I had everything thought out since our little ‘accident’ the first time. Can’t really say the same thing with what I said, but you can choose to ignore it…or not ;’)

- Haewon

xo <3”

The attached card flipped over showed the name of the gacha toy gifted to you. A justified reaction of sighing with rolled eyes and the shake of your head was pretty much the start of some days; but hey, at least the breaks are enjoyable.

“Sleight of hand my ass,” you mutter, thumbing the small slip of paper in your fingers, “she stole that from me.”

a/n: sending my special flowers to @majorblinks (i love you foreverrr <3), @passingnotions (for happily agreeing to poke around wherever in the draft), and @yieldtotemptation (to opening the floodgates with ur bae fic).

thank you for reading and wemo check. :3

#nmixx smut #male reader smut #haewon smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #haewon #nmixx haewon

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ethe-realfantasy · 2 months ago

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How Simon Ghost Riley falls in love with a civilian visitor... Part V

(Slow burn, pure fluff, Simon is a big, burly, brooding awkward mess… but he finally starts to take action…)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The warm hum of city traffic blends with the light rhythm of your heels as you step out of the firm’s front entrance. The golden hour kisses the buildings in a soft glow and there he is, parked right across the street.

Simon leans against the side of his car, arms folded. Just his plain clothes, sleeves pushed up, that signature stoic calm doing a terrible job at hiding the fact that he’s watching you approach like you might disappear.

He straightens when he sees your outfit. A soft pastel dress, cinched at the waist with a playful swish at the hem. It's casual, but deliberately charming. Your hair is loose again, bouncing with each step. He can’t stop the corner of his mouth from lifting.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out of wherever we’re going”, you tease as you reach him, eyes twinkling as you gesture at his boots. “You planning on starting a bar fight?”

Simon huffs a quiet laugh, opening the passenger door for you.

“No promises,” he mutters, a grin flickering. “But if anyone looks at you too long, I might.”

Your cheeks warm, but you roll your eyes just enough to mask it. You slide into the car with an amused little “Thank you, Lieutenant,” and he closes the door behind you, stealing one last glance before heading to his side.

When you step into the familiar hum of the bar, the same one Simon took you to last time, the bartender gives you a nod of recognition. You flash him a brief smile before sliding your coat off and hanging it over a chair.

“I’ve been thinking about that last game,” you say casually, eyes already on the pool tables in the back. “I’m not saying you cheated… but.”

Simon huffs a quiet laugh. “Oh, here we go.”

You shoot him a look over her shoulder, playful, challenging. “This time I’ve come prepared.”

“Prepared?” he echoes, amused. “What, you been watching YouTube tutorials between cases?”

You lift your chin, striding toward the table. “Something like that. Don’t underestimate a lawyer with a grudge.”

Simon trails behind you, admiring the sway of your confidence and the dress. He’s trying not to stare.

Failing... but trying.

He racks up the balls, and you insist on breaking. It’s not terrible, actually better than last time, and Simon even gives a low whistle as a stripe clinks neatly into a corner pocket.

“Well, damn,” he mutters. “I’ll have to start trying.”

“Oh, I hope you do,” you shoot back sweetly. “Wouldn’t want to win by default.”

He gives you that look, the one where his eyes narrow like he’s gauging your mood and then tosses in a little smirk. He sinks two balls back-to-back, barely even aiming and you groan dramatically.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?” he says innocently, chalking his cue. “Playing well?”

“Humiliating me in a public setting, Lieutenant.”

He leans slightly over the table, lines up his next shot, then glances up at you. “You want me to go easy?”

“I want you to pretend you’re human.”

He grins. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want mercy.”

You lean forward just a little, your voice light, teasing, but there’s something else under it, like a spark just waiting to catch.

“Mercy?” you say. “Is that something you usually only grant after the first few dates?”

Simon straightens slowly. His eyes flick to yours - heat, surprise, a slow blink like he’s not entirely sure you just said that. Then a half-smile forms, crooked and impossible to read.

“Careful,” he murmurs, stepping around the table toward you. “You start saying things like that, and I’ll stop letting you win.”

“You were never letting me win,” you say, chin tilted, but your voice is breathier now. You can feel your own pulse beneath your skin.

He stops beside you, close enough that his arm brushes yours when he leans down to take the next shot. He doesn’t look at you, not directly, but he feels you, every inch of distance between you evaporating.

“Guess we’ll see,” he mutters.

You swallow. A little shaky.

And suddenly this game of pool doesn’t feel like a game at all.

You move around the table for your next shot, focusing hard, maybe too hard, trying to ignore the way Simon’s presence lingers like a shadow, warm and steady at the edge of your awareness.

You miss.

“Crap", you whisper.

Simon chuckles, low and amused. “I could pretend I didn’t see that.”

“That’d be very gentlemanly of you.”

“Wouldn’t be the truth, though.”

You straighten, turning toward him. “You’re impossible.”

He shrugs, then offers you a drink from the table beside him. You take it, fingers brushing, and that one touch makes your pulse stutter. You stand there for a beat, drink in hand, the neon lights of the bar softening everything around you. He watches you closely, not in a way that unnerves you, but in a way that makes you feel… seen.

“You really like teasing me, huh?” you say lightly.

He raises a brow. “You make it too easy.”

“Maybe I’ll have to start fighting dirty.”

He tips his head, half-daring, half-thrilled. “What, like emotional manipulation? Lawyer stuff?”

You laugh, bright and sudden, and he watches that sound like it’s the only thing he wants to hear tonight.

“You’re not supposed to say it out loud,” you grin.

You go another round, slower, more playful, but both of you are visibly distracted now. Your conversations dip in and out of deeper territory: favorite places, music, little things you never thought you'd talk about in a bar over pool. When you laugh again, he looks at you like he’s memorizing it.

Eventually, you decide to wrap it up. You lean over the table to collect your things.

“I think I bruised my pride,” you say, slinging your purse over your shoulder.

Simon chuckles. “You want a rematch next week? I’ll let you break again.”

“How generous.”

He grins. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

You head toward the door. As he opens it for you, the sudden cool air of the night rushes in. You pause for a second on the threshold, then step out. He follows, hands in his pockets now. The walk back to the car is quiet, but omfortable.

When you reach the passenger side, you linger and so does he.

He clears his throat. “That was fun.”

“It really was.”

The car hums quietly as you drive through the city, the familiar blur of streetlights slipping past the windows. You sit curled slightly toward Simon, hand tucked beneath your chin as you watch him drive. His arm rests on the wheel, one hand relaxed, the other occasionally brushing over the gearstick. He’s not in a rush, neither of you is.

“I had so much fun,” you say again, softly. It's not just polite small talk, you mean it. “I needed that.”

Simon glances over, his expression unreadable for a second, before it softens into a quiet smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

You look at him for a long moment, then let your gaze fall back to the city lights outside your window.

“You were right about pool though,” you add. “I never stood a chance.”

“Well, you looked good trying.”

You look at him with a crooked little smile. “You always say things like that when I can’t look directly at you.”

Simon smirks, half-deflecting, eyes still on the road. “That so?”

“Mhm.”

A beat.

“I’ll try to be braver next time.”

“Please do,” you murmur, barely audible, but he hears it.

He pulls into your street. Your building glows dimly ahead, your familiar front steps coming into view. Simon parks, shuts off the engine and unbuckles. There’s a beat of silence as you just sit there, not out of awkwardness, but because neither of you is quite ready for the night to end.

He moves first, stepping out and rounding the car. You step out, barely a breath away from him. For a moment you just stand there, close enough to feel the warmth radiating between you.

“Thank you,” you say, voice soft. “For tonight. For everything, really.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, he just watches you. The way the porch light catches in your hair, the pink of your lips and the softness in your eyes.

You hesitate, but then you quietly say, “Would you… maybe come up for a little while?”

After a long second, he finally says, “Are you sure?”

You nod slowly. “I just… I don’t want the night to be over yet.”

He nods and something unspoken shifts between you.

Simon follows you up the steps. There is no rush, no expectations, only the quiet pull of two people who’ve been orbiting a little closer each time. The door clicks shut behind you, soft and final.

You slip off your shoes, your keys landing with a familiar clink on the hallway table. You move with ease, not rehearsed, but natural, like it’s okay now, like you want him here.

Simon follows you in, slow and steady. His steps are deliberate, not cautious, just… considerate, as if he doesn’t want to take up too much space, even though you clearly want him in it.

He doesn’t sit until you gesture toward the couch. And even then, he just stands there for a second, scanning the space the way he always does, out of habit more than concern. Then he lowers himself to the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees, watching you.

“Tea?” you asks as you step into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder.

He meets your eyes briefly. “Yeah. If it’s no trouble.”

“No trouble,” you echo with a small smile, already pulling down two mugs.

Simon watches you from the living room, the way you move in your own space, barefoot and relaxed, hair loose from the night air. There’s something domestic about it, not in a cliché way, simply in that quiet, intimate way that makes his chest feel a little too tight.

You bring him a mug a few minutes later, your fingers brushing. He murmurs a quiet, “Thanks,” and you sit beside him, a respectful distance apart, for now.

You sip in silence for a few beats, steam curling between you.

“You always this quiet off duty?” you tease gently.

Simon huffs out a faint laugh. “Sometimes quieter.”

“You must be thrilling at parties.”

He smirks into his mug. “You’d be surprised. I’m a riot when I’ve had one and a half pints.”

You laugh, warm, real and he glances sideways at you, his eyes catching the glow of your lamp and something soft.

“You’re funny,” you say, nudging his knee with yours. “You pretend like you’re all serious but… you’re not.”

Simon shrugs, not denying it. “Serious works. But I’m not made of stone.”

“I didn’t think you were.” You smile over your tea. “You didn’t have to come up, you know.”

“I wanted to.”

That lands heavier than expected, not because it’s too much, but because it’s true and you can feel it.

You sit like that a little longer, trading small stories, sipping tea. Somewhere in between you changed into an oversized T-shirt. As the conversation continues, your legs are slowly drifting closer until your knee is resting lightly against his. Neither of you moves away.

When your laughter fades after a particularly dry joke of his, you rest your mug on the table and lean back into the couch, folding your legs underneath you.

“You alright?” you ask quietly, your voice low in the soft hum of the apartment.

Simon looks at you, then nods. “Yeah. I like it here.”

There’s no tension in his voice, but there’s weight. There is truth. You're sitting so close now.

The clock on the kitchen microwave reads 12:42 AM. You hadn’t noticed it getting so late. The tea’s long gone and the conversation has drifted into that quieter space, the kind that only happens when it’s dark out and the rest of the world feels far away.

You're tucked into the corner of the couch, one leg drawn under you, you head tilted as you listen to him talk, not about war or missions or any of the heaviness you know must be inside him, but about stupid things. About his first job. About his dog and how Riley once chewed through his bootlaces before a major inspection.

Your laughter comes easily, softened by the quiet of the night. His eyes linger on your face when you do.

When there’s a pause, a natural dip in the rhythm of your conversation, Simon glances at the clock on your wall and sits up a little straighter.

“You’ve got work tomorrow.”

You blink, then follow his gaze. “God… I do.”

You're not even disappointed, more surprised. The evening had moved in a strange sort of time. Gentle. Steady. Comforting. Simon sets his empty mug down and you stand with him instinctively. You don't want to rush him out, but you understand that this is where it ends for tonight.

You walk him to the door, barefoot and a little sleepy now. The air between you is quiet, still wrapped in that charged calm, the kind that doesn’t demand anything but carries everything. He turns to you, one hand already on the door handle.

“This was nice,” he says, his voice a bit lower now. “I… like being here.”

You meet his eyes, your lips curving softly. “I like you being here.”

That does something to him. Not visibly, but it flickers across his face, something unspoken but felt. He looks at you for a second longer.

“Right, well...” he starts, and then stops.

And before you can step back or say anything else, he leans in, slowly, giving you the space to pull away if you want to.

You don’t.

His hand brushes your waist gently as he leans in and your lips meet, careful at first. It's not hesitant, but rather… sure. It’s not long, but not rushed either, just enough for a pulse to skip and something inside you to stir awake. It’s warm and real.

When he pulls back, it’s only a breath away. He stays there for a second longer, eyes half-lowered, like he’s still tasting the moment.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says softly, voice rougher now.

Your heart thuds.

“Goodnight, Simon.”

He steps back, opens the door and walks into the night.

You stay there, one hand on the frame and your fingers touching your lips. You're not smiling, but stunned. Not because he kissed you, but because it felt like everything in your life had been quietly moving toward this one, single moment.

---------

The night air hits him like a reset button. It's cool, quiet and a little sharp against the heat still humming under his skin.

He takes the stairs down from your apartment two at a time, not rushed, just needing the movement. Needing something to do with his body that isn’t what it wanted to do just now.

Because bloody hell... that kiss.

It wasn’t even much, not by most standards. Just a press of lips. There weren't any hands roaming and there was no deep pull into each other. It was the kind of kiss you give when you’re trying to be good.

But Christ, he hadn’t wanted to be good.

Not in that moment.

Not when you looked at him like that: sleepy, soft, your voice barely a whisper. Standing there in that oversized T-shirt and bare feet like you trusted him with all of it, like he belonged in that quiet, warm corner of your world.

He unlocks his truck and slides in, gripping the steering wheel with both hands before starting the engine. He just sits there for a moment and breathes.

He could’ve kissed you longer.

Could’ve walked you back to the couch, let you climb onto his lap, buried his hands in that hair of yours and finally, finally, gotten his fill of the mouth that had been haunting his every spare thought.

But he didn’t. He closed the door. He walked away. Because you're not some one-night fix. Not some easy escape. He wants you for real.

For now, he’ll take the kiss, burn it into his memory and wait until you're ready to give him the rest.

--------

You wake up smiling.

It’s not conscious, not something you decide. It’s just there, stretched across your face, lazy and warm like sunlight filtering in through your curtains.

The second thing you register is the ache in your chest. It's not pain, just… a fullness. The kind that makes you tug the covers up to your chin and sink deeper into the mattress.

Last night... that kiss... the way his hand had hesitated at the door, like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you... and then did. Gentle, but not uncertain. Confident and controlled.

His mouth was brushing against yours like it meant something. Not greedy, but rather… careful. As if he didn’t want to scare you away, as if he wanted you to feel it... all of it.

God, and you had. Still did.

You let out a quiet groan and roll over, clutching the pillow like you're thirteen and dreaming about some boy at summer camp. Your whole body feels warm, not in a rush-to-shower kind of way, but like every cell is still tuned to him. His voice. That deep, slow cadence that had filled your living room while you drank tea. The way his eyes had flicked down your frame when he thought you weren't looking.

And now he’s out there somewhere, going about his day. Maybe thinking about the kiss. Maybe not.

You stare at the ceiling, flush creeping up your neck again. That’s when you glance at the clock.

8:17.

Crap.

The moment shatters. You practically launch out of bed, hair a mess, socks sliding on the hardwood as you scramble toward the closet. No time for makeup. No time to think. You just grab the blouse, button your pants, your coffee can wait and-

Your phone buzzes.

1 new message.

His name pops up on your screen.

"Mornin’… I’ll try not to assume you fell asleep thinking about me. But if you did, I’m flattered.”

You freeze and blink twice. Then you just laugh: breathless, wild, rattled in the best way.

You're still buttoning your shirt as you reply.

“And now I'm late. Disheveled. Can confirm: you’re a menace.”

He types back fast.

“I take that as a compliment.”

---------

Your shift is brutal.

Meetings back-to-back, a migraine that hums just behind your eyes, and two forgotten sticky notes with deadlines you swore you’d remember. But somehow, in all the noise and chaos, there’s a steady thread running under it all.

You can't stop thinking about him... and that kiss.

By the time you're finally parked in front of your appartment with the sun setting over the city, your fingers hover over your phone screen. You've typed and deleted a dozen versions of it already.

Too casual. Too eager. Too formal. Too much emoji.

But now? You exhale, then you start typing slowly, deliberately:

“Hey… if you’re free tonight, I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come over? I’ll cook. Or we can cook together, since you claim to be a kitchen god or whatever.”

You hit send a little too eagerly.

The reply is quick.

“Bold of you to challenge my skills like that. What’s on the menu?”

You smile sheepishly.

“You, chopping vegetables while I get the water boiling. That’s the vision.”

After a quick second your phone buzzes again.

“Be there in an hour. Hope you’ve got onions. I’m makin’ you cry in a good way.”

You burst out laughing. Then you reread it.

Then you reread it again.

And just like that, the tension of the day slips off your shoulders.

You enter your apartment and throw open the fridge. Quickly, you start pulling things together, heart already beating faster than it should for a night of groceries, knives, and the most intriguing man you've ever met.

[Part VI]

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #modern warefare ii #modern warfare #modern warfare iii #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley cod #call of duty slow burn

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thedarkesthistories · 2 months ago

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the pitt night shift crew.

- shen was never the one to order food for the team as a senior resident, saying: "i'm too poor for real pizza, i'll do frozen next time though? anyone?? no??" - difficult trauma case. cardiothoracic surgery resident coming up to the ER to find abbott having performed an improvised procedure and demanding answers. abbott just saying: "oh yeah. well, i guess he'll live" and then slowly walking away. - a frequent flyer coming in and admin logging them as the next patient to be seen. ellis shouting: "not it!". cue to shen saying: "you always do this! i'm the senior, i get to decide". ellis just says rules are rules, its his patient. - walsh coming to the ER for a consult, seeing a very borderline surgery case for an abscess and going "no. not today dude. call the medics". - "WHO ATE MY SANDWICH?" shen shouting from the staff room. - abbott and ellis once hazed the new intern by telling them to go to the south wing room to pronounce a patient from a care home. the intern walked in, took the sheet off the patients face and finding shen who shouted "boo!" at them. abbott congratulated the intern on now being "night shift baptised". - weekly betting pool on who wins the fight - one member of admin staff, or, one pigeon that has tried to fly into the reception booth through the hole in the glass for months. - a patient shouting "I AM TELLING THE MANAGER" and abbott saying "i'll give you their number, make sure you call in the morning, they don't work past 5pm".

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #john shen #dr shen #jack abbott #jack abbot #dr abbott #dr abbot #parker ellis #dr ellis #emery walsh #dr walsh

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emilykristina · 2 years ago

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Discover Top-Quality Pool Cue Cases for Cue Protection

A pool cue is more than just a tool for playing billiards; it's an extension of a player's skill and precision. To protect this valuable asset, investing in a top-quality pool cue case is essential. In this article, we will explore the world of pool cue cases, including hard and custom options, 4x8 and 2x2 sizes, and help you find the best pool cue cases to safeguard your cues.

Pool Cue Cases: A Necessity, Not an Accessory

Pool cue cases are not merely accessories; they are essential for cue protection. Whether you're a casual player or a serious enthusiast, the right case ensures that your cues stay in top condition, free from damage and wear. Here are some key aspects to consider when searching for the perfect pool cue case:

Hard Pool Cue Cases: These cases offer maximum protection for your cues. Constructed with durable materials such as ABS or leather, hard cases shield your cues from impacts, humidity, and temperature changes. They are an ideal choice for players who travel frequently or need extra protection.

Custom Pool Cue Cases: If you want to make a statement and show off your unique style, custom pool cue cases are the way to go. These cases allow you to personalise the design, materials, and features, creating a one-of-a-kind case that reflects your personality.

Pool Cue Cases 4x8: For those who own a variety of cues or frequently play in different settings, a 4x8 cue case is a practical choice. It can hold up to four butts and eight shafts, offering ample space for your cues and accessories.

Pool Cue Cases 2x2: If you're looking for a compact and portable option, a 2x2 cue case is perfect. It accommodates two butts and two shafts, making it convenient for casual players or those who prefer to travel light.

Finding the Best Pool Cue Cases

When searching for the best pool cue cases, consider the following factors:

Material: Look for cases made from high-quality materials like leather, nylon, or ABS. These materials provide durability and protection.

Interior Protection: Ensure that the interior of the case is lined with soft, cushioned material to prevent cues from scratching or bumping into each other.

Security Features: Some cases come with locking mechanisms for added security and peace of mind.

Portability: Consider the weight and ease of carrying the case. Adjustable shoulder straps or handles can make transportation more convenient.

Price and Brand: Research different brands and price ranges to find a case that suits your budget while meeting your quality standards.

Your pool cues deserve the best protection, and that begins with choosing the right pool cue case. Invest in a top-quality pool cue case, and you'll ensure that your cues remain in pristine condition, allowing you to enjoy the game of billiards to the fullest.

#Pool cue cases #Pool cues #cue cases #Billiards

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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Jake seresin doing that bathroom door thing to a sweet shy reader would be so cute😭😭

that bathroom door thing - i changed it up just a bit for the plot's sake! i hope you still enjoy it <3

Jake's forever grateful that Penny bought the Hard Deck, because it brought about changes that have only ever benefitted him. She's begrudgingly fond of him, so he drinks whenever he wants and pays his tab in grunt muscle when new shipments of booze are delivered and need to be hauled in. He also drives Amelia around to various after school activities, so Penny's rewarded him with his own personal set of keys in case she's waiting for pickup in the bar and can't lock up behind herself.

The bar is cleaner now than it was under previous management, which means more women are willing to set foot inside; something about the earlier gunk and grime drove them away. It's no longer a place for aviators to drink their sorrows away- it's fun, it's full, and it's family, something Jake cherishes more than he'll ever admit.

Those keys feel especially important in his pocket now as he watches you try the handle of the bathroom door, clearly in a rush. Jake's surprised that the bathroom isn't constantly occupied, what with the amount of liquor that gets consumed on a nightly basis, but some people might just be better at regulating themselves than others.

Apparently you're not one of them as you find the door locked, your face contorting into clear displeasure.

You scan the bar for Penny but- Jake realizes with a jolt down his spine, she's not here. She'd stepped out, and he'd been casually monitoring the counter to ensure that no one started touching anything that didn't belong to them.

"Coyote," Jake calls, catching his friend's attention from where he's crouched over the pool table, "Cover for Penny."

Usually the team would be annoyed at being interrupted, but Coyote is just as fond of Penny as Jake is, and he nods once, passing his cue over to Rooster. He takes up a seat opposite Jake, giving the man the chance to stand and make his way over to you.

"Hey there, darlin'," He greets, digging the keys out of his pocket, "You need'a get in there?"

"Uh, yeah, I do," You laugh sheepishly, watching intently as he slides the key into the door, "Oh my god, thank you, I couldn't find the bartender and I thought I was shit outta luck."

"I gotcha, honey," Jake grins, bicep flexing as he pushes open the door for you, "Come get me when you're done so I can lock back up, okay?"

"Alright," You agree, slipping into the bathroom and peeking through the door to call after him, "Thank you again!"

Jake beelines for the bar, reaching around the countertop to grab two bottles of beer. They're stored in an ice bucket, but he prefers them to the tap because they're quicker and easier.

"Hey!" Coyote barks, mad dogging him playfully, "You gonna pay for those, sir?"

"If these help me get that lady's number," Jake rushes back to the tables near the bathroom, sitting at one and setting the other bottle across from him, "I'll give Penny my life savings."

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

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mostly-marvel-musings · 9 months ago

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can we ask for threesomes for kinktober? in case we can... bear with me. worst!Logan x reader x whatever version of Logan you choose + this prompt “I bet they can’t fuck you like I can.”.

horny goblins have taken over my brain since I watched DP&W, I'm sorry 😭

More of you

A/N: Don’t worry anon, our horniness for this man knows no bounds. Thank you for sending this request!

Pairing: worst! Logan x F! Reader x Lumberjack! Logan

Warning: 18+ pure smut, threesome.

🍁🍂 Kinktober 2024 🍂🍁

Your dreamy sigh followed by a faint moan is what roused Logan from his sleep.

Initially he was concerned but as he saw a hint of a smile on your features, he was relieved you were probably just dreaming. It amused him as yet another quiet moan escaped your lips, your legs parting while you caressed the pillow underneath you.

Whatever this dream was, sure seemed like a pleasant one.

If only he knew…

Biting your bottom lip, you rolled your hips seductively against Logan's crotch, smirking when you felt him twitch underneath you. He had his vice-like grip upon them, almost possessively keeping your anchored to him while the other 'him' hovered around like a predator on a prowl.

His gaze wasn't as gentle or loving as your Logan's was but the eyes sure held the same darkened lust as they drank you in, it was one thing they had in common. The intensity made a shiver run down your spine as he approached, using your hands to undo his zipper.

"Open your mouth and take me—all of me in like a good girl.." the other Logan growled, letting out a shaky breath when you wrapped a hand around his length, stroking him.

On cue, your Logan slid your panties aside, gathering your slick on his fingers before undoing his zip to free his own erection. He didn’t seem completely onboard, he could never be. Logan still needed to be the one inside you, claiming you as his while the other guy had his fun.

Desire pooled deep within your belly as you tasted meaner Logan's salty eagerness on the tip of your tongue, your warmth coating his cock deliciously as you made room for more, obeying his command.

“What a good fuckin girl..” he grunted, tugging on your hair as his cock twitched inside your velvety mouth.

Your moan was muffled as the man underneath you shifted, pulling you up only to have you sink down on his sizeable dick.

"All mine, Y/N." Logan murmured, teasing his thumb against your clit while the other guy scoffed, letting his fingers tangle in your hair before guiding himself deeper in your mouth.

It could only be a cosmic blessing you were experiencing to have not one but two Logans agreeable, albeit reluctantly, to your every dirty desire. Your body had never felt more alive, every cell greedy for them, craving them both carnally.

Logan began fucking your mouth deliberately, making your eyes water as he hit the back of your throat with every thrust, as the man used you for his pleasure, pleasure you were more than willing to give.

With your pussy stuffed as luxuriously as your mouth, the sensations tingling all over your body were both too much and not enough all at once. You could feel the building tension desperate for release, the coil that tightened as the men had their way with you.

A needy whine escaped your mouth as your body shook, abruptly jolting you awake, making your eyes snap open.

You were so close…

“Good dream baby?” Logan smirked, his fingers already trailing south towards the evidence of your horny subconscious. Leaning his head against his hand, he knew you had a sex dream before you could confirm or deny. He had smelt your arousal.

“The best.” You blushed, letting out a soft gasp as his fingers dipped inside your moist folds.

“Is that so? Who was it? Whoever it was I bet they can’t fuck you like I can.” Logan was already rolling on top of you, determined to prove a point.

The apparent jealousy in his voice made you chuckle, making your train of thought resume its journey. What a wild thought you had had.

If only he knew...

#worst!logan x reader #lumberjack!logan #logan x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan howlett imagine #worst!wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan x you #kinktober #anon asks #marvel fanfiction #mostly marvel musings #james logan howlett #logan howlett #wolverine smut #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #wolverine

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dog-bimbo · 2 months ago

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shiu n his sweet bimbo girlfriend part three 18+ only minors dni part 1 part 2

shiu teaching you how to play pool cuz i know that he's good at it mmphhhhf—he had been playing before this, of course. sleeves rolled, cue stick loose in his hand and cigarette tucked between his lips and god, he looked handsome doing it. every shot was effortless, smooth, like he’d been doing this forever. “used to play with the guys back then,” he said offhandedly, which reminds you that he used to be a cop back in seoul, in his twenties, running around and solving cases while you were probably still in high school, stressing about studying and daydreaming about men like him maybe?

you were practically bouncing in your seat, clapping for every shot he got in the hole. when he offered to teach you, you nearly tripped over yourself getting to his side after placing your drink on the table. he's mostly in it because he pounces on every opportunity to touch you. the bar is half empty and dimly lit. you're bent slightly over the table, tongue peeking out in concentration, the cue stick balanced in your hand clumsily. he’s behind you, arms loosely caging you in.

“mhm... i don’t get it,” you say, slurred. you were such a lightweight compared to him. “that’s ‘cause you’re not listening,” he’s murmuring now as he stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray. “you need to have a good aim for shit like this."

“do i not?” you turn to pout at him but his hand’s already gripping your jaw—firm enough to keep you quiet. “turn around and keep tryin' sweetheart." a blush creeps up your cheeks, there was no winning with him.

he kisses you slow and dirty before positioning you back. “we’re gonna finish the game n' then i’m takin' you home.”

“why?” you whisper while catching your breath. he leans in, “’cause i’m hard as fuck n' if i don’t get to—” he straightens up, gives your ass a slap as you squeak. “now shoot.”

you miss the shot, of course you do.

he laughs, rolling his sleeves down and buttoning his cuffs. you’re pouting at him yet again, arms crossed tight under your chest as you stood up straight and turned around to face him. “i wanna win!" he raises a brow, amused at your bratty tone, “win?”

“... j-just once, is it too much to ask?” you whine, you're clearly drunk as fuck. he tsks, “baby, you don’t even know how to hold the stick right and—"

“then help me!” you look up at him, unfocused and shiu goes weak for you when you're like this—extra weak when he's kinda drunk himself. “fuck,” he mutters, glancing around the bar—still empty enough, quiet, dim. then he has you turned around, pressing you against the edge of the pool table with his hips, not rough, just steady. you gasp when you feel him grind into you, thick and hard through his pants, dragging a whimper out of your throat. "told ya' i've been hard as a fucking rock," he's helping you grip the cue stick even though none of the balls were arranged again, just to throw the bartender off the scent. “this is how bad you want a win, huh?” he murmurs, one hand slipping to your waist as he bends you over.

“then you gotta ride it out on my cock like a needy little girl…” you nod, dizzy, grabbing at the table’s edges and already forgetting your stubborn need to win. he ruts into you slow, hips rolling just right, and every grind of his hard cock drags perfectly against your clit through the thin fabric, hot and filthy between layers of clothes. your skirt’s bunched up, his slacks barely keeping him from pressing all the way in, and it’s not enough, but he can make do.

“gonna make me cum in my pants even before we even get home,” he mumbles against your neck, breath ragged and voice rough, “all ‘cause you wanted a fuckin’ win.”

you whine, grinding back, the friction hitting your sweet spot just right, hands gripping at the like you’re losing your mind. “please—please, i need it, need it so bad..” you whisper,

“you’ll get it,” he pants, picking up the pace just enough to have the table creaking beneath you, his teeth scraping your jaw, “you’ll get your win when you cum just like this. now take it.”

and you do—of course you do—legs shaking, mouth parted, his face buried in your neck as he fucks the pleasure out of you without even pulling his pants down. he holds you through it, smug and satisfied, still grinding slow, dragging it out right against your soaked clit through your panties, making sure you feel every bit of his clothed hard-on.

“there,” he says, voice low and smug, “you win.” and you're just there, feeling your knots tightening and loosening up again.

#— bimbo writes !#shiu kong #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #shiu kong x reader #shiu x reader #shiu kong smut #shiu smut #jjk x you #jjk shiu #jujutsu kaisen smut

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 11 months ago

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It Feels Like Home (Logan Howlett x F! Reader) Part 1/?

A/N: This is dedicated to anyone that requested a soft/hurt comfort Wolverine story. This is only the first part, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: "The Worst One" Logan 'Wolverine' Howlett x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + for language, mentions of abuse/assault, nightmares, showering together (non-sexual), being sick (cold), Logan being protective, deadpool and wolverine spoilers.

Word Count: 3.8K

It was just another boring Monday evening at the bar when you first met him. The floors were sticky, the jukebox in the corner crooning, drowning out the conversations only mildly interrupted by the cue balls smacking together.

But when he entered, the room seemed to shift. His shoulders were slunched down, making him seem small but it did little to deter the others in the room from outright staring. And who could blame them? As he slid into the stool across from you, lifting his eyes to stare at you, you could feel the liquid pool inside you. The dark brown hair, tussled from running his fingers through it, lips swollen from constantly biting, and those eyes. It takes a moment before you realize he’s asked for a drink while you’ve been ogling him at your bar.

You turn grabbing the whiskey and a glass, turning back and shouting when the owner, Jim, grabs your wrist tightly. “We don’t want you here,” he sneers at the man, no not a man a mutant, the last mutant.

“Just give me one drink and I’ll go,” he sighs, tapping the bar with two fingers.

“You’re not wanted here,” Jim lets go and pushes you further down the bar, ignoring how your feet stumble and you hit the counter hard, wincing.

But the man at the bar doesn’t. “Take it easy,” he warns, eyes narrowing, “she didn’t do anything.”

“Jim,” you clear your throat, putting down the glass and rubbing at your side, “we can give him one drink, right?”

Jim glares and you lower your eyes, before he sighs loudly, “One drink, then he gets the fuck out of my bar.” He sticks out a finger towards you and you slowly raise your head, “and don’t fucking talk to him.”

Jim walks back towards the office and slams the door, and you step forward, pulling out a fresh glass, putting it on the bar, and filling it. “I’m sorry about him,” you grab a rag and start cleaning glasses, “he can be a real asshole sometimes.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be talking to me,” you stop and glance up, catching him staring at you as he quickly drinks the shot.

“I can talk to whoever I want,” you go back to the glasses, “and for the moment, I choose you.”

You grab the bottle and pour him another drink, ignoring those around you staring daggers into the side of your head. “You’re making some enemies,” he grabs the drink and downs it, eyes widening slightly when you fill it for a third time. “But I get the sense you don’t give a shit.”

“I don’t,” you raise your head, leaning on the bar, tossing a finger back and forth, and raising your voice, “these fuckers try to make it seem like they are holier than thou by judging you. But we’ve all made mistakes in our life.”

He swallows, tapping his fingers and watching as you fill the glass, “I made more than a mistake,” he raises the glass to his lips.

“So it was on purpose?” the glass pauses and he lifts his eyes to meet yours, “because if that’s the case it changes things.” He narrows his eyes, lowering the glass with a clink as he sets it down hard on the bar, the liquid sloshing over the rim. His silence is telling and you break contact and go back to cleaning glasses, “maybe we started on the wrong foot,” you put the glass down with a sigh, telling him your name.

He doesn’t respond and you roll your eyes, “This is usually the point where you tell me your name.”

“Seems like you already know all about me, bub,” he grabs the glass and tosses it back with a wince. “I’m the Wolverine, the fuck up, the murderer,” his glare could melt iron but you don’t bend easily keeping his gaze, “but they call me Logan.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you pour him another drink, “so what brings you to town?”

Logan furrows his brow, “what the fuck?”

“Business or pleasure?” you continue, ignoring him. You giggle when you glance at him, seeing the utter confusion on his face, “I’m trying to change the subject. I think you’ve had enough doom and gloom for a lifetime.”

His eyes soften for a second, so quickly you could have blinked and missed it before he scoffs, “I’m just passing through.”

“Where are you headed?”

“I-” he hesitates, “I’m not sure.”

“Stop fucking talking to him,” Ron one of the regulars stands behind him, and he slowly turns to look at him. “The boss told you to serve him one drink and get him the fuck out, are you hard of hearing? Stupid bitch.”

“What did you say?” Logan turns all the way around and stands. The tension is electric as other patrons stand and take a menacing step closer.

“Enough!” you shout, coming around the bar to stand in front of Logan, ignoring how he’s so tall he can see over your head. “Everyone stand down,” you lift your arms out like wrangling a bunch of raptors. “Ron, don’t be a fucking asshole!”

Suddenly a gun shoots off to the right and you flinch curling in to cover your head, and a warm body wraps around you, tugging you into their chest. “What the fuck is going on here?!” Jim holds the shotgun and you straighten up, hands pressed to Logan’s chest, his hands still wrapped protectively around your waist. “Get your hands off my fucking bartender,” he swings the gun towards Logan who pushes you behind him.

“Why don’t you lower the gun, bub?” Logan lifts a hand toward Jim.

“You don’t tell me what do,” Jim aims the gun at him, “now pay your tab and get the fuck out of my bar.”

Logan keeps an eye on the weapon, covering you with his body and pulling his wallet from his pocket, grabbing a hundred dollar bill, and putting it on the bar. He turns to look at you over his shoulder, his voice quiet when he whispers, “see you around, sweetheart,” before taking off through the side door.

The silence stretches, and Jim lowers the gun before turning to you with a glare, “My office, now!”

The ass-chewing you received that night should have been enough to deter you from ever speaking the name Logan again but the next night when he showed up sitting in the same stool at the bar, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. “Hi,” you whispered, glancing around the mostly empty bar, Jim was off for the evening, and the other patrons already lost in their cups. Tuesdays were always the slowest.

“Hey bub,” his voice is gravely and sends shivers down your spine. He waits for you to pour him a drink before catching your wrist softly when you pull back with the bottle, “you okay?”

You pull from his touch and put down the bottle, his hand quickly retreating thinking you don’t want his touch. You put out your hand, palm up and he watches you for a moment before slowly putting his hand in your waiting palm. You squeeze, smiling at him, “I got my ass chewed out, and threatened to lose my job but besides that nothing. Jim knows he needs me.”

“I’m sorry I got you into trouble,” he looks around, “he around tonight?”

“No, he’s never in on Tuesdays. And he usually leaves by 11:30 each night.” The edge of his lips curves for a second before he tosses back the drink, understanding what you’re trying to tell him, and he nods.

“That’s good.”

The rest of the week passes much the same, Logan showing up well after midnight when the majority of the crowd and Jim have retired for the evening. The two of you sharing stories over whiskey, and 80’s power ballads. There was something safe about having Logan there, an understanding between the two of you, you’d never experienced with another.

Each night he’d wait as you locked up the bar, walking you to your car before taking off down the street, an uneasy friendship forming. But everything changed on Saturday. You woke with a splitting headache and a fever, tossing and turning in bed, sweating through the sheets you reached for the cell on the bedstand, and texted Jim you wouldn’t be in.

The whole day was miserable, laying there sick as a dog and trying to keep down water and some soup from the cabinet. It was around 11:00 pm when you felt the fever finally break and you lifted your phone to see the time. It only took a second through the haze to feel the utter terror take over. “Logan,” you gasped pushing back the blanket and getting dressed as quickly as possible, the whole process taking you longer than normal.

Logan stumbled out into the alley, the crowd cheering behind him as his inebriated body slammed into the trash cans. “Taking out the trash!” Jim shouts with a grin before spitting on him and slamming the door shut.

He didn’t bother getting up, it wasn’t worth the effort. He lowered his head back and looked at the stars sprinkled across the sky seeing a swell of clouds looming in the distance, his heart starting to beat faster at the sting in his eyes. He closes his eyes as the first drop of rain falls from the sky, and he lets it quickly drown him, his clothes plastered to his skin.

“Storm,” he whispers her name, his chest tightening as he struggles to breathe through the pain. His friends are dead and gone, and it’s all his fault. He’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t hear the footsteps getting closer.

“Fuck,” you blink, glancing down at him and he slowly opens his eyes squinting as the water drips down his forehead. You purse your lips for a moment before sighing and leaning down, balancing the umbrella in one hand and reaching for him with the other, “Come on, help me.”

“Leave me,” he slurs, cursing when you don’t quit, “fuckin’ leave me!”

“Nope, not happening,” you drop the umbrella and quickly get soaked in the downpour, “come on, time to get up.” He growls, and you see the beginning of his claws break through his knuckles, “going to stab me?” You raise a brow at him, “then do it.”

His claws retract and he sighs loudly before standing on unsteady legs, his body leaning forward to faceplant when you grab him around the waist. “Fuck,” he’s heavy, and you struggle before getting him upright and leading him toward the parking lot.

A couple of men stand outside the door to the bar by some bikes and you try to hide his face as you shuffle him toward your car. “You finally taking one of the boys up on their offer?” they jeer at you and you smile tightly walking faster, and cursing when you hear the boots sound behind you.

“Come on,” you urge the man beside you, “they can’t see you.” You reach the car, open the passenger door, and shove him inside, quickly shoving in his leg and turning around to lean against the door, blocking him, your breathing fast and hard from the effort.

“Wait,” one of the men stops, squinting through the glass, “is that, that fuckin’ mutant?” They all freeze looking between the man slumped in your car and you, and you back up as they move closer. “You like mutants, slut?” they close in and you reach for the key in your pocket, hand quickly finding the pepper spray and sliding the safety off.

The words spewing out of their mouths are vile, the rain soaking through their clothes as they corner you into the streetlight. The smell of their breaths reeks of alcohol and you go to pull out the pepper spray when one grabs your wrist and twists, smiling when you let out a painful gasp. “Oh, come on slut, we know you like it rough,” he grins.

“Let her go,” they all freeze, turning and staring at the man leaning against your car.

One of the men, grabs your arm and pulls you into his chest, his hand running over your breasts, “and what are you going to do about it?” You squirm trying to get away from his touch, and the claws extend, his hand quickly leaving your breast to push you behind him.

“You don’t want to do this,” Logan warns, pushing off the car and standing straight.

“Oh, I think we do,” the man in front of you smiles, pulling brass knuckles from his pocket. You watch with wide eyes as they pull out a variety of weapons; guns, knives, and even nunchucks. The air is electric, the streetlight flickering as if it senses the tension before one of the men shouts, “Come on, let’s go!”

Logan grins, “Let’s fucking go.”

You drop to your knees and crawl through their legs, scrambling up before the axe drops and reach for Logan, coughing up a storm and trying to catch your breath, his claws retract as he grabs you pulling you into his chest and looking down at you with a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong-”

“Don’t kill them,” you hold the lapels of his coat, nails digging in as he growls at them over the top of your head as if they made you sick, “it will only make things worse.”

“I won’t kill them,” he pushes you behind him with a grin, “just a little light maiming.” You nod and turn towards the car, sitting in the driver's seat escaping the rain and turning on the heater. The screams are quickly drowned out when you turn up the music, reach for a towel from your swim bag in the backseat, and dry your body the best you can.

A few minutes later the passenger door opens and Logan plops beside you. He’s covered in blood but you don’t comment, tossing him the towel and heading towards home. The ride home is silent and when you pull into your house, he gets out before the key is out of the ignition. You scramble out, watching as he walks back towards the road, “where are you going?”

“Listen,” he stops looking back towards you, water dripping down his face, “I appreciate what you did back there. But that is where this partnership ends, I don’t need your charity. Just follow the rest of the world and hate me, it will save you a lot of trouble.”

He turns away and you follow, “Listen, it’s freezing outside, and I know for a fact you have nowhere to go. It won’t kill you to accept help for a night.”

“No,” he turns angrily, “but it could very well get you killed. Those guys back there were ready to assault you for helping me. Imagine what people will do to you if they find out you let me stay here. I have enough blood on my hands.”

“So you’re going back to the park to sleep?” you put your hands on your hips, his brow furrowing. “You’ve been at the bar every night for the past week. You leave when I do and I see you go into the park.”

“You stalking me, princess?” he sneers.

“No,” you shake your head, shivering, “but I see someone that could use some help. And I am offering it. Take it.”

He watches you for several moments, and you feel your fingers start to lose feeling from the cold, shoulders trembling as you tuck your hands into your jacket. “Fine,” he bites, following behind you as you lead the way to the door, hiding your smile. Your fingers shake, the key struggling to find the lock and he holds onto your hand, his hands solid and warm helping you unlock the door before quickly pulling away.

“You need to get warm,” he mumbles quietly, locking the door behind him and pushing you further into the house. The water pools beneath you and he frowns before sweeping his hands under your legs and lifting you into his arms. “Where’s the bathroom?” your eyes are wide as you wrap your arms around his neck, nodding towards the stairs.

He doesn’t break a sweat as he carries you up and into the bathroom. He sits you down gently, quickly going to turn the shower on, the steam filling the room. You struggle with the zippers and buttons on your clothes, the shaking worse now that you’re out of the rain and he watches for a moment before sighing loudly.

“Trust me,” you snap your head up, raising one brow and gasping when his claws descend on his right hand, “I won’t look.”

“What are you-” the words evaporate when he runs the claw down your front, you close your eyes waiting for the pain but nothing happens except your clothes falling to your feet in ribbons. When you open your eyes you see his back, stiff as he faces the door, “thanks.”

He doesn’t reply except to nod, and you pull back the curtain and pause, hesitating for a moment. “Do you want to join me?” His head snaps to look at you, his eyes on your own, never straying lower. “I don’t mean anything sexual, I just….I just thought we could both be warm.”

His eyes change, less of the harsh lines, something complex, and his eyes keep yours as he starts to strip. You give him a moment when he hesitates at the suit hidden behind his clothes and you get under the hot water, letting it warm you up. A moment later the curtain moves back and he fills the space behind you.

You turn towards the wall, letting out a harsh cough, and he leans around you reaching for the soap, “you’re sick,” he doesn’t bother phrasing it as a question, “why the hell were you out in this weather?”

You turn, looking at him, water dripping down into your lashes, “I knew you would come. I thought if I could stop you before you went inside and I wasn’t there. I was trying to protect you.”

His eyes soften, and he nods, “let me take care of you, sweetheart.” He rubs his hands together, holding them hesitantly before you step into his touch, allowing him to wash you. You relax under his touch and he turns you, stepping behind you to press his chest flush to your back, your head leaning back over his shoulder as he rinses you under the hot water. He repeats the process with your hair, allowing you to close your eyes and rest your head on his chest while he cleans you both.

It’s the most intimate you’ve ever been with a man, and you’d had sex several times before. But something about this was different, his hands tracing over your body was not sexual both of you getting comfort from the touch.

You lift your head, and he freezes almost as though you’re going to tell him to fuck off, but instead you pump some shampoo into your head and gesture for him to bend down. He does without complaint and his eyes drift closed as you wash his hair, his hands resting gently on your hips, you take your time, washing off the dirt and grime. You can’t help but wonder when the last time he had a shower was before you’re directing him under the water to rise. His lips release a soft moan, and you smile softly seeing him so relaxed.

He slowly opens his eyes, seeing your lips turned up and he tugs you back into his chest. The water begins to turn cold, and he quickly leans down to turn it off, before pulling you back into his arms and resting his head against your own. You feel the ghost of his lips press to your forehead before he reaches for the towels and wraps them around your body.

He gets out first, reaching a hand out to help you out before drying you completely. “I think I have some clothes that might fit you.” He pauses, looking at you questioningly, “my ex left some of his clothes when he skipped town, they might fit you.”

He nods, watching as you go into the bedroom, coming back out in fresh pajamas and handing him the shirt and boxers. You leave him to get dressed, waiting in the hallway and leaning against the wall with your eyes closed, your head throbbing.

The door quietly opens and you stand up straight opening your eyes to see him in the black t-shirt and plaid boxers. “Goodnight,” he mumbles, walking past you back towards the living room.

“Wait,” you reach out without thinking, hand landing on his shoulder, solid and so warm. He glances down at your hand and you go to pull away when he reaches for it, holding it lightly in his own. “You can sleep with me,” you swallow down the nerves, “if you want. No pressure, just..I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He watches you, contemplation clear on his face weighing the pros and cons. He gives a shallow nod, squeezing your hand before letting go. You don’t question it, turning back towards your bedroom, Logan’s footsteps following close behind. You tug the curtains closed, flicking on the fan overhead and pulling down the covers, Logan’s hand hovers over the t-shirt before pulling it off and climbing into the bed.

You can’t help the way your eyes trail down over his muscles and a smile tugs just barely at the corner of his lips when he opens his arms and you collapse into them. He reaches across, flicking off the lamp and you both relax into one another, sleep quickly claiming you as his breathes even out.

Sometime around 3 am Logan begins to stir, his arms around you tightening and his breath quickening.You grogilly rub your eyes and lean back, watching his head thrash back and forth as he starts to mumble. “Jean, Scott, Charles, Storm, Beast-” he repeats the names tormented and you put a hand to his chest feeling his pulse race.

“Logan,” you whisper, rubbing gently the crease between his forehead, “it’s just a nightmare. Come back to me,” he stills, his heart still racing beneath your palm but he slowly blinks open his eyes. “You’re safe,” you whisper, his hand clutching the one on his chest tightly, his eyes wide, frightened from his dreams. “You’re safe, come back to me,” you tighten your grip on his hand, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Everyone leaves me,” he whispers, brokenly, pressing his forehead to your own, your heart shattering for this man.

“I won’t,” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around him and pulling his head into your chest, “you’re safe here, you’re home.”

I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!

#Wolverine x Reader #Wolverine x you #logan howlett x reader #logan james howlett #Logan Howlett x you #Deadpool and Wolverine #The worst Logan #The worst logan x reader #female reader #autumn writes

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nerdy-novelist017 · 1 year ago

Note

Benny x bunny, where she faints and she gets taken to the hospital but he wasn't around when she fainted, so once he gets to the hospital and asks what happened she completely downplays it. Also if you could write him getting the call it would be 10/10.

You guys are so self-indulgent and I love it! This was really fun to write so I hope you enjoy! Benny's really just a stressed little muffin in this

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 2.2k

Summary- See request above.

Bruised Ego (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

The cue ball struck against the green stripes, a significant clack echoing in the clubhouse as he sunk the last ball into the pocket. With a smirk around his cigarette, Benny straightened to his full height, hands sliding down the cue stick smugly.

“That’s two games in a row, kid,” Wahoo groaned as he rounded the pool table to throw another five dollar bill into Benny’s winnings. “You must be lucky.”

“We can see if my luck will make it to an even 3,” Benny chided. He knew it wasn’t luck, Wahoo just sucked at playing pool. The slow afternoon was passed by the few integral members of the Vandals hanging out in the clubhouse, drinking, smoking and razzing each other. There was going to be a race tonight at the club bonfire; some newcomer kid on a piece of shit hand-built bike thought he was going to take on Cal’s racing Harley. Everyone knew he was going to blow him away, but it was still free entertainment and a chance for the club to meet again.

“Yeah fine, but I want the stripes this time.” Wahoo grumbled.

“You know what the definition of insanity is, Wahoo?” Johnny asked over his shoulder. He sat at the bar, counting a few stacks of cash as he and Brucie worked on the finances of this month's dues.

“Well, your boy keeps doin’ all these trick shots,” Wahoo retorted as he began to rack for the new game.

“Of course he is,” Johnny looked over his shoulder, smirking. “I taught ‘em how.”

Johnny turned back to his task at hand before he could see the bird Wahoo flipped him. The phone rang from the back of the bar and Cal went to answer it.

“I’m feeling pretty lucky for this game too,” Benny laughed as he bent forward to position the first shot. Clack, another shot that sent multiple solid colors spiraling around the table.

“Benny,” Cal called, holding the phone up. “It’s for you.”

“Okay,” Benny nodded, chalking the end of his cue stick. It was probably you calling to tell him you missed him. You often called him at least once if he was gone for a few hours, your way of checking on him as you worried about him. He’s tried telling you multiple times that you don’t have to worry about him, he’d be more careful because he had you to come home to every night. You promised you'd stop calling so much but he told you he didn't mind hearing your voice so sometimes, you’d call and ask him to pick up something from the store, too. “Tell her I'll be over in a minute.”

“No,” Cal said slowly, voice tight. “It’s Kathy. She said somethin’s happened to Bunny.”

Benny’s heart stopped. “What?”

“She’s at the hospital–”

Johnny turned to Cal and said something – asked a question maybe – but that was all Benny needed to hear before he tossed the cue stick onto the table and turned for the door. He shoved it open and fished his bike keys out of his pocket as he tossed the rest of his cigarette onto the sidewalk. He set off for his bike, throwing his leg over the seat and flipping the ignition switch.

He brought his foot down onto the kickstart but it only sputtered. He tried it once more. Twice. And Benny felt tears of frustration burning in his eyes as he pictured you laying lifeless in one of those awful hospital beds, every worst case scenario running through his mind. He kicked it again. “Fucking, c’mon!”

“Benny,” Johnny’s calm but assertive voice cut through the ringing in Benny’s ears. “I’ll drive. Get in.”

He nodded, wanting to say thanks, but he found his mouth too dry to speak, jaw clenched too tightly. He followed Johnny to his car, quickly sliding into the passenger seat. Johnny twisted the key in the ignition, threw it into reverse and peeled out as he drove in the direction of the hospital.

“Kathy said she’s okay,” Johnny assured, his voice composed as Benny’s knee bounced up and down with anxiety. “Said she was up and talkin’ to the doctors.”

“I can’t – I can’t lose–” Benny started but his voice broke and he squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of something happening to you.

“She’s okay, Benny,” Johnny repeated, firmer this time. “She’s okay.”

******

Benny practically ran through the hospital waiting room to get to the front desk, skidding to a stop and asking the nearest nurse where you were. Johnny had dropped him off at the door, saying he would find a place to park and be in as soon as he could.

“Benny!” Kathy called out for him down the hall. He abandoned the nurse’s station and approached her.

“What happened? Where is she?” he asked, swallowing hard in an attempt to control his nerves.

“I’ll take you to her,” Kathy touched his arm gently and led him down the hallway of ER rooms. “We were outside workin’ in my garden, ya know? A–and she just fell over, like completely onto her face, didn’t even try to catch herself. She hit her head pretty good when she landed so they’re runnin’ some test.”

Benny nodded, trying to process her words in his jumbled brain. She stopped in front of a room and motioned for him to enter. He took a deep breath, hoping his shaking hands weren’t noticeable and pushed the door open.

And the sight of you nearly crushed his heart. You looked so small sitting on the hospital bed, legs dangling off the side, hand pressing a blue ice pack to the side of your face. When you looked up and noticed him, you sat up straighter and squeaked out, “Benny!”

He was at your side in an instant, hands carefully roaming in an attempt to find anything physically wrong with you besides the obvious head wound. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” you said, taking his hand in your unoccupied one and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s nothing, Benny.”

“It wasn’t nothin’,” Kathy spoke up from the doorway, nervously glancing between you two. “You were out for a good couple minutes. Scared the livin’ shit outta me. ”

You shook your head, shooting her an exasperated look around Benny’s shoulder. “I told you not to call him.”

“Bullshit,” Benny interjected. “You get taken to the hospital and you think I shouldn’t know ‘bout it?”

“I’m fine, really,” you said with a sigh and you looked so . . . tired. Benny wanted to scoop you up in his arms and take you home in that instant. “The doctor said I just got overheated. You know how hot it’s been.”

Benny’s hand gently encased yours holding the ice pack, pulling it away so he could inspect the damage. He grimaced at the sight of the nasty purple and red bruise forming around your right brow bone and down to your eye socket. Despite his best efforts, his hands still shook as he pulled away. He’d seen his fair share of bruising – most of the time it was from his own reflection in the mirror after a fight. But the sight of the injury coloring your beautiful skin. . . it made his stomach flip. You were so frail, so breakable and the realization squeezed at Benny’s heart. He was supposed to protect you and if he could, he’d shrink you down and put you in his pocket, safe and secure. He looked over his shoulder to Kathy, “Would you. . . would you let Johnny know what’s goin’ on?”

“Sure thing,” she answered and disappeared out the door.

Silence fell heavy between you and Benny desperately searched for something to say to make you smile again, to make you blush . . . but his heart still pounded too hard and his stomach still churned from the uncertainty to come up with anything. So he did the only thing he could in that moment; He pulled you into a tight hug, hand cradling the back of your neck as he fought back that awful sting of tears again.

“I’m okay, Benny.” Your voice was muffled against his chest. “I promise.”

“You can’t–” his voice broke and he had to swallow thickly before continuing. “You can’t scare me like that, Bunny.”

“I didn’t mean to–”

“I just– I just love you so much,” he breathed out as he pulled you impossibly closer.

“I know you do,” you whispered gently and he couldn’t understand how you were always so strong, so resilient. “I love you too, Benny.”

You gave him a moment to compose himself, to slow his erratic heartbeat and melt into your sweet touch before you pulled back, lowering the ice pack and said, “There is something that will make me feel better.”

“What’s that?” he asked, heart softening at your brazen smile.

“A kiss.”

“Is that so?” His gaze fluttered over your angelic face, still beautiful despite the bruise.

“Mhhm, it’s what the doctor ordered, actually.” Your grin grew wider as he put both hands on the sides of your face, thumbs sliding gently along your jaw. He kissed you softly, lips barely ghosting over yours in fear of hurting you as if you would crumble beneath his touch. That wasn’t good enough for you apparently as you leaned forward to chase him before he could pull away completely. Your hands came up to hold his in place over your face and you returned his kiss with such vehemence that Benny’s brows pinched together in enthrallment.

The distinct clearing of a throat broke you both apart and Benny caught sight of the doctor standing in the doorway, hand rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. You blushed and looked away as the doctor entered, apologizing for the intrusion.

“We got the test results back,” he said and Benny straightened, feeling his heart rate pick up again. “Bad news is we figure you passed out due to heatstroke. With this severe heat wave hitting Chicago, we’ve had multiple patients come in from it so don’t feel bad. Good news is you were able to get here quick enough that we could get your core temperature brought down before any damage was done. As far as your head, you don’t appear to have a concussion, but you will have a pretty nasty bruise for a while.”

“So . . . she’s okay?” Benny asked, hand finding the top of your thigh to ground him.

The doctor nodded. “Yeah she’ll be just fine as long as she takes it easy for the rest of the day. No more gardening in this weather, okay?”

You giggled abashedly at his joke and Benny breathed a sigh of relief.

The doctor continued, “I’ll have the nurse bring around another ice pack for you to take home before we start your paperwork to leave.”

Benny held your hand as he stood beside your bed faithfully while they worked on getting you discharged of the hospital. You were okay, he repeated in his head like a chant. You were okay and that made him okay.

“You know since I'm gettin' out of here early we’ll still be able to go to the race tonight,” you pointed out with a small smile as you nudged him with your foot to get his attention.

“No, I’m taking you home where you’re going to lay your pretty little butt down in bed for the rest of the day,” he said firmly with a shake of his head.

“I don’t want you to miss Cal’s race!” you said as you tugged on his hand gently, lip pouting.

“I don’t care about the race,” he replied flippantly.

“Well, I do! Plus I want to see the girls, too. C’mon, please Benny?”

He shook his head, trying to remain firm in his decision even as you gave him your irresistible puppy eyes.

“Please Bennyyyy?” you dragged out his name in that adorable way you did when you wanted something. “I’ll sit in the shade and I’ll let you know if I’m not feeling good, I promise.”

He contemplated it. The race wasn't until later in the evening and the temperature should be cooler, but still. . . “You’ll go home and lay in bed until then?”

You nodded, holding your pinky out to him in a silent promise.

Unable to deny you of anything, he reluctantly looped his pinky with yours. “Fine, but we’re only stayin’ for the race. No bonfire afterwards.”

You beamed at him and he knew you were proud of yourself for once again swaying him with your charms.

******

Hours later, as the picnic was just getting into full swing, Johnny couldn’t hide the smile on his face as Benny pulled up with you on the back of his bike. Though surprised, he was sure you had roped the kid into coming, you seemed to be able to get away with just about anything when it came to Benny. He shook his head, as he watched Benny help you off and the two of you approached his picnic table filled with the core members of the Vandals, noting how he seemed to hold you a little tighter as if you were bound to trip and fall.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be takin’ it easy?” he badgered as he stood to give you a hug.

“And miss out on a race?” you grinned as you gave him a quick hug before looping your arm back through Benny's. “Never.”

“Well, it’s good to see you’re feelin’ better, kid,” he said honestly.

Funny Sonny caught sight of the reunion and hollered as he approached. “Hey Bunny, I’d hate to see the other guy!”

You blushed as you remembered the bruise forming on your face and before you could say anything, Benny spoke up from beside you. “Yeah, she got ‘em good with her mean right hook.”

You grinned at him as Sonny laughed. “Hell yeah! Bunny’s a fighter now, boys!”

They cheered and you rolled your eyes playful as you leaned up on your tippy-toes to plant a kiss on Benny’s cheek.

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @eugene-emt-roe @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @charmingballoon @sunnbib @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @twisteduniverse5 @justsomewritingblog @nhlfs @dudii4love @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @butler-trouble @autumnleaves1991-blog @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters

#the taglist is getting so long omg #might have to switch to post notifications instead #angst with a happy ending #benny x bunny #benny cross #austin butler #the bikeriders #austin butler x reader #benny cross x reader #benny x reader #imagine #fluff #johnny davis #tom hardy #jodie comer #motorcycle #austin butler fandom #the bikeriders fanfiction #fanfic

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