#This is what I was trying to post in the wee hours

[theirloveisgross]

🌈🌈🌈

posted by club halifax, the australian openers of sydney's show on february 2, 2024.

[remma-demma]

:( stayed up until 4 AM doomscrolling on tags i know are bad for my mental health againnnnnnnn

[f1fantasys]

Thought you were mine all along, guess I was wrong - Part 2.

Summary - What happens when you meet Lando again? So, this was supposed to be angst only, but ya girl can't post anything without smut, so, enjoy!

Warnings - 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, dirty talk, creampie, angst.

Part 1

The next two weeks following that morning had whizzed by in a blur. Both you and Lando had extremely busy schedules and took every free second you got to text or call each other.

It wasn't easy with the time differences, but the cyber sex was honestly the best you'd had since the start of your 'relationship...' It was intense, mind blowing phone sex, leaving you both desperate and eager to see each other, although you'd have to wait a whole extra week because Lando had some media obligations in America. So that meant it was a whole two more weeks before you could get your hands on one another.

On one particular day, you'd texted Lando in the wee hours of the morning, knowing it was late night where he was, and since he'd said he planned to spend the night in, you were expecting a quick response from him.

You didn't get one.

But you thought nothing of it, not even worrying the slightest bit, and eventually, you got on with your day. It wasn't until evening when you saw that there was still no response for him, though you could see he had been online.

You tried to call him, it just rang and rang.

Still, you didn't think much of it. Maybe he just needed space, and you were happy to oblige.

The next few days as well passed with radio silence from him. You could see from social media that he was out and about, doing whatever media he had to do, getting on with it all, except you it seems, though you willed yourself not to let it affect you.

Newsflash it did.

Deciding it was best to throw yourself into work, you were now working ungodly hours overtime, getting as much done to try and block out the fact that Lando was clearly avoiding you by now. It had only been a week of absolutely no contact, but it definitely felt much longer than that. You missed his goofy laugh, his adorable dimples, his banter, and you missed the orgasms he gave you...you missed his dick.

It was now past 8pm, and after a long day of grinding you stopped at the shops to get some food that you could just throw in he microwave to get hot. Busy scrolling the aisles at your local store then you stopped in your tracks. You'd never miss those god damn perfect curls, even in a sea of a million people.

He had his back to you, and before you mind could make a decision on whether to leave or talk to him, he turned around, bit his bottom lip when he saw you.

It was no surprise that Lando was a handsome man. His physique alone was hot. And so seeing him stand in front of you - in the flesh, already had a wetness pooling through your cunt.

Quickly, you out those thoughts to the back of your mind as he approached you.

''Didn't know you were back'' you said breaking the silence. You were curious to hear what his answer would be, because you were always the first person he'd call the second he was back in Monaco.

''Yeah, just been caught up..'' he trailed, letting out a breath, bringing his hand up to massage the back of his thick neck.

Caught up enough to toss me to the side... you thought to yourself.

It was awkward. Awkward as fuck. The both of you standing there, not knowing what to say to one another. Really, it was a first.

Until...

It wasn't 10 minutes later and you were riding Lando in his McLaren.

Your panty thrown somewhere in the back seat.

You should have known better, should have stopped yourselves, but clearly your pussy, and his dick, had a mind of their own.

You rode him like your life depended on it, watching with hooded eyes as your nipples disappeared into Lando's mouth, his teeth grazing and biting down hard before using his tongue to sooth over your bud.

''Fuck, Lando, yes..ri-right there, please'' you begged as even in the small of his sports car, he was lifting his hips to meet your half way, thrusting in and out of you pussy relentlessly, letting out a series of guttural moans and grunts.

It wasn't even a few minutes until you felt your orgasm nearing, your walls clenching almost painfully around Lando's cock as he bought his hand down to flick a thumb at your clit.

''So tight, fuck..need to stretch you out some more'' he murmured before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

''I'm close'' you barely managed to say between nips and licks, your body was shuddering, shaking uncontrollably as Lando has two tasks at hand - one, keeping your body in control, two, chase his own orgasm.

And not two minutes later Lando was emptying his load into you, sheets of warm cum filling you up to the brink while lewd grunts left his mouth, his dick twitching as you rode him through it.

You finally stilled your bodies, chests heaving trying to catch your breaths as you leaned back and put your weight on his steering wheel behind you.

''Fucking hell'' he said, panting as his eyes stayed trained on the state you were in - disheveled hair, boobs slipped out of your bra and dress, looking red and bruised.

There was an unspoken tension filling up the car, and you could feel him softening inside you, the both of you looking down to the place you were still joined, almost as if you were avoiding looking at each other.

You watched as Lando gently pulled himself out, gasping when he saw a mixture of both your cum oozing out of your cunt, the both of you moaning at the sight, and then suddenly his eyes were trained on yours, as he very quickly pushed his dick back into you, pushing the cum back in.

''Fuck'' he whispered as you let out another moan, your walls clenching tightly around him.

''Lan..'' you murmured, closing your eyes and trying to etch the feeling of his dick inside you to your brain, because something told you this wouldn't happen again, though you prayed you were wrong.

He was suddenly hard again, no surprise to him because just the sight you all fucked out and dripping with his cum got him all excited again. Call it his good stamina.

''Come here'' he softly said, pulling you forward again, your boobs in his face as he lifted you ass up slightly before slamming you down in one hard thrust.

You braced your hands on his shoulders again, leaning down to lock lips with him for the first time since you last saw him.

It was sloppy and dirty, tongue and teeth clashing, almost as if you were just licking each other where possible - not properly kissing, all the while Lando bounced you up and down his dick, each thrust getting harder than each.

You pulled back for air, Lando stuffing his face back into your boobs, letting a series of staggered breaths and groans leave your mouth, feeling your orgasm approaching fast.

''Lando, I- fuck, I can't. Too much'' you were barely able to say. He was being ruthless and as much as you wanted it, your body was overly sensitive today.

''You can baby, one more for me, yeah? Fuck please'' he sounded like he was begging, and how could you refuse him?

You couldn't form any words by now, so all you did was nod your head, while his hand raked down to pinch at your clit.

''That's it baby. Please just be a slut for me. You're already doing so fucking good, letting me fuck you so good. Fuck'' he grunted, through gritted teeth, knowing his dirty words would send you over the edge.

And he was right, within seconds your cum was coating his dick again, your body quivering in his arms again, feeling like jelly, releasing pornographic moans into the confinement of the car.

And Lando - as soon as he felt you walls closing up on him, his own release spluttering his cum through your pussy, warm and sticky as he slowed his movements and eventually came to a standstill.

''Ah, fuck y/n'' he mumbled, causing you to giggle because yeah, ''fuck'' was the word of the day.

You stayed close together, breathing in each others air as your bodies shivered with cool air on your sweat, Lando busying his hands by combing your hair back through his fingers.

This time, he pulled out, and he stayed out, using his fingers instead to gently push the cum back up your pussy before bringing them up to his lips and licking them clean.

And this time, your eyes didn't avoid each other.

Lando kept opening and closing his mouth, wanting to say something though falling short every time.

You didn't miss how his body language changed all of a sudden, how he stiffened underneath you, and suddenly you felt cautious.

It was awkward as fuck - you sitting on his naked thighs, dress bunched up you stomach, pussy bare and leaking, while his jeans and boxers were pushed halfway down his legs, cock soft and twitchy resting against your stomach.

Finally, he cleared his throat. His words knocking all the air out of his lungs.

''I...I'm seeing someone..Magui. I mean. I'm gonna start seeing Magui. So this - he gestured between the two of you - can't happen again.''

Your breath hitched, you could feel the color draining from you face as your own body now stiffened.

He said it so casually, like what you just did meant nothing. Like the last 6 months have been nothing, just tossed off to the side.

''Say something..'' he whispered.

You were sure your words would get stuck in your throat, already feeling your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the whole situation.

Lando was done with you. He basically 'dumped' you while you were both naked in the smallest space possible.

You cleared your throat and leaned over to his passenger seat to grab a tissue, your mind racing as fast as his cars go. Some many thoughts overwhelming you as you willed yourself not to let tears spill out your eyes.

This is it. He's not yours. He's back with her, an ex fling. He's leaving you for her.

''Y/N'' he said your name softly, gauging your reaction.

You sniffled, concentrating on cleaning your cunt - that was still on full display, before you finally pulled your dress down and looked up at him.

Gone was that look that was reserved just for you, and you heart broke at the cold eyes staring at you.

''So that's why you've been avoiding me..? Too busy fucking someone else? Why did we just do this if you're with her? You've just used me to basically cheat on her....thought you'd have more respect for the both of us...'' you questioned, almost whispering the last part, and wincing at your words because you didn't want to know the answer.

Lando coughed, shifting underneath you as he slyly tucked his dick back into his boxers.

''Not seeing her yet...but yeah I guess there are unresolved feelings so we're gonna give it a shot'' he said. ''As for us... guess this was a moment of weakness. But I'm done. We're done.'' he said matter of factly.

You suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe, needing to get out of this space asap because the man in front of you wasn't the Lando you knew.

Not 10 minutes ago was he calling you baby...swallowing a mix of your cum, and now he's done with you.

You're heart clenched not just at the fact that you were losing your fuckbuddy, but Lando as your best friend. From the way he was talking, it was clear that the friendship part of your relationship was also done with.

You needed to get out of here before you broke down in front of him. He didn't deserve to see you vulnerable like this.

So you took one last longing look at him, memorizing each and every freckle and line on his face as you body tingled from the warmth of him.

Surely he could see the hurt on your face, right? He knew you better than most. But still, his eyes didn't soften, nor did his words.

''You should go..now..forget the last few months...'' he said, already moving to open the door for you to climb out of his lap.

You cleared your throat for the umpteenth time today, mind fuzzed when your body finally lost contact with his, and with one last look at him, you turned on your heels, shamefully walking to your car, and not a few seconds later, he was zooming out of the car park.

The next few days were spent wallowing in bed, avoiding any events in town with the fear of running into them.

So George's girlfriend Carmen took up residency at your apartment to keep your mind busy.

You needed to heal, and move on from something that was nothing to even begin with.

A whole week later as you were scrolling Instagram, the photo slapped you in the face.

There he was, with his tongue down her throat, hands groping her ass.

You had no right to be mad, sad, angry, whatever emotions that were over taking your senses. Lando wasn't yours. Not anymore at least. There was never any label between you.

But the more you thought about it, you were more so longing the guy with whom you could talk about anything, truly be yourself around and not get judged for silly things.

The universe had other plans for you though...because in just two weeks time, you were to host an event in London for McLaren. Oh, what could go wrong......

A/N - hope you all enjoyed this...side tracked part! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist - @somanyfandomsbruh @lanf1an @annimausi @ernegren @plotpal @hurtblossom @rbv3rstappen @tylerstacobell @wanderingreigns @bowielovesyou @alexanderachillesisgay @sarx164

[yelenaslyubov]

A Sleepy Start

main masterlist || yelena belova || requests

a/n: sorry i took a little hiatus🙈between the holidays and work i found myself a little bit burnt out, but im here with this spicy story for you and i hope you enjoy it! i’ve also been working on a holiday/winter story that i still plan to post to be on the lookout for that

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ pairing: yelena belova x female reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ warnings: MINORS DNI (18+) smut- reader receiving & being a massive bottom, basically porn with no plot, dubcon, daddy kink, dirty talk, begging, fingering, cunnilingus, strap on, spanking, nipple play

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ description: yelena has been away on a mission for a couple days and you have found yourself crawling into bed late at night. when yelena returns, she finds it hard to wake you up and decides to wake you up in a new way

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count: 1.9k

You had never been a morning person. Never was and never would be. The only person that could possibly get you out of bed was Yelena. On this day in particular, not even she could pull you out of bed.

You had an exciting night out several hours prior and did not find yourself crawling into bed until the wee hours of the morning. Yelena had been gone on a mission for the past couple days so you assumed she wouldn’t be back for a while. You were surprisingly mistaken.

The sun was shining bright and hot along your bare back, an indication that it was late morning or early afternoon. You felt hands tugging at you, pulling you out of a deep sleep.

“Come on,” a voice whined. “Why won’t you get up!” You groaned in response and tried to turn over the opposite way.

“Pleaseee,” Yelena begged. “I haven’t seen you in forever… well more like two days but still.”

She tugged and pulled but you wouldn’t budge. The more she messed with you the more your body was revealed from under the sheets. Yelena intensely observed you laying on your stomach, taking in each detail such as your messy hair and sunlit skin.

An idea popped into Yelena's head that might get you out of bed, or at least to gain consciousness and join the world again.

“Y/n,” she said in a singing voice, “time to wake up.”

Yelena came down closer to your body and whispered in your ear. “Wake up or else I’m going to do it for you.”

You inhaled and exhaled deeply and sighed. You weren’t quite awake enough to move but you had gained enough consciousness to hear Yelena now. You were now more interested in where she was heading with this.

Yelena took her jacket off until she was left in a white tank top and pants. Gently she climbed on the bed and straddled your mid section.

She ran her short nails down your back, leaving red streaks in their place. The slight pain caused you to shift a little in your place. Definitely not enough to wake you up, so Yelena continued.

Her lips then made contact with your skin. She left several kisses up and down your spine, then traveled over to other soft places to call her own.

She latched onto a soft spot near your shoulder blade and sucked. She left dark purple and red spots all over your back. By this point, you were waking up. You started to feel the result of Yelena’s pleasure growing as you slowly woke up.

Despite all of Yelena’s efforts, you still did not budge. This wasn’t necessarily because you were asleep, this now turned into a game for you to see what all Yelena would do to you. There had always been a part of you that wanted to test out the water in this department and you felt like now was the perfect time.

You couldn’t tell her how desperately you wanted her because you wanted her to show how bad she wanted you. You loved when Yelena showed how much she needed every square inch of you. So, you decided to watch it play out.

Touching all over your skin did not seem to suit her just yet, so she decided to move to more sensitive parts of you to try and do the trick.

Yelena pulled down the sheet that was covering your hips and legs. You were in your usual position of slumber where you laid on your stomach with one of your legs bent to the side of you. This gave Yelena the perfect view of what she wanted most.

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath. “I’ve missed you.”

She gripped onto your hips, squeezing them out of desperation. There was nothing more that she wanted to do than show you who you belonged to.

Yelena backed up on the bed and sat between your legs while observing your quiet frame. There was something so erotic about seeing you completely at her mercy, even if Yelena didn’t know you were enjoying every second of her touch.

“Your pretty pussy is so wet for me,” Yelena whispered before eagerly touching you where she wanted most.

She separated your folds like the pages of a book with her fingers, so gently taking in how wet she had already made you. Her fingers made quick work of circling your clit in a slow rhythm that made you silently beg for more.

All she wanted was for you to respond to her pleads of desire. The more that Yelena touched you the more aroused you become, moving your hips slightly as a form of relief.

Yelena smiled. “There’s my girl, good job.”

She kept going at the same pace. You knew Yelena well enough that this meant she was only beginning. If she had sped up then you knew that she just wanted to have all the fun with your pussy until you came however many times pleased her.

You moaned lazily and shifted in your position. “I know you’re waking up, sweet girl,” Yelena said. “I want you closer to me. I need to taste you.”

Yelena grabbed onto your hips firmly and pulled you up. You whined in protest as you were being moved.

“Don’t whine, you know you want it,” she said. “Let me play with you more baby.”

You were now propped up on your knees while your front section arched against the bed, leaving you in a doggy type position.

It didn’t take Yelena long to touch you again. Her hands were placed on your ass while her mouth latched onto your clit, causing you to whine.

“What is it? Is my girl starting to wake up?”

You were awake long ago and now you were enjoying everything that Yelena was doing. You hadn’t realized how much you missed her until your body reacted in such ways you didn’t know.

“Keep going baby, Daddy wants to hear you.”

Her tongue flattened out and ran up and down your cunt so perfectly. Just the thought of watching Yelena torture you was enough as it was.

You moaned long and desperately at her effect on you. You couldn’t help but move your hips for any kind of additional touch you could get.

“My poor needy girl,” Yelena tutted. “I see you moving your hips so good for me.”

You whined as Yelena moved her tongue around your pussy, exploring each part and savoring every taste. Her tongue poked at your entrance and you moved your hips back towards her abruptly.

You had waited around long enough, which is why you decided to finally speak up. “More,” you said, which was muffled by the bed.

“What was that?” she said. “I need you to be louder for me.”

“More,” you whined.

“You want more, sweet girl?”

“Please,” you begged, no longer caring if you were being desperate. All you wanted was more of her everywhere.

“I think I can do that for you… wait here, love.”

Yelena left the room for a couple minutes while you waited on the bed. You had turned your head towards the door so you could see her coming. When she came back, she had shed her pants in the process in exchange for the spandex harness with your favorite attachment waiting for you. Yelena’s short hair was messy and you could see her hardened nipples through her shirt, making you release a small string of profanities.

She came back just as she started; creeping over you with her mouth dragging down your spine while you readjusted to sit up on your elbows.

“Good morning,” Yelena whispered in your ear. “I hope I didn’t disturb you too much.”

“Not a bit,” you whispered back.

As Yelena nibbled back down on your back, you could feel her strap brushing occasionally against your pussy. Each time it made contact, you wanted to scream with pleasure but you held your tongue until it was appropriate. You didn’t want Yelena to have too much fun.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?” Yelena’s warm breath like fire against your skin. “I couldn’t wait to come home and fuck you like this. That's all I could think about.”

Yelena’s words of desire made yours grow exponentially, if that was even possible. Your hips practically exposed your own desire for Yelena, moving more every minute that she teased you.

“You’ve waited so good, angel. Do you want me?” she asked. All she wanted was to get a rise out of you, which was working.

“I want you so bad, please baby,” you begged. Though it was usually below you on regular occasion, begging seemed to fit in with your pathetic state at the moment.

Without another word, Yelena used your hips as a guide and slid her strap into you. It was a flood of arousal that greeted you now, eliciting a string of gasps and moans.

“Fuck, detka,” Yelena whined. You never understood how Yelena’s mother language turned you on so much.

Yelena’s hips moved against you, ricocheting your own hips back into hers. You were overcome by her touch as a result of all of the fun she was having.

“Please keep going,” you whined, moving your hips frantically to enhance your experience. As you moved them, Yelena’s hand spanked the side of your ass, causing you to wince.

“You let me do all the work, baby girl,” she said. “You just sit back and let me play with you.”

The bedroom now echoed of skin on skin contact and your horny pleads. Yelena knew how to bring out the best in you and the most lustful version of you.

Yelena’s hand traveled up your back and snaked to your chest where she leaned down far enough to take your nipple between her fingers. She rolled and pulled on your sensitive nipple which increased your high, arousal pooling around the strap buried deep inside you.

You were getting closer by the second and Yelena could tell. It was obvious in the way that your movements became more rigid and choppy, barely able to form fluid motion.

“Mm, does my poor girl want to cum?” Yelena taunted you and you nodded in reply, barely able to form a clear thought. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” you managed to choke out. “Please, Lena. I wanna cum so bad, let me cum please.”

To finish you off, Yelena’s hand moved in between your legs while still moving her strap in and out of your pussy roughly. Her fingers made contact with your now swollen clit in order to make you unfold beneath her. It didn't take long between Yelena’s whispering orders to you, her relentless strap, and her fast pace fingers.

She had a hard time wanting to stop. She was having way too much fun having her way with you that she found herself stuck in a trance. Her fingers still on your perfect pussy made your body twitch and convulse. You finally pried her fingers away after taking all you could.

You fell into a heap on the bed, your body like jelly. Yelena kissed you more gently this time, almost as an apology for the overstimulation she might’ve caused, even if you loved every second.

“Are you alright?” Yelena asked. Your chest was rising and falling quickly as you tried to catch your breath, but you managed to slightly speak to Yelena with a giggle.

“I’m up.”

.

.

.

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[heavenbarnes]

Your recent post on alter older boyfriend Simon being a lil bit of a weirdo is literally amazing. I feel like he'd just start treating reader as if their his partner (nothing extreme though that would make them want to move out though) without even discussing it and acting as if everything's normal while reader is just confused af

this alternate older bf!simon 100% just comes home with the decision in mind that you’re together, why shouldn’t he?

you’ve literally been playing house in his house.

the next morning he’s made you both breakfast and he stares hard at you from across the table as you both eat.

when you try to bring up the idea of you moving out now that he’s back- he literally won’t hear it

“don’t be silly, sweet’art- plenty o’room f’us”

us.

apparently there’s an us now.

you want to mention the whole ‘only one bed’ thing but there’s something in his eyes that tells you he’ll have an answer for it too.

maybe you’re just silly.

maybe you’re a little bit lonely.

maybe it was waking up in the wee hours to find him humping the curve of your ass and whimpering in your ear.

maybe it was the fact you liked it.

whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

what mattered was you didn’t argue- actually, you smiled and nodded and told him you’d stay.

“good pet.”

yeah.

pet.

[adieutristana]

Okay, I saw your post, and I really want something with vi x caitlyn x reader with them getting into an argument, but It has to be hurt/comfort plsss<3

of course! thank you for the request <3

just as a disclaimer, i’ve never written for a poly relationship before… nor have i written a full argument. i tried my best, but if you have any feedback please let me know

summary: vi, caitlyn and fem! reader get into an argument.

characters included: vi, caitlyn

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, yelling, arguing, drinking, poly relationship, slight s2 spoilers

men dni.

caitlyn and vi have been… off.

‘off’ is an understatement. your girlfriend, cait, has been more and more ‘occupied’ with her work as of late. doors opening and closing in the wee hours of the morning, waking up without her by your side, without so much of a note indicating her location.

vi, on the other hand, has been falling deep into a hole of self-loathing and despair. depending more on the effects of liquor than the comfort of you or caitlyn. despite your efforts to get through to her, vi would consistently shut you out.

“i’m fine, honey.” she’d say, the smell of vodka potent in her breath. “don’t worry about me. just keep doing… whatever it is you’re doing.”

how did it get to this point? everything started off so well. you’d been together about six months now, the three of you deciding to go steady after realizing holy shit, you all had feelings for each other. you’d moved in together at around the four month mark, with caitlyn helping decorate, vi trying (and failing) to build furniture, and you actually building the furniture. it was a dream come true- at first.

caitlyn would be out until around eleven every night, but would never fail to greet you with a gentle kiss and a drowsy, “i missed you, love.” she would bring back gifts from her patrols, telling you she stopped at a street vendor and couldn’t resist the urge to treat her darling.

vi was spontaneous. sometimes going out for pit fights, sometimes trying to smooth things over with jinx for the millionth time, sometimes simply parading the streets of zaun to get some air. either way, she’d always leave a messy note on your bedside table informing you of where she’d be; or just invite you to come along with her. her ��partner-in-crime,’ as she puts it.

you had your jobs, and they had theirs. it worked out. you worked out.

until now, it seems. you’re sat in your bed, neither of your girlfriends with you. the air tense and sheets cold. a million thoughts are swirling through your mind, your eyes darting around the room looking for some kind of purchase.

vi swings the bedroom door open, and stands in the doorway for a moment, hand against the doorframe. although you’re a bit far from her, you can’t smell any whiskey on her- that’s good. that’s a start. however, she does have a black eye and fresh blood on her arm bandages.

“god, vi, what happened?”

she sits down beside you in a manspread, leaning over her lap and shaking her head.

“don’t worry about it. just got into a fight with someone off their ass on shimmer.”

you sigh, and shake your head. grumbling to yourself. feeling your shoulders begin to tremble and your fists begin to clench. vi was like this, she got into fights frequently. but to come home injured, and then act like it was nothing? what had gotten into her?

“vi, tell me what happened.”

you demanded, looking straight at her. but the woman refused to meet your gaze.

“vi, you can’t just come home with a black eye and covered in blood and act like everything is fine- you know what? you’ve been acting like this more and more. and you come home wasted and pass out beside me without a word and act like nothing is wrong.”

you ramble, your tone growing more stern and more loud with each word. you’re working up a sweat. your brows furrowed and your gaze fixed on your girlfriend who still won’t look at you.

“(y/n).”

she grumbles.

she finally turns to face you. her eyes look blank and tired, her expression is completely lost on you for the first time possibly ever.

“i fight. that’s what i do. i do what i have to do to scrape by and make my money and protect myself- and you, and caitlyn. and if i have to pop open a flask every now and again to get through-

“every now and again?! vi, you come home shitfaced nearly every night!”

you gasp. did you hear her right? did vi actually just say that?

“it is not every night, and you know that. you and caitlyn are busy and i don’t have painkillers or anything else to take off the edge, what am i supposed to do? sit with my thoughts?”

“give me a call?”

you suggest. vi looks off to the side, her hands clasped and at a loss for words.

"what's happened?"

you jump back for a moment. still in her cloak stands caitlyn, stripping it off to sit beside you and vi. the tension in the air is thick and heavy... neither you nor vi wanting to discuss what had just transpired.

"you haven't been yourself either." you mumble under your breath.

although your knees are turned away from caitlyn and you aren't looking in her direction, she could tell who that was pointed toward.

"meaning what?"

caitlyn asks. cocking her head to one side the slightest bit- she seems to not take it to heart.

you slowly turn to face your girlfriend- azure locks tied back into a slick bun, her hair tousled from a hard day's work and dirt covering her carved features. it looks obscene in a way, to see the facade of perfection disturbed. but that's what you've come to love- and what you've come to miss.

"meaning... meaning that you're always home so late! and you don't tell me where you're going to be! i get that you're busy, you have a job to do, but you could at least not shut me out?"

"i'm not shutting you out, (y/n). i have a job to do. you know that."

she scoffs, but you can tell that she's trying to reassure you at least-

"apparently i'm doing the same thing."

"vi."

“what’s this about?”

“apparently i don’t let her in enough, and i’m a drunk.”

“i did not say that!”

“your drinking habits have become… concerning, violet. i won’t deny that.”

“so now you’re against me, too?! is that what you’re saying?”

“nobody is against you!”

“then you’re against caitlyn?”

you blubber trying to find words. your hands coming up to tangle in your hair and try to ground yourself. your voice is trembling and your heart is beating with the fervor of a war drum. how did it get to this point?

“i- look, can we please just talk about this, like the adults that we are?”

you manage to mutter.

“we are talking, (y/n).”

caitlyn sighs. her shoulders are tense and it sounds almost as if she’s holding in a breath, scared to say anything else.

“neither of you are listening.” a tear falls. your voice, your resolve… it’s so weak.

you can’t do it. caitlyn can’t bring herself to look at you, vi’s practically glaring through you, and each time you open your mouth, it feels like you’re wasting air. if they don’t want to hear it, they don’t have to.

you stand up from the bed to leave. your knees feel weak, threatening to buckle under you at any moment. but one foot in front of the other- you need to be anywhere but here.

neither vi nor caitlyn try to stop you.

✧.*

your feet hover above miles of nothingness. sat on a cobblestone wall in piltover, the sky hues of pink and orange and the cold temperatures nipping at your skin.

you came here to clear your mind. the sky and nature was always something that grounded you. the sun setting soothed your fiery nerves after… whatever had happened the previous day. you decided to stay out for the time being.

you just couldn’t bear to be in that apartment, not now.

“(y/n)?”

you hear behind you, so hushed. so quiet, it might’ve been mistaken for the wind by anyone else. but you recognized that rasp.

your knees came closing in, hugging close to your chest. you place your chin atop your knees and let out a sharp exhale.

“(y/n), i fucked up. we both did.”

before you could snap back about you having done nothing to deserve what happened last night, you felt a firm grasp on your shoulder. out of the corner of your eye, you could see those sapphire locks you had grown to adore. god damn it.

but your rationale betrays you. you feel your head turn ever so slowly over the same shoulder your girlfriend took, and look up at cait and vi. your eyelids heavy, tears threatening to spill at any moment.

vi swings a leg over the cobblestone. pressing her lips into a thin line and glancing back at caitlyn, then you. caitlyn opting to stand behind both of you, an intimidating presence. you wipe your eyes with your shirt sleeve.

"please, listen. i know i haven't been doing my part. to you, or to caitlyn. shit's just... been hard. okay? i don't understand what it is, but the drinking helps."

vi pauses.

"it doesn't help. it takes the edge off. but it isn't fair to either of you. so i'll try to let up, but cupcake-"

vi swiftly grasps both of your hands in her bandaged ones, rough callouses and healing injuries against smooth skin. taking on an almost pleading tone.

"you gotta give me time. this thing won't happen overnight, okay? but i never meant to shut you out. i'll tell you exactly where i'm at. call on me."

looking up at her, you notice the sincerity and warmth in her eyes. the way her thick brows are furrowed, the dark bags underneath those piercing eyes...

your shoulders relax.

"might i add," you hear from behind you.

"i also realize that staying out all day working like a hound isn't fair to you. it seems silly, in hindsight."

she scoffs, crossing lean arms over her chest. it's then when caitlyn finally sits beside you, opposite of vi, and leans down a sizable amount to rest her head on your shoulder. a sea of blue falling over your shoulder and chest, the girl on your arm softly humming.

"i appreciate it... really."

vi squeezes one of your hands, cait places a hand on your lap. neither look directly at you, but out at the night sky. now dark, ursa major front and center. as if it was there only for the three of you.

"no more arguing?"

caitlyn asks, honeyed voice just above a whisper. a press of soft lips into the crook of your neck.

"no more arguing."

[httpseungmxn]

Big Boy

Quackity X Streamer!Female Reader

🍡 - flirty/extra flirty

Authors Note: Hello hello my Angels, I know I promised the Jin fic soon buuuuuut Q posted this photo and everyone, including myself, went wild over it! So I just had to make a fic about it! I have decided to make a new fic category just for this one, flirty/extra flirty! This fic will also play off of the other fics I made about him! I hope you guys can enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!<3

Warnings: Lanai attempts to get reader canceled:( , Reader is called “hermosa” and “amor”, wee bit of cussing fr this time

Triggers: None as far as I am aware!

You had really come to know Alex over the past few months. Him becoming one of your best friends, especially after it came out that your best friend Lenai had been spreading lies about you. She had gone to Alex first, expecting him to believe her, but that was a big mistake. As soon as he noticed the negative way she was speaking, he hopped on call with you while also helping notify your fans of the girl's lies.

Nightly calls were almost a daily thing between you two, as well as constant facetimes during yours and his visits to the gym. His hat was always left on, despite feeling just a little extra hot, he wasn’t quite ready to show you yet. You fully understood considering you used to hide your face from everyone. 

The closer you got, the more you wanted to visit him. You were bringing much more in than you expected from streaming, so a plane ticket wouldn’t be a problem. You wanted it to be a surprise to Alex though, knowing that would make it more fun. Alex had often talked about you guys meeting in real life, and how exciting it would be. It was decided, you would be booking a flight to see him. You already knew where he lived, having reached out to karl to help you with the surprise. Making him swear he wouldn’t tell alex you were going to see him. The plane ticket was much easier to get than you expected, and packing was done in a matter of hours.

The nerves set in that night after you had finished packing. It was clear to you and the fans that you had a bit of a thing for Alex, and getting to meet him was making you nervous. You always wondered if you should tell him how you felt but was always too scared to let it slip out to him. You had come so close to saying it a few days ago but it just got stuck in your throat.

You hardly slept the night, and as much as you hoped you would sleep on the plane, you didn’t. You were too nervous and excited at the same time. Feeling bad when you had to decline a facetime from alex while you were on the plane, not wanting to spoil the surprise. Though you answered him as soon as you were off the plane and in a taxi. “ hermosa, why didn’t you answer any of my calls before? I thought you were mad at me! “, “ im sorrrryyyy, I was taking a long nap, I’m in a taxi now though “,  “ a taxi? Where are you going, hermosa? “,  smiling to yourself, knowing in just a short while he will know where you are.

That came sooner than you expected though. Getting out of the taxi and making sure the camera is angled directly at your face so he can’t see where you are. “ im just visiting a friend nearby. Hold on just one sec, alex. “. knocking very gently on his door and looking to the camera, nerves setting back in when you see him leave his room. “ someones here, but I didn’t order any pizza. if I die, it was the hut, hermosa. “, unable to hold back a giggle. Looking to the door when it opens and smiling brightly at the boy in front of you. “ guess now you know which friend I’m visiting, huh? “. He didn’t respond at first, probably still trying to process it. Just as you didn’t process what he was doing until you were lifted up into a tight hug.

Smiling brightly as you hugged back. Not even letting go when you were set down. His arms were wrapped to tight around your waist, if you were a balloon you probably would’ve popped by now. You didn’t mind it though, you felt safe in his arms. Your nerves being shooed away with one little hug. “ how the fuck did you manage to surprise me so well, hermosa “ ,  “ you know I like to keep you on your toes, ‘lex “. Smiling again when he lets out a light laugh at your response. 

“ come in, come in, sorry it might be kind of a mess “, Alex spoke as he gathered your bags and carried them inside for you. Only then did you realize just how big he had gotten in the muscle category. Eyes staring at his muscles as they flexed with each movement. “ alex, when the hell did you manage to grow those? “, unable to hold your filter. 

Listening to him laugh again before he flexed his arms to show off for you. “ are you checking me out, amor? “. That was new, he had never called you that before, and it was obvious to him you knew what it meant considering the blush coming to your cheeks. “ now don’t get too ahead of yourself, cowboy, you were the one purposely checking me out on call just five minutes ago “.

“ Did you expect me not too? You look really beautiful in that dress “. That was also new. Alex was constantly teasing you, but the tone in his voice was different now. It sounded so serious and dripped with confidence in how he felt. You found it hard to hold eye contact wit him now. Not even five minutes into the meet up, and alex already had you red.

“ Lets be honest, Amor, surely you didn’t expect me to hold back just because you’d turn all red and yell at me. You being here just means I can let it all out, times ten. “. His smile had you wobbly in the legs, there was something so different about seeing it in person compared to facetime.

Only now did you realize this visit was going to be a lot more different than you expected. 

Alex was going to be the death of you.

Authors ending note; So who else got butterflies reading that? I got jittery and I’m the one writing it! I feel like I’m slowly beginning to get better at portraying him, and thats probably because I study the way a lot of people write him while also paying extra attention to how he is in streams/videos. Perhaps soon we will get a confession, and possibly a hair reveal? Who knowssss, guess you guys will have to just stick around for the next one! Also who else lost their mind over that photo he dropped last night? I’m in the whatsapp and as soon as he sent it, twitter was going absolutely chaotic[myself included]! If you guys wanna follow me on social media, my X is @/f_fuyuma! Until next time, My Angels 🫶

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Shelter - 6

Summary: You saved Soap's life. And Simon gains some insight.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley/F!Reader

Warnings For This Chapter: Continued military inaccuracies, mentions of drug abuse, neglectful parents, threats of harm against a child, death, terrible baby daddies, my attempt at accents, and terrible childhood memories, and more Soft!Simon, MDNI

A/N: Again, thank you all so much for your love for this story! Your comments mean the world to me, truly. Please be mindful of the warnings for this chapter. And I hope to keep up with this schedule of posting a chapter every other week!

Previous Chapter

It was honestly impressive how easily Kirby seemed to take to motherhood. It was definitely her own twist on it, but she was a mom. Through and through. Somehow, she’d already mastered holding her little one one-handed while nursing. She’d devoured her double cheeseburger faster than you had ever seen her do before at the same time. But as soon as the burger was demolished (and the fries, too), she was quick to hold the baby closer, glowing with each breath. It might have been sweat, but it didn’t really matter.

You were waffling between embarrassment that Simon had managed to have the food waiting—one for Kirby and another for you—or embarrassment that your heart had leapt and raced from something so inane. But he was kind. Kind to you.

You could try to deal with all that later.

For now, you were happy to just be with Kirby. The time was limited, you knew that, too. Simon had managed to stay out of sight when he’d given you the food and Kirby simply thought you’d had it delivered. Technically, you did.

You gathered up the trash as Kirby fed her daughter and pointedly ignored the look the nurse sent you when she noticed it in the trash can. You listened to them talk, happy to hear that everything seemed to be going smoothly if not ahead of schedule. They’d probably be discharged tomorrow.

Kirby waved off the doctor who came in soon after asking if she wanted anything for the residual pain. That was something she’d picked up alongside you, much to your dismay. But it wasn’t something you would comment on tonight. No. Not right now.

Eventually, Kirby started to doze off and you stayed a little longer, making sure she was okay, before taking the time to just sit and quietly look over your niece in her tiny, hospital-issued bassinet. She was perfect. She let out a little coo as you gently brushed the pad of your thumb against her cheek but didn’t wake up.

You stood after finally pulling yourself away and then kissed Kirby’s cheek, too. It wasn’t as if you knew when you would be able to do it again. You had the distinct feeling that you probably wouldn’t be allowed outside the hotel again any time soon. You really did need to find out a way to pay back the guys for letting you do this.

You stepped out into the hall, intent on hunting down a bathroom, but you were almost immediately stopped by a few familiar faces. Your heart hiccuped as Soap and Gaz each had armfuls of flowers, balloons, gifts. Welcome Baby Girl! was scrawled across a card you spied in Soap’s hand. “What’s all this?”

“When my sister had her wee ones, we always filled her room. Made sure she knew she was loved,” Soap said, keeping his voice low to match the late hour.

“That…that’s really kind. You guys didn’t have to do that.” And it was kind. Heartbreakingly so.

Gaz shrugged, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You didn’t have to be kind to us either. We can do this.” And then they slipped by you and into Kirby’s room, moving without a sound, despite everything in their arms. And soon the hospital room was mostly tastefully decorated with flowers and balloons and care packages. And then they silently left again, both squeezing your hand as they walked back out, probably to join Price downstairs again. Kirby was going to love all of that when she woke up. You’d have to think of a story of who sent it—maybe you could say they were from your “new coworkers” from your “consulting” job.

As you dried your hands and stepped back into the quiet hallway, you noticed Simon once again standing near the door. He had made himself scarce while Gaz and Soap had come up. A tiny, yellow teddy bear looked absolutely miniscule in his large hands and your lungs filled with butterflies as he carefully righted one of its ears. He was so careful with the tiny stuffed animal and your mind quickly conjured a ridiculous thought of him holding a tiny baby, too: careful and wrapped up in his strong arms.

Stop it. Stop.

But the thoughts continued when a nurse walked by him and definitely checked him out. She shouldn’t be looking at him! You should not be looking at him.

His dark eyes dragged up your form as you stepped to his side. “That for the baby?”

He nodded and handed it to you. It was buttery soft and had a delicately stitched smile and eyes in a shade darker. “For you. To give to ‘er. Didn’t think you’d get down to that shop they’ve got downstairs.”

The butterflies in your lungs beat their wings harder and harder.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “That’s really sweet. Thank you.”

“Made sure it was the right color.”

You pressed a thumb into the teddy’s stomach, the softness compressed easily as your eyes stung with tears you didn’t remember forming. It was the perfect shade, actually. Daffodil yellow. “Yeah, you did.” You reached out and squeezed his arm in thanks. The muscle didn’t budge but your stomach did an impressive swoop down your feet. Good god he was massive. “Thank you,” you said again, voice tight.

“The chocolates Soap had were from me. Thought she’d like ‘em.”

You had spotted a small bouquet of chocolate bars that had probably cost an arm and a leg at the hospital gift shop propped up beneath one of the balloons Gaz had carried in. “She will—she’s the only person who has a bigger sweet tooth than mine.” Another kindness you’d need to repay. These were good men. Simon was a good man.

“What’s your favorite?”

You almost smiled at the question. He was going to know more about you than anyone else aside from Kirby…and all he’d asked was your favorite sweet. “I love Kit Kats. And Cadbury Flake.”

Simon made a noise, low in his throat. “Those are rubbish.”

“Wh-no!” You laughed, almost appalled. “They’re good! I love Flake bars.”

He shook his head. “‘s mostly air. Not proper chocolate. And it gets everywhere.”

“They’re good! What’s your favorite—and if you tell me something like Curly Wurly, I’m going to have to fight you.”

Your empty threat coaxed a single “heh” out of him with that one and you smiled up at him, watching the corners of his eyes crease just above the edge of his mask. It was only there for a moment—but you saw it. He’d smiled. “I like dark chocolate.”

“Plain?” It suited him. Something rich and decadent, a little bit of an acquired taste.

“Not fussy.”

“I’ll remember that.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. How many times had that happened with him? Thankfully, you heard Kirby call for you and you held up the tiny teddy bear with a lopsided smile. “I’ll give this to her. Be right back.” And then you scurried away, metaphorical tail between your legs.

She had left the door cracked. He wasn’t sure if she did that on purpose but he was a bit chuffed to hear Kirby say that the tiny bear was “perfect” and that she liked the rest of the stuff Kyle and Johnny had hauled in. Kirby also giggled a bit when she explained that a lot of it were well wishes from her “new coworkers” in London. “They seem like a good bunch, no?”

“Yeah, I kinda like them so far.” High praise.

The smile he felt growing was squashed as Simon scanned the floor again, noting that the number of nurses hadn’t changed and he recognized each of their faces. Good. That was good. Everything was normal. The others downstairs were watching exits and had managed to get into the hospital’s security office with a bit of persuasion.

But still, when the doors to the labor and delivery department opened and a man in a too-tight suit walked in, Simon distrusted his presence immediately. He watched, unmoving, as he walked up to the desk and the prat fucking snapped his fingers to get the nurse’s attention. And then he said Kirby’s name. The nurse blew a bubble with her gum and gave an noncommittal “huh?” which Simon thought was a well done diversion.

Simon looked back into the room and saw her smiling with Kirby as they split one of the candy bars. But she looked up and he watched her smile slide off her face and her lip start to curl. But the moment she turned back to Kirby and the baby, her smile was back in place. “I just need to step out for a moment, okay? I’ll be right back.”

And then she was marching out of the hall, closing the door behind her. Simon followed without a word, watching as she walked right up to the guy and poked at his fucking pocket square.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Julian?” She hissed.

“What the fuck happened to you?” The guy retorted, looking her over. His mouth opened with a scoff. Simon hated him already.

“I asked: what the fuck are you doing here?” Her hands curled into fists at her sides and Simon took a single step closer. The way she was moving, he had no doubt she could handle this rich boy. But he wouldn’t let her do it alone.

The guy—Julian—seemed to try to shake himself out of his “Did…did she have the-”

“You don’t get to ask that. Remember? I was there when your daddy dearest made my sister sign an NDA about how you proposed to her and then got cold feet when you knocked her up.”

Simon glanced around to see a handful of nurses looking in their direction but most seemed content to let the scene play out or ignore it completely. It must have been a slow day.

Julian went white before splotches of red started to rush across his face. “That’s not-”

“Oh, right.” Her answering smile was all teeth and Simon felt his mouth fill with saliva. She was a sight to behold, battered and bruised and angry. “He also insinuated she was a low class whore who tricked you into bed when it was you who pursued her for months! And you, you sniveling little cunt, just rolled over. And then he wanted to make sure that any, and I quote, ‘brat that came out of that snatch’ didn’t have a claim to your daddy’s money. So yes, the NDA and then you signed away all your parental rights with a stroke of that stupid, fancy pen. Your overpriced lawyer was so impressed with himself. Everything tied up in a neat little bow. He just forgot about the tiny detail about me being in the room and hearing everything.”

Julian’s face was an impressive shade of red. “Sh-she got money!”

And she took another step forward and Julian took several back. “Oh yes. A tidy sum to become a single mother. Two million dollars is barely a drop in the bucket for your family, Julian. Basically chump change. So no. You have no right to be here. As I said: you signed everything away. My sister doesn’t exist to you. Her child—and let me be crystal clear in this: that baby is only hers—does not exist to you. You might have contributed a pathetic amount of genetic material in an equally pathetic bedroom performance, but that’s it. That’s all you’re reduced to. Kirby wants nothing to do with you. Your lawyer made sure none of this could be undone. You have no say. No right. You have nothing. And if I see you around Kirby or the baby again, I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to make another.”

He seemed to stand a little straighter at that. Perhaps he wasn’t used to someone threatening him so openly. Or maybe he realized he had an audience and felt the need to peacock. Simon thought it was probably a bit of both. “You can’t threaten me! I am-”

“You’re nothing. And you’ll always be nothing. Now leave.” This was the same woman who’d just been cooing over her niece, now spitting mad at a stranger. And that had something stirring behind Simon’s ribs. Hot and hungry.

Julian must've felt brave or extra stupid—Simon was betting he was both—when he stepped toward her, a long finger pointed at her face. “You better shut your fucking mouth-”

“Excuse me, you need to either lower your voice and watch your language or you need to leave.” The nurse at the desk pointed a pen at Julian and Simon smirked beneath his mask. She’d heard everything. It wasn’t until Julian started getting stupid that the nurse said anything. But honestly, what had Kirby seen in this wanker? She seemed to be reasonable and this guy was a tosser.

“She’s keeping me from my kid-”

“You don’t have a kid!”

Julian turned and that stupid finger was in her face again. “If you don’t-”

“Sir. I’ll not ask again: either you lower your voice and-”

“Shut up!” Julian sneered as he rounded on the nurse. The red in his cheeks had bled down his pencil-thin neck. Hilarious.

“Don’t talk to her that way. You shouldn’t even be here.”

And then he turned back to her and pointed that finger at her.

Simon didn’t even really remember moving. But he had Julian’s finger bent backward until it almost hit the back of his hand. “You’re going to leave.”

Julian had tears in his eyes and the red in his cheeks had completely taken over his face now as he howled and yelped, trying to yank his hand free as Simon kept his hold, pulling his finger back, back, back. He tried to struggle but all he did was crumple to his knees—it was a natural reaction, trying to pull away, but Simon wouldn’t let go. “You-”

“You’re going to leave. Understand? Never come back. Never tell your father about this. Never contact Kirby or her kid.” Simon adjusted his grip and didn’t blank as he heard the finger finally pop out of its socket.

Julian gave another yelp but Simon simply adjusted his grip to keep the finger pressed down. “I-”

“You’re done talking. When I let go, you get up and you leave.”

Tears started to slide down Julian’s face and he nodded with a whimper when Simon squeezed.

And then Simon did let go, having made his point. Julian pushed his purpling hand to his chest as he stood and his knees knocked together as he turned and fled back toward the doors without a look back.

The nurse at the desk sighed and pointed her pen at him. “If he raises a stink downstairs, I’m saying I know nothing about it.”

Simon just nodded. Price was probably scrubbing the security footage already anyway.

But then he felt someone step beside him and saw her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He knew he didn’t. But he wanted to and he couldn’t have stopped himself even if he had tried. He knew that now. “You had it ‘andled. I know. I just sped it up.”

She huffed but he still saw how the corners of her mouth tilted up. “Let’s get out of here for a bit just in case he comes back with security.”

Julian wasn’t going to come back with security. Simon knew that. But he still followed where she led.

You didn’t even mean to take him to the hospital roof. You’d accidentally found it when you wandered aimlessly years ago after Kirby’s grandfather lay dying in a room a few floors down and you’d given them space to say goodbye. It was quiet here, aside from the wind rushing by. Almost peaceful as you looked out over the still-sleeping city. You tilted your head, letting the growing sunlight wash over your face. Kirby had her baby. You made it. They were safe. You were alive.

God, that was embarrassing. You hadn’t lost your temper like that in years. Julian had once called you Kirby’s rabid guard dog. The moniker fit, but that didn’t mean you were exactly proud of it. You’d tried so hard, over the years, to not hold onto Kirby so tightly. Not try to push her into a life you knew would keep her safe. She’d once, rightly, raged at you for overstepping when you’d tried to convince her to change her mind when she’d enrolled at Northwestern and wanted to pursue a music major. It had been the first time you had seen how much you had tried to keep her from turning out like your mothers. Or like you. And after not speaking with her for months, and bi-weekly appointments with your therapist, you saw that you needed to let Kirby be Kirby. She forgave you, as her heart was always too big, and you tried to support her in everything else that you could. It seemed to work out well, anyway. She had a cushy job at one of the uppity schools in the city, teaching music and sometimes played at a few jazz clubs on the weekend. She loved it. She was happy. And that was all you wanted. That was why you’d kept your mouth shut when she’d introduced you to Julian. The bad vibes had been instant but you told her, just once, “just make sure you’re happy.” You might have made a snide comment or two when he’d said something about Kirby’s job or your shared upbringing. No one was going to make Kirby less-than. Especially not some son of a billionaire without a single redeeming quality. “I’m sure you pieced together who that was.”

“A prick.”

You snorted and didn’t even care that it hurt your throat. “Yeah. He’s a prick.”

Simon was quiet and you opened your eyes and turned just enough to look at him. Your heart thundered and warmth bloomed in your chest when you realized he was looking at you. “Could make him disappear.”

The laugh that bubbled out of you and couldn’t be stopped. “I think you made your point quite clear. He might run to his dad, but he’d probably tell him that he shouldn’t’ve been here anyway.” You sighed and your throat stung. “Thank you. Again. Not sure if you’re keeping score, but I owe you and the guys quite a bit now.”

He made a noise, not quite like a scoff but something close. “Don’t owe us anything. You saved Soap. And we’re doing our jobs.” And you were sure he didn’t mean for it to sting, but it did. All of this was just him doing his job. He was kind, but it was just a job. You were just a job. And that had to be okay. There were worse things you could be. He was quiet again and then he said, “you said you both had crap mums.”

You sighed but nodded. You hadn’t realized he remembered any of your rambling from last night after your nightmare. And really, what harm would it do to tell him? He deserved something. And, eventually, you would never see him again—even if the thought twisted into thorns behind your ribs. “Her mom was loads better than mine, and better still with just Kirby. I was just sort of,” you waved a hand, trying to find the words your therapist taught you to use but still came up blank, “a very small roommate and then a trial-run kid.”

“How did they know each other?”

You resisted the urge to sigh again. “Chauncey, Kirby’s mom, was my mother’s sponsor for Narcotics Anonymous. Mom lasted two weeks, by the way. Called it a waste of time.” You shook your head. “It all sounds like I pulled my life from Days of Our Lives or something. Some bullshit soap opera.”

“You said it was a long story. Think we’ve got time.”

Simon was right. For now, you had time. “My mom was a junkie. Blamed me for it, by the way. And I realize that addiction is a sickness and everything, but she made no attempt to get better. From what I can remember, I think she was in a car accident as a teenager and liked how the painkillers made her feel and it spiraled from there. She’d leave me at home to go chase another fix and not really care that I needed my diaper changed or that she’d forgotten to feed me at all that day.” You pressed on the end of your nose to keep your familiar feelings of resentment from festering too long. “Sometimes she’d have people over. I just hid in my room, a blanket over my head to pretend I didn’t exist, that the conversations they were having weren’t real. I was six, I shouldn’t’ve been listening to…that. She’s why I wake up if there’s light in the room. Sometimes they’d come in and just look. There were a few who liked to tug on my hair, trying to see if I’d wake up.” You pressed harder on your nose. “I know I’m lucky that is all they did. But I never knew if they would do more. And my mother just let it happen. And then she met a guy, said he had everything she ever wanted. I was just a bit of a roadblock—he didn’t want kids. And that was how I wound up on Chauncey’s doorstep.” The pressing on your nose didn’t help. You couldn’t stop your mind from conjuring the memory of your mother grabbing your tiny, six-year-old shoulders and staring at you with a smile too wide and eyes too blown. “You be good for Chauncey.” She listed all the ways for you to “earn your keep” so you wouldn’t end up on the streets “like a dog.” And that was fine. You already knew how to make breakfast. You knew how to walk to school and look both ways before crossing the street. Never speak unless you were spoken to. Messes meant your mother got angry. Chauncey would be no different, you had been sure of it.

“Why did she pick Chauncey?”

You bit back the wince you felt growing as you dropped your hand back to your side. That had been particularly underhanded on your mother’s part. “I found an old diary of hers after she and that guy got themselves killed trying to hold up a gas station and I’d been the only one they could find to send her belongings to after they identified her.” She’d threatened to tell Chauncey’s boss that she used to pay coworkers to do the mandatory drug tests for her before she got sober.” It had been something Chauncey had said in confidence in a safe place and your mother had ruined it. “I guess she saw it as easier than surrendering me to the state. Or it at least made her feel better about herself. That I wasn’t in the system.”

Simon couldn’t understand how anyone could throw her away like she was nothing. She was… Well, that didn’t need to be said. But he kept listening.

“Chauncey tried. I’ll give her that. But she wasn’t meant to be a mom. She didn’t want to be a mom; she told me that a couple of times, actually. And there I was, in her house, a walking talking thing she couldn’t get rid of in case my mother ever came back and actually ruined her life. She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. But she never let me go hungry. Made sure I got to school. Had clothes and shoes that fit. I thought I was dreaming the first time she actually cared about the bruise I got at school. She got me arnica cream.”

It was a little thing. Simon knew that. But sometimes the little things were what kept a person’s head above water. He knew that, too. Tommy had sometimes snuck him ice from the kitchen when his ribs hurt from where his father had hit him. He remembered each time he did. His mother had tears in her eyes the first time she made him a birthday cake after she’d kicked out his dad for the final time. The little things.

“And then Paul entered the picture. Kind. Funny. Smart. He didn’t even bat an eye when Chauncey stuttered through her explanation that she was my legal guardian. He showed up to pick her up for her next date with a bouquet for her, and a daisy for me. That was the first time anyone had given me flowers. And he was good. Good to Chauncey. Kind to me. Helped me with my math homework and told me all about his job as a history professor at one of the community colleges in the city.” She moved to tilt her head up again. He watched her close her eyes against the dawn and the purples and pinks of the sunlight. If he could draw like Johnny, he might have wanted to draw her. To remember how she looked like this forever.

“She found out she was pregnant a few months into their relationship. I remember Chauncey trying so hard to be excited about it all. So hard. But she couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to be a mother. But, god, she loved Paul. Wanted everything he wanted. Wanted him forever. And maybe she saw a baby as a way to strengthen their relationship? It sounds awful when I say it like that. But she asked him over and over and over if a baby was really what he wanted. And Paul was so excited. Couldn’t wait to be a dad. He did the hand on the belly thing. Got up at three in the morning for her cravings. Built the crib, painted the nursery. All of it. He did all of it. And he was the one who let me think of Kirby as a sister. Let me hold her. Taught me how to change her diaper. Let me read her bedtime stories or sing her to sleep beside him. She was mine just like she was his. I didn’t have a lot, but knowing I could come home to Kirby made everything easier. Made my mother’s terrible choices easier to handle.”

“What happened to ‘im?” Simon already knew he was dead. But this was something else, he could tell by the way she pulled her lips into her mouth for a moment.

“It was Kirby’s seventh birthday. Was going to be a big one. Paul wanted it to be perfect. I was fifteen. It was easy to see that Paul could tell that Chauncey didn’t want to be a mom. He was trying to make it work. Trying and trying and trying for years. They’d go to family therapy. They got a dog. The whole nine yards. And Paul seemed to think that if he showered all of his love on Kirby, she wouldn’t realize her mom didn’t know how to love her like a mother should.” But she knew. That was unspoken. “We were going to pick up the three tier cake Paul had ordered.” Her next breath stuttered and Simon felt his hands curl at his sides, just for a moment. “Some asshole was on his phone and ran the light. The doctors told us that it was quick. He hadn’t been in pain and that I was lucky I’d only broken my arm.” She pressed at her nose again. “I didn’t feel lucky.”

And Simon knew that it wasn’t the end of the story.

“Chauncey spiraled. Tried to hold it together and I have to give it to her, she tried her hardest. But she drank. A lot. I made sure Kirby got to school. Helped her with her homework. Made her meals. Made sure she was dressed in the morning and her teeth were brushed at bedtime. I knew this song and dance. I just had a smaller partner in it now.” She paused and her next breath rattled.

Simon felt the urge to reach out to her, touch her to let her know that he was listening, that he cared. But what if he moved too fast and scared her? What if just touching her made her realize she was telling him everything and she stopped? He couldn’t chance it. Not now. Not when he finally felt like she trusted him.

“I didn’t think Chauncey would start using again. And, to be fair, she only did it once. I think she thought she could handle a bigger dose, or needed something to take the edge off. To make her forget.” She paused. “I got home an hour before Kirby. I opened the front door and Chauncey was just slumped against the coffee table.”

“What did you do?”

“I wasn’t going to let Kirby see her mom like that. See her home like that. I cleaned up the mess and I…” She swallowed. It seemed like it took a concentrated effort. “I-I picked her up and put her in her room. Made it look like she was sleeping.” She paused again and rubbed at her throat, wincing. “Paul’s dad, Rick, came to pick up Kirby and I guess Paul had told him about me. Told him about the girl nobody wanted. He said I could go live with them, too. Some overworked social worker filed something wrong or missed filing anything because I don’t really think anyone cared that I was going away with yet another stranger to a different state.”

And Simon knew what she’d done there. He could see it without her needing to say anything. She stayed out of the way. She made everything easier for Kirby and Rick so she could quietly earn her keep. Kept her head down and mouth shut. Pulled more than her weight. Because that’s what she did. That’s what she’d always done. “Was he good to you?”

“Better than I deserved, I think. Paul must’ve learned how to be kind to unwanted things from him. But I knew I was just a guest in his house. And when I graduated, I stayed close. I couldn’t let go of Kirby. She was…is the best thing that ever happened to me.” And that was the whole of it. He knew what came next. University. Her internship. Her job in the archives. Neat little boxes until the tunnel blew it all to hell.

“She’s lucky to have you.”

She laughed and regretted it. “Doubtful. More trouble than I’m worth. You can attest to that.”

And that crack in Simon’s chest whispered and widened. “I think you’re worth a lot, actually.” He wanted to swallow the words back as soon as they slipped by his lips. It was too much.

Her eyes shot open and widened as she looked at him. Like she couldn’t believe it. Didn’t believe it. “Oh.” She blinked several times in rapid succession before turning back to look over the city. “Thank you.” And then he watched her wince. At least he wasn’t the only one who felt odd up here on the roof. “I think you’re the only one who’s ever said that to me.” And before he could respond to that, she started walking quickly toward the door back inside. “I think we should go back down before someone catches us up here.”

And again, Simon followed where she led.

It shouldn’t have surprised you to see Soap lurking outside Kirby’s door by the time you made it back. He was pretending to read a magazine when you and Simon walked up. He winked at you before Simon stood beside him and you made your way back into Kirby’s room. The baby was fussing and Kirby explained that the doctor had just administered her first vaccine and eye drops.

“My brave little girl,” Kirby said, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead.

“Have you decided on a name? Are you continuing the video game monikers?”

(Paul had managed to convince Chauncey that Kirby was a perfectly acceptable name—not that she fought him much on anything—and had a strong meaning and was definitely not his favorite video game character.)

Kirby giggled. “Maybe.” The baby settled, cherubic cheek pressed against her mother’s chest. “But I’m thinking Pauline for a first name.”

Your heart broke in a good way. A cathartic ache. “It’s perfect.”

“Pauline Zelda.”

You tried to groan but could only laugh. It worked.

But the lights overhead flickered for a moment and you tried to ignore how your entire body reacted, seizing and locking each of your joints. You quickly looked out into the hallway to see Soap and Simon both outside the door, now both pretending to read the magazine while staying within earshot. They didn’t seem fazed so you tried to push out a slow breath, forcing yourself to relax.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Probably just a little jumpy still.”

Kirby just laughed. “Remember a couple of years ago with that blackout that came out of nowhere?”

The subtle gaze Soap sent toward Simon had you frowning. That blackout had been explained as a power surge but there was now something at the back of your head whispering that it wasn’t what you had believed. (It was probably because you and Kirby had seen an explosion and it didn’t look like it was just a converter giving out.) You know what? You weren’t going to ask.

“We spent that whole night sipping on soda and eating your melting ice cream out of the freezer.” Kirby reached out and nudged at your elbow. “Remember?”

You sighed, fighting a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I remember.” She’d made you laugh until your stomach hurt, regaling you with tales of her classes at Northwestern and the shenanigans she got up to with her ragtag team of friends.

Kirby was quiet for a little longer before shifting and placing little Pauline into your arms. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Other than the obvious?” You asked, pressing a surely crooked smile to your face. “I’ve never been happier.” It was almost true.

Eventually, Kirby settled in to rest, hoping for more than the handful of minutes she’d had earlier, and you excused yourself after apologizing for having to leave so soon. “You aren’t leaving forever, silly.” She mused, a tired smile pressing at her mouth. “I’ll see you soon, yeah? I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you replied, the syllables breaking on your tongue as you kissed her forehead and then did the same to a happily sleeping Pauline. And it was time to go—your time was up. You kept your eyes on your sister as the door closed, trying to press the picture into your mind…just in case.

Simon and Soap quietly led you back downstairs and Gaz and Price wordlessly stepped to your side when you hit the lobby, boxing you in as you walked back out to the SUV. You sagged against the seat. The last handful of hours had been a lot. Beautiful and strange in several different ways.

You needed a nap.

Simon settled in next to you as the engine started and you watched him for a moment, knowing he was well aware of your gaze. You’d poured out your pathetic life story to him. Left your cards out on the proverbial table. He hadn’t seemed at all disturbed or grossly intrigued like a few others had been. He had been quiet. But maybe you should’ve seen that one coming.

Soap filled the quiet of the SUV with stories about him being a doting uncle to his gaggle of nieces and nephews. It was fun to listen to and you might have to take his trick about sneaking Pauline chocolate whenever she ate something she didn’t like; his nieces always needed to be bribed whenever brussel sprouts ended up on their plates. “Gotta balance it out,” he said with a grin.

You were nearly dead on your feet by the time the lock to your room beeped and you slipped inside. Toeing off your shoes, you washed your face and changed back into your pajamas despite it nearing breakfast time now. But you didn’t mind when you heard the wall click.

“Olright?” Simon asked. “Big day.”

Your laugh hurt and was more of a squeak anyway. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He nodded, but still lingered. And you didn’t mind the company. “Where are you from?” It was an innocuous enough question. But you really didn’t know much about him at all. You had just dumped your mess of a life story at his feet and didn’t even know where he was born.

“Manchester.” He gave the answer easily and didn’t move from his place beside you.

And you had to smile. Maybe you should’ve guessed it with the accent, but you were always bad at placing those. “Did you know that the oldest library in the UK is in Manchester? I always wanted to go when I was doing my internship in London, ages ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Never found the time.” You sighed, not brave enough to look at him now. Not brave enough to linger on the thought that you might have met him years ago if you had made a different choice. But Manchester was a big city and you weren’t exactly someone who’d walk up to someone you found attractive and introduce yourself. And Simon didn’t seem the type, either. …not that he thought you were attractive—SHUT UP! “Maybe after all this is over, I’ll go.”

The combined adrenaline and exhaustion from everything was probably making you think you could take on the world, but you did have a list miles-long of places you wanted to see, restaurants you wanted to try, things you wanted to do. If you could survive being on a known terrorist’s hit list, maybe you could actually live your life. Maybe. Maybe you’d start with that bakery down the street in your neighborhood across town (and then work your way back up to international travel; this trip to London was proving to be a lot). It supposedly had good chocolate croissants-

“I could show you.”

Your mouth hung open, dumbly, just for a moment at Simon’s simple sentence. “You would?”

He looked at you, his stare heavy and unblinking. “‘Course.”

That one word felt like a brick to your sternum. “Oh.”

Next Chapter

A/N: Sorry this chapter was so "talk-y" but I figured you guys (and Simon) deserved some answers before [redacted redacted redacted]. Please let me know what you think! Your comments really keep me motivated!

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Una Noche En Medellín | Javier Pena x f!Reader

summary: a long day playing pretend at a wedding leads to... exactly what you'd expect.

pairing: javier pena x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. javi smoking, mention of a fictional pregnancy, ONE motherfucking BED BABY! mention of previous p in v, fingering, brief f!oral. this is pretty tame, y'all. reader has hair.

wc: 2.4k

an: this is my entry for the summer lovin' challenge thought up by the wonderful @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy <3 i can literally only apologise for this being so late. i scheduled it in the wee hours and got my dates SO wrong.

my brief was a wedding, javi, and the moodboard you can see in the header. this was so much fun, and my first time posting for our fav dea agent - i hope you enjoy!

divider from @saradika-graphics

The fabric of your dress clings uncomfortably to your skin, sweat glistening under the warm lights of the hotel as you step into the elevator. Hair damp at the nape of your neck, thighs chafing a little as you shift on aching feet, you turn from your tired reflection in the mirror back to the closing doors. 

You watch, drowsy, as Javi presses the button to the tenth floor, one thick finger lighting up the numbers. The same hands that have been on you all evening, long into the night. Squeezing, holding, twirling. He stands with his back to you now, shoulders tense and squared. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you’d pissed him off.

You slump a little against the mirror behind you as the elevator swoops and glides upwards, watching as he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

Neither of you had thought it’d be easy. But neither had you thought it would be so exhausting. 

Exhausting to remember the details of your cover, to explain that the reason you weren’t drinking was because you’d recently discovered you were expecting your first child. Exhausting to navigate the knowing looks and slaps on the back, the hands on your non-existent bump, trying to make it look convincing. Following Javier around the room, his hand in yours; whispers pressed into the conch of your ear, your hairline - intel exchanged, wrapped in the pretence of humour and affection. Bodies pressed together in a way that should have been unprofessional, but not in a way that was unfamiliar.

The mission had been a success. 

Under fairy lights and between bubbles of champagne, blanketed by the heady heat of Medellín, you’d wound your web. Dancing and talking, sharing cooing compliments with the other guests, letting people watch and believe as you’d kept each other close, the proximity of Javi coming so easy with the thump of bass and threat of danger. Recognising the faces taped and pinned to corkboards in the office, matching voices to crackled radio frequencies, red string to red crosses.

Never standing in one place for too long, never speaking English, never looking surprised, always looking so in love. Draped across his lap with one hand on your hip and the other splayed against the small of your back. Your face tucked into his neck as you relayed information against his jawbone. His kisses to your shoulder as he told you Steve and Carillo were already on their way to the targets’ addresses. Not out of each other’s sight for more than a minute. 

It had been so easy it was almost laughable.

The cartel’s informant would be on his way to his hotel, and his impending arrest, now. The rest of the guests, the family and friends, would soon catch wind and begin to disappear, to turn on each other. And it would be like you and Javi were never there. Blending with the disco lights, melting into the shadows. 

For now, all you need is some rest.

The elevator bell dings for the tenth floor, and you watch as the doors slide open with a quiet hum. Javi turns his face, barely, to make sure you’re still with him, hand twitching at his side as though he wishes to reach for yours. 

It’s hard to turn the performance off. 

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, wedding band glinting in the light, as he steps out into the hallway. You follow, reaching into your purse for the key card, watching the slump of his broad shoulders stride up the hall, the sweat-curled hair at the nape of his neck. You’d been running your fingers through it twenty minutes ago, cooing something about wanting to take him to bed that had only been a half-lie. He’s been warm and firm against you all night, always within reach. There’s not a scrap of your dress or an inch of your skin that doesn’t smell like his aftershave. And you’re not too proud to admit how much that turns you on.

He leans against the doorframe with one arm when you reach your room, lips lifting in a smirk.

You pull a face at him as you swipe the key card and open the door.

‘What?’

He shrugs as he watches you step into the darkness, waiting only a moment before following and flicking on the light.

‘Just - didn’t think you had it in you, cariño. Never thought you could dance like that.’

You scoff at him as he closes the door, leaning against the coolness of the wall to unclasp and take off your heels.

‘Surprises are part of the job, Peña,’ you grin, ‘Didn’t think you’d be so good at pretending to enjoy a wedding reception.’

‘I’ve had practice.’ He quips, unbuttoning another two of his shirt buttons, white linen against the gold of his skin, sweat gathered at the hollow of his throat. Something burns in your chest - wanton and willing.

He flips on another light as you throw your heels to the side, pausing in the mouth of the room before it opens to the sleeping quarters. You press a palm to his warm back, trying to urge him forwards before he speaks.

‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.’

You step from behind him to stand at his side.

Illuminated, glowing in the bedside light before its backdrop of glimmering city lights, is a single, king-size bed; crisp white sheets neatly tucked beneath the mattress.

You bite your cheek, looking at Javi. His stormy brow, his clenched jaw. 

‘This was supposed to be a suite.’ You murmur.

You want to be angry. Want this to be the thing that ruins an otherwise successful day. But you’re so warm, so tired. You only want a shower and a place to sleep. And you’ve had many worse places than this to do exactly that. 

‘We could call the front desk,’ Javi says, as a yawn pulls at your jaw, ‘See if they can switch us to a room with two beds.’

You shake your head, and he glances at you, surprised.

‘It’s late, and bad for our cover. We can share.’ A small frown teases between his dark eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him. ‘We’re fake married, remember?’

You step past him, smoothing the sheets with your hand. Cool. Soft. You could lie down now and die happy.

There’s the distinctive shnick-whoosh of a lighter behind you, and when you turn, Javi’s face is lit by the soft glow of a cigarette.

‘How could I forget,’ he says, breathing out a rush of blue smoke, ‘When mi esposa has been the life of the party all evening.’

You purse your lips playfully.

‘I thought you enjoyed being my husband, Alejandro.’

A sultry smile softens his features.

‘Sure, cariño.’

You wink at him as he brushes past you, linen against silk. He smells so good. Clean and masculine, something so Javi cutting through it that you can feel that burning move from your chest to pool between your legs.

He breezes through the curtains shrouding the balcony, and you turn into the bathroom, inspecting the array of toiletries, and the towels, fresh and white, waiting for you. You turn the shower on, setting the water to cool before reaching for the zip at the back of your dress. You twist fruitlessly for minutes, but the heat, the dampness of your skin makes the fabric hard to adjust, the zip impossible to catch. A well of frustration rises up your throat, and you clench your jaw.

Hands pressed against the porcelain of the sink, you look into your own eyes in the mirror. Tired, hot. Not too proud to ask for help.

Javi is stood on the balcony, forearms resting against the railing, smoke curling around his strong silhouette. He turns at the sound of the curtains moving behind you, and you smile as he leans back to watch you approach.

His appraising look is appreciative. Sexy.

You turn your back to him, to those eyes.

‘Unzip me?’

You wait for what feels like an eternity. Rocking slightly where you stand, breath catching in your lungs. Every muscle in your body tightened in anticipation.

Goosebumps break out over the small of your back as his fingers trace the line of the zip, up, up to your shoulders. They skim the fabric there, catching your bare skin before settling at the slider. He pulls, slowly. So close you can feel his breath on your neck. Pulls it all the way down so that the dress falls loose at your chest, so it would take only the smallest movement for the garment to drop to the floor. 

His palms slip beneath the silk, curving around your waist. On instinct, yours follow, catching and holding them in place as you sigh at the feeling of his nose tracing your neck. His thumbs stroke the contours of your back.

‘Que linda, bebita.’ He breathes, and you fight the moan surging up from your belly. You hum, leaning into him even as you whisper,

‘I didn’t say undress me.’

A short burst of air at your shoulder, a barely noticeable kiss against your hot skin to disguise his amusement.

‘Wasn’t going to.’

It’s your turn to huff a laugh.

‘We can be professional for a night.’

‘We can.’ He murmurs, and the heat of his body behind yours is lost almost immediately. You sway a little, a smile on your lips as you step back towards the bathroom. You know Javi is watching.

He always is.

He told you. That night in Bogotá, bodies pressed against, pressed into each other. Your legs wrapped around his waist, claw marks red-raw up his back as you’d moaned and cried for him. The wet squelch of your cunt as he worked you open, as he fucked you, as he crooned into your mouth how you’d been all he’d thought about since you stepped into the bullpen. So fucking smart, so capable, so sexy. How you’d been driving him crazy - lips crushed against your temple as you clenched around his cock.

That whole night, how good it had been, how heady. No one had ever made you come like that.

You’d not called the next day, having slunk out of Javi’s room some time in the early hours of the next morning. He’d never asked you why you hadn’t stayed. You’d never spoken of it again.

It was stress relief. Never anything more than two people blowing off steam. Never anything more than two people giving into an obvious attraction.

But that night doesn’t seem so far away as you wash away the sweat and soap from your body, as you rinse the shampoo from your hair. Doesn't erase how you feel him watching, how close he feels, even separated by the door.

And though the shower is cool, your blood still runs hot. Pumping and burning with want in your veins, arousal so strong it makes you giddy as you wrap a towel around yourself, leaving the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

Javi is sat on the edge of the bed, naked save only for his boxers. The sight of him takes your breath away.

He's so broad, hard and soft in all the places he needs to be. And he's so pretty. Perfect little pouty mouth, deep, dangerous eyes. There’s no cigarette dangling from his lips, nothing in his hands as he clasps them between his spread knees. You think about sinking down between them, pressing your cheek against the bulge outlined below the smattering of hair at his navel.

You step towards him, and he watches with blown, hungry eyes.

You stop in front of him, still wrapped in the towel. He reads your mind like he always does. In the bullpen, the offices, the field. With a gun or a cigarette or a pen in his hand, Javier Peña knows what you need. He parts the towel, sliding his palms across your naked hips, holding you before him. You can’t breathe, can’t speak. It’s too hot in the room, in your body. You can feel slick sliding against the tops of your thighs, spread right up to your clit. So wet it should be criminal. 

Javi clicks his tongue, moving his hands so he can spread you open with his thumbs. He pouts at you, small tilt of his head. 

‘Pobrecita.’

You'd roll your eyes if it were any less true, if he weren't swiping one thumb through your wetness, over your clit. You suck a breath in before moaning brokenly. He grins, wolfish, up at you. 

‘What were you thinking about in that shower, cariño?’

You smile down at him, eyes half-closed. 

‘You.’

He hums, moving his thumb again. You shudder, knees giving a little. His hand at your hip tightens. 

‘Good girl.’ He coos. 

Your hand flies to his shoulder with a garbled cry as he presses tighter, moving the digit faster. He knows how to work you, knew before he'd even touched you. You're on fire, pussy tightening as your hand travels up his neck, before tangling with the curls at his nape.

That's it.

You can hear how wet you are. The only sounds in the room are the buzz of the city below, your fast breathing, and the movement of Javi’s fingers. He’s building you up to it, astoundingly fast. The sight of him, sat on the edge of the bed, spellbound by what he’s doing to you, the noises you’re making, the sight of you bared to him. Makes you want to touch him, too.

Does that feel good, bebita?

So good, Javi.

But just as it seems so close, as you can feel yourself start to clench and pulse and twitch, he slows. Slows the rhythm of his thumb right down to deep, languid circles, keeping you right on the edge as he loosens the towel and lets it drop to the floor, as he leans forward to reverently press his forehead to your belly. He breathes in deeply, and you flex your hips towards him. He nips at your skin, and you whine as he laughs.

‘I think about it,’ he breathes, voice deep and thick, nuzzling into the crease of your thigh, ‘That night in Bogotá. Tell me you think about it, too.’

You hiccup, nodding. Fisting his short hair.

‘All the time,’ you gasp, ‘All the time, Javi.’

He groans, moving to lick a hot, wet stripe through your folds, right up to your clit. It’s like fire, electricity. Your body jolts against him, every nerve ending bending towards him, flinching into this sweet torture.

His lips are shining with your arousal when he pulls away to look you in your eyes.

‘Let me have it. One more night, in Medellín. Let me have you.’

[cherryredcheol]

"cutie"

tldr: all the ways seungkwan uses your nickname a/n: i rise from the dead to give you...kwannie. 🥰 first person to guess why his nickname is cutie gets to decide who i post next.

screams: because it’s life or death

“cutie!” he was so dramatic sometimes, always pulling you into his antics. this time it was an intense game of ‘the floor is lava’. chairs were spread all over the practice room, brims of hats squished flat underfoot to protect the members from the invisible threat. you stood in the doorway, foot hovering above the polished wood. 

“don’t step down!” he called to you from across the room, perched on his own chair, looking very much the damsel in distress he often pretended to be. he pointed to a folder haphazardly strewn not too far from where you were, gesturing for you to stand on it. always happy to go along with his antics, you took the leap.  

“winner gets all the money in seungcheol’s wallet” he explained, watching as you expertly maneuvered around the room, trying to get closer to him. he was impressed as he watched you hurdle from one chair to another, reaching a hand out to steady you as soon as you were in reach. “if one of us wins, we’ll go on a nice date, cutie.”

sighs: when it's just you two

“cutie” he lets out a deep breath, sinking into the couch next to you. he’d been gone since the early morning, kissing you goodbye before the sun even dared to show face. said sun has long sunk below the horizon, beautiful moon taking it’s place and he finally made it home to you. 

“did you eat?” even after a long day he still thinks of you, knowing you’d likely waited for him to eat. shaking your head, affirming what he already knew, he fished his phone out of his pocket, handing it over to you easily. it was too late to cook and he was too tired to wait, to take out it was. 

“use my card to order something. my only request is that it be delicious.” you chuckled at his request, already pulling up the delivery app. he sunk further into the couch, putting an arm around you and pulling you into his side. he was finally starting to feel relaxed after his stressful day. “thank you, cutie.”

murmurs: in the middle of the night

“cutie…”  the name breaks the silence in the room, pulling you out of your light sleep. you hum quietly, letting him know you heard him but not turning on the bed to face him, far too comfortable wrapped in the sheets. it had been a long day of travel from seoul to jeju and you just wanted to rest. 

“i’m really happy you’re here with me.” he was whispering, trying not to wake his sleeping family. everyone was in town for his cousin’s wedding and the house was full of people. talk too loud and someone is bound to complain. but he couldn't resist talking to you now, knowing during waking hours you get no privacy given the sheer number of bodies around.  

“the wedding is going to be fun, i think.” he knew you were hardly awake, barely listening to him ramble on in the wee hours of the morning. as he watched your back rise and fall steadily he figured he should probably leave you alone and follow you off to dreamland so you could be well rested for the festivities. “good night, cutie.”

croons: into the karaoke machine

“cutie~” he extends the “e” sound of the word into the mic, his voice filling the small karaoke room you had rented with some friends to celebrate his birthday. there was nothing he loved more than singing, except maybe you. this room had been a surprise for him, a way to let him know how loved he is by everyone. 

“dance with me!” he was drunk, a little drunker than he’d usually let himself get but since it was his birthday he felt like he’d allow himself to indulge. he’d been singing for the better part of an hour, stopping only to take bites of food and shots of soju. his face was flushed, but it was hard to tell if that was from the belting or the alcohol. 

“happy birthday to me!” he shouted into the mic for the umpteenth time tonight, and you smiled wide, not even close to sick of it. you were so happy to celebrate him. he was loved and it was important that he know that. if you had to listen to him shout about his birthday all night long, you’d do it happily. “best birthday ever, cutie!”

sneers: on the court

“cutie, that’s another point for me!” you loved playing games with him, but only when you played on the same team. he was the greatest teammate but the worst opponent. competitive and driven, he was formidable and sometimes annoying, especially about badminton. and what had started as a friendly game has quickly turned sour. 

“come on, don’t mope.” he was about to serve when he noticed the downturned expression on your face. crossing under the net, he approached you, reaching out to run his thumb along your bottom lip that pushed out in a pout. his actions were soft but you knew it was only a front. he wasn’t about to take it easy on you, even if you begged. 

“this will be over quickly anyway.” he couldn’t help but laugh at the shift from forlorn to disbelief on your face as he backed away eager to get back to the game. back on his side of the net, he pointed to your baseline with his racket, “get in position, cutie.”

[conchcronch]

Kinktober 2024: Day 5

WC: 2700

Summary: He's overworked and desperately needs you to help him, too bad he's got a mountain of work to get through before the day is done.

A/N: I'm not all that thrilled with this piece tbh, likely I'll come back to revise it post kinktober, but let me know what you think! I've been lovingly calling this part 'Croc-Warming'

You were so tired of wandering the barren walls of Crocodile’s ship, convinced you had memorized every wood grain of every board that made up this boat. By the fourth pass by his office door this evening you thought maybe this was your chance. 

For days you had been begging for him, every moment you had in private you were running your hands along him, trying to press up against him, anything to try to draw him in. But nothing would work. His excuse of being overworked and exhausted had been reasonable, he was at Cross Guild meetings every day, coming home and shutting himself in his office until the wee hours of the morning, but it had been so long since you had touched him you were sure he was craving it at least half as much as you were. 

The heavy office door made such a pleasing sound when you tapped your knuckles against the door, pausing for a second before hearing his low voice beckon you in. “Hi” You poked your head in, watching him look up just enough to see you before looking back down at the weighty document that sat in front of him. 

“If you’ve come to whine about when I’m going to fuck you, I can make it quick. I have about 200 pages of some agreement the clown insists is a ‘bonafide’ venture for us to pursue, so I have no time for you.” You tried to not let the last part cut too deep, knowing he was overextended and hadn’t been sleeping much. But if you could just convince him somehow, you knew for a fact he would feel so much better. 

“Can I help?” You tried to keep your toe soft, stepping past the threshold of his office and closing the door behind you. The wood was cold on the bottoms of your feet, your fluffy socks doing little against the frosty waters cooling the bowels of the ship. He looked up at you, fully, pausing to pull his cigar from between his teeth as he racked his eyes over you. You had intentionally come down in a nightgown he had bought you, the deep purple fabric hugging you in all his favourite ways. ”I could make you a coffee if you wanted, to help you stay awake.” You stepped closer to him, even going around his desk when he didn’t immediately stop you. “But that might make falling asleep even harder for you.” He hummed, his cigar back between his teeth as he lowered his gaze back to the legal document in front of him. You stepped behind him, thankful for how low he kept his desk chair so you were able to reach his shoulders. “Is this okay?” You asked, leaning forward so he could feel your warm breath puff out over his ear. 

“Yeah” You silently began working the tension out of his shoulders, your fingers struggling to push deep enough into his tissue to make much of a difference but when you heard him groan you knew you were somehow helping. Slowly you worked your fingers up to his neck, digging your fingers into his dense muscle, rubbing circles with your thumbs on his bare skin. “Why do I feel like you have ulterior motives for doing this?” You could feel the vibrations of his voice in your fingers as you moved them back down to his shoulders. 

“If by ulterior motives you mean, I want to help you relax, then yes Sir you bet I do.” He grumbled at your use of the title, loving the way it sounded in your mouth. 

“Were you always so sly?” He asked, taking his cigar out of his mouth and leaning his head back so he could look up at you. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, moving your hands to comb through his slicked back locks, the gel beginning to break down and leave behind his well taken care of hair. He closed his eyes, sighing as you pressed kisses along his hairline. “I’ve missed you.” He hummed, which was the closest thing you’d get to him saying he had missed you. 

“To be clear, your advances haven’t gone unnoticed.” You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips that were pressed to his forehead. “But I know if we start, there’s no chance my work is getting done.” 

“You’ve been working 12 hour days for the last month, I think you can spare an hour or two for some self care.” He sighed like the weight of the seas rested solely on his shoulders.

“You have no idea how untrue that is.” You felt him begin to fidget, slowly pulling his head up which was your que to move away. “I’m sorry kitten” He reached around and grabbed your hand in his, tugging you to his side so he could see you, his eyes scanning over you as he chewed the tip of his cigar “and you look so pretty for me” you nodded, looked up at him through your lashes. He moved his large hand from your wrist to your body, running from your stomach up to your breast, thumbing your nipple through the thin material before dragging it up your neck, cupping your cheek in his hand. “I wish I didn’t have to work..” There was a sadness in his eyes, something you hadn’t ever seen there before. It was different from your moments of intimacy, where he looked at you with what you can only assume is love, this felt like remorse, remorse for having to choose work over you. 

“It’s okay,” You pressed your face into his palm, holding onto his forearm with both hands as you savoured this moment of quiet contact because you weren’t sure when you would next get to experience it. “I’ll leave you to it then.” Kissing his palm before guiding his hand away from your face as you stepped away from his desk, “Try to get at least a little bit of sleep.” You looked back at him as you paused at the door, noticing the way he opened his mouth for a second like he was about to say something, giving him time to decide. 

“You can stay…If you want.” 

“You don’t mind?” He looked down at the papers in front of him

“I don’t.” It was late but you weren’t about to turn down the only invite you’ve gotten from him in who knows how long. You walked over to the elaborate couch he had opposite his desk, taking up your spot in the corner and watching as he worked. 

After a few quiet moments of you watching him, you couldn’t help but shoot your shot. “Y’know,” You paused, waiting until his eyes met yours, an eyebrow quirking when he saw the look in your eyes. “If all you’re doing is reading, you could read over here.” You patted the crushed velvet cushion next to you. 

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to get much reading done if I accept?” Despite the question that went answered, he pushed himself up, gathered the papers and walked over to the couch. He sat down, next to you, his hooked arm over the back of the couch, resting the stack of paper on his knee. 

Everything about his proximity was driving you crazy, his cologne, the smell of his hair gel and watching his ringed fingers turn page after page. As you chewed the inside of your lip you scooted closer to him, leaving against the side of his chest and bringing your legs up against the soft fabric. At first you had started reading the words strewn across the pages, trying to follow the legal jargon being used but when you felt his arm wrap around you, holding you tightly against him you were reminded of the yearning between your legs. 

Very slowly you ran a hand across his chest in what you hoped appeared to be a soothing gesture, rather than that of longing. But he knew you too well to assume your touch was anything other than a pleading gesture, but despite that, he didn’t stop you. Your hand moved across his wide chest, following the lines of his muscles as you slipped lower down his stomach but stopping at the hem of his vest. Every part of your brain was screaming at you to go lower, to slip your hand beneath the waist of his dress pants, to run your hand along his cock. And gods you wanted to, you’re confident you had never wanted something so badly before in your life, but you forced yourself to abstain, knowing the Guild had become something very important to him and you didn’t want to get in the way of that. “I wouldn’t stop you.” His words came out so casually, a puff of sweet cigar smoke flowing from his mouth and down over the papers. 

“You wouldn’t?” You moved so you could look up at him, watching as his lilac eyes scanned line after line not stopping to meet your gaze.

”As long as I can still read, I won't stop you.” As if a gun had just been shot, you jumped to your knees, hands on his chest to support you as you moved to straddle his wide waist. He moved his head from side to side as you positioned yourself, your fingers working quickly to undo his belt, then his button, then his zipper. His underwear sat low on his hips, a dark treasure trail leading down past the fabric, beckoning you to follow it. ”Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so determined.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, finally watching you pull the waist of his boxers up enough that you could fish out his cock.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was half hard, the moment he had sat on this couch he knew where the night was going. He knew you were completely unable to resist him when he was so near, knowing the moment you leaned against him that he had you right where he wanted you. 

When you finally pried him from his pants, he let out a long low groan, missing the feeling of your hands wrapped around his cock. He tried his best to focus on the pages, and when your hands left him he thought he may be out of the woods. That is, until he saw you hiking your dress up over your hips, exposing your bare cunt to him. 

He opened his mouth to protest, but when you raised yourself up onto your knees and rubbed his swollen head against your soaked entrance he couldn’t stop the long moan he was too slow to smother. 

“I knew you m-missed me.” You sighed, rubbing him between your folds enjoying the way he was struggling to hold the pages steady behind you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He huffed out, the words barely slipping from between his clenched teeth. 

“I’m ah I’m keeping your cock warmmm.” You slowly lowered yourself down, his cock head pushing past your ring muscle with the sting of stretch. 

“Fuck you’re too tight.” He pinched his eyes closed and his jaw clenched. 

“It’s fine I’m s-stretched.” It was taking every ounce of your self control to not sit straight down on his cock but you knew it would be too much. “Just lemme get it all in then I’ll stop b-othering you.” Piecing your sentence together was a struggle, the feeling of his length stretching you more than your fingers ever could was causing your brain to blank. 

When you finally sat against him, his cock nestled between your tight walls you laid against his chest, a shaky sign leaving your body. “You settled now?” You nodded, one hand feeling your lower stomach, half expecting to feel him bulging out of you. 

The sound of his heartbeat steadying as you leaned your head against his chest lulled you into a sleep you didn’t even realize you needed. His hooked arm wrapping around your waist to keep you against him while his hand flipped page after page. 

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep but you awoke to the sound of a heavy stack of papers falling on the ground, his hand rubbing down your back slowly. “Fuck kitten.” He groaned quietly into your hair, his lips moving against your head as he raised his hips to push himself somehow deeper. “You’re so good at keeping my cock nice and warm.” You blinked sleepily, looking up at him through heavy lashes. 

“Are you all done?” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Think you can get up on those knees of yours and ride me?” You pressed your hands to his chest, supporting yourself against him as you pushed your body up onto your knees, his cock sliding out of your hole. “Take it real slow kitten, I won’t last long as it is.” 

His eyes were focused down at your cunt, watching it sink down on his cock. The curved side of his hook ran down your back, pressing into the small of your back and making you arch into him. “Touch yourself.” He leaned back, his hips bucking up as he relaxed into the couch. He loved watching you do all the work, his eyes following your hand as it slid down your stomach, your fingers slipping down until your clit was between your index and middle fingers. You moved them slowly, rubbing along either side of the sensitive bud as you rode him. “How’s it feel?” 

You nodded, furrowing your brows as you pinched your eyes closed in an attempt to put together a coherent sentence. “It feels…fuck it feels as good as the first time.” His hand moved from your hip to your cheek, drawing you into a kiss. It felt like it had been years since he had kissed you like this, tongue sliding along yours as he groaned into your mouth. “Croc” you whispered as he swallowed your words “Will you cum inside me?” He didn’t answer right away, just smiled against your lips. 

“Only if you cum first.” You nodded, his lips overtaking your own again, ending any further conversation. The combination of your fingers moving against your clit, his tongue entertaining with your own and his cock bullying its way against your cervix, it didn’t take long for you to clench around him as the crashing wave of orgasm overtook you. 

Your legs tensed, slamming you down and taking him as deep as he could go. Your walls quivered around him, ushering him to his own climax. The air was knocked from his lungs, the pleasure overtaking his body entirely as he filled you with his cum. The feeling of warmth flooded you, and just when you thought you could never feel more full then you did, he just kept going. His hips thrusted up into you, each thrust weaker than the last until they slowed and you could lay limply against him. 

“Fuck” was the only word he could produce, all others seems too far away. He rubbed his hand along your back, not minding the thin layer of sweat that had gathered on any exposed skin. “Kitten, let’s get you up.” He leaned forward, speaking directly in your ear. 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“I’m not ready to move yet.” Your voice was raspy, clearly you had been louder than you realized. 

 “I want to get you cleaned up before bed.” Your eyelids feel heavy and the stiffness in your hips was beginning to morph into a pain. “I’ll run us a bath and then we can get some sleep.” A bath sounded so nice, you wanted to tell him how badly you wanted that, but words were just out of reach. 

“You’re…you’re going to come to bed tonight?” Slowly he lifted you off his cock, shifting you to being carried bridal style as he walked through the halls you had spent so much time pacing through, waiting for him to finally let you in. 

[marzipanandminutiae]

I've gotten some interesting responses to my post wondering if Um Actually 3 AM Is The REAL Time For Supernatural Occurrences was a traditional thing before I first noticed it in the creepypasta boom of the late 00s-2010s, as many of those creepypastas claimed. some of them along "guys. please. reading comprehension" lines, I admit

"Lots of cultures have a Witching Hour!" yes, true, but that's not 3 AM specifically. for a long time it was usually midnight, or an unspecified late night/wee hours of the morning period

"This author says 3 AM feels like depression or vice versa!" that is not about Spooky Things Happening; try again

"early Christian beliefs say-" "well, in traditional Japanese folklore-" sources??? (also from what I've seen while looking into this, the Hour of the Ox in historical Japanese timekeeping was between 1 AM and 3 AM- 3 AM specifically was the end of it, not the beginning. but it was a traditional time for curses)

A mention of 3 AM as a particularly bad time of night re: health, sleep, nightmares, etc. in Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes (1962), which DOES seem reliable and close enough to what I'm talking about

Apparently the 1974 Amityville murders happened at 3 AM, and of course that house had a highly public (probably faked) haunting. So that could have contributed

I haven't yet found anything earlier than that Bradbury reference that SPECIFICALLY mentions 3 AM as a time when scary and/or supernatural things happen, WITH ACTUAL SOURCES

Interestingly, the Bradbury quote doesn't seem to refer back to an existing cultural belief in the idea of Evil 3 AM(TM). rather it's framed as the narrator's personal feelings around that particular time of night:

"Oh God, midnight’s not bad, you wake and go back to sleep, one or two’s not bad, you toss but sleep again. Five or six in the morning, there’s hope, for dawn’s just under the horizon. But three, now, Christ, three A.M.! Doctors say the body’s at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You’re the nearest to dead you’ll ever be save dying. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you’d slaughter your half-dreams ... And wasn’t it true, had he read somewhere, more people in hospitals die at 3 A.M. than at any other time." [I can't find any credible studies of this, for the record]

so it seems like the seeds of the idea were floating around in the cultural consciousness for a long time, between unspecified Witching Hours and the Hour of the Ox curses and this probably erroneous but popular belief that most people who die in hospitals do so at 3 AM. but as for the very strictly-defined notion that Supernatural Things Are Most Likely To Happen At 3 AM...the earliest anecdotal reference I saw to someone having heard that was from the 1980s, and it doesn't seem to have really entered the zeitgeist with force until the late 2000s, earliest

unless someone shows me a source on something earlier, that's what I'm going with

which leaves my takeaway, as a paranormal believer, being: there's nothing supernaturally special about 3 AM, unless it has individual significance to a specific entity or haunting (ie residual apparition of an event that took place at that time). it's something people came up with for interesting fiction, as a fresh take on the longstanding western idea that the Witching Hour is midnight, and not even that long ago

[arjwrites]

The Space Between- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: GN!Reader breaks their arm on a hunt and needs a little assistance. This is a Dean version of my other fic Close (Sam x Reader), as requested by @the-scream-story !

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Injury, nudity, strong references to sex. MDNI!

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I had so much fun writing this. This is officially the end of my writer's block- I am back in business, baby. I hope you all enjoy!!!

“DAMN IT!” Your voice echoed out of the bathroom from behind the closed door, punctuated with the contents of your toiletry bag crashing to the floor. Instantly regretful of your outburst, you prayed that no one had heard your voice above the dull whir of the bathroom fan and the rushing water cascading against the floor of the tub. The last thing you wanted was for one of the boys to come try to play the knight in shining armor to your damsel in distress.

After making some brief mental calculations, you figured Sam would still be out grabbing food, leaving only Dean in your shared motel room. There was no way he heard you, and even if he had, you doubted he would stir from his current position. When you had headed in for your attempted shower, the man was already reclined in a chair, beer in hand, and engrossed in some sub-par TV show. 

Attempted truly was the best word to describe the shower experience so far. Last night’s hunt had landed you with a broken arm, and a long wait at the ER had delayed your return to the motel into the wee hours of the next morning. At this moment, it was 4am and none of you had slept. And you, covered in a mix of dirt, and blood (yours and the creature’s), figured that a quick shower would be the best catalyst for sleep. 

But twenty minutes had passed since you had holed yourself up in the bathroom. There were several obstacles that sat between you and a warm, clean nap. Your dominant arm was confined to a cast, providing a myriad of challenges. First was getting off your clothes. Next was wrapping your cast with the ziploc bag and duct tape combo you had armed yourself with. Then was navigating your shower routine, somehow shampooing your hair and scrubbing blood off your body with your weak hand while trying to keep the other clear from the water. 

It was an impossible task, but asking for help was not necessarily your forte. Plus, you felt horrible having kept the boys up all night because of your injury. Of course, they waved you off, used to the sleepless nights, taking the late hours in stride and going about their usual post-hunt routines (Sam’s supply run and Dean’s beer and motel TV marathon). Though neither of them would ever admit it, you could see the exhaustion radiating off their every movement, and the guilt ate at you. The last thing you wanted to do was to ask either of them to do you any more favors.

But your hopes of soldiering on independently were crushed in an instant. In a valiant effort to singlehandedly take off your shirt, the tight fabric had become twisted over your head, covering your eyes and trapping your free arm against you. And when your balance was thrown off, you stumbled back, foot catching the shower curtain and bringing the tension rod down with a decisive bang. Shit. There was no way Dean hadn’t heard that. 

Your suspicion was quickly met with a firm knock on the bathroom door. 

“You alright in there?” Dean’s voice harbored no sign of annoyance, simply concern. So after a few deep breaths and a moment to wriggle your head free from its trap, you conceded to what seemed to be your only option.

“Dean, can you come in?” 

Nothing could have prepared Dean for the sight behind the door. There you sat, in a pile of shower curtain and shampoo bottles, one arm pinned to your head and the other pinned to your chest. The shower, still running and void of its curtain, had started to spray down on your fully clothed body, adding insult to injury. Dean’s mouth gaped open for a moment, searching for the words, eyes blinking as he took in the scene.

“Look, I need your help. Please don’t be weird about it. Can you just help me get this shirt off and then I’ll just wrap the cast and hop in-” Your nervous rambling was cut off as Dean lifted you from the floor and sat you down on the closed toilet seat. 

“Sweetheart, you’re not doing this by yourself. You’re gonna mess up that cast and I am not going back to that goddamn hospital.” You cringed at the memory of the long hours you, Sam, and Dean had spent under those horrible fluorescent lights. Though his remarks dripped in frustration, nothing about his appearance did- his eyes and lips were graced with the softest echoes of a smile.

You mumbled a few protests but Dean had already set right to work. In a few, swift movements, he had popped the shower curtain back into place, pulled it aside, plugged the drain, and shifted the source of the water down to the bathtub spout. When the water began to pool in the bottom of the tub, he turned back to you. 

“Dean, I really don’t need you to do this. I’ll be fine if I can just get this damn shirt off,” you huffed, punctuating your complaint with a few pulls at your restraint. This was exactly what you had feared, and it made it all the more embarrassing because it was Dean. You felt vulnerable and looked ridiculous, and here he was cleaning up your mess and drawing you a bath? Your nerves wound tightly in your stomach as Dean lowered himself to sit on the lip of the tub across from you. The tiny motel bathroom left little room between the two of you, and your knees brushed against each other in your seated positions. 

“You’re hurt and I’m helping you. Take it from me, you don’t need to pull the tough guy routine all the time. It’s not gonna help anyone.” It was as if the intensity of his eye contact had taken hold of your entire body. You were frozen in front of him, caught off guard and melting quickly as warmth swelled in your heart. This felt different than the usual Dean. In a way, him helping you in your vulnerabilities seemed vulnerable of him, too. And there was no denying your feelings for the man. In the short few years you had hunted with the brothers, you had developed a soft spot for the older Winchester that you had vowed to never let see the light of day. But your heart was beating hard and fast against your chest, because here he was, right in front of you, reaching in to unbutton your shirt…

You shook the thoughts from your head, recognizing the tenderness of the moment. Off came your shirt, which Dean haphazardly folded and placed on the counter. The intensity that buzzed between the two of you raged on unencumbered for a while. It made you nervous to look at him even a second longer, so you turned your gaze to your jeans, working at the button with your free hand. Dean sat back, letting you work for a moment, before stepping in to help and to dissolve the tension with a joke. 

“This might be the longest it’s ever taken someone to take their pants off for me,” he chuckled to himself as he popped the button free with ease.

Your head snapped up to him, your expression tinged with annoyance, but Dean didn’t miss the blush that tinged your cheeks and the smile that threatened to breach the surface. He knew you were unhappy with the situation, a bit anxious and uncomfortable, so he figured he would do what he did best- crack a few jokes. Plus, he had come so close to kissing you right then and there that he needed a way to distract himself. 

Dean always knew how to make you laugh. It was one of the things you liked most about him. So any nerves you had about being naked in front of Dean Winchester were easily melted away because you couldn’t help yourself from laughing the whole time. Like head-thrown-back, full-body-shaking laughter. What had started as a challenging and tense situation had boiled down to just simply hanging out with Dean. 

He had lowered you into the tub, you clinging to his arm for dear life, until you were sat down, the bubbles in the water providing you just the right amount of coverage to make you feel even more secure. Once you were settled in, Dean took a step back, sitting down to let you get to work. He knew you would want to retain a bit of independence, so he let you work on scrubbing whatever you could with the arm you had, only stepping in when you needed his help. The time was filled with conversation about the previous hunt, wonders about what Sam could possibly bring back for food at this hour, and plenty of shared laughter at Dean’s jokes. 

“So I see you don’t have a lifeguard here at your beach,” Dean said, taking on a dramatic tone as if he were playing a character. 

“Dean, what are you-” 

“No, no, no. You’re supposed to say, ‘I’m not at the beach, this is a bathtub.’” He wagged a finger at you as he corrected your response. 

“What the hell are you talking ab- Oh my God! DEAN!” Realizing the origin of the joke he was making, you used your free hand to splash him with the warm soapy water. But you couldn’t even feign frustration- your laughter gave you away. 

Things continued on like this for a while- you and your washcloth scrubbing dirt and blood from every corner of your skin, Dean cracking jokes, and occasionally stepping in to offer a hand.

“Look, let me do your hair for you. How the hell are you supposed to do that with one hand?” Dean interjected as you attempted to lather shampoo in your palm. 

He kneeled on the floor next to you, taking the bottle into his hands. As he worked, you took time to notice the sensations around you, to ground yourself in the moment. You watched soap bubbles take flight as you moved through the bath. You felt the warm water lapping at your skin, and the gentle circles Dean’s fingers made on your scalp. You could smell the clean scent of the soap that filled the tub, the floral perfume of the shampoo, both mixed with something you could only describe as Dean. He smelled like some combination of the beer he was drinking, his usual cologne, and the lingering sweat and dirt of the day’s hunt. Rarely were you close enough to Dean to be able to smell him, but whenever you did, you relished in the moment. But at this particular moment, his proximity was drawing all of the nerves back into your system. Dean was hovering over your naked body- you could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he worked his fingers through your hair. Beyond feeling his touch on your skin, you felt as if you could feel him- his presence, his essence. It was so intimate, so romantic, that your heart swelled and your mind raced to a million and one places. Nevertheless, you remained anchored in the bath, the water and bubbles serving as a shield and the only thing that served to separate the two of you. 

When you were finished, all the suds rinsed off your body leaving you squeaky clean, you weren’t sure how to feel. Dean had slipped out of the room to grab you a towel, and though you remained in the tub filled with the warm water and the air hung hot and heavy with humidity, the lack of his presence still made the room feel cold. Sitting alone with your thoughts, even for such a brief moment, you had realized the extent of your feelings, the irreparable mark Dean had left on your heart. In your head, you rifled through a library of moments you two had shared, picturing this morning’s events sliding into place on the shelf as the newest edition of the series.

Stepping back into the room with the towel, Dean handed it over to you before plucking the plug from the drain and helping you rise to your feet. You braced the towel underneath your broken arm and used the other to wrap it around yourself, hoping to restore even a shred of your decency- though there was little point in that anymore. Now there sat a power imbalance in your relationship with Dean- he had all the cards in his hands. So when you stepped out of the tub, you stood square in front of him, determined to level the score somehow. 

You lingered for a moment, both of you locked in an intense stare, feeling goosebumps radiate your entire body. At first, you attributed these to your drastic change in body temperature since stepping out of the water, but when you noticed a similar sensation rising over Dean, your perception shifted. Dean cleared his throat.

“So, uh, you want me to help you get dressed?” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck to settle the hairs that had been raised under your intense look.

“Not really.” You murmured in response, looking to him through lidded eyes. The unusual burst of confidence in your system inched you closer and closer, until there was nothing that separated the two of you but the thin towel you had wrapped around your frame. 

You channeled every ounce of what you were feeling into your gaze, praying Dean could read your thoughts through your eyes as if you were an open book. When he reached a hand up to cup your face, you knew the message was received. With a slowness that was almost painful, he leaned his forehead against your own, drawing his lips nearly to yours before rerouting them to your cheek, just slightly above their initial destination. After planting the softest kiss, his lips lingered, hovering ever so slightly above you. Dean was in limbo, as if he couldn’t decide whether to pull away and return to safety, or lean in to seal the deal. But you made the choice for him when your hand snaked around the back of his head and pulled him down to you, closing the gap between your lips. 

The kiss was everything you had hoped it would be, and yet, nothing you could have ever imagined. Dean was soft and gentle, so cautious of your injury, but you could feel the intensity so thinly veiled below the surface. The energy flowed from both of you, as if you were cautiously exploring something so new and dangerous, yet so incredibly desirable and magnetic. Something needed to break the seal, to throw your cautions to the wind.

You wanted to kiss Dean Winchester forever, and he shared the sentiment. So the only thing that could break you two away was the brief moment when you took a calculated step back. Confusion twisted into Dean’s face, before melting away into desire when you let your towel fall to pool at your feet. He took his own step back, reaching behind him to turn the lock on the bathroom door, before closing the gap between you- the very last time there would ever be space between you and Dean Winchester.

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity)Chapter Five: Drink Water To Cry Better

Chapter Five: Drink Water To Cry Better

warnings: mentions of alcohol, partying, slight suggestive themes, angst, bullying pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: you and Kento get invited to a frat house party and he decides to take you out even though he much rather stay in. you two have been getting closer, despite your own denial about your feelings for him. during a drunken make-out session, Kento soon learns what he believes is the truth about your relationship. things are left unsaid and things are colder than ice.

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @kenpachisbrat.

@marikuchanxo @harlekin6 @gennaray @markleeisdabestdrug

@entirelysein-e @brokennerdalert. @sugurusprettygirl

Masterlist

As the weeks go by, you and Kento find yourselves teetering on the edge of being in a relationship and still remaining casual. You really are falling so deeply in love with him, but you’re in denial. You try your best to remind yourself that this is just a college fling, but you wonder if maybe you could really be in a committed relationship with someone like him.

At night, you think of him. Even while in your bed alone, you cling to your pillow and wish he was here with you. In the last little bit, he’s been staying the night even though he’s not really supposed to be. You’ve dusted off your old Nintendo 64 for the two of you to play Ocarina of Time well into the wee hours of morning. If you’re not playing Legend of Zelda, you two are falling asleep to AVGN playing on your clunky laptop.

Kento has found a place in your heart, and you fear you won’t be able to let him go. You don’t want to consider him exclusive, but you are also not eager to share him with anyone else.

As the second semester comes to a close, you and Kento find yourselves invited to a party at a —---. He’s finding excuses not to go, but the minute you say you might want to go for just a bit, he sees the appeal in it.

“I think it could be fun,” you mention as you two have lunch together at your favorite cafe. “It’s a good way to unwind after exams.”

Kento nods and sips his coffee. “Yeah, I guess I never really saw it that way,”

“Will you come with me? I wouldn’t wanna go without you.”

This makes his heart flutter. Kento, on his end, has found himself completely head over heels for you. He’s gone through his denial phase a while back. He had tried his best to hide his feelings for you, but the more you two hung out, the more he found himself just hanging on to your every word. The more he would take an extra second to admire you.

And with every moment that passed between you two, he longed for the day that he could fully call you all his. He wanted to hold you in his arms, post-coitus and in that beautiful afterglow and to finally whisper those three words to you. For now though, it was just a singular fantasy. The one he imagines whenever he’s aroused and you’re not around to take care of him.

“Earth to Kento,” you wave your hand in his face.

“Yeah, sorry sorry…” he shrugs and tries to hide his blushing cheeks. “I’ll come with you if it means that much to you.”

You chuckle softly, reaching over the table to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Just that little touch sends shivers down his spine. He can’t quite look you in the eyes right now, and you love the way his cheeks and tops of his ears are tinged just a little pink.

“It’s tomorrow night around 9,” you mention. “I’d like for us to go together.”

The words play in his mind, even after he’s promised to come by your dorm to pick you up around 8:30. He wonders what you’ll wear. Kento’s mind is very active that night, while he lays in his bed. He holds his pillow close.

The thought of you wearing a cute dress with fishnet tights makes his heart flutter in his chest. You were that type of girl too. He sees what you wear when you’re not trying to dress business casual for class. It turns him on to see you in such alternative attire.

The next morning, you two meet up for breakfast before a short morning class. You notice how he’s in a much better mood than usual, and you wonder if maybe the promise of cutting loose for a bit is making him happy.

The night comes quickly and you’re in your dorm texting a few friends and listening to music as you get ready. You settled on a gray and black plaid skirt along with knee high red and black socks. Your shirt was a cut up Green Day shirt you had bought the last time you went to a concert. You finished up your makeup in the mirror plastered in polaroids and old pictures taken from music magazines.

There’s a knock on your door and you rush over to answer it. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see Kento standing there, a single red rose in his hands. He’s blushing as he thrusts it in your direction.

“For you.”

Your eyes widen and you smile sweetly. You gladly take it, bringing the rose up to your nose. It smells floral and lightly sweet. Then you take in the look of the man who stole your heart. Dressed in his signature black skinny jeans and ripped up Vans slip-ons, he looks so good. And you notice the new checker print hoodie he’s wearing with his thumbs poking out the holes in the sleeves.

“You look really good,” you comment. You invite him inside and he sits on your couch.

He stumbles with his words. He tells you that you look pretty, but he means you look beautiful. He wants to take you into his arms, kiss you softly and tell you not to go out tonight. You two could stay in and finally take your relationship to the next step.

“Thanks Ken! Do you want to head out now?” you ask him after touching up your makeup.

He nods. “Y-yeah. Let’s go.”

You take his hand and grab your purse before you two leave your dorm. The walk to the frat house wasn’t far, so you two had a little time alone to enjoy each other’s company. The night is so beautiful. The sun had just finished setting and the sky was getting darker. The stars would be shining soon. You felt like this was one of those nights you’d never forget.

The minute the two of you step into the frat house, you know that this party is going to be wild. Beer bottles litter the ground amongst a group of drunken college kids. You look around as you and Kento enter the house, moving around waves of bodies that are either getting drunk or dancing. You spot a group of girls in the kitchen and you notice a few of your friends within that group.

“Hey!” You wave at them. Your fingers still interlocked with Kento’s.

The girls giggle before your friends spot you and they wave you over. Kento feels nervous about this. He knows what others think of him. They all think of him as a loser, a loner and someone who doesn’t fit in. What makes him fall so deeply for you is that you see him for who he truly is.

“Hey girl, glad you made it!” One of the girls comments, her eyes darting towards Kento. “You too! Nice to see you out of class.”

Kento shrugs. “Is there a reason for us to meet like this?”

You bite your lip in an attempt to stifle your laugh. “Awh, be nice, you.”

Kento smirks when he notices how some of your friends are trying to hide their laughter too. Maybe he could truly be a part of your fold. He holds your hand a little tighter.

You two make it to the counter where a large stash of booze is displayed. Kento grabs the bottle of whiskey, pouring some into a red solo cup. He hands you one, and the two of you sip on your drinks. It’s nasty and strong, but you two long to get a little fucked up tonight.

Throughout the night, you two drink your fair share of booze. Kento keeps a tight hold on you, preventing you from stumbling over or ramming into anyone accidentally. 

And finally, the moment comes when the two of you find a room that’s unoccupied. Your mind is a hazy mix of alcohol and lust for the man who’s been glued to your side this entire night. You kiss him first; it’s sloppy and hungry. Kento follows your lead, cupping your face.

The two of you make it to the bed, and you pull him on top of you. You giggle as he groans, then he kisses you again. His tongue feels a little tied, but he wants to tell you just how much fun he’s having.

“Such a good time when I’m with you,” he slurs between kisses. “I wanna…fuck I wanna show you just how much you mean to me.”

The minute you squeeze his hardened cock through his jeans, it seems to sober him up a little. He then realizes maybe he needs to cool off before he does anything else. Kento pulls away despite your protests.

“Just gonna get us water, ‘kay? Stay here, beautiful.”

When he steps out of the room, he’s wondering if he should even be leaving you in the room like that. You’re clearly drunk and anyone could enter. He decides to make it super quick. He goes into the kitchen, quickly swiping two bottles of water before making his way to the room again.

But before he can go inside, he hears girls giggling. Kento looks over his shoulder at the group of girls that you two had been talking to earlier.

“So,” the leader starts. “You’re the virgin, huh?”

The word sounds so nasty on her tongue. Kento knows you don’t care that he’s a virgin. You’ve been so patient and sweet with him this entire time. You’ve shown him the right way to explore each other. But the way she’s saying it now, it makes him feel ashamed of being a virgin at his age.

“You really think she likes you, huh? Come on, you’re just a pity fuck.”

The words cut him deeply. “Shut up, you don’t know her.”

The girl smirks, “And you think you do? Come on, get over yourself! She’s only using you as a pity fuck…or well not even cause you’re still a virgin.”

His blood boils and his heart is in his stomach now. He thinks back on all the things you two have been through together. Would you really do that to him? He thought that you two were really becoming close and things would progress really soon.

“See ya later, you fuckin’ virgin.”

With his stomach in knots and tears of frustration in his eyes, he enters the room. There you lay, on the bed. You look so fucking beautiful and he wants nothing more than to make you his. But now, he knows that maybe he’s been nothing but a joke to you this entire time. He gives you the bottle of water.

“I won’t be bothering you again.” He states. He hates that he’s doing this, but it was to protect himself. He watches as you slowly come to terms with the words coming out of his mouth.

Your heart flutters in a panic. You sit up, but you’re so dizzy. Kento wants to help you, but he’s hurting. He doesn’t want to let this continue if all you were doing was stringing him along. 

“Just forget we ever met, okay? You and I are done. There wasn’t anything between us anyway. Just continue your perfect fucking life without me.”

You stare at him in disbelief. You swore that tonight would be the night that you two would finally go all the way. And if not, you were ready to tell him how much you loved him. You feel tears stinging your eyes.

“Kento…wait…” You cry out. He shakes his head and turns away from you.

But before you can continue, he storms out. It’s only a few minutes later that your friends come in, sitting with you and consoling you as best as they can.

Kento walks home alone, his heart pounding and his mind racing with thoughts of regrets. He just messed up the greatest thing to ever happen to him.

[chen-chens]

Swee-hee-hee-heet! I Transferred to a New School and the Seven Hottest and Most Popular Boys There Fell For Me?!

SUMMARY: in which you find yourself in your own romance en-drama?!

GENRE: Rom-com, reverse harem, high school romance

MAIN CHARACTERS: Reader (Y/N), Lee Heeseung, Jay Park, Jake Shim, Park Sunghoon, Kim Sunoo, Yang Jungwon, Nishimura Riki

ADDITIONAL TAGS: #probably ooc but im doing my best, #hyung line + sunoo + reader are same grade but jungwon + niki are a year under, #SOOO much cringe shit, #love octagon(??), #every romance trope under the mf sun, more to be added

A/N: i started writing this cuz the ending of en-drama was SOOOO unsatisfying that i just had to try and fix it. this is not serious at all but let's all enjoy some delulu together lol! this is also my first time posting anything on tumblr so lowkey i have no idea what i'm doing so pls excuse any awkward formatting and tagging! ty!!

ONE: Fateful Beginnings

Call it cliché, or call it stupid, but you were scrambling off the bus and sprinting down the street in a mad dash with half a frozen waffle in between your teeth, repeating a mantra in your head: Holy shit, I’m gonna be SO late.

You probably looked like an insane person to the common bystander with the frantic look in your eyes, haphazardly donned uniform, and shoes completely undone, and if you weren't freaking out, then maybe you would've had the decency to be a little more embarrassed. Decency was a commodity you had forsaken on this early morning, however, since it was only the evening before that your parents had made you swear up and done that you would do your best to be a most dutiful, attentive, and punctual student at your brand new private school they had busted their asses to get you into. All you had done, though, was nod without really listening, before spending the wee hours of the night reading and giggling about webtoons. 

If the school reported that you had missed the first period, if your parents caught wind of what you had done… Well, you shuddered at the consequences that would surely follow. It was better that you run like your life depended on it (which it did), lung integrity be damned.

It took a while, but you finally arrived at Decelis Academy, beet red in the face and huffing and puffing like you were about to die (which you were). It was a thing of beauty, especially in the cool, fall sunshine: soaring, gothic stone walls with ivy trellises adorning the bricks, big windows and stained glass decorating the walls, and a high and elegant tower jutting out from the middle. You grimaced, though, at the sight of a severe-faced, stern-looking man in a suit at the entrance of the school angrily scolding a shivering student with a wagging finger. The scolding seemed to last forever, and eventually, the student entered through the intricate stone gates with a hung head while the teacher returned to scouting the school perimeter with narrowed eyes. You took to jumping behind an electric pole for shelter.

If I get caught by him, I’m screwed! You could imagine the royal beating in your future already once the school called home, and it made you break into a cold sweat. Instead, you started looking around at the fences for some way to scale the walls (if you started to think about what would happen once you got inside the school, your head started to hurt. You’d get to that later). C’mon, think, THINK!

First, you ducked behind various poles, trees, and shrubs to run around the corner to a side where there was no teacher on the lookout for awful, disobedient students such as yourself. Then, you began feeling the stone walls for something, anything to grab onto, but let out a frustrated groan at the realization that a rich-ass school like this kept its walls extremely well-maintained. There was nary a single crack, save for the lines of mortar between the large gray stones. If you had to guess, the wall was at least ten feet tall, and even with a running start, you would barely be able to reach eight feet. Maybe if you could gather some things to step on…

You checked your phone and paled. You were already five minutes late; not enough for a call home yet, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. There wasn’t enough time to scrabble something together for that plan! 

Frantically, you looked to and fro for something to help you vault over the wall; a stick, bouncy shoes, a convenient pile of rocks, anything! However, your eyes locked onto something—or rather, someone— approaching from a distance at a brisk jog. As they came closer, you realized it was a boy about your age in the Decelis Academy’s suited uniform. His brows were furrowed and his cat-like eyes were narrowed, making his round, youthful face look rather stressed out. His messy, fluffy brown hair bounced as he ran.

You stared at him as he approached for probably too long. He was… actually, really, insanely, horribly cute. But that was besides the point. A person would actually make a great step stool in your current predicament and, well, the panic was starting to boil over in your throat. You were willing to sacrifice a cute boy to not meet your death once school was over.

“Hey! Um, excuse me?!” you called out to the boy as he neared. He turned to look at you with adorably widened eyes before coming to a stop at your side, though he seemed to anxiously glance towards the entrance of the school. You squinted to read the nametag pinned to his school coat: “Yang Jungwon.”

“Yeah? Are you okay?” Yang Jungwon asked worriedly, brows knit together. He looked towards the direction of the school gate again. “If it’s nothing too urgent, I’m running a little late for class and—”

“Mhmm, I see you go to Decelis too,” you interrupted with a frantic wave of your hand. You were not about to let this opportunity slip through your fingers! “Listen, I’m late too! It's my first day here. and I am completely and royally fucked if I get caught by that teacher at the gates. Could you please give me a boost up the wall?” You pointed up the walls with wide, pleading eyes.

Jungwon blinked. Then, he said slowly, “You… want me to help you climb over the wall so you don’t get caught by Mr. Kim?”

You frowned. “Uh, yeaaaah? Didn’t I just say that?”

The boy rubbed his nape. Suddenly, he just looked really confused. “Yeah, but this… this is a first for me,” he said awkwardly. “No one’s ever asked me to do this, y’know? I’m not supposed to be helping students break the rules…” 

Oh no. He’s a goody-two-shoes. You thought as you paled. Just your luck; you weren’t even a delinquent, but of course the first time you tried something like this in a moment of sheer desperation, you found yourself at the hands of a teacher’s pet, a shining beacon of morality like the boy in front of you (maybe you were exaggerating, but you were stressed out!). 

Panicked, you clasped your hands together in prayer, squeezed your eyes shut, and dropped to your bare knees on the hard cement sidewalk, which hurt more than you cared to admit. You ignored Jungwon’s sounds of shock, intense befuddlement, and subsequent pleas for you to get back up as you yelled out, “Please! I know you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but I will owe you for the rest of my life! Just please help me get over the wall!”

“I—” Jungwon stammered. You opened an eye to see Jungwon’s face flustered as he looked around with a worried expression. He looked back at you, face stricken with something between horror, incredible concern, and confusion before he sighed. Quickly, he put down his backpack before asking, “What do you need?”

“Yes, thank you!” You nearly cried in relief, jumping up from the ground like a spring in immense joy. Rolling up the sleeves of your sweater as Jungwon did the same, you beckoned Jungwon closer to the wall. “Here; I’m gonna get a running start. I need you to hold your hands out like this—” you linked your hands together and pressed them downwards, creating a foothold, “—which I’m gonna step on, then boost me up so I can reach the top and pull myself up!” you declared with a fist of determination. There was no way this would go wrong. 

Jungwon muttered something along the lines of it’s too early for this under his breath before he squatted down against the wall and positioned his hand just as you demonstrated. In the meantime, you backed up a considerable distance before calling out to him, “You ready?!” 

“Yeah—”

“HAAAAAAAAH….!” You let out a roar of pure adrenaline and determination as you charged towards the wall at full speed, allowing the power of anime and manga to fill you. With mighty leaps and bounds, you hopped into Jungwon’s surprisingly sturdy hands and jumped as high as you could up the wall, with a boost from the boy beneath you.

Thankfully, you were able to reach the edge of the stones at the very top, just as you had hoped. Unfortunately, you were not the most athletic person in the world, and you found yourself struggling to pull yourself up and over. The wall suddenly seemed like an insurmountable mountain, and the beating by your parents seemed very real all of a sudden.

You looked down to Jungwon, who was bearing a good amount of your weight with great concentration while determinedly craning his head far, far away from your direction. “Hey! Can you push me up a little higher, please?” you called. After a moment of staring at him, you also added, “So, why is your neck like that?”

“Uh….” he replied as he hiked you upwards a few more inches with a bit of effort. After a few moments of your continued scrabbling, Jungwon boosted you up even higher and grunted out, “Well, I don't want any misunderstandings about what I’m looking at from down here…”

You paused in your mad attempts to heave yourself over the wall to glance back down at the very, insanely cute boy whose hands you had literally placed your life in. His face was bright red, possibly from exertion or from the frankly compromising position you had forced him into, and his neck was painfully turned away from you. “Huh. I hadn’t even thought about that,” you said honestly. You wore athletic shorts under your school-sanctioned plaid skirt anyways, and amidst the utter panic of your current situation, it really had not crossed your mind at all. “I see you doing your best, though, so it’s no worries! Just a little higher—”

“Hey! Who’s over here?!” an irritated voice yelled out from your left. “If you’re late, you’re in big trouble!”

“Shit!” you and Jungwon swore. Maybe your encouraging, awe-inspiring yell had not been your smartest move of the morning. You turned to him and begged, “I’m sorry, just a little more—ACK!”

In your desperate plea, Jungwon suddenly achieved some burst of freaky human strength and launched you upwards hard enough to send your upper body up and over the stone wall finally. You breathed a sigh of relief as you brought your legs over the wall, which you quickly sucked back in as you heard that same voice from before yell, “Hey, you there! Come here!”

You turned to Jungwon, who was heaving heavily, and said in your loudest whisper voice, “Thank you, I owe you my life! I’ll come find you and repay you!” 

“Just go! Before he comes!” Jungwon called back in the same tone while frantically shooing you away with his hands. You nodded before hurriedly sliding down the other side of the wall, allowing yourself to drop once you had gotten closer to the bottom.

Your feet had hardly touched the ground before you heard stomping dress shoes approach where Jungwon was, followed by an angry and noisy tirade of biblical proportions.

“Yang Jungwon! How could you be so late?! And what was all that yelling about?!” the teacher, Mr. Kim, ranted. 

Faintly, you heard Jungwon say between breaths, “I’m sorry, Ssaem, the bus was late and I had to run here… It’s, uh, been a stressful morning and I read an article about how yelling when you’re stressed releases endorphins so I tried that—”

“Honestly, Jungwon, don’t you think the student body president should be better than this? I’ll let you off with just a warning because this is the first time and you’re normally so diligent, but…”

You let out a silent groan. How could you implicate the student body president of all people? Just your luck. You were sure you totally ruined his probably stellar reputation, so now you owed him even more so. You may be a lazy person at heart, but you would never let a favor go unrewarded!

You looked at your phone and nearly screamed—10 minutes late! With that, you began to sprint towards the main entrance, sending a prayer upwards that you weren’t too late and that you had met someone like Yang Jungwon in your time of need. 

next!

taglist: to be added!

[deeversuswords]

PAIRING —Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki x Vigilante F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS —heavy angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut, moral ambiguity, cheating (not between katsuki/reader), unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief/mourning, dark themes (past abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture, quirk trafficking), violence, swearing, open but hopeful ending, dual pov (mostly reader), no use of y/n◆ married bakugou katsuki—not to reader—and has a daughter too SUMMARY —Running away would be the sensible thing to do. Getting as far away as possible from him, the one person who’s your ticket to losing your freedom. Not searching for him out of stupid curiosity and showing up at the last place you should: his house. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yours seems to always end up as the key unlocking doors that should probably stay locked. Because when you open the door to Bakugou Katsuki’s life, it’s not a loving marriage, not a happy family of three you find, but falsity, forced duty, and a dark secret that threatens his very own life. Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero tasked with catching you and your downfall. And you, the vigilante exposing ugly truths for a living—his salvation.

➥AO3 LINK // ➥AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥TUMBLR CHAPTERS LIST

CHAPTER WARNINGS — choking

WORD COUNT — ~3.9k

a/n: it feels weird to post chapter 2 when yesterday I finished rewriting the last one XD. my brain is a mess.

What was going on with Bakugou?

The question haunted you for weeks, day and night, gnawing at the rational side of your brain. Partially, it was Bakugou’s fault. A representative of his PR team came forward to announce a sudden, temporary break from hero work one day after you had the wonderful opportunity of meeting him. However, no date of return was provided.

Temporary? More like indefinite hiatus.

Ever since, he hadn’t been spotted once, which left you vibrating with stress. You waited for your front door to be blasted to smithereens, either by him or some other pro hero, and be arrested. Irrational, really. Thanks to your best friend and the obsessive attention you put into your disguises, your work left no traces.

Still, restlessness defined your default mood, and maybe there was a tiny part of you worrying that added to it. You hated admitting it, but your subconscious pinged your instinct with impulses of something being wrong.

That was why you were out and about at an ungodly hour; curiosity had a way of turning you stupid like that.

Sweat slid down your back under the fitted long-sleeved black top you wore as you shook the dead phone in your hand under the flickering streetlights of Bakugou’s neighborhood in the wee hours of the night. Your stupidity apparently extended to basic things like charging your phone, and now you stood, looking every bit suspicious, racking your brain for the directions the GPS displayed before the screen blinked out.

If his intention when he had bought a house in this labyrinth was to piss off the potential villains who might’ve a bone to pick with him and force them to give up out of sheer frustration, then mission successful. Why you were still trying was unexplainable. Stubbornness, perhaps. One hell of a driver.

Pocketing your deceased phone, you scanned the vicinity again for any sign of life other than yourself, the one cute cat dozing off on top of a stone fence two houses behind you, and the pesky mosquitoes buzzing annoyingly overhead.

Nothing. No one. Completely empty.

You tugged on your cap and strutted forward, sending thoughts, prayers, and hopes to the celestial objects illuminating the rooftops that you were on the right path.

Eternity passed before you finally, finally found his house. Luckily for you, his show-off tendencies bled into everything. The sophisticated metal plaque, engraved with his family name, caught the moonlight like polished obsidian, therefore, your attention.

To your surprise, his house looked…normal. A two-story, medium-sized modern property in shades of gray, with black accents that you assumed were also metal from the way light glinted off them. Surrounded by a tall concrete fence that looked like granite, and a solid gate as the entrance. Gate that was ajar.

As you inspected the rest of the exterior for the security system, your stomach sank deeper with the same dreadful feeling you couldn’t shake off. The camera above the intercom was off. You knew it the same way you knew air consisted of more than just oxygen. Bakugou wasn’t this careless, was he? He’d double—no, triple-check the security, even if his wife had probably already done it. Right?

Your instinct itched with the urge to say ‘fuck it’ and rush in, but you suppressed it. Maybe this was just a coincidence. A malfunction of sorts. Verify, then act.

Crouching with your head low, you peeked through the gap in the gate. His car was in the driveway, parked diagonally as if the space wasn’t meant for two vehicles; no sign of his wife’s. You made a face at it. His fans called it aesthetic, and you agreed about the black matte paint, but what the hell were those bright orange crisscrossed tire rims? Were they supposed to create some fiery trail effect he’d never get to flaunt because one, he couldn’t tear through the city streets like a maniac, and two, on the highway, people were too busy stepping on the gas to care about a sports car speeding past them?

You rolled your eyes. At least his car being here confirmed he was home.

You scanned the quietness one last time and sneaked in, working with the blind angle of the street camera. As you closed the gate carefully, you took in the trimmed shrubbery, the well-kept grass, and the dusty stone path leading to the front door. Only for your eyes to narrow on the digital lock.

“Unlocked?” you muttered under your breath. This was becoming stranger by the second.

A shiver skated down your spine, tensing your body. Your gaze snapped to the second floor, searching for any sign of another presence that didn’t belong here, pulse quickening and caution fading into an afterthought.

Oh, fuck it. If you got caught, you’d figure out some story. In you went.

And out you wished to go. Your hand flew to your nose and pinched your nostrils to stop your stomach from flipping sideways. The stench reminded you of the dumpster in that alleyway. Was this a home or a pigsty?

Pigsty. Definitely a pigsty.

Blurry moonlight poured into the messy living room, cluttered with toys, takeout containers, haphazardly tossed couch pillows, and spills from who knew what. You steeled yourself for what you were about to do. Nausea swirled in your stomach like clothes in a washing machine as you inhaled the foul air, focusing on each distinct aroma. The relieved breath you exhaled when you detected not even the faintest trace of iron relaxed your whole body.

You didn’t dare look at the kitchen opposite the living room and prowled further toward the staircase, careful to keep your steps light and quiet. Your impulse should’ve been to turn around and get as far away as possible from this place, not delve deeper into the home of a pro hero who was out for your head.

If Yu knew, he’d be having a meltdown, you told the void in your head, shuddering at the imagined sound of your best friend grilling you for being reckless and stupid. Yes, you were a grade one idiot tonight. But he’d be proud to know you left your belongings at home, and your pockets held your motorcycle key and your discharged phone.

No. He wouldn’t be. Ayumu would buy you a ticket for the next rocket and shoot you into space himself so he wouldn’t have to see your pathetic, down-by-your-own-hand end.

Gentle light greeted you at the top of the stairs, inviting you through the open door at the end of the narrow hallway, yet driving your heart into your throat. Faster and faster it thumped as you approached the room. You pressed your back against the cool wall and peeked inside, blinking in disbelief at the state of it. Like the living room, this space—clearly belonging to Bakugou’s daughter, with its peach-colored walls and scattered small dresses over the plush carpet—was a mess too.

What the hell happened?

You didn’t try to answer that. Instead, you craned your neck for a better look, spotting both who you were looking for and who you weren’t. Bakugou leaned against the white crib, his head drooped to the side, eyes closed. Light snores escaped his slightly parted lips. Meanwhile, his daughter, Yua, was very much awake, tugging at the minty hair of a doll, her face scrunched in concentration.

For whatever reason, a sense of relief, stronger than the earlier one, washed over you.

He was okay, so was she. They both were.

Now that you confirmed that, it was time to go, but you found yourself rooted to the spot. Your eyes wandered to her, absorbing how she was the spitting image of him. As if sensing your presence, Yua tilted her head toward you, her blonde wavy hair cascading over her tiny shoulders, ruby red eyes locking onto yours.

You gasped at being caught. She let out a curious sound, and before you knew it, Yua crawled out of her dad’s lap, away from the safety of his arms, and stumbled toward you. Your muscles went rigid as your lungs expelled the rest of your air, leaving you fixated on the small person determined to interact with you, the intruder.

“Pretty,” she babbled, a bright smile blooming on her face. Tiny fingers latched onto your pants and tugged weakly.

Time stopped. You had no idea why. Her twinkling gaze seemed to trap you in the moment, mesmerize you.

Something in her innocent curiosity awakened something new within you. This feeling wasn’t one you’d experienced before, but felt oddly natural. Following that instinct, you knelt and offered her one of your rare, sincere smiles, hoping your intrusive presence didn’t register as danger to her. You didn’t want to scare her, or worse, traumatize her in any way.

In response, hers widened into a toothy grin, despite a few of her teeth weren’t fully grown yet.

She made an eager grab at you, losing her balance, and you instantly reached out, catching her in your arms. Before you could admonish yourself, a sleepy groan drew your attention.

Bakugou’s eyes slowly opened. “Huh? Yu…a?” They grew wide at the sight of you.

It all happened so fast.

He sprang from the floor at the same moment you tried to, slowed down by your prudence to not hurt Yua. Two steps out of the room were all you managed before he tackled you to the floor. Your shoulder took the brunt of the impact, forcing a pained groan from your mouth, which quickly turned into a choking sound as his hand wrapped around your throat in a vicious grip, while the other ripped your cap away.

“You? What the fuck are you doin’ in my house?” His tone dripped with pure acid.

“Ba—” Panic clawed up your throat. His strong thighs pinned your arms against your body, and you squirmed, gasping for air. “C-can’t…brea…the.”

His fingers squeezed your airway harder. Tears pricked your eyes, and for the first time in ages, you tasted the metallic flavor of fear. The violent storm in that fascinating gaze swallowed every flicker of clarity. This wasn’t Bakugou Katsuki—layered, human. This was something else. Primal. Feral. Rabid.

The ferocity choking you stirred your own.

“You want to kill me?” you rasped, voice barely recognizable. “G-go on, hero. Try.” A snarl tore from your throat as you bucked hard, hips straining to throw him off.

His fingers twitched. Yours too, but you dug your nails into the carpet, fighting to hold back your quirk. You didn’t trust your brain not to retaliate in a desperate bid to survive. But you trusted his would snap the fuck out.

“If you’re going t-to—” You wheezed, struggling under his steely strength. Fucking mountain didn’t budge an inch. “Do…it. Do it, you unhinged bastard!”

Between your fight for breath and the defiant taunt you threw him, something seemed to fracture his wild state. Bakugou gasped out a ‘fuck’ and ripped his hand from your throat, slamming it beside your head as his body hunched over yours, heaving.

You broke into a violent coughing fit, clutching your throat, pain pulsing like a thousand stabbing needles. That’d leave a bruise. Great. Fucking perfect. Bakugou’s handprint for a necklace, like a twisted wish coming true. Just your luck.

“Oi. You go—”

“Pa…pa?”

Yua’s confused voice froze you both. He paled, and you saw the exact moment it hit him what he’d be staring at if he hadn’t stopped—a corpse. Your corpse. Soul gone. Forever. And his daughter would’ve been the witness.

“I—Shit. Stay right there, Yua,” he snapped, his tone whipping at the lethal tension. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, you noticed, as they frantically searched your own. What now? they seemed to silently ask.

Did he seriously expect a kid that full of curiosity to actually listen?

Lucky him, you were the one he nearly ended with his bare hands. He’d have a fun time if it were someone else.

Biting back a wince, you croaked. “Nothing h-happened here. Absolutely…nothing. Understood?” You shot him a glare, pretending you weren’t one breath away from another coughing fit. “Now, get—get off.”

Your words moved him like a puppeteer’s string. Bakugou wobbled to his feet, but not before grabbing your waist and hauling you up with him. Body to body, you felt him tremble from the shock, his heart doing worrisome things in his chest. It raced too fast, agitating your own.

“You good? Let me—”

You slapped his hand away and grimaced. “When was the last time you showered? I might’ve survived that, but I’m not surviving this. You stink.”

If your nose hairs didn’t shrivel and fall off by the end of this, it’d be a miracle.

*

After nearly getting killed, anyone else’s brain would’ve reset to a smarter mode—look for a way out, not a reason to stay. But you had questions, and Bakugou had the answers. Which he vehemently refused to give…until you flashed a sweet smile and suggested he give you the deepest bow and apologize for choking the soul out of you.

One thing led to another, and next thing you knew, you were handing him your bike key and dead phone as leverage that you meant no harm. You learned fast that his version of trust your enemy involved handcuffing said enemy and keeping them as close as possible.

Enemies might not have been the only ones he’d cuffed before, though, judging by the red, feathery lining on the leather binding your wrists to the metal bar above the blurry shower glass wall.

No surprise, the bastard was into infernal showers, but he could’ve dialed it down a bit. The air boiled, making you sweat through every fiber of your clothes, while your lungs burned through your energy resources to keep you breathing. You were positively trapped and suffocating, but at least his shampoo smelled good. Something citric.

Your forehead fell against the shower glass, eyes squeezing shut, as you desperately tried to erase the outline of his naked body from your brain. He was driving you places he shouldn’t, and as much as you liked your denial, your body didn’t care for it.

“Can you hurry up?” you shouted over the loud water stream. “If your wife shows up and finds us like this, we’re both screwed.”

“Huh?!” he yelled back. "The hell you tryin' to talk to me for? Told you to zip it!"

“If you think I want to talk with a butt naked guy with obvious anger issues, you’re delusional. But I have no choice. My face plastered next to yours is a big no-no in my book.”

The shower door was yanked open, almost flying off its hinges. Bakugou’s head peeked out, and you shot him an unimpressed look, even as your mind took notes on his hair—matted on top, dripping with the fattest globs of water. It must have been thick. 

You wanted to smack yourself when an image of something else that could fit that description surfaced in your mind.

“Oxygen reachin’ your brain? Got proof you broke in.”

You didn’t think his wife would care about that when her husband was naked, showering like it was no one’s business, with the intruder handcuffed, getting a splendid view of things meant for her eyes only.

“Not sorry to ruin it for you, but your security system is off.”

“You turned the security off?! Got a death wish or something?”

“No to the first, maybe to the second. Are you going to grant it, naked genie?”

His snarl filled the steamy air, and you couldn’t tell if you were still in a bathroom or a cave inhabited by a feral animal. He slammed the glass door shut, growled some more, and then cursed when the bottle he picked up fell from his hand.

You laughed. That bottle might as well have been his brain packing up and leaving his skull.

“Shut it, pain in my ass!” he barked, and a foamy loofah sailed over your head, splatting somewhere behind you.

“What are you, five?” Your face twisted into disgust as dying bubbles slid down your temple. Of course, in its flight, it dripped on you. Why would you be spared?

“That’s still older than you.”

“No wonder you’re dropping in the rankings regularly,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “Petty brat.”

His reaction was as explosive as his general attitude. He turned off the water and swung open the door, stepping out. “Wanna say that to my damn face?”

Water dripped everywhere, and your eyes widened comically at his naked form. Your eyes screwed shut. For someone strict with his private life, he sure was shameless with a stranger.

“Hah, goin’ shy on me?” he mocked.

“Put some clothes on! This is inappropriate!”

“Yeah?” You felt him move closer, forcing you back up as much as the handcuffs allowed. “You were eyein’ my ass earlier. How’s that appropriate?”

“I wasn’t—” Your eyes snapped open, instantly regretting it. “Eyeing your…ass.”

One arm braced against the shower wall, Bakugou stared at you, something hotter than the current room temperature burning in his glare. He was too close. So close, your instinct was to step back, yet you couldn’t focus on anything other than the glistening water drops trailing down his neck, over his pulse, lower to his chest. They dissolved against the scar.

The scar…

Bakugou Katsuki is dead? That can’t be. It’s not true, right?

The voice of a younger you echoed in your head before a fragment of the memory rolled through. You, latched onto the pro hero’s arm, stopping him from doing his job. At the time, it was to guide everyone further into the safety of U.A. Surprise and suspicion created deep lines on his expression as his hand slowly dropped from his earpiece.

“What are you doin’?” Bakugou asked as you moved closer, head tilted, listening. Thump, thump, thump. Faint to your sensitive ears, but unmistakably there.

His heartbeat.

He was alive.

“Oi!”

You jerked back. “What?”

“I asked you what the hell you doin’.”

One shoulder raised, you replied. “Debating if I should headbutt you or not. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into you. Who stands naked before a stranger?”

“Stranger, she says,” he scoffed, brushing past you. “That what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

Your lips pressed together, a wisp of guilt taunting your heart. He had been the last thing you thought of. Or, at least, that had been the case before meeting him in flesh and bone. One time was enough to unintentionally make space for him in your everyday thoughts.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, feeling less brave, less bold, less everything.

“Checkin’ my ass again, pervert?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, though there wasn’t much bite to it. “What’s there to check?” Still, your eyes betrayed you, gliding over the expanse of his muscled back and down to his clothed ass. “I’ve seen better.”

“Hah?!” Bakugou whipped around, clearly offended. His protests were mostly lost on you; the generous view of his V-line was far more captivating. He didn’t bother to pull his sweat shorts higher on his hips.

No, damn it.

Your moral compass had its faults, but lusting, even a little bit, over a married guy, especially this married guy, couldn’t be one of them. Appreciating his physique, strictly from an aesthetic perspective, was fine, but not the sinful ideas percolating your system.

“You listenin’ to me? Hey!” His fingers snapped in front of your face. “Pay attention before I leave you in here.”

“No, you won’t. How are you going to explain to your wife—”

“That bitch ain’t gonna show up,” he snapped. Your brows furrowed in confusion at the name-calling. His tongue clicked in irritation. “Don’t play dumb. You heard my phone conversation.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You paused, unsure of what to say.  “Uh…sorry to hear? Are you okay?”

His silence unnerved you as much as his intense attention on you. Reaching behind him for a tank top, the shameless bastard took his sweet time lowering the material over his ripped abs. By the time he was done, your heart pounded to a dizzying rhythm. You hated him for it, and the effect he had on your body.

“I’m keepin’ your shit,” he suddenly stated and moved to stand before you. His arm raised, so did your head to watch his fingers slip under the chain of the handcuffs. Smoke curled around them, then a sudden pop rang in the misty air. “Tomorrow. Nine p.m. Your ass better be at my front door.”

“No. Why would—What are you doing?!”

He hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and strode out of the bathroom. You were about to smack his back when he forced you into silent submission with only a few words.

“About earlier. There ain’t an excuse for what I’ve done,” he said. “Don’t forgive me.”

His remorse, a blade stabbing your heart, sharp tip lodged in a spot long buried beneath a pile of impossibilities and secrets. It cracked. Spilling pieces of what you had buried into the present, feeding the cruelty of reality.

“I broke in. You reacted. That makes us even,” you said, propping yourself up on one elbow to glare at the top of his head. “I don’t want to see you again. So give me back my stuff.”

Silence.

Bakugou swung the front door open and dropped you to your feet, shoving you outside. The door slammed shut in your face.

“You’re kidding. Bakugou!” Your fist slammed the metal surface. Once. Twice. Anger surged through your veins, a scream clawing its way up your throat, but the risk of waking the neighborhood forced it back down. “Open the damn door and give me back my stuff!” You jiggled the doorknob. “I know you’re there. I can sense you.”

Something slammed against the other side, hard enough to rattle the door frame.

“No. Piss off.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you give it back.”

“Couldn’t care less. Stay and see what happens. Cameras are back on. Know what that means?” A pause. “I’ve got proof of your pestering.”

“God, you’re such an annoying, stubborn fucking jerk,” you whined, frustrated beyond belief with his attitude. “What are you going to do? Call the police?”

“Wanna try me? Huh?!”

Growling, you struck the door again. “Go ahead! I’ll spin one hell of a story. Like how I’m your mistress. I’ve got proof, too—these stupid handcuffs your goofy brain forgot to take off. Bet they’ll have a field day spreading gossip about our scandalous, kinky affair.”

“Like I give a fuck.” His voice grew more distant. “Tell ‘em the reason you’re now hysterical at my door while you’re at it. Dick’s so good you can’t take rejection.”

You choked on your spit and sputtered. The audacity. “D-dick? What dick? Yours? Where?” When no retort came, you pressed your ear to the door and listened, hearing nothing. “Did he seriously leave me here?”

Several minutes later, you realized that yes, he absolutely did. Bakugou dumped and ditched you in front of his house, leaving you with nothing but the option to walk away and the cursed knowledge that you’d have to come back tomorrow.

Was this the price for your stupidity? Forced to see his smug face and breathe the same air again?

What was it they said? Third time was the charm?

You buried your head in your hands and let out a muffled, pitiful scream.

Screw your luck.