#Which on one hand means that readers are going to have to wait for the Big Event that I've been absolutely frothing at the mouth to reveal.

[nakylvr]

MISSED YOU (FINAL)

daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary: dealing with the repercussions of your actions, you try your absolute best to fix everything.

warnings/tags: hurt/comfort(?), happy ending (yay!), dealer!dani au, language

wc: 3,5 k

part 1 | part 2

you woke up to knocking on the door. lifting your head from the bed, you immediately felt your head pounding with a headache, making you groan quietly as you got up and left the bedroom. walking to the front door, you peer through the peephole and let out a sigh of relief to see manon.

you unlock and open the door, being met with the taller woman who was holding a convenience store bag in her hand. 

“did you sleep?” manon questions, taking notice of the dark bags under your eyes mixed with the tear stain marks on your cheeks.

“a little.” you shrug, opening the door wider and walking further inside. 

“better than nothing,” manon replies, walking in and shutting the door behind her. she follows you to the living room, setting the bag down on the coffee table as you sit on the couch and curl up into a ball in the corner. “here,” she rummages through the bag before pulling out two cans. “i didn't know if you'd want the redbull or the coffee, so.” she holds both of them in front of you. 

“thanks,” you mumble, taking the energy drink from her hand and opening it. 

a silence fills the apartment again, one that lasts a while before you finally manage to speak up. 

“i don't know how to fix this,” you say quietly, making manon look over at you. “i doubt she wants to see me right now, or ever again.” you look down at the drink in your hand, finger spinning around the rim of the can. “i should’ve listened to her, then none of this would've happened.” 

“it's okay,” manon says. “i mean, it's not, obviously, but it’ll be fine. you can't say that she probably doesn't want to see you, because we both know that she always wants to see you. whenever you're not around you are literally the only thing she talks about, and with what you told me about your last conversation, she probably thinks sophia forced you to do it – which she did, so i don't think she's mad at you exactly. if she is, i’d be surprised.” she pauses for a moment. “you have to just do it. get her out, and then you can talk it out. you can figure the rest out as you go.” 

“yeah,” you murmur, still looking at the can in your hands. 

“yn,” manon grabs one of your hands making you finally look at her. “i’ve known dani for years, she isn't going to be mad at you. when i say you are the only person she talks about, i mean literally you are the only person she cares about. i’ve seen her go through girls so fast that when she started talking about you i felt bad. i thought ‘well, there's another poor girl to add to her list’. but she said you were different. so i tried to believe her. now, i’m going to be honest with you here, okay? because i love and care about both of you very much, and i want you two to fix this, okay?” she stops, waiting for you to nod before continuing. “dani has said multiple times to multiple girls that they're different. so when she said it about you my first reaction was how you were going to get hurt. but things started changing, dani started changing. and that has never happened. you know dani is a pretty independent person, and what she does has her that way because of shit that's happened in the past, but to see her changing – changing for the better? i knew she was right about you.”

“not one other girl has even been able to remotely change one thing about dani,” manon continues. “she always kept them at a distance, she never let them get too close. and the day she told me she took you with her to one of the deals? something that she never let anyone do? i knew she seriously loved you. when she said that you insisted on going with her, she told me that she hesitated. but not for the same reason it usually was. she wanted to protect you. she always wants to protect you, yn. but she lets you come with. she trusts you with the money. she trusts you with certain clients. she trusts you. she loves you. no one else. i don't know why she did what she did, but i know she regrets it. you are the best thing that's ever happened to her, and i don't want this to fuck it up for you two. i can't tell you what to do, but i will support whatever decision you make, okay?” 

listening to everything manon said, you slowly nod your head while taking in all of it. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you could feel them threatening to spill, with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth to keep it from trembling. “i ju-st want to fix this,” your voice cracks as you speak. “i love her so much.”

“i know you do,” manon is quick to reply, scooting closer to you and wrapping her arms around your shaking frame. “and i know she loves you just as much. you just have to tell her. you have to talk this out, and you have to tell her about what happened last night.” 

you physically tense up at her last words, the memories of the night before flooding your mind as you put your hands into fists to keep them from shaking so much. “i can't– she’ll really hate me then,” you reply, shaking your head. 

“you have to, yn,” manon tells you. “i know you don't want to, but you have to.” 

a few tears fall from your eyes, but you slowly nod your head, knowing it was the truth. it could make matters worse or it could improve them, but you had no idea how to even go about it. “can you– can you come with me to the sheriff's station? i already have the bail money in a bag, i-i just don't want to go alone right now,” you speak quietly, more tears trailing down your cheeks. 

“of course,” manon replies with a nod. “has sophia tried reaching you?” 

“there was texts and calls for the first couple of hours, but i think she gave up,” you answer with a shrug. “i read a few of them…” your voice goes quiet again.

“bad?” manon questions, judging by the tone in your voice when you said it.

“yeah.” you nod. 

“ignore them,” manon tells you sternly. “you don't need to be seeing her lash out on you because of something terrible she did. you didn't do anything wrong, okay? you don't deserve any of what's happened to you in these months, and it's not your fault for going to the person you thought would keep you safe. but this means you have to fix things with dani. if all else fails, then you can stay with me for some time, okay? you’ll always have a place to stay with me.” she rubs your back reassuringly.

“okay,” you mumble, nodding again. “thank you again, i owe you for this.”

“no you don't.” manon shakes her head. “you're one of my best friends, i’d do anything to make sure you're okay.” she then pulls away from you, grabbing the can from you and setting it on the coffee table. “when does the sheriff's station open?”

“nine, i think,” you answer. 

“we’ll go right when it opens, then,” she says. “get it done as fast as possible so that she doesn't have to stay in there too long. then you can talk things out. i’m sure you'll already be on her good side just by bailing her out after what you said when she was arrested, so you have a good starting point. get her something to eat, get some drinks, and talk it out here in the home you two have made. it’ll all be okay. i promise.” 

“okay.” 

…

one week later you were standing outside the jail, biting your nails with your foot tapping on the ground anxiously. thankfully, you had enough to cover the bail and have a little leftover, which was a relief knowing it didn’t take everything in the safe. you had yet to even speak to daniela, despite manon telling you to at least try and see if she would talk to you. you didn’t want to hear yelling over the phone, you’d rather hear it in person where you could explain everything easier than if you were arguing over the phone line that would cut after five minutes. manon told you over and over again that she wouldn’t be mad at you, but the nervous feeling was still rooted deep inside you as you heard the loud buzzing and the gate slowly opening. 

looking up from the ground, you spot daniela walking with her bag of things. her eyes subtly widen a bit from what you can see, since they didn’t exactly tell her who bailed her out, just that she was able to leave. 

she slowly steps over to you, stopping in front of you and looking at you without saying anything. 

“hey,” you say quietly. “i’m really sor–”

you’re cut off from your apology by daniela kissing you. your eyes go wide for a second, but when her arms wrap around your waist you find yourself melting into the kiss, practically feeling all the emotions she was pouring out into it. 

when she pulls away, you’re both a little breathless, quiet panting coming from you two. 

“do you wanna get something to eat and head home?” you ask softly. “i’d rather talk at home.” 

“yeah, we’ll talk at home,” daniela responds in the same voice.

“okay.” you nod. 

…

by the time you two arrived at the apartment, it was already leading into the evening, the sunset coming down just as you opened the door and walked inside with bags of food and drinks in your hands. 

walking behind you into the apartment, the first thing dani notices is how clean it is. she figured it’d be destroyed when they came to get her, only feeling worse when she realized it had to have been you that cleaned up the place. she follows you silently, setting the food down on the dining room table and going to sit on the couch next to you. 

there’s a silence that fills the room. one that was far from comfortable. both of you sitting there not knowing what to say first, or to say anything at all. until you speak. 

“i’m really sorry,” your voice is barely able to be heard as you fiddle with your hands. “i-i didn’t think– i didn’t mean for it to go down that way, i-”

“don’t apologize,” daniela cuts you off, shaking her head. “there’s no reason for you to be apologizing. i deserved it.” she goes quiet for a moment before continuing. “i’m really, really sorry. i shouldn’t have done what i did, and i know i fucked up. i’m not sure why i did it, but i regret it so much. i don’t know why you bailed me out, i thought the last time was really going to be the last time. but…i’m glad you did. i just want to talk it out.” 

“i know, and that’s why i bailed you out,” you start. “listen, dani. i went to sophia to figure out what to do, and…it wasn’t a smart idea. i know you two already don’t like each other, but this could really make things worse for everyone. i– she convinced me to call the police even though i didn’t want to. i felt so bad once i saw how upset you were. i knew you knew you fucked up and was trying to do anything to make me stay a-and i ignored it. i-i thought it would make things easier but it made everything so m-much worse. everything just t-turned into a shit show a-and i didn’t know what to d-do.” you began stuttering over your words as a few tears fell from your eyes. 

“hey, hey, it’s okay.” daniela is quick to wrap her arms around you and pull your head against her chest. “it’s okay, okay? i’m not mad at you for what you did. i deserved it. so please don’t beat yourself up over what you did, baby. i’m not upset at you.” she presses a gentle kiss on your head. 

“there-there’s something else i h-have to tell you,” you manage to get out, your anxiety growing and your breathing getting heavier. “please don’t get mad when i tell you th-this.” 

“nothing will make me mad, i promise,” dani responds. “what happened?”

clutching onto her shirt, your face is still pressing against her chest as you try to find the words to explain it. “i-i went to sophia’s after. y-you know she’s always had feelings f-for me, so i-i…i fucked up, dani.” you start fully sobbing into her chest at this point, which has her arms tightening around you both from you crying and what she was thinking you were going to say next. “i-i let her have her w-way with m-me b-b-but i hated it. it was t-terrible. sh-she didn’t care that i w-was uncomfortable, she di-didn’t stop even when i w-was crying. all i c-could think about was how y-you would never do that. i-it didn’t feel the same. sh-she didn’t care, she continued a-and i felt so bad after th-that i left immediately. i’m so sorry.” 

once you finished your words through sobs, daniela pulled you closer to her onto her lap, her arms tight around you as you cried. there were hundreds of thoughts running through her head, but they were far from being mad at you. she wasn’t mad at you. she was livid at sophia. “it’s okay,” she tells you over and over. “i’m not mad at you, i swear. i’m not mad.” hearing your cries continue made daniela wonder just how much sophia put you through when she wasn’t around, and thinking it made her jaw clench, anger bubbling inside of her. “baby, look at me,” she says softly. 

you slowly lift your head to look down at her, your eyes red and puffy with a few sniffles coming from you now and then. 

“i’m not upset, okay?” she says, running her hand through your hair. “i understand, i do. which is why i’m not angry at you. i’m angry at sophia, okay? she should’ve known better than to try and do that, let alone continue when you were crying. you haven’t seen her since, have you?”

you immediately shake your head quickly. “no, no, i haven’t. she tried texting and calling but i just ignored them.” 

“good.” daniela nods. “that means it’ll be a fun surprise for her when i show up at her front door.” 

the way she says that has your eyebrows furrowed together. “what do you mean?”

“don’t worry about it, mi amor,” she says, pecking your lips. “let’s just say she won’t be a problem anymore.” 

“as long as you don’t get arrested again, you can do what you want,” you tell her, hooking your arms around her neck. 

“i won’t, i promise.” she smiles at you. “are we okay?” she asks after a moment. 

it takes a minute for you to respond, but you nod your head in the end. “yeah, we’re okay.” 

“i love you,” daniela says, looking you in the eye. 

“i love you too,” you reply, leaning in and kissing her. 

…

it was late into the night when daniela got up. but not for the same reason it had been the past few months. was she going to see someone? technically. was it sophia? yes. was she going to beat the living shit out of her? probably. 

the latina carefully got out of the bed, unwrapping your arms around her and looking at the time on the digital clock. late enough. you shift around feeling her presence leave the bed, and you open your eyes to see her putting on a hoodie and her shoes. 

“where are you going?” you mumble tiredly. 

dani turns when she hears your voice, leaning down and pushing some of your hair out of your face. “i’m heading to sophia’s with manon and minji. don’t worry, i’ll text you once i’m there and when i’m on my way back.” she presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “i’ll bring you back something to eat if you’re awake when i’m leaving.” 

you nod your head, murmuring out a quiet “okay”. this is what you missed. if you were too tired to go out to deals with her, she would always say this. that she’d text you when she was there, and that she would text you when she was leaving that everything was okay, even then she would send more messages than necessary. but, you didn’t mind it. she knew you often got worried when it came to certain clients, and she always reassured you when she would go alone. it hadn’t been like this in months. for the past few months you’ve woken up to her already gone, not bothering to tell you where she was going. for the first time through this hell that’s been these last few months, it was starting to feel normal again. 

“be safe, please,” you say quietly. 

“always,” she replies, kissing your head again. 

walking out of the apartment, manon and minji were already waiting outside in front of minji’s car. the two turn when they hear footsteps coming towards them to see daniela walking towards them. 

“is it bad to say i’m surprised you showed?” daniela says, stopping in front of the car. 

“not really,” manon shakes her head. 

“thanks, anyways then,” daniela looks between the two. “are you both sure you want to do this?” 

“obviously,” manon says. 

“i’ve never liked her anyways,” minji adds, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“alright,” daniela nods. “let’s go then.” 

…

it was three in the morning when you heard the front door open. you were partially awake after daniela told you where she was going, glancing at your phone occasionally when it would light up. it had been thirty minutes since dani told you she was on her way back. just when you were getting worried you heard the creaking of the front door opening, and the jingling of keys. you sit up on the bed a little bit when daniela walks into the bedroom with a bag of food and drinks in her hands. 

“hey.” she smiles at you. “i got you some food and a milkshake from sonic. i’m sure you’re tired of it by now but it’s like, the only place open at this hour.”

“i don’t mind.” you shake your head. “thank you.” 

“it’s no problem,” she says, sitting down next to you on the bed. “here.” she hands you one of the drinks and takes the food out. 

sitting in silence while eating, you had a warm feeling radiating through your body. the type you hadn’t felt in months while everything was going on. the silence wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t tense. it was comfortable. it was normal, like it used to be. 

“i really missed this,” you say randomly in a quiet voice. “i missed you.” 

daniela looks over at you when you speak, seeing the small smile on your face that subconsciously makes a smile grow on her own face. “i missed this– i missed you, too,” she replies in the same voice. 

when you look over at her, you can barely make out her face with the lamp on your nightstand, but staring into her eyes, you know she’s genuine about it. “promise me we won’t do this again,” you tell her. 

“i promise,” she replies in a heartbeat. “you know why?” 

“why?” you encourage her, curious as to what she’ll say. 

“because i’m gonna marry you one day.” 

your breath hitches in your throat at her words. in the two years you’ve been together, she’s never mentioned anything of the sorts revolving marriage or that kind of commitment. and after what manon told you, you weren’t sure she would ever even consider the thought. to say you were surprised would be an understatement. 

“really?” your voice comes out in a whisper, as if you were doubting her words. 

“really.” daniela nods. “i don’t want to be with anyone except you. i don’t want you to be with anyone except me. i know i fucked up right now, but i swear in the future i’ll give you the newlywed life you want. i swear.” 

tears build in your eyes without your knowledge, so focused on her words that you didn’t even notice a few falling until dani’s hand reaches towards you and wipes them away with her thumb, her hand cupping your face. “you can’t go back on me now, y’know,” you say in a hushed voice. “you better stay.” 

“i will,” she responds. “i will, i promise. i don’t want anyone else. i just want you.” 

“then you’ll show me?” you say, your voice changing into a tone daniela was far too familiar with.

“oh, i’ll show you.” she leans in and kisses you. 

[yooie]

only you.

pairings: jake x fem reader

genre: fluff fluff fluffy, a little silly ?

synopsis: jake is madly in love with his pretty girlfriend and cant help but worry when she goes out for a night with her friends.. — when the time comes, he picks her up drunk and takes care of her <3

overprotective/possesive jake

! not proof read !

jake hated whenever you insisted on going out by yourself. it wasnt for any sort of lack of trust in you, but moreso other people. however, tonight, since it was your best friends birthday all of the girls insisted on going out. clubbing, drinking and bar hopping all night.

this was strictly a girls-only occasion, no matter how hard he tried to convince you, you didnt budge. he finally gave up but that didnt stop him from putting in place "safety measures". your location was on so he could see where you were all night, and he politely asked for text check-ins.

he didn't want to seem too overbearing or god forbid like a toxic boyfriend in any way shape or form. of course he wanted you to have your freedom, hes just, him. a lovesick puppy who wants to be at your side 24/7 to protect you from anyone who may look at you the wrong way.

-

"jake, ill be fine!!" you whined reassuring him as you got changed and finished up getting ready, walking out into the living room seeing him sitting on the couch.

"in that?!?"

he didnt mean for it to come out that way at all, it wasnt that he didnt like it, he loved the outfit. he just knew that so would pretty much every single guy at the bar would.

"you dont like it?" you pouted a small bit of insecurity washing over you. which was immediately obvious to jake as he got up and walked over to you, arms resting on your waist softly rubbing down you sides. "no no, baby, i love it... its just-" — he paused and sighed as his eyes scanned every inch of your body in that mini skirt trying best to keep his inner demons at bay.

"i just know everyone else will too.. this should be only for me ok? its really short.. i mean, i like it... alot... but.." he sighed heavily and you smiled blushing softly bringing your hands up to cup his face in your hands.

"im bringing a jacket, you will barely even be able to see the skirt... ok? its long too, covers me up! " you nodded very insistent on still wearing the outfit youd so carefully curated. jake sighed and nodded, "please just be careful,.. ok?" — "i know how much you get distracted and wander off, please stay with your friends tonight, its important baby, ya?" you smiled and leaned up on your tippy toes placing a soft kiss on his lips quickly. "promise!!" you grabbed your bag texting the girls as they just arrived to pick you up. but before you could go jake quickly pulled you back in for another kiss, this one deeper and longer than yours. "i have the worlds prettiest girlfriend... a blessing and a curse it is.." — you couldn't hide your smile, " i love you, ill text you ill see you later ok?"

and with that, you were out the door.

and jake was back to the couch with his phone in his hand, no matter how late you were he wasnt gonna be able to fall asleep untill you were home in his arms.

•

the night was going great, you and your friends had been to 3 bars now and to say the least, you were more than a little gone by now...

jake checked his phone,

1:34am y/n location status: bar

jaeyun: hey baby, you ok? coming home soon?

y/n: mm sooonna!'

y/n: m smiss you!!'!

jaeyun: baby, are you drunk..?

- sent 6 minutes ago

jake was tapping his foot on the floor practically pacing back and forth in your apartment waiting for you to reply.

he knew you guys were going out to drink obviously. but he thought if you knew he wasn't gonna be around, youd at least drink responsibly with a tolerance as low as yours.

fuck it. he quickly dialed your number,

- phone answers, no response "baby? you there?" he asked impatiently awaiting some sort of sound other than muffled charlie xcx in the background. "wa, jakey!! why are you callin?" you held the phone up to your ear, "are you drunk? where are you?" he asked softly but obvious worry in his tone, not that you could notice though. "noooo wayyyy im jus, like a .. lil bit tipsy!" you giggled into the phone, and he could tell that was a big fat lie. "im coming to get you ok? stay put." he hung up the phone quickly so he could grab his keys and nothing more, quickly running out of your apartment door and to his car. following your shared location until he found which club you were in.

as soon as he entered the club he raced through the crowds, his eyes were scanning around for any sign of you. his one and only care in the world, making sure you were safe.

-

his worries immediately washed away as he spotted you across the room with the rest of your friends. all feelings of anxiety leaving as soon as he laid eyes on you despite you obviously being drunk.

"hey baby~," he hummed sweetly causing you to quickly turn around hugging him immediately. "jakeee!! what are you doin here??" you quickly looked up tilting your head in a confused manner which made it impossible for him not to place at least one kiss on your adorable face. "im your uber driver, get in," he laughs causing you to do the same. "nooo not done yet!!" you whined, causing him to chuckle some more imitating you a bit. "yesss done noww~ — come'on princess, you are wasted, let me get you home now ok? go say goodbye to all your friends, its already almost 3 am." you huffed before ultimately agreeing, mostly due to the fact the world was spinning and your feet were killing you from the most uncomfortable pair of heals you decided on wearing.

after youd said all your goodbyes jake carefully guided you out of the bar to his car opening the passenger side and carefully helping you into the seat, buckling you in before returning to the drivers side. "y/n, you ok?" he asked gently lifting one of his hands to cup your cheek directing your gaze to his. "mhmmn , feet and head hurt a lil" he shook his head and started the car. "ok baby, lets get you home to bed." — once you were successfully back to your apartment jake carried you up the stairs all the way to the door, worried you would trip or fall accidentally. obviously you didn't detest it, you would never turn down his princess treatment towards you. carefully he laid you down on the couch, delicately reaching up to brush some of your messy hair out of your face. "you're so cute. even when you're drunk out of your mind." he chuckled placing a soft kiss to your forehead. "wait right here, mkay?".

jake ran around your apartment quickly gathering a few things, ice cold water, a blanket, makeup wipes, a change of clothes and a hairbrush before he sat down next to you. immediately you went to hug him, wanting nothing more than to just fall asleep in his arms right now, you had no energy to do anything. lucky for you, your boyfriend had it all covered. "shh, we gotta get u cleaned up ok? then we can go cuddle all you want hm?" i hummed and you whined. "don wanna.." — he chuckled again at your cuteness. "dont worry, you dont need to lift a finger~"

you tilted your head confused before opening your drooping eyes, feeling the coolness of the makeup wipes carefully running over your skin. causing you to smile to yourself. times like this really made you wonder how you had ever gotten this lucky.

"and there we go, all done pretty girl" jake smiles lovingly as he wipes the last bit of makeup off your face. you had actually almost fell asleep while he did so, only coming back to consciousness a bit when you heard his voice again.

"want me to wash your face and do your skincare? you just need to help me a little with the order, can you do that baby?" you nodded your head whilst it slumped to the side, causing him to quickly grab your cheeks positioning your head upright again. "how much did you drink...?" he asked concerned, but knowing how much of a lightweight you were he knew it quite literally could have only been a couple. – "what'r youu, my mom?" you giggled causing jake to do the same, "no silly, im your boyfriend, your loving boyfriend, who's trying to get you ready for bed, do you remember me?" you opened your eyes again finally, but only squinting as you tried to make out the blurred face infront of you, "mhm!! jase!!"

jake just slowly closed his eyes letting his head fall into your lap in defeat. "mhm... yea jase" he mumbled muffling a small laugh before he lifted up his head. "okay silly girl come on," he quickly scooped you up off the couch carrying you in his arms to your room before carefully helping you change your clothes into your pajamas. laying you down onto your bed, jake quickly went into the bathroom grabbing all of your skincare products before placing them down onto the bed beside you. he had watched you do this many times before, so he had no fear that he could easily do it himself at this point. without a second thought he carefully washed your face using a wash cloth and your face wash, before applying all of your serums and moisturizers. just as he finished, placing a small kiss on your lips "pretty."

"jake?" – his eyes lit up with the small call of his name from your lips, "mhm? im here baby, what do you need?" he carefully held your hand in both of his caressing your skin gently.

"m tired.. " he smiled softly, "lets go to bed then hm?" you sleepily nodded your head. jake waisted no time walking to turn off the lights before lifting up the covers and crawling into bed behind you. his warm arms scooping you up into his embrace, holding you as closely as possible. his lips softly pressing against the back of your neck and the side of your cheek.

he was tired too. it was almost 4 am at this point and little did you know he had also stayed up all night, for this very moment. just to make sure you were home safe and in his arms. "i love you" you mumbled, your hands wrapping over his draped around your waist keeping them there. you could feel the smile on the back of your neck, before feeling another warm kiss. "i love you more."

—

[hivemuthur]

Nothing's New - Ch.3.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, a lot of angst, smut sort of present moving from this chapter forward

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 5,5K

tag: #nothings new

summary: Alright folks, some abrupt decisions are made in this chapter and I am foreshadowing Viktor's self-discovery (I will place a warning in the next chapter, as here it's still not that relevant). I will post some smut in a minute so you all don't get too sad :v

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You’ve spent the entire weekend stewing in your thoughts. Replaying the events over and over, from beginning to end, picking up pieces you might have missed before. It’s been a week since your last interaction with Viktor, and today is the final day for you to collect your things from his apartment.

You’ve been lying in bed, wondering if what happened last week was real or just an odd case of pareidolia—attaching meaning where there was none. Viktor’s anger, his cracking voice, the way he slumped back into the chair after you hurled fragments of conversation at each other. And yet, those fragments were more than anything that had happened between you in the past year.

People do such strange things after breakups. They throw themselves anywhere but into the breakup itself. They drink, get addicted to something, take up an extreme sport—or extreme hookups, which could also count as a sport—start smoking, dive into a new relationship, or become completely hopeless or cruel versions of themselves. And those versions do stupid, strange things.

Like giving your ex the keys to your apartment to pick up their stuff. Or being the said ex and going to your ex’s apartment to pick up your stuff. Utterly deranged. Utterly strange. Cruel on one side, hopeless on the other.

You have waited the entire weekend, sitting on pins. You haven’t seen Paul once, ignoring his texts and phone calls. Then, inevitably, Sunday noon has crept in, and you realise, that you have to go.

The journey is a drag in itself, but once you are in front of his apartment, you pause. You hold your breath as you slide the key into the lock. Getting here was torment. You thought the cursed triple-date restaurant ordeal was horrific, but you knew nothing. This is horrific. This is true terror. The terror of what’s on the other side of the door gnaws at you the whole way here, and now it gnaws harder, your hand frozen on the key, frozen in the lock.

When you hear it click, you release the trapped breath and close your eyes, stepping in. It’s dark. The day is muggy, with rain on and off, as the weather broke earlier in the week. The first licks of autumn hang in the air, and suddenly, you remember how freezing Viktor’s apartment is during the colder months. Your apartment. The apartment you lived in together. Whatever.

You take a timid stroll through the hallway—some pictures have disappeared from the walls. The ones of you and him. It’s expected, no reason to sulk. Moving on.

There it is: the lounge. The space where you’ve spent so much time reading, yapping, playing records, having sex on the couch, on the windowsill. Sleeping in front of the TV. So much time spent there alone, waiting, falling asleep with a book on your face, or staring expectantly at your phone. So many times you were abandoned here.

Viktor’s desk by the window is still covered in books, papers, and notes. He’s taken his computer away for the weekend, leaving behind a sharp square-shaped void outlined in dust where it had been. You draw a sad face in the dust with your finger, then hesitate, wondering if you should wipe it away so Viktor doesn’t notice.

You sit in his chair and spin yourself around, your feet dragging on the floor. No pictures to stare him in the face while he works, no particularly personal notes. No signs of Julia yet. No assprints in the layer of dust on his desk. Check.

You turn to the box he’s left for you in the middle of the room. Your name is scrawled angrily on it, as if Viktor forced himself not to write something like "CUNT" instead. It’s sealed, ready for you to grab and flee. But you want to see what remnants of you he’s collected, the things he so firmly believes need to be returned.

You rush to the kitchen and grab the first knife you see. Back to the box. A strange feeling churns inside you—something close to excitement, but also to dread.

With trembling hands, you slice the tape, reopening the wound. The box is stuffed with paper on top, meticulously packed. You pull the layers out and start digging.

Your books and clothes, mostly. You take them out one by one. Your T-shirt with "ALL MY BOOTS ARE FUCKED UP" written across it in huge letters. You used to sleep in it. You hadn’t realised it was left behind. It smells exactly of nothing—just a piece of cloth that’s been hanging in a closet for months. And yet, it smells faintly of Viktor, though maybe it’s just your imagination.

Books, each of them ones you love. Especially your first edition of The Lord of the Rings. Not the first edition, just the first one you ever got. A couple of notebooks with notes for work and personal scribbling. Your pin that says, “Bono in short legs shock.” Nothing in particular.

A few records are stuffed to the side. You wince at how he’s squeezed them in there and wonder if they’ve already melted and warped in the heat that was killing you not so long ago. And then, your heart sinks. Between the books and the clothes and an odd perfume bottle, lies a small box.

A gift you’d brought him: the tiniest chunk of meteorite you’d bought at the weirdest book convention you’d ever been to. It had been mixed with a natural minerals expo, an esoterica expo, and a reptile expo. Truly terrible. Until you spotted a man selling pieces of stars from his private collection. And you thought to yourself that if anyone on this planet deserved to receive a star for no occasion, it was Viktor.

He was speechless when you gave it to him. “Amazing,” he’d whispered, his eyes glinting as he weighed it in his hand. For something so small, it had felt so heavy. His heart had felt heavy too, with affection and devotion. He kissed you, kept kissing you until you were out of breath. It was wonderful.

And now it sits in your hand, discarded and abandoned. And it feels heavier than ever.

Forcing the tears back where they came from, you take a shaky breath and scramble up from your knees, clutching the box in your hand. You go to return the knife to where you’d taken it from in the kitchen, determined not to leave any sign of your snooping—except for the sad face drawn in the dust.

When you turn from the counter, it hits you violently in the face.

A Post-it note on the fridge. Viktor’s handwriting. Very old-fashioned. Very Viktor. More intimate than text messages. He’d left those for you once, before your intimacy had died. But this one isn’t for you.

“Miláčku, if you could grab my notebook on your way to work, I will be eternally grateful. V.”

In an instant, you forget your intention to leave no trace. You snap it from the fridge door, twisting it violently in your fingers. Something roars in your chest, and you can feel yourself spiralling. The need to go somewhere safe is overwhelming. So you go to the bedroom.

And there you are, confronted with another square-shaped void. The outline of where the bed used to be screams at you with the darker shade of wooden floor compared to the rest of the room. The empty space—what you remembered as small and cramped—now feels massive and vast.

You crumble onto the floor, squeezing the box with Viktor’s star in one hand and the wretched note in the other. There is no force that could stop your tears. Your lungs burn as you release a pathetic wail of a sob, granting yourself one of the ugliest cries you’ve had in months. The sun sets at some point.

Your chest and shoulders shake in spasms as your tears fall onto the piece of yellow paper, distorting the handwriting into blurred stains. This is the worst you have felt since the beginning. This is the bottom, surely. Crying in your ex’s apartment, on the spot where your bed used to be, clutching a word in your fist as if you refused to give it away to another woman. You refuse to give Viktor away to another woman. You refuse to give yourself to another man.

When you’ve run out of tears, you just stare at the note. For about ten minutes. No, for around twelve hours. You have no idea how much time has passed. You sit there curled up where the bed used to be, unable to move, unable to cry. The remnants of whatever composure you had when you stepped in are all gone.

You don’t even flinch when the door unlocks, and you hear footsteps and a sigh from the hallway. You are completely content to die here in your ignominy.

“Why are you still here?” Viktor’s voice echoes through the corridor, making him sound like an annoyed ghost. Hearing no response, he sighs again, louder this time, to emphasise how distressing your presence is to him. A caricature of a sigh, almost as if mocking someone else’s.

“I asked, why are you still—” He pauses when he sees you. “Are you alright?” The way his voice is laced with genuine concern makes you sick. It is the truest thing he has said to you in such a long time. One of the very few true things he has said in a year.

“What is this?” you ask, your voice utterly sad and so small. You open your shaking fists, and Viktor crouches awkwardly to make sense of what you are showing him. Once he sees the box and the wet, yellow paper, he understands.

“This,” he says calmly, “is something I no longer want. And this is a note to my girlfriend, Julia.”

His tone is devoid of emotion—quiet, calm, calculated. Inside, he is a storm. He left those two things intentionally, to stab you back. He had no idea the stabbing would work so well.

He planted them to stop feeling so fucking sodden. The rush of adrenaline at the thought of you finding those items was a momentary relief because he wasn’t able to tell you how stumbling upon your things jabbed at his heart. He wasn’t able to tell you that he actually played your records and read your books. Or that, when he found your T-shirt hanging in the wardrobe, hidden under his sweater—the one you stole all the time in winter—he died, just a little. How he hadn’t realised until he put the sweater on and discovered there was another skin underneath the wool. And that it still smelled of you after all this time. He wouldn’t tell you that he’d rather eat drywall than smell it again.

“Why is it saying what it’s saying?” you ask, your voice a sharp, trembling whisper, disbelief written all over your face. It’s so undignified to ask this. But dignity is a luxury you have to shed to get through this.

“Because I forgot my notebook for work the other day,” Viktor replies, his tone dispassionate, his eyes studying you like a scientist observing a failed experiment. This has truly backfired. Or rather, it has worked too well. In his wildest dreams, Viktor wouldn’t have dared to think he would find you curled up on the floor, your face swollen and defeated, exposing yourself to another blow.

“Do I have to wipe your face with it, so you answer my question?” you hiss, though the answer isn’t unexpected. The tiny dent made the last time you saw each other was, in the end, only a dent.

You wouldn’t even call it a crack—something you could peel off and peek inside. So, of course, you have to keep hitting.

His jaw tightens, but his voice remains cool, measured. “It is a pet name. A word you use for someone you are in love with.” He is hitting back. Your anger makes him angry. The fact that you are so angry and broken means that nothing has ended, nothing has resolved. And it boils the fear within him, and he attacks when he is afraid. Normally, it wouldn’t be a phrase to play with. But now, he is afraid.

The paper in your hand crunches loudly as you snap your fist shut. “It belongs to me,” you say in a dark tone, your voice brimming with equal parts defiance and anguish.

Viktor scoffs. “That’s rich. Nothing in here belongs to you, save for the trash you refuse to take out.” He stands up to accentuate his disgust. “Are you honestly being jealous right now?”

“No!” You shake your head and pick yourself up to level with him. “But this is just… cruel,” you shoot back, your voice rising, cracking under the weight of his dismissal.

“You will forgive me,” Viktor says with a bitter smile, “but I don’t follow. Which part of me doing the exact same thing that you are doing—moving on—is cruel?” He hasn’t moved on. He is standing stuck in one place. Julia is a distraction, and he knows it. And he knows it’s wrong to use someone like that, but he is only human. And there is no comfort in the idea of being eternally broken.

“You know exactly what I am talking about! Did you leave it here intentionally? Did you do this to hurt me?” Low. You are so low right now, the sound of you hitting this new bottom is echoing across your skull.

“You are so fucking full of yourself,” he spits, his voice dripping venom. “This is my house. It was on my fridge. As far as I remember, there was nothing in my fridge that you might possibly need to take with you.” Except for this exact note that I left there for you to see. That I left there to hurt you, and you are absolutely right about me because you know me better than I know myself.

“Why did you make me come here?” you demand, your voice trembling with rage and heartbreak.

“Do I look like a delivery man to you?” Another cold scoff. Fast, so fast, he’s afraid you are going to see.

“Viktor. This—this is not going to work the way you think it will. You can’t just get rid of me. I will be in your life. I—”

“No!” he roars, the crack in his composure finally showing. “I want you gone. You—you fucking abandoned me! You ran, as if I were some abusive bastard. You do not get the right to demand anything from me!”

You are actually being screamed at by Viktor. Your brain short-circuits, and you blink a couple of times.

“What about Jayce and Mel?” you counter, clutching at straws, desperate to find a thread that could keep you tethered to him. Why, though? Were you really going to be friends again?

“I don’t give a fuck about Mel. And if I can live without you, I can live without Jayce,” he snaps, his voice teetering between fury and despair.

“Viktor, you cannot be serious right now. Jayce is—”

“I would rip off my leg to rid myself of you,” he cuts you off, his voice raw and unfiltered, his accent thickening under the weight of his emotions. “The good one. There is nowhere I wouldn’t go to rid myself of you. I regret—”

“I could slap you for that,” you interrupt, your voice low and trembling with fury.

“I wish you would,” he shoots back, stepping closer, his face a mask of tortured defiance. “I wish you would do fucking anything other than run. I wish you had waited for me that evening and talked to me. I wish you didn’t wipe your face with a note. I wish you’d picked up the phone instead of turning it off. You ruined me. You stole so many months of my life. And you dare to be surprised that I have found someone.”

“You abandoned me first,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but the words hit him like a blow.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice tight, his eyes closing as if to shield himself from the truth. He knows. He knows. But for once, when he needed you to be strong, you were weak, and he couldn’t forgive that. Just once, when he crumbled under the pressure of stress, under the pressure of investors gnawing at him and Jayce, he just wanted you to stay put. To just be the person he came back to, day after day, until it passed. And when you crumbled, he hated you because you made him hate himself for being weak as well.

“You abandoned me first,” you repeat, louder this time, the words escaping your lips like a confession. “I loved you so much.” There are so many bottoms yet to be discovered by you, you realise. Stacked in layers, only for you to be painfully peeled off, like the paper skin on shoulders burned in the sun.

“Stop,” he says again, his voice faltering, the dent cracking as you keep hitting. As you keep scratching and clawing your nails at it.

“I tried to stay, but I couldn’t,” you continue, tears spilling over your cheeks, your voice alien even to you.

“Stop this,” he pleads, stepping closer. His hand reaches out, hesitating in mid-air before brushing against your face. His touch is tentative, trembling. His thumb sweeps the tear running down your cheek. His face, morphing in anguish, rage, something you can’t read—hesitation, resignation—all of those things watercolour across his eyes, his eyebrows, his lopsided mouth, transforming from one into another second after second.

“It ripped me apart,” you whisper, and his hand drops, his head bowing under the leaden weight of it all.

You feel the fear of the moment escalating or fading—both wrong—as now this is the most real thing that has transpired between you in almost a year. Your breath hitches when Viktor steps closer. And then.

He rubs his face against yours, his breath trapped in his throat as his composure fades. You freeze. The feeling of his skin on yours—so familiar. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple jumping, and finally, his golden eyes meet yours. And then. And then.

And then.

The featherlight brush of his lips—not yet a kiss. A strangled movement, hesitant and unsure. Your face cupped in his hands, the pull of gravity still stronger than the pull of his arms. And you stay, fixed in your place, breathing in his scent.

The last time you kissed was a long time ago, save for the absent pecks you gave each other when coming and going. And before that, you kissed many times. But never like this. Never so uncertain, so afraid.

He holds the back of your head as if you were water. It isn’t just one kiss. It’s plenty of lingering, sad kisses—no tongue, just his soft lips gently pressing against yours, making tiny smacking sounds each time he retreats to start again.

The outside of him is calm, but his heart flutters in his chest, and you can feel it under your hands, fisting his sweater. You kiss him back with equal, fleeting tenderness. Your hands travel to his neck, to his cheeks, ghosting over the beauty marks on his face. In the deafening silence of this space, all you can hear is his shuddery breath.

So this is how it used to feel. You remember. The one tremendous feeling that was missing, that you had forgotten about. Belonging. It crawls back into the periphery of your nerves—the sensation of being taken and kept, falling from his mouth to yours. But this time, you take him back; you keep him back.

He closes his eyes and kisses you deeper, pulls you closer. The familiarity of it erases all his careful plans to kick you out of his life. It clouds his judgment as he does the unthinkable. His fingernails scrape faintly against your cheeks, and you open your mouth fully for him, allowing him to swallow you. Your tongues touch, and Viktor groans. Because it feels different than with other people, and he can’t deny it.

His cane clatters against the wood as he leans on you, pushing you toward the windowsill. His fingers now dig into your ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs. You hop up, open your legs, and he is between them immediately. Leaning on you, squeezing the back of your neck, his hands all over you, under your clothes, and you gasp for air, rutting your hips against him to feel more of him—all of him.

Your hands fumble with his shirt and sweater so you can touch the flat plane of his stomach. His belly button glues itself back to his spine as you slide your palms underneath. Your breaths grow heavy as his hands fist your hair and press you further into his face until you can’t breathe. He gropes you so hungrily it almost hurts; all the clothes you are wearing hurt your skin, and only Viktor’s skin can soothe this pain.

You desperately pull the layers between you up and press your stomach to his. His hips buck into yours, his cock straining in his pants, and he wants—he wants, he wants you so much he whimpers, rutting into your core, the pang of lust and need twisting in his lower belly.

It all falls back into place when he suddenly remembers what it’s like to be just blissfully fucking you, what it feels like to be inside you, and he is aching. He thrusts against you hysterically, cursing his clothes, his hands grabbing fistfuls of your flesh, and you wrap your legs around his hips, digging your thumbs into the hollow of his cheeks.

And it’s only when you moan out his name that he remembers something else—how hard it was to breathe when you left. How bad he felt under Mel’s worried gaze. And he knows he wouldn’t survive it if it were to happen again.

So he pauses, breathing heavily, resting his forehead against yours. He snarls and pulls away, and you feel something hooked out of your chest violently, leaving a gaping hole behind. He disappears from your space so fast you can only register him moving further between your blinks.

When you open your eyes again, you see him in the far corner of the room, hunched on his cane, chest heaving, turned so that he wouldn’t face you.

“Get out.” His voice is flat and rotten, as if someone has made him eat poison.

Wordlessly, you take the box with the star chunk from your pocket and place it on the windowsill before leaving the room. You drop your belongings back into the previously gutted box, not bothering to seal it back up, drop the keys into the bowl by the door, and leave with a loud thud echoing all the way back to the bedroom.

Viktor stands by the window, waiting to see you out on the street. His hand clasps against his mouth, trying to suppress a sob, his eyes fixed on you down there, so tiny, waving in a cab. It swallows you and takes you away, alongside your things.

It’s getting late, but he still calls Julia. He gives her the worst, most generic talk he can muster. He gives her a weak “It’s not you, it’s me,” which is, of course, a lie. Because it’s about her—not being you. And he can’t bear another woman crying in his apartment on that day, but he braces through it. He doesn’t tell her about the kiss. She cries a lot, but they part in peace. She’s understanding like that. And he feels about one stone lighter when she leaves.

But it’s not enough. One stone lighter, that’s all he feels after. His apartment is still heavy, still weighed down by the absence of you. He locks the door, leans against it for a moment, trying to breathe. The quiet settles over him, a suffocating silence that makes his chest tight. It’s not like he thought it would be. He should be relieved, shouldn’t he? He doesn’t have to juggle anyone’s emotions anymore, doesn’t have to pretend to be something he’s not. But all he can think about is you. How you left, how he watched you go, how he felt that piece of him break off and disappear when the door shut behind you.

He makes his way to the couch, sits down heavily, his hand finding its way to his lips. His fingers press against the spot where you kissed him, still lingering with the faint taste of you, the memory of your warmth. He mumbles a quiet apology, but it feels hollow, empty, like he’s talking to the walls.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over, the words breaking him. “I love you. God, I love you...”

His breath catches on the last confession, as if saying it aloud will somehow make it real, but it only makes the absence feel sharper. It’s almost unbearable. The pain of not having you here, the pain of knowing he pushed you away. He presses his palm harder against his lips, as if trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers. He feels completely gutted.

And you come back to Paul with your gutted box of things. He lets you in, no words said. He makes you tea and sits you on the couch. And you feel... so rotten, so evil for doing this. He cradles your head on his lap and makes quiet, soothing shushing sounds. When it starts to feel worse and worse, you snort up your sniffle and sit up.

“I have to talk to you,” you say in a cracked voice, Paul still smiling, still not realizing, because he would never expect you to do something so horrible.

He cocks his eyebrows and hums. “Oh-oh.”

“Paul, I’m serious,” you say, your voice trembling. The tea in your hands cools as the weight of what you’re about to tell him crushes you into the couch.

“You sure you want to do this now? Seems like you had a hard day already,” Paul replies, his tone gentle, though his gaze searches yours cautiously, as if bracing for something heavy. He’s ready for many things. He understands breakups are complicated. He knows how fresh this is when you started. And he’s told himself he’s ready for this kind of moment as well. Yet. Yet.

“I need to tell you something,” you insist, setting the tea down and folding your hands in your lap to stop them from shaking.

“Let me guess. Things are not as over between you and Viktor as you thought they were,” Paul says, leaning back, his face unreadable but his voice still gentle, knowing.

“I—” you stammer, feeling a lump rise in your throat. Were you this obvious?

“You don’t need a genius to know that. It was pretty fast… you and me. I am aware,” he continues, his voice soft but tinged with resignation, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. He’s actually hoping to be wrong, but well.

“We kissed,” you admit, the words spilling out like a confession you can’t hold back any longer. And then you wince as the memory somehow becomes real once you speak it out loud. But you can’t tell him what kind of kiss it was. That you’ve betrayed Paul about a million times today, with each tender and longing kiss Viktor gave you—and you gave back to him. Let him think it was just a kiss.

“Oh.” Paul freezes, his expression shifting ever so slightly, though you can’t tell if it’s surprise or hurt—or both.

“Oh?” you echo, your own voice quivering with uncertainty, afraid of what will follow.

“Well, I… I didn’t exactly expect you to say that,” he admits, running a hand through his hair, his movements deliberate, as if giving himself time to think.

“What did you think I was going to say?” you ask, your voice cracking, the weight of guilt pressing on your chest like a vice. The bottoms just keep coming.

“Oh, I don’t know. That you’re not ready to move in yet? I don’t know what I was thinking, really,” he says with a bitter laugh, his shoulders sagging as he looks away from you for the first time.

“Paul—” you start, but he cuts you off with a raised hand.

“Do you want to get back together with him?” he asks, his tone measured, though the tension in his jaw betrays him.

“No,” you say quickly, but the certainty in your voice wavers under his gaze. No. No, you don’t want to. You’re sure you don’t want to. And yet.

“Do you want to move in with me?” he asks, his voice quieter this time, almost cautious, as if he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“I… don’t know,” you admit, your hands clenching into fists against your thighs, wishing you had an answer that would hurt less. No. You don’t want to.

“Do you still love him?” Paul’s question lingers in the air like a storm cloud. You swallow hard, your silence speaking louder than any words could. And you hate yourself for it. This poor, kind man. And what you did to him. Almost the exact same thing Viktor did to you.

Paul sighs, the sound heavy with understanding and pain. “Do you love me?”

“I—I don’t know,” you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes under the pressure of his scrutiny.

“Well,” Paul says, forcing a weak smile that makes his lines more prominent. “I guess that concludes it.”

“Paul—” you try again, desperate to say something, anything, to fix this.

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his voice breaking slightly. “I guess I should’ve known. Jesus, how have I been so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid. I am. I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, your chest aching with regret. He looks so hurt. And it aches to be so broken that you can’t love a nice, beautiful, boring man. It would be so easy if it weren’t so hard.

“Is that all it was? Just a wait up before you can get back with him?”

“Paul, I’m not getting back with him. And no, it wasn’t. I just… don’t think it’s fair. To be with you, when I’m not…” anything in particular. Not in the relationship, not outside of it. Just complacent.

“Do you have any idea… what it feels like to be with someone who is in love with someone else, all the time?” He looks at you and the answer is written all over your face, then takes a long sigh. “I’ll call you a cab.”

You sit in silence for a while. You drink your cold tea. You stand up, pick up your box for it to be taken from your hands and carried by Paul to a cab. He slumps it onto your knees and closes the door before you can say ‘thank you.’ Then he pats the cab’s roof and sends you away. He will make you his own box, soon.

And you come back home, to your dark place, with one box, and another already anticipated, to stack one on top of the other. Thoughts clattering in your head. Viktor, the mess you’ve made, the confusion—all so harrowing.

You should feel something, shouldn’t you? Relief, maybe? But it’s just emptiness, the kind that fills every corner of your flat, each inch of it reminding you of what you’ve lost. You try to focus but your thoughts slip back to Viktor, to the kiss, to the way he touched you, like he still cared, like he still wanted you.

Sitting down on the bed, you press your fingers to your lips, the memory of his kiss burning there, so vivid, so real. You can almost feel him again. The warmth of his hands, the way his lips fit against yours like they were made to. Your chest tightens, the ache deepening. You close your eyes, leaning into the pillow, whispering, “I love you. I miss you so much,” to the fabric, as if hoping that saying it aloud will somehow help you to repent.

And in that quiet moment, when the dust settles down, the truth you've been running from finally breaks through. It was always there, under the surface, but now you admit it. Now, you let yourself feel it, how much indeed you love him and miss him.

[bettystonewell]

I GOT YOU

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean might not have the best bedside manners and you might not be the best patient, but when you wake up feeling unwell and feverous, he tries to help you out in his own way.

Word Count: 1.1k words

Tags: fluff, sick-fic, language, Dean takes care of you

A/N: I wrote this one a little over a year ago when I was feeling under the weather and sorry for myself. Nothing like a Dean body pillow (if only I could get my hands on one), even when you’re not sick.—————————————————————Masterlist

You woke up that morning like any other. The sound of your alarm calling to you from what felt like a distant room. Only your phone was a mere foot away from you, sitting on the bedside table charging and waiting for you to turn it off.

Dammit. Sam would be waiting for you in the war room, ready to start your early morning run.

You moved to push yourself up and off your mattress, but your body felt heavier than normal, fingers and toes, oddly sweaty. In fact, your whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and yet you felt cold.

No. Urgh. No. You couldn’t be getting sick, could you? You’d barely left the bunker in the last few days to run into anyone that could pass any germs onto you. But the further you moved across the floor of your room to your wardrobe to choose your clothes for the day, the heavier your body felt. The foggier your mind became. The snottier your… Urgh…

Fuck this! Fuck Sam and his morning run. You were going back to bed. Hopefully to sleep it off and wake up feeling refreshed and not sick.

You. Were. Not. Sick.

And you kept telling yourself that, splaying yourself out on top of your bed like a starfish, feet dangling haphazardly over the edge.

Lucky there were no such things as monsters under the bed. Or was there? Sam or Dean had never told you if such things existed and you’d certainly never come across any mention of one in the books in the library. Urgh. You were delirious and needed rest.

Rest. Rest was… Good…

A loud thump startled you from your dream. It had been a good dream, too. One where Dean had been…

“Sweetheart?” the object of your desires called out to you from behind the door to your room. “You in there?” he yelled loudly again. Making your eardrums ring with the obnoxious way he insisted on greeting you presently.

Why did he have to be so loud?

You tried to reply, but your voice was dry and hoarse. The sound coming from your vocal cords while meaning to be a “Yeah,” came out more like a cat hacking up a fur ball.

Surprisingly, though, he heard you. Either that or he disregarded his manners as usual and opened the door anyway to find you still sprawled across your bed. Your hair no doubt splayed in every which way across your face and back, while your nose dripped with the mucus you had zero fucks of wiping in that present moment.

His eyes did a once over your weakened form and he commented in a way only he could get away with. At least at present because you had no energy to throttle him.

“Woah! Sweetheart! You look like shit!”

A groan that was meant to come out as a sarcastic “thanks” escaped your throat. ‘Way to make a girl feel better, jackass.’

You slowly sat up, making sure your clothes hadn’t bunched awkwardly in any of the wrong places as you did so. The fear of accidentally exposing yourself to him while you were still stuck in the friend zone fuelled you, even in your under the weather state.

Once upright, your body swayed. Its own weight, too heavy to hold itself and your head up on top of it. Arms doing their best to support you, along with your legs and feet that you dropped to the floor.

Dean’s eagle eyes had been watching you the entire time. Studying your movements and observing the way you scrunched up your face in pain and discomfort.

Without an invitation or an explanation, he walked over to where you now sat and placed himself beside you. A hand coming up to feel your forehead. The drops of sweat transferring to the back of his hand, along with the heat that radiated off of your skin.

“You’re sick!” he exclaimed, his voice hitching on the end.

‘No shit, Sherlock,’ your inner voice said, but “Hmph” was the sound that escaped you.

“You should lie back down. I’ll go get you some aspirin or something.”

The something scared you and you shook your head in protest.

“Don’t be so stubborn. We gotta break that fever. Wait here.” And he stood up and left the room.

Now alone again and no longer feeling the pressure to sit up in front of company, you allowed your body to flop back onto the bed. Your head missing your pillow by inches, but you didn’t care. It was easier to lie where you now lay. Moving was just as difficult as speaking had been, and sleep soon took you again.

You woke to the feeling of something or someone shaking you this time. Strong hands on your shoulders, gripping the muscle and flesh over them too tight.

“Help me sit her up.” A male voice rung through your ears again.

“Dude, she’s really burning up. I don’t know if this’ll be enough.”

“Just, okay Sammy!” said the first.

A second set of hands grabbed your own, and you were pulled and pushed into a sitting position. A softer feeling headboard, or was it a hard muscly mattress, slipped in behind your back? It grew arms and then wrapped them around your frame, pulling you against it.

Fingers pried open your mouth and placed a small object on your tongue. A hard, smoother one pushed against your lips and cool liquid flowed against your teeth and down your chin. A second pair of fingertips massaged your neck and the tiny pill shaped thing eased down your throat and into your stomach.

Your head still pounded when you awoke again, but your body felt less cold and more comfortable. The grogginess of waking made it clear you had finally managed some uninterrupted sleep.

But your pillow felt hard, and it wasn’t like that before. It didn’t smell of whiskey and gunpowder, either. The same scent you loved to smell when you sat in Baby or next to… Dean…

His soft flannel was on your cheek. Short spikey ends of his five o’clock shadow pressed through the strands of hair that graced your head, tickling your scalp underneath. His hand rested on your side, draped lightly by the arm that wrapped around your back.

You were on a lean, lying against Dean. His sock covered feet attached to the end of his denim covered bow legs came into view as you opened your eyes for the first time since he’d arrived in your room earlier that day.

As you moved to sit up, startled by the position you’d found yourself in, his hand pressed you down, gentle but firm. “Stay still and rest, sweetheart,” he said. “I got you.”

You swallowed the lump in your dry, aching throat and attempted to talk. “Dean?” His name left your lips shaky and coarse.

“Best not to talk…” His body leaned some, shifting back into place almost as quick with the addition of a glass tumbler half full of water. “Here…”

The cup tilted into your lips and the cool liquid from earlier lined your inner mouth and throat, relieving the scratch that had tickled them some.

Dean leaned back again, and you heard the glass hit the wood of the table at the edge of your bed. “Better?” he asked softly.

Your head only nodded in response, lazilly and slow was all you could manage.

“Good. You had us worried. Go back to sleep. I got you.”

—————————————————————DEAN TAG LIST:

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007

If you’d like to be added to the list, lmk.

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . EASILY CONVINCED.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . RED K!CLARK X READER

₊˚⊹ ♡ . you want to leave him, but there's one thing keeping you there

₊˚⊹ ♡ . MDNI 18+ | word count — 2.8k | warnings — established toxic relationship, Clark does not care about your feelings at any point at all, manipulation, crying, oral (m. recieving), finger sucking, unprotected p in v, name-calling, hair-pulling

When Clark strolled into your shared Metropolis apartment, it was already after dark. The moonlight streaming in through the window glinted off the smooth marble countertop and illuminated you, already waiting in the shared kitchen for him to arrive home. Your arms were folded over your chest, eyebrows furrowed lightly. You were finally going to have the conversation you’d been needing to have with him for the past few months.

You thought if you came to Metropolis with him, stayed by his side rather than letting him run off on his own, things would get better. That isolation wouldn’t be good for him, and your presence would sway him to take off the ring and return to Smallville. It hadn’t. Sometimes it seemed like it worsened with the passing days—the going out and staying out for hours, sometimes overnight, being mouthy and rude, or just downright insulting. And you saw the way he looked at women passing on the street sometimes. It felt like being stabbed, though you’d given up on reprimanding him a while back. Now, though?

You’d come to the long overdue conclusion that this simply wasn’t the same Clark anymore, wasn’t your Clark. He wasn’t the guy that insisted on fixing your car when it made him late for school that day, or the guy that practically ran to your parents’ house to fix their fence when it broke, or the guy that kissed you like your face was something precious between his hands and fucked you like you actually meant something to him.

As Clark closed the front door behind him, your eyes caught on the obnoxiously large crimson ring still nestled on his giant hand. That old Clark was gone. Maybe one day he’d come back on his own, but for now? You wanted to go home. You wanted your life back.

You cleared your throat, and Clark raised his eyebrows as he regarded you standing there, waiting for him. “It’s late.”

He gives a halfway nod, lips quirking up into a smile, “It gets busier the later it gets. I should’ve stayed, really.”

By it he means that stupid club on the corner downtown. All pulsing blue lights and girls in the tiniest skirts you’ve ever seen. You’ve always tried to push its very existence out of your brain, and an involuntary shiver wracks your arms as you’re afflicted by thoughts of what he gets up to there.

“Well, I ate already.” Your arms tightened around you, silently cursing yourself for always fumbling when it came to things like this.

Clark hums in response, barely paying attention as he tugs his jacket off and tosses it onto the back of the chair. His keys clatter against the counter with a metallic clang, and he’s visibly already thinking about something else entirely.

You take a deep breath, “I wanna talk to you.”

“Y'are talking to me. Right now.” He flashes his pearly teeth, the little points peeking over his perfect bottom lip.

You shake your head, your eyes flicking away from him and instead focusing on the wall, or maybe the fridge. That was always how he got you—it was the same smile, the same twinkle in those blue eyes. It took all your willpower to stay grounded and remind yourself that no matter how bad you wished he was, he wasn’t your Clark. Your resolve trembled every time you looked at him.

“No, I mean talk to you about us.”

He rolls his eyes, “Not this again.” There he was. Dismissive and careless, which was all he’d been the last few months when he wasn’t just being blatantly mean.

“Listen! Yes, this again, you never let me finish!”

“I let you finish plenty. Wasn’t it…three times, last weekend?” He wanders over to the fridge, tugging the door open placidly. He looks over to you for a few moments, only long enough to see the way your jaw tightens as your face warms despite yourself.

“That’s not—I was trying to—” You huff, throwing your hands half-heartedly in the air as you struggle to articulate yourself. Like you always did, which Clark knew. “You know what I meant.”

Just as the last word left your lips, he slammed the fridge door. So hard the wall behind it rattled. "Can't this wait til' after I get somethin' to eat? 'M starved after tonight." He huffed out a laugh cause he knew what he was doing, leaving your imagination to run wild about what he'd got up to.

Though your bottom lip quivered a little bit, you shook your head. "No, you're a selfish dick. If I waited for you to want to talk to me, I'd be waiting forever."

Clark was across the kitchen and in your personal space in less than half a second, making you gasp. You tried to back up as he towered over you, but you bumped into the corner—he had you caged up against it. You avoided his eyes, though you couldn't escape his smell with how close he was. Delicious despite his bad behavior—oak barrels and gentle shampoo and sunlight. Your head swam as you took it in, you couldn't fight it when he grabbed your face, forcing it upwards. He craned your neck back to look at him, and his gaze was amused, lips tilted slightly upwards.

"My dick is a lot of things. Selfish is not one. You'd know, huh? There's only one greedy bitch here."

You were shaking like a leaf, and the squeak you let out was pathetic. "You know how I feel about the b-word."

Clark laughed loudly. "How you feel, and how you feel," his tone of voice lilted suggestively as his hand dipped down to the front of your shorts. "Are two very different things."

He paused for a half second, so you'd have time to say no, but it was mocking—he knew you wouldn't stop him. That made the seconds that stretched between you taunting, a total mockery of what you'd been trying to do, the corpse of your dead resolve practically half-buried already as you stood with baited breath, waiting for him to slip his hand where you wanted it.

As his hand went between your thighs, he grinned. “You’re real predictable, y’know that?” His fingers slid through your folds easily from how drenched they were. When he pulled his fingers from your panties, a glistening strand of your arousal clung onto them, and he shoved it in your face. Raising his eyebrows, “and you keep trying to act like you want me to be different. Liar.”

Your lip quivered from the misconstrued truth in his words, the way he could always use that against you. It wasn’t your fucking fault your boyfriend’s voice got you all hot, he was literally the most perfect man in the world, even when he was like this—that didn’t mean you wanted him to stay this way. The late-night whispers between the two of you as you laid on his barn couch back in Smallville, about a house and a family, were more important to you than the sex you seemingly couldn’t stop having. But why couldn’t you stop having it?

Clark shoved his fingers in your mouth, making you clean your own wetness off of them, and he intentionally shoved them back far enough to make you gag lightly. You hated the disappointment that bloomed in your belly when you realized he wasn’t going to relieve you further with his hand, he was just making a point. Your eyes burned.

"You owe me! I was ready to have a perfectly nice night an' settle in—you're the one who had to start somethin'." He rolled his eyes. "You're always doing this, y'know. Not very fair to me, is it?"

Your eyes watered and, though you were fighting furiously to keep it in, a little sniffle escaped you. The sound made Clark's eyes snap to you, just in time to watch the first tear slip down your cheek. The grin that spread across his face was sickening.

"C'mon. On your knees."

You hesitated for a moment, just long enough to make him punctate it with, "now."

The last of your resolve was officially gone and buried as you sunk to your knees, which met the cold tile underneath you, and looked up at him. Clark raised his eyebrows, prompting you with a nod, and your fingers found his belt and began undoing it. You fumbled with it a little, hands shaky through your crying.

When you raised a hand to wipe the tears from your face, Clark swatted it away. “Makes it extra wet, y’know that.” He reasoned with a charming smile.

You ignored him and finally got his belt undone, and his cock sprung out of the confines of his boxers already stiff. That only rubbed it in more—every insult and mockery he threw your way only made him harder, and your tears were just the nail in the coffin.

No matter how upset you were, it was muscle memory to take him as far back into your throat as you could, though you struggled. You gagged around it, saliva bubbling from the corners of your mouth. He was right, and the longer you went, your tears from both Clark’s mocking and how harshly you were gagging mixed with your spit and left his cock slick, your mouth sliding around it too easily. Your hand wrapped around the base so you could cover more of it, and his head fell back a little as you twisted your fist around his shaft at the same time your tongue swirled over his tip. The sigh he let out was contented, and he ran his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck.

For a half second, you pretended it was Clark—your Clark. The guy who had held your hair back for you and rubbed your scalp soothingly when you had his dick in your mouth, doing his best to reward you for every good feeling you ‘gifted’ him, which was how he saw it.

The illusion was shattered when the fingers in your hair tightened sharply, making you yelp at the sudden pain. Clark groaned as your pained sounds vibrated around his cock, and he held your head in place as he started sliding in and out quicker, fucking your face at a more demanding pace than you’d been able to handle yourself. You gagged every time his tip hit the back of your throat, and Clark was letting the grunts and moans fall from his lips freely as you gagged, whined, and swallowed desperately around him.

“I like your mouth so much better when I do this. Not all that other shit.” He groaned. “Ah, fuck, ‘m gonna—”

Before he could finish his sentence, or cum down your throat, Clark was yanking you off of him by your hair. You let out a surprised yelp, but he was already snatching you up and tossing you over his shoulder like you were weightless. His shiny, throbbing cock still hung out of his blue jeans as he carried you to the back of the apartment and to your shared bedroom. He bumped your head on the doorframe as he brought you inside and ignored the noise you made, before tossing you down on the bed.

You sat there numbly, defeated, face streaked with tears and drool and precum, as Clark shrugged off his clothes and bared his inhumanly defined body to you. The moonlight coming in through the massive bedroom window—which wasn’t covered by the curtains, so you were sure some news helicopter would get a real eyeful of the habit Clark had developed to avoid a break-up—hit his chest in a way that made his tanned skin glow. Your mouth watered a little at the sight of him, something you’d truly never get used to, as if you needed more spit on your fucking face.

Clark wordlessly snapped his fingers at you as he knelt on the bed, and you moved obediently to hook your fingers in the waistband of your shorts and tug them and your panties down in one motion. Clark finished the job when he got impatient and made quick work of your thin sleep shirt, leaving it in two pieces by the foot of the bed.

He moved you like a doll, on all fours in front of him, fingers digging into your skin as he positioned you the way he wanted. The scream you let out when he sheathed inside you in one smooth motion—too big to fully bottom out, instead abusing your cervix immediately and giving you zero time to adjust—was muffled by his giant hand shoving your face into his pillow. That scent invaded your nose again, familiar and musky and clean, and you focused on it to distract yourself from the sting, gritting your teeth as you waited to adjust. Whines and yelps fell from your lips and were swallowed by the plush cotton, Clark still palming the back of your head to keep it there.

His pace was selfish and unforgiving, and though he was sliding in and out of you with no rhythm and no regard for how you felt, that didn’t stop the way your body began going limp, your pained squeaks turning into desperate moans and whimpers. “Nghh—ah, ah,” and you were sure Clark could hear it, no matter how drowned out it was by the wet, explicit skin-on-skin noises that filled the room.

He let your face up for a minute, and you gasped for breath.

“Feelin’ better now that you’re all full? Y’know—you’re always goin’ on and on—y’say you’re ‘not happy’” he did a high-pitched voice, mocking you, and you keened in response as he kept pumping inside of you, “I think what you mean to say is empty. Cause you’re all smiles when you're like this—real happy, right?”

Your only response was a low whine, and he smacked your ass hard. You jolted and yelped from the pain, but couldn’t move away from the second loud slap he landed against your cheek. He was holding you too tightly in place.

“Answer me.” Clark prompted, though his amused tone concealed an underlying threat as his hand still hovered over the globe of your ass, which was already blooming with red.

“Nngh—yes.” You cried out, but he clucked his tongue at you, ramming into you particularly hard to punctuate it. Your eyes rolled back.

“Yes what?”

“H-happy—‘m happy, thank you.” Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks from the way he was punishing your cunt.

You could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “there ya go!” Though, of course, nothing nice. He never fucking said anything nice. Said you hadn’t earned it, no matter what you did.

“Aah, shit—” His hips stuttered a little bit, and he let out a breath through gritted teeth. You clenched around him harshly and he groaned in response, your own release was creeping up on you.

“I dunno if you—argh—deserve my cum. Not today. Y’just cause problems.”

The pleading whine you let out was high-pitched and pathetic, the pillow wet with your still-flowing tears and the idea of him pulling out right now was torturous to you. He could’ve threatened to kill you and it would’ve been a less horrific idea.

“Please… please, Clark, please.” You babbled like a broken record, borderline incoherent through the snot and tears and broken moans. He was drilling your pussy, which was still squeezing him like a vice, and he laughed at your begging.

“One day I’ll stop bein' so nice, y’know?” Was the last thing Clark said before he came inside of you with a low, delicious groan, hips slamming into yours harshly as he fucked you through his orgasm. Your whole body shook with the force of it, limp and spasming, though he held you up easily. Your own release washed over you, and you finally let out a desperate, ecstatic cry as you were rewarded with the white-hot pleasure. The two of you were one, actually together for a few moments as you both reveled in the pleasure, something you didn't get from him anymore. Something you desperately missed, and your face screwed up at the familiar feeling.

It was over as quickly as it happened.

After Clark pulled out, he had the decency to arrange your limbs into some semblance of a laying position for you, since you were far too gone to do it. Your whole body felt like syrup. He laid your head on your own pillow, which made you miss the familiar smell of his, and tugged the covers over you. You didn't think you could speak if you wanted to, or remember your own name—or think of anything but him.

Clark rolled back over, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He was perfectly composed, though your chest still heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Shakily, you took a few slow, deep ones. There was a fuzzy warmth tugging at the edges of your brain and your chest. Like there always was after he was done with you.

“I love you.” You mumbled as your eyes drifted shut.

Clark’s answer was matter-of-fact, so close to being neutral if it wasn’t for the smugness that crept in.

“I know.”

[pricegouge]

I had a vision of Kyle being the sweetest (master manipulator) boyfriend ever. Like he’s so sweet and Reader likes to toe the line of being overly bratty. Snippy attitude, haughty, maybe even tries to ‘manipulate’ Kyle. All the while Kyle is just beaming on the inside and encouraging Reader’s. Behavior. He’s tallying up every time Reader does something cause he knows what’s coming to Reader sooner rather than later. But Kyle isn’t going to be the one that breaks his Reader, no no

Kyle calls in his Captain to help cause poor, sweet Kyle just ‘doesn’t’ have the heart to discipline his Reader.

Cue Reader, hours later after meeting Kyle’s Captain out of the blue, is crying and begging while Captain John “That’s sir to you, pet” Price withholds another orgasm. Making Reader beg and apologize over and over to Kyle while Price’s fingers are knuckle deep, not even giving Reader his cock cause Reader’s been such a brat to Kyle. All the while Kyle just coos and wipes Readers tears, acting all solemn like “this hurts me more than you, baby. Come on, just last another 10 minutes and then I know you’ll mean your sorrys.”

Bonus points to Kyle cause I just KNOW he didn’t tell Reader beforehand what he was planning to when his Captain came around. Godddddddd I know Kyle would give the best Stockholm Syndrome aftercare, really layering it on and then maybe helping Reader subtly to start being a brat again hehehehehehehehehe

yeah, that.

a string of pleas leak past your lips, coated in drool and spit and tasting vaguely of tears. you don't even know which of them you're begging anymore, eyes unfocused as they dart between the two looming shapes standing over you, working you in tandem, a cruel rhythm that has you arching with another swelling roll of pleasure which the captain doesn't allow to crest. he's got you legs folded to your chest, hips lifted to give him full access to your cunt where he mercilessly fucks three thick fingers into your sopping hole, your clit pinched cruelly between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand as he stills, waits you out as your body sings, faltering and stuttered, before falling back to the bed, underwhelmed.

"kyle," you eek, strained cries staining your voice. he doesn't even shush you as he thumbs your tears away, soaks up your pleas just as the dry calluses of his thumb absorb your tears.

"one more you think, cap?" his eyes are on you but he's not really looking at you, not seeing how tired and worn out you are already, resorting to his captain's judgement even here, with his partner's comfort on the line.

price's voice is low when he answers, barely even audible over the sounds he's pulling from your pussy as he starts in again, a slow, deep rhythm that makes your heartbeat stutter and stall, start again at the pace he sets. "three, if she's lucky."

[urgardenandmine]

good little boy ❆ - s. park (pt. i)

summary: sunghoon is a major fuckboy (emphasis on fuck) with a camera kink ⚠️‼️WARNING: strong language and this work is like NASTY (by tinashe) so read if you are able to handle dirty stuff⚠️‼️ genre: dirty and NASTY (NSFW) pairing: m!reader x park sunghoon word count: 2.8K

requested by @acidangel-fromasia

“look who came crawling back…”

the voice immediately gave you a headache, yet he wasn’t wrong. i mean you were now on his doorstep, wearing your decorated crocs, your camo-green sweats and a baggy black hoodie. you grumbled softly, staring at the man in front of you who wore nothing but his grey sweatpants and flashed his chiseled body. he had no care for who saw him, though probably no one did as it was the morning and everyone was now at work in school.

as you two stared at one another, being dumb college students, you both had nothing to do in your free time. you could be studying or maybe even just going to the gym and catch up on working out since class has made things out of whack for you but you decided to answer a stupid booty call from a jerk wad (who knew how to make you c-). 

the very attractive man, sunghoon, eyed you up and down. he pouted, stepping closer to you as he wrapped his arms around your waist as he looked into your eyes. he tilted his head, whining.

“aw, love~, you aren’t wearing your choker.” he stated, causing you to look away as the tip of your ears began to feel warmer. you didn’t want to give into his cute antics, just wanted some good pounding then leave. you got stiff, making sure he couldn’t lower your guard because every time you did, all you ended up with was trust issues and even more piled on. sighing, you gently removed his arms from you and glared up at him. 

“i don’t wanna wear that, park.” you spat back, causing him to whine even more as he slouched and pressed his forehead against yours. the mention of his last name caused him to feel a bit fiery inside, hearing how the boy who grips the sheets under him was gaining a backbone. sunghoon chuckled softly as he stood up right and kissed your temple, before wrapping his hand around your neck. you gulped softly, feeling his digits slightly dig on where they met your neck. he removed your hoodie, revealing your freshly washed fluffy hair and grazed his teeth on your ear.

“i guess this will have to work…” he whispered, before biting your ear softly. you tried to hold back your feelings of immense attraction yet it was evident you were getting a bit stiffer somewhere else. removing his veined, warm hands from your throat, he smiled and leaned against his door frame. exhaling happily, he smiled at you as he took in the sight in front of him. in front of him, he saw a hot and bothered fuck toy who he couldn’t wait to strip and just ruin. 

“well, come on in! why don’t we get comfortable.” he inviting teased, grabbing your hands as he led you into his house. you and sunghoon were both students who commuted and both lived at  home. the fun thing though was that his parents were rarely home, so he had the place all to himself. you took in the sight of his living room, seeing the usual couch and the coffee table. what was new was the notebooks on the table, which was weird as you knew sunghoon to be the type of boy to never study since. only time you ever saw him study was when he tried to get your attention from school and it worked, considering this is your dozen time being here in a month. 

following sunghoon up to his room, you took a small breath to prepare yourself for what was about to happen. in reality, sunghoon was a great bed partner. you couldn’t remember a time when he gave you a rough pounding or a sensual one to where you couldn’t walk. as much as you didn’t want to, you were always screaming his name and always scratching his back to where his friends thought he had a secret girlfriend. though in reality, sunghoon was the typical DL guy who just knew how to use his tool. 

walking into his room, you were met with the blinds drawn yet the sheer blinds left over the windows, letting in some light and not too much for people to see the mess about to be made in a couple minutes. his bed sheets were the usual navy blue silk linen, while his pillows were a dark blue and white flannel pattern. the rest of the room was dark, the only light source being the window. sunghoon stood by the door, letting you in to get situated as he chuckled and spanked you gently. you jumped a bit, looking back at him as you groaned. closing the door behind him, he slowly slinked off his sweats to reveal his black boxers. you looked back and saw his bulge, blushing as you rolled your eyes and stuck your hands in the hem of your sweatpants before you felt a hand grab yours, stopping you. 

looking over your shoulder, you saw sunghoon smile as he kissed your cheek and then had you take your hands out. he turned you around, lifting your chin with his soft hands as he planted his coral lips onto yours. closing your eyes, he kissed gently before turning it into a whole make out session. within a second, he wrapped both arms around your waist again as he rubbed his now solid bulge against yours, eliciting soft moans from you both as you had your arms around his neck. sunghoon began to bite your lips, moving down to your neck leaving marks, regardless of the pain he brought you. you whimpered, head rolling back as he then licked his bite marks. chuckling softly, sunghoon then pushed you onto the bed. 

crashing onto the bed, you looked down to see him now slowly undressing you. feeling the soft cotton slowly slide down your legs, you began to feel sunghoon kiss your thighs as he got closer to your clothed throbbing member. shivering, you tried to push him off you as he then glared at you, swiping your hand away as he bit your thigh gently. while on his knees, sunghoon slowly brought one hand down into his boxers and began to slowly tease himself as he teased you. 

sunghoon took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your body wash and you yourself. feeling impatient, sunghoon then used his one free hand and slowly yanked off your own boxers, seeing your rock hard dick spring into the air. though you yourself weren’t the biggest, you were palatable. sunghoon smirked, looking at you as he then used both hands and slinked both arms under your thighs, propping you up as he brought his mouth closer to your pulsing member. feeling his breath reach your tip and more, you closed your eyes and felt embarrassed as you had never seen this side of him. well, you have but you don’t remember much. seeing you not look at him, sunghoon pinched your thighs and caused you to squeak a bit. you looked down and saw him glaring at you.

“look at me, bitch.” sunghoon demanded, before having his tongue lick your tip. gulping, you made sure to make eye contact with the brown eyed boy. sunghoon took a small breath, trying to pace himself. he wanted to enjoy how he was going to ruin you. one thing about sunghoon being a fuckboy was he was a fun one, as he knew how to make sure you got close to the edge but never finished before him. looking up at you, sunghoon then engulfed your whole dick into his warm, wet mouth before moaning around you, sending vibrations throughout your lower member. you groaned, arching your back as you were sensitive. being the usual submissive person in most situations, you were barely tasted down there. with sunghoon, he owned every part of you and wanted to make sure you knew only he could make you feel this good. 

he began to bob his head up and down, his eyes now closed as he began to slobber all over your crotch as your dick hit the back of his warm throat. though sunghoon was strictly a top and you had rarely gotten head, to you both, it felt perfect with one another. though sunghoon had multiple bodies and people to choose from, he chose you every day and when he couldn’t, he didn’t mind whipping out his cock to jerk and send you videos throughout the day till you caved in. 

as sunghoon bobbed up and down, he slowly removed his mouth and began to lap at your balls, causing you to shake and hold onto his head. he saw you biting your lip and trying not to be too loud, making him annoyed. in retaliation, he began to suck on your balls, causing you to let out a loud and long moan as he smirked and then spat on your cock, stroking you softly. 

“f-fuck! sunghoon~.” you whimpered, causing him to smirk as he then removed his hand. he then lifted you up gently, seeing your hole now in front of him. in an instant, sunghoon began to kiss that area as you moaned. having both arms hold you up, he began to devour you as he moaned into your opening. you gripped the bed sheets, the silk ruffling into your hands. sunghoon then removed one hand, staring at the puckering hole in front of him as you could see his face covered in spit. he laughed, spitting on you as he then ran a finger onto you. as you looked at him, you were met with the eyes of a boy who wanted to drag you to heaven and back. slipping a finger into you, sunghoon moaned as he entered you. moaning loudly, you threw your head back as he began to stir your insides.

after what seemed to be a year of teasing (when in reality it was possibly only fifteen minutes) of sunghoon’s fingers inside your warm insides, he was now matching his tip against your hole. as you were ready to brace yourself, you heard a small beep and click. looking at him, you saaw sunghoon holding your leg and now a camcorder in his hand. bunching up your hoodie and covering your privates, sunghoon looked down at you. 

“what’s wrong little pet, shy?” he teased, spanking you as you whined softly. 

“just wondering what’s that for…” you asked, scared of upsetting him. whenever he was angry, he fucked your brains out till you were a rambling mess. sunghoon smiled, turning on the camera as he then angled it to your face and held your face in his hand. he then bent down and kissed you sloppily, moaning into your mouth as his tongue slipped into your mouth. pulling away, he showed the camera your flushed face as he grinned from ear to ear.

“just something for me to watch later, bunny. don’t be shy.” he reassured, standing back up and then pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. he slapped his hard cock onto yours, making you feel needy for it. he then tugged on your hoodie, signaling he wanted this off immediately. understanding his signal, you sat up and removed your hoodie, tossing it off to the side. he inhaled deeply, breathing slowly as he panned the camera to your body and ran a hand down your body. 

“look at my little fuck toy…” he trailed, rubbing his hard eight inch cock against your skin. setting the camera near your head, he then made sure he was in frame as he grabbed a condom and some lube. though sunghoon was rough, he wasn’t careless with you or his health. though his other partners and him were always safe and clean, sunghoon did a little more for you. he made sure he shaved, didn’t smell and as well, made sure the mood was just right. there was music playing in the back yet it wasn’t too loud as the only music he chose to listen to was your grunts and whines. along with that, he had lit a scented candle you mentioned was your favorite when you two had first met. 

grabbing your thighs and placing them around his waist, sunghoon bent down, his face close to yours as he stroked his lubed and covered cock. he lined up his dick with your hole, licking his lips as he saw how needy you were yet were trying to cover it up. he rolled his eyes, kissing you gently as he then slipped his tip in. sucking in a breath, you winced as sunghoon slowly made his way into you. not pushing any further, letting you get used to his girth once more, he lubed up his hand and began to stroke you slowly. you moaned, looking up at sunghoon. he closed his eyes, listening deeply to your noises. 

as he continued to stroke you, he began to push a little deeper in. though it hurt a bit, it felt amazing as sunghoon’s soft and now slick hands  were tugging on your hard cock. as he was halfway in, sunghoon began to kiss your neck. feeling him in you, it was a feeling you missed. you found yourself playing with your back door a lot more frequently ever since you guys began hooking up and it felt like nothing. as he was halfway inside you, you could feel the veins throbbing and how full you were. sunghoon groaned, feeling himself slip into your warm hole. kissing your neck as well as he stroked you, sunghoon then pushed himself in slowly all the way. whining, you wrapped your arms around his burly shoulders. he laughed softly, leaving a small hickey. 

after being adjusted to him, he began to move without any notice. your eyes widened, as you began to let out a string of moans as he began to do shallow strokes. you closed your eyes, feeling sunghoon throb as he began to pump you gently. turning your head towards his neck, he could feel you breathe onto him. lifting his lips from your neck, your eyes locked. in the next second, you began locking lips and making a mess of one another’s lips. 

after five minutes of slow strokes, sunghoon then placed his hands onto the sides of your ass as he began to thrust deeper and harder. 

“fuck! sunghoon!” you yelped, feeling him hit your prostate in an instant. since you two were constant fuck buddies, sunghoon knew you better than you knew yourself. smirking to himself, he looked into the camera and began to demolish your hole. being taller, he rested his head on top of yours as his chin was on your crown. as he stared into the camera, he moaned and smiled at the sight before him. he saw your legs wrapped around him as the bed was shaking. reaching over to grab the camera, he then lifted himself enough to film your face that was filled with lust and pleasure.

“good little faggot, take my cock.” he groaned, shoving it harder to where you began to shake. 

“good fucking slut~.” sunghoon sang, spitting on your face as he then took his other fingers and shoved it into your mouth. you began to suck on them instinctively, making sunghoon happy as he ruined your insides to the point where you were gripping the sheets once again. sunghoon held the camera and began to thrust into you like there was no tomorrow, grinning once more as he could feel how loose you were getting.

bringing one hand to your throat, sunghoon then began to choke you slightly. he knew it wasn’t your favorite but he loved the sight of seeing you under him and whining.

“look at my bitch with his choker. fucking perfect.” the taller man huffed out. changing the pace of his thrusts, sunghoon then slowed down and began to do deeper strokes. he pulled out till only his tip was left inside, then ramming it in. as he did so, he had elicited a loud whine from you, filling the room with only your moans and his deep low grunts. your hands began to hold onto his arm as he choked you, feeling something soon pooling in your lower area. 

“oh, f-fuck! fuck, fuck!” you rambled, arching your back as you came all over yourself. sunghoon tightened his grip on your throat, smiling as he then filmed your shaking legs and what seemed to be your never ending cumshot. he filmed a closeup of your hard cock trembling, as it spewed it’s milk.

setting down the camera, he slowed down his thrusts as he then sped up. he gripped one leg with his other free arm, still choking you as he then pressed his forehead against yours. 

“god, fucking love you, [y/n].” he mumbled, before he got back to fucking your brains out.

and he continued to do so, till you painted his sheets and yourself white and made yourself wetter than ever. sunghoon kept the camera rolling, forgetting it was ever there as he lost himself in you…

⋆｡°✩

dis shit is LONG

sorry if it got rushed at the end but SURPRISE, this is a two-parter

hope y'all enjoy my first ever smut/nsfw story!

[slcmml]

teacher! charlie & reader — me + you = ♡

i don’t know who agrees with me on this, but i’ve been onto math teacher! charlie & english teacher! reader since dinosaurs went extinct..

♡ i’m thinking a middle school setting.. eighth grade, perhaps. you’re across the hall from each other, but don’t talk too often. not much apart from the shy waves in the morning and small talk while waiting outside of your classrooms to greet your students.

♡ well, that was until charlie started having computer issues. now, don’t get me wrong, he’s a very intelligent man! but he fucking hates these school issued chromebooks they’ve handed out to students.

♡ he usually assigns most work on paper since it’s math, but the school asked for him to start using ixl or fucking khan academy, i don’t know. something online that students can access in case they lose their papers.

♡ but you? you used chromebooks all the time! you weren’t cruel enough to make your students write their papers by hand!

♡ none of charlie’s students could figure out what was wrong with the chromebooks, and neither could he, so he went across the hall to get some help (all embarrassed too.. so cute).

“hi! sorry to interrupt, but i’m having trouble getting my students chromebooks to work? do you think you could help?”

♡ of course, being a nice person, you invite him into your classroom and happily help the man. you explain to him why it was broken and how to fix it etc (he wasn’t listening btw, was staring at you the entire time, he thinks you’re so beautiful).

♡ and after that interaction, charlie tries to talk to you more. (YOU’RE SOOOOO BEAUTIFUL HE JUST WANTS TO BE AROUND YOU) in the break room, he’ll ask how your classes are going, and at lunch, he’ll stop by to see what you’re doing, and even at the end of the day, he’ll check up on you to make sure you don’t stay at the school too late.

♡ his students do not fail to notice this. in fact, they encourage it. “but mr dalgeish, my chomebook is broken! can you please ask them to fix it? i want to finish my work so i don’t have to do it at home!” how could he turn down an opportunity to see you?

♡ he tells his class to keep a low volume while he leaves the room for a moment, walking over to your classroom with his student’s chromebook before knocking.

“hello. sorry, again, for interrupting. i’m not quite sure what’s wrong with this chromebook… could you help?” “oh, don’t worry about it! of course i’ll help!”

♡ you start to take a liking to mr dalgeish too.. he’s quite cute, isn’t he? :) he seems so nervous to talk to you outside of the routine good mornings, which you adore.

“so, uh, how was your weekend?” “it was nice! i got to relax and not worry about grading, so what more could i ask for?” “haha, yeah, i, uh, i agree!”

♡ your students probably get so sick of you both. smiling at him while he stumbles over his words like an idiot. one of his students probably try to stage a note, but it’s so obvious that it’s from said student LMAO.

‘dear beautiful english teacher please date me - mr d’

♡ you put a note on his desk with the note from the student attached.

‘so mr d, do you know what this is about?’

♡ oh GOD. he’s so embarrassed. he spends THIRTY minutes of class lecturing them on how that was unprofessional and inappropriate.

♡ talks to you at some point during lunch break.

“i’m so sorry about them—they can get really out of hand and they really like to meddle in other people’s business which is an entirely different conversation—” “charlie, it’s fine.” “i-it’s fine? ‘charlie’?” “oh, is that okay? i mean, i thought—” “no, no, no, it’s more than okay. i like it.” JUST KISS ALREADY.

♡ so. much. fucking. tension. YOU’RE BOTH TEETERING ON FRIENDS/MORE THAN FRIENDS AND IT ANNOYS EVERYONE.

♡ i can assure you right now, if you or charlie don’t make a move, your students or even a fucking coworker will do it for you. (enter: teacher! jschlatt and teacher! ted nivison)

© slcmml

[moonblossom7]

Baby Daddy!Logan thoughts

Wolverine x AFAB! reader

a/n: go into all of my x-men fics n stuff with canon as a mere suggestion :) this one's pretty ok,but yk. For future reference.

contents: fluff, girl dad!Logan,a kid b4 marriage(accidental but wanted),slight angst sprinkled in,lightly suggestive in one bit but it's not full nsfw or anything

🌸 Logan didn't mean to get you pregnant and he was honestly upset when you first found out. He was happy for you,bc you wanted kids but he didn't think he deserved to be a father.

🌸 Once he decided he was sticking around (because let's be honest,there was some part of him that thought leaving so you could find someone better was the move) he's very attentive.

🌸and I'm not just talking "oh,he goes to every check up and rubs your feet" I'm talking he will hike ten miles in the snow at 2 a.m if you're craving something specific and will return with a smile on his face because yeah,that was tough but you're growing a kid,which is harder.

🌸really wanted you to have a home birth,mainly because he doesn't trust medical situations,especially if you and the baby are also mutants. (and if you still do it at the hospital,he is fucking VIGILANT. He's watching every fucking thing that happens like a hawk.)

🌸you have a girl ofc

🌸he's never really been around kids this little,so for a long time he doesn't know what to do with her.

🌸he uses Jean's Facebook to look at parenting tips(he later learns this is not the greatest source),and consequentially ends up buying a ton of stuff that your daughter is too young to even need off Marketplace (bikes,clothes meant for much older kids,rain boots,jungle gym,etc.)

🌸he hates!! Hates!! those little tutus that seem to be on every little girl onesie, he thinks the tulle is scratchy and how on earth could someone subject their baby to that?

🌸a lot of the clothes your daughter winds up wearing are pretty gender neutral and frequently thrifted or bought from small businesses. Logan says this is because modern,mainstream baby clothes are "Down right fucking hideous,who designs this shit?"

🌸he makes some of her toys. A small set of wooden blocks here, a patchy ugly teddy bear there. He just doesn't love the unnaturally bright colors and loud noises that most baby toys come with,plus,he's got a lot of affection he doesn't know what to do with.

🌸hates late night diaper changes with a passion. He only just started sleeping without nightmares,and the baby won't even let him get a full 8 hours?? He takes all of them though,because "you do the more important stuff"

🌸big fan of the way your appearance changed,btw. I personally think he's always been the type to find stretch marks and some squish attractive,but the fact that these are from you growing his little girl makes it all the more beautiful.

🌸he is not,however,a fan of having to wait until you're healed up for bedroom stuff. He can do it, he's not an animal,but you're just so fucking gorgeous and he's so fucking happy. But,your health comes first, and he's not so stupid as to think he knows better than you on this.

🌸he doesn't quit smoking,but does at least start going outside and wearing a different jacket when he does it. He always washes his hands and face after he's done before he does anything near the baby.

🌸since this is *my* personal x-men canon, we're going to say that Laura is around the mansion somewhere and is not overly hyped about the baby sister. She's a little possessive over her dad,as some little girls are. (She'll get over it soon,especially once the baby is old enough to play with)

🌸Logan takes the baby on adventures once she's old enough to not get sick over everything. He'll pack a bag and disappear with Laura and the baby for a few hours,with very little explanation, and come back with a snoring toddler and a 10 year old covered in mud.

🌸he's happy that this kid has his mutation in it's organic form,instead of being injected with metal. however,it does make her stick out a bit visually. (she begins to display it at around age 11,with claws that aren't super sharp at all compared to Logan and Laura)

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

ok so that's it lolsies. Lmk if you want anything else with this idea or any specific scenarios.

[websterss]

AT THE END OF THE DAY — JOAQUÍN TORRES

REQUESTS: Joaquín Torres: the reader is his girlfriend. He is always overprotective of you. One day, you're in great danger, and he has to save you with his falcon title rn. After saving you, he holds you the entire time. @tsunchani

WARNING(S): angst, fluff, slight gunshot wound

WORD COUNT: 3,642

PAIRING: Joaquín Torres x fem!Reader

A/N: I've been having a hard time finding my writer's voice again and Emy told me to just take the leap and post my fics. So I hope you guys enjoy the story.

MASTERLIST

"How'd you even manage to sit us front row?" Sam questioned as he watched Joaquín walk down the white house's halls with ease and familiarity.

"Her..." Joaquín's grin grew as you spotted him coming your way. You dismissed the agent you were discussing a report with and made your way over to him and Sam. Sam was stunned into silence as he watched the interaction between you two fall into place.

"Hermosa." Beautiful. Joaquín muttered softly with a chuckle as he pulled you into a quick kiss. Your faint giggle makes his heart flood with warmth.

Oh. Her.

Sam mouthed as he looked away from the public display of affection.

"Ya mero terminas?" Are you almost finished? Joaquín asks you.

"Yeah, I just need to give a quick debrief then I'm all yours. Oh, which reminds me..." You hold your finger up as you pickpocket two clearance badges. Two red lanyards now dangled before Joaquín as he grabs them from you. "You'll be needing these if you even want to think about sitting in for the president's presentation."

"Sweet!" Joaquín ha-ha's as you place it over his neck and then extended one out to Sam who was waiting to be finally introduced.

Your smile fades as your eyes widen with realization. "Oh my god-"

"Mi amor, you don't need to-" My love.

"Holy shit it's...I mean you're Captain America!" You look over at Joaquín for reassurance. The nod he gives you only further sends you into fangirl mode. "It's Captain America Joaquín..."

"Most people just call me Sam, sweetheart." Sam chuckled as he extended his hand out to shake yours.

"I'm a huge fan. Thank you...for your service I mean, and to this country and saving the world." You cringe at yourself. Joaquín bit back a smile as he looked between you two. “That– sounded a whole lot better in my head.”

"Sam this is my fiancé, Y/n. She has level 10 clearance and the President's not second but most requested personnel. And can kick my ass any given day." You furrow your brows at him, smacking him on the chest with the suck of your teeth.

"Hi..." You grow timid under Sam's gaze. "Y/n." You gesture to yourself.

"You have a fiancé man?" Sam looks over to Joaquín with an incredulous gaze.

Joaquín hums and lifts your hand to display the ring he proposed with. You grin and point with your finger at your ring.

"Look at you, man!" Sam's gaze flickers between your two grinning faces. If golden retriever and innocence were a person the two of you embodied it perfectly. "I can see it." Sam nodded to himself as he walked ahead of you two.

Your brows furrowed in question as you watched him walk off. "See what?"

"I don’t know. I’ll ask him about it later. I’ll see you there okay.” Cupped your face and sighed into the kiss he planted on you again. Your shoulders fell as you melted into the kiss. You raised your hand and gently cupped his cheek's right side. Though any passerby could distinguish the rate at which the kiss was leading, you took the initiative and pushed him away, placing your hand on his chest gently. He huffed with a huge grin as you swiped your thumb gently across his lower lip. Trying to rid him of your lipstick. More so the obvious smeared coat of your lipstick on him. You laughed as you continued to rub it off, even grossing him out by licking your thumb lightly.

“Hold on I missed a spot!”

“Mi amor, esta bien. Just leave it. Let them know who I belong to.” My love, it’s okay. He cheekily bit back a laugh.

“Who is rubbing off on you, trouble? Oh my god. Go get out of here before you're late,” You shake your head in disbelief. "or I'll beat you up."

“Bossy,” Joaquín mutters to himself. You feign a step forward your fist feigned, raised up like you’ll sock his shoulder. He laughs as your imitation tactic, pretending to flinch as he laughs at you, walking then to where Sam is hovering, lingering against the wall as he watches you two. The two idiots, happily in love. He couldn’t fight the grin that made its way onto his face.

“Te quiero!” I love you. Joaquín calls after you. You grin and look back over your shoulder.

“Muchisimo!” So much. You exclaim. The click of your heels fades with that of your turned back. You made a left at the end of the hall and then you were out of his sight. Joaquín couldn’t help the swell of his heart soaring. He grins down at his shoes and then looks up timidly at Sam. He rolls his eyes at the chagrin and cheeky smirk he receives.

“So when you said you weren’t wanting to look for a relationship-“

“-I was referring to no longer needing to look.” Joaquín clarified, pocketing his hands. “Cause I got her…”

“And here I was like a jackass trying to set you up. I’m sorry man.”

“It’s all good. We laughed about it the other day.” Joaquín gestured over his shoulder.

“So it’s that serious huh…you happy?” Sam slapped him across his left shoulder. Still asking even though he had a whole show of your love and affection towards one another.

Joaquín squinted at the question. His grin widened. “Was the ring not enough evidence?” He teases. “I can call her back here if you want. I’ll even dip her this time!”

“No, no need. Damn…I’m happy for you Joaquín.” Sam clasped his shoulder. “You know doing this sort of thing for so long. It gets lonely after a while. Hell, even I’ll admit it. When you’re too far into the job, into the crime-fighting and saving, you forget about the one thing you’re dying to go after…”

“What’s that?”

“Love, my man. And you hit the jackpot. You hold on to her as long as you can alright. I know with the jobs you both do there’s bound to be a few bumps in the road but hold on to that. Cause in the end that’s the only thing that’s gonna matter.”

“She’s my everything. Mi todo.”

“Yeah? Alright kid, hold onto your todo and don’t let go. Come one we gotta go greet Mr. P-R-E-S-I-D-E-N-T.” Sam spelled out with a smirk. A bit of a swagger in his step. Joaquín’s laugh broke out as he fell in step with Sam

-

Sam had clocked all the closest exists as soon as he and Joaquín had sat down with Isaiah. He also had noticed the subtle flickering gazes you spared Joaquín long ways from the other side of the room. Your head slightly tilted to the right to meet his gaze every once and a while. You radiated a sweet grin as you switched your surveillance back onto the President.

Everything had been going great until Isaiah stood up. You watched as he flung one of your agents against the curtains. He pulled out a gun and aimed it at the glass the President was inside.

You hurried forward raising your hand to your ear to call for backup when you clocked another man reach for his belt. "He's got a gun!" You yelled and slammed your weight into his side. A shot rang as soon as your bodies collided. Then panic in the room escalated as everyone began to run and try to leave through the exits. The glass above the President had shattered causing him to duck and shield his head.

Joaquín's fight mode kicked in the second the first shot rang out. He set his eyes out for you, keeping low as he started making his way through the panic of people.

“Y/n!” When he found you, you and the man who shot the gun were staring off, each of your heads turning to the flung weapon on the carpet. You lunged for it first. “Y/n!”

Joaquín had followed after you, but he flinched back when another shot rang out. You and the man both froze. Joaquín stood behind you not knowing whether you had been the one hit. But when the man knelt in front of you toppled over, he felt his shoulders fall in relief.

When the man fell, Joaquín rushed over to you. He pulled you back and wrapped his free arm around your waist as his other hand came up to your face to inspect you.

"You okay? You okay?" He muttered as he gently cupped your chin and turned you so you were facing him. It took you a second to register it was him. You nodded in response. You glanced over his shoulder watching in horror as Isaiah threw another agent.

"I-Isaiah?" You gasped, you looked around watching another one of your men escort the President out of there. It was pure chaos. His heart was still racing. He pressed his head to yours quickly before having you both stand up. He looked around the room, eyes falling to Sam. Their eyes met in a silent conversation.

"Get her out of here!" Sam ordered. "Both of you!"

"Let's go." Joaquín didn't hesitate to grab your hand, pulling you through the sea of people. He pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, his gaze set on an exit.

When he finally broke free of the throng of people, he stayed low and kept you close. You hadn't seen his counter-surveillance kick in since the Flag Smashers, ensuring your safety and his at all costs. However, your resistance against his grip on your hand made it difficult to keep moving forward. He looked down at your interlocked hands and could register your hesitance to continue with him. "I could see your gears turning, what?"

You looked back from where you came from, then looked back to his gaze. "I'm secret service Joaquín-"

His free hand came up to grasp your chin as he lifted your gaze to his. His jaw was locked as he stared you down, not wanting to hear what you were about to say. "No-"

"I got my orders the same as you do." You defended.

"I don't care about orders." Joaquín shook his head as his grip on your chin tightened. "Your job isn't more important than your safety."

"It's the President of the United States!"

"And it's you. There are a lot more people who can protect the President. He'll be fine. Trust me." The sound of distant gunshots made Joaquín's grip on you tighten.

You closed your eyes. Knowing he'd argue with you until you subjected him to the couch for the night. He never knew when to stop prioritizing you over the world. You loved and hated him for it.

"Just listen to me." His grip on your chin eased as his thumb brushed your cheek. "Por favor, mi amor." Please, my love. He knew he was using the right words that pulled on your heartstrings. "Just think about it but not right now 'cause we got to go-" He had looked up in time to see a geared personnel aim their gun right at the two of you. It unsettled him that he had grabbed your waist, tugging you closer as he dropped and rolled the both of you to the ground. Your scream hit his ears as the shot hit the spot where you were previously standing.

"Oh my god!" You screech as you both scramble up on your feet.

The two of you started booking it when shots were fired in your direction again. You were both running low toward the exit when one last shot hit your arm and stopped you in your tracks. You cried out as you grabbed at your shoulder as you fell, but it was enough for you to be vulnerable. Joaquín turned around when he heard your wince and the sound of you collapsing. His blood ran cold as you fell to your knees. "No! Hey no, you're okay. Come on!"

"S-So that's what that- f-feels like, good to know. What the fuck!" You moaned out in pain as Joaquín helped you to your feet again.

"That's good you're still cracking wise on me. Always a good sign." He tried to keep you calm to keep you focused. His heart rate had spiked and he felt his own blood boiling as he watched your wound bleed. His only thought was getting you as far away from danger as possible so he could tend to your arm as soon as you were safe.

"Shut the hell up, Joaquín." You gritted your teeth. He finally saw the front doors come into view once you rounded another corner.

He knew your tone too well to know not to comment back, but he chuckled to himself as you neared the exit. "Just trying to keep you in good spirits, sweetheart." His grip on your waist tightened protectively as he started pushing you forward faster. "Almost there, I got you-"

"Stop right there! Hands up!" You and Joaquín froze as the S.W.A.T team pointed the ends of their guns at you.

Your heart dropped as the team came into view, and the moment he felt your body stiffen, his jaw clenched. A silent curse passed his mind as his right hand went up slowly and he took a step forward to block you from the threat. "Don't shoot. Lieutenant Joaquín Torres, Sam Wilson's second in command, sir. Y/n Y/l/n, secret service. She needs medical attention." He gestured to himself then at you.

"Joaquín, it's a shoulder wound…" You scoff quietly at him.

"They don't know that," He whispered back to you, his right hand remained raised in the air.

The captain's eyes narrowed as he observed your body language with a hint of suspicion. Then his gaze flickered down lower to your shoulder. There was a growing stain of blood staining the sleeve of your blazer. "We got a medic on site. You can be examined there." The captain informed. "Let them through!"

"Thank you," Joaquín said in passing as he curled your arm around his shoulder once more.

The two of you passed the armed men swiftly. Once you were past them, Joaquín picked up his pace a little more as he hurried you outside. He could see the mentioned medic site and caught the attention of a first responder by raising two fingers in the air swiftly. He walked over to a bed and set you down on it, slowly uncurling your good arm from around him.

"Injury?" The woman came forward, inserting blue gloves over her hands.

"Upper arm. A gunshot wound, she's been hit in the shoulder." Joaquín answered, stepping back as the EMT gently pulled your blazer back to reveal the extent of the gunshot wound. You winced as the fabric was pulled against your wound.

"The bullet will need to be removed. What's your pain like?"

“On a scale of one to ten: like I want to punch him." You groan as you grit your teeth, feeling her poke and prod around the wound.

"That's not rare." She smiled at you trying to ease the tension you were holding. "Most patients in your current situation say they want to strangle someone so I'd say you're gonna be alright."

You hum in response, but you still keep your eyes locked on somewhere else. "Is there any way you can check her head for a concussion-" You both look back to Joaquín. "She's not usually the joke-cracking type." Joaquín teased.

You roll your eyes as you look back to the medical. "Ignore him. He's overprotective of my well-being."

She laughs at the banter between the two of you as she moves to clean up the wound area and apply some numbing solution to the surrounding area. The moment the antiseptic wipe comes into contact with your skin, your shoulders tense from the sting. The medic notices your reaction. She then proceeded to pull out forceps, then turned to you. "I'm sorry, but this is probably going to hurt."

"Well, how much worse can it get?" You wince and turn to look at Joaquín. He walked up to the bed and pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand reaching for your right hand instantly.

He bit back a laugh as he smirked at you, but his concern was obvious. His hand twitched as if it had a subconscious desire to pull you in closer. The medic then began to prod the bullet wound, causing you to gasp and wince.

"I promise it'll be over soon…" She tried to comfort you. "This is the worst part."

"I thought getting shot was the worst part?"

She chuckled, "That's a given." While you focused your mind on something else to try and ease the pain, she continued to poke and prod around the wound. She found her mark and then pulled out the bullet swiftly. The pain lasted for a few more seconds because of her fast work, but after that, you began to feel a numbing tingling sensation. "There we go." She nodded.

"You did good, mi amor," Joaquín reassured you as he gripped your hand again. "That wasn't so bad.

You took deep breaths as your heart rate calmed back down. You managed a smile as you looked up at him. The medic then started to disinfect the wound and bandage it up to stop it from bleeding.

“Yeah cause a gunshot wound is nothing compared to having your orbital broken.” You lean in his chest.

“Broken orbital.” The medic questions.

“Long story.” You brush it off.

“You’re good to go. Take these,” She hands you some painkillers. “Get some rest, and make sure to keep changing the dressings to reduce the chance of infection.”

“Will do, thanks for everything.” Your face shows your gracious smile.

“Take care you two.” She dips her chin in goodbye before rushing over to another patient.

“Well that was fun.” Joaquín quips as he walk over to stand in front of you. His grin widening as he brushes back some baby hairs.

“Our best date yet.” You chuckle.

"Mm, I think I prefer the one where we skip work tomorrow and lay in bed all day." He wrapped his arms around you gently, pulling you just a little closer to him. "Besides, I thought you loved a bit of adventure in our life," He teased as he ran his nose along the side of your cheek.

"Yes but you know not like this, Joaquín." You sighed into his touch.

He took a few deep breaths to calm his heart, not wanting to admit that seeing you injured had terrified him, and he was trying to play it cool. He just had to keep reminding himself you were alright.

"I can hear you spiraling." You breathe out a faint laugh

"Not spiraling. I'm totally fine, and-" He fumbled over his words as he met your gaze again. He pressed his forehead against yours, taking deep breaths to steady himself. "I'm spiraling cause you scared the hell out of me."

"I never mean to. You know that. It comes with our jobs, Joaquín. Our lives are constantly on the line."

"Yeah, I know that." He sighed as his hands moved to rest on your waist. "Doesn't make it any easier though…"

"I don't think it ever will."

"No, I suppose it won't…" His thumbs idly rubbed back and forth along your waist, and the silence that settled between you grew thick.

"You can't save us from everything…" You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek.

He hummed and closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled back. Despite being comforted by your touch, he couldn't shake off the fear that had settled in his chest.

"Can I ask you something?"

He hesitated for a moment, not sure if he wanted to voice his worries. But ultimately, he decided it was better to get it off his chest.

He took a deep breath, "Do you ever consider… quitting? All of it?" He asked cautiously, not wanting to upset you.

"No, though somethings I imagine what a life of peace looks like. Though I wouldn't want to start that reality without you. Until we're both ready for that cliche of white picket fence life. You don't want to give that up right now though, I can see how much you love the thrill and adventure, so neither do I."

His expression softened, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He knew you knew him so well, which made him love you even more.

"You're right, I don't want to give it up right now." He admitted. "But the idea of a quiet life does sound nice, especially if it means spending more time with you without worrying that something could happen to you every second." He murmured as his hands shifted to rest on your hips. "But it is just a job at the end of the day."

"One you love." You teased.

"Oh, I do love it…" Joaquín smirked as he dipped his head to press a kiss to the soft skin of your neck. His gaze shifted to look at your bandaged shoulder, a faint frown appearing on his face just for a moment. He lifted his hand slowly and gently brushed his fingers along the edges of the bandage, careful not to cause any pain to your wound.

"But…" He whispered, his breath hot against your skin, "I love you more, mi amor." He added as he pressed a sweet kiss to your skin once more.

[f1cflcfic]

Just Because I Called You (Carlos Sainz)

Well, sometimes the muse outruns your earlier plans. I wasn't going to write a Carlos fic, but here we are :) This one is fully written and only has three parts, hope to update every 5 days!

pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem!reader

summary: y/n knows there's a reason for his contact details to be saved under 'do not interact', but one call does not mean you miss him.

genre: 1.6k words, written au, brief 18+ content, angst

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just the sheer exhaustion that’s keeping you from finding your house keys after a night out with your friends.

You curse out loud, digging your hand back into your purse, even though you know it’ll be another futile attempt.

It’s not there.

Dread settles in, as you consider your options. You’d been the last one in the Uber, so all your friends have undoubtedly already crashed out. You could book a hotel, but that seems very excessive, expensive, and also just incredibly inopportune. Everything you need, your contact solution, your glasses, your pyjamas – it’s all just on the other side of the door.

With a sigh, you lean your clammy forehead against the front door.

“Fuck,” you whisper, as realisation sets in. You’re going to need a spare key. And it just so happens there’s only two other people who might have one, of which one is currently on holiday in Thailand.

Which leaves you with the worst option of all. With a sigh, you grab your phone and scroll through your contacts. “x do not interact x ”

“Needs must,” you mutter to yourself, then press the green call button. It’s well past midnight, and you feel bad about calling – but you also know that if anyone’s going to answer, it’s him.

The line rings once, twice, three times, before it comes to life with a little crackle.

“Hello?” You close your eyes almost on instinct, as his rough voice washes over you. It doesn’t hurt as much as it once did, but the ache still lingers.

“I know it’s late, and I know we’re not supposed to talk, but I’m drunk and dumb, and I can’t find my key,” you rush out all at once.

There’s faint rustling on the other end of the line, but then he comes back. “I got it. Just eh – wait? I’ll be there in 10.”

For seven minutes, you pace up and down the hallway in your apartment building – desperately convincing yourself of the fact that this won’t end badly.

You’re broken up. Have been broken up for a month. It’s the sole reason why your friends took you out, to celebrate that it’d been a month of going no contact with your ex.

Because you deserved better. You deserved someone who’d say “I love you” back, who’d buy you flowers, who’d take you out on dates that weren’t just sponsor events, and holidays that were just the two of you.

You deserve to be someone’s priority. So you’d told him it was over, and it had somehow made you even more mad that he’d just accepted it.

“Hi,” a voice says softly, and you immediately feel tears burn behind your eyes.

“Hi Carlos,” you reply meekly, waiting and watching as he approaches slowly. He’s wearing soft grey sweatpants, and a hoodie you once bought him in your favourite colour.

It’s uncomfortable and weird, the way in which neither of you really knows how to greet each other beyond that. Initiating any type of bodily contact seems like a bad decision, not when you know it's never going to satisfy the itch. It'd only make you crave his touch more, in ways you can't have it. Not anymore.

He awkwardly lifts his hand and shows you the spare key you’d once given him. The one he hadn’t given back yet. Your stomach lurches as you catch sight of the tiny sparkly chilli keychain dangling in the air.

“Shall I?” He asks, motioning at the door that you’d unconsciously been blocking with your body.

“Right, sorry,” you mutter, and quickly take a step back to give him some room.

Belatedly, you realise you should’ve just taken the key from him altogether right then and there.

But he's here now.

So instead, you thank him for coming out to you at 3AM in the morning. “Do you want to come in? Have something to drink before you leave again?”

You regret it the moment the words come out your mouth, as you can see Carlos visibly flinch. “I didn’t mean – no, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I think you did, though. And you’d be right. I was pretty good at leaving, wasn’t I?” He rubs his face with his hand, your eyes following the movement.

It drops back down, then pushes the door open a little further. Your eyes trail up his arm, lingering briefly on his neck. It’s lost some of its thickness, signalling the off-season. He’s handsome either way, but it just makes you hurt over lost time and moments together.

Your need to catalogue all the ways in which his appearance has changed is distracting, and you’ve inched closer to him – closer than strictly necessary, before you realise.

You shuffle past him, carefully knocking into his arm just so. You kick off your heels, and hang your bag on the coatrack.

You look back over your shoulder, then point at the basket neatly situated on the side table in your hallway. “Look. Keys are right there.”

“Cariño,” he warns, but against what, you’re not entirely sure.

He should probably leave, you think. He could have left. If he’d wanted to.

“You could just drop those keys off there as well,” you add, coaxing him to make a choice.

To finally step foot inside your apartment for the first time in 6 weeks. Or to never see it again.

He exhales, dark brown eyes zeroing in on yours as he makes his way in. He doesn’t drop the keys in the basket, but instead closes the door behind him, then takes off his shoes. Clearly he remembers how much you hate dirty shoes inside. “Don’t you think tonight proves it’s probably good if I held onto these?”

“I think it proves I need someone to have spare keys. It doesn’t need to be you,” you counter, then turn around and walk to the kitchen. He follows wordlessly, gaze never straying from you as you pour the two of you a glass of wine.

“Where are you staying, anyways? Ten minutes isn’t far off,” you ask, softly this time.

“Alex’ place,” he explains. “Our – the apartment flooded.” He’s quiet for a second, then takes the glass of wine as you hand it to him. “This keychain is a chilli. It’s mine.”

You study him across the top of your wine glass, follow the way he takes a sip and lets the red wine slide down his throat. It makes your cheeks flush, although you’re fairly certain you can hide behind the alcohol you’d already consumed earlier this evening.

“Mi favorito,” Carlos murmurs appreciatively. You know he’s talking about the wine, but for a millisecond, you deliberately let yourself misunderstand. Let yourself forget and fantasise.

Silence wraps around the two of you as you offer him a piece of leftover tiramisu that you pull from the fridge. He grabs the spoon from you, and takes a bite. It shouldn’t look as sinful as it does. But it’s Carlos, and it’s you. Habits die hard.

Sure, maybe it is the alcohol, maybe it is your exhaustion, you reason with yourself. Or maybe it’s the charged air that surrounds you two – even now you’re no longer together.

“Why’d you answer when I called?” You blurt out, the alcohol making you a little bolder than you’d normally be.

His hand stills from where it had been swirling the glass. He looks up at you again, and you feel your knees go weak. There’s a devastating vulnerability in those eyes, one that’s hard to ignore. “Tu sabes. Do you wish I hadn’t answered?”

You set your wineglass down again, now empty, then lean over the countertop. Close enough to count his eyelashes, and the tiny freckles he’s acquired from being out in the sun with his family. It hurts not having seen them develop in real time.

“I wish a lot of things, Carlos.”

His eyes rove your face, then linger on your lips for a second longer. “Me, too.”

Your gaze drops, too. And even though your heart is smashed to smithereens in your chest, your memories are telling you not to do it, and you know your friends will crucify you before picking up the pieces - it’s the lust and love-addled part of your brain that handles purely on emotion that wins out.

On reflex, you’ll justify later, you find yourself kissing Carlos in your kitchen at 3AM in the morning.

On reflex, you don’t even register how your own fingers roam around his body, and peel off the hoodie you’d gotten him.

On reflex, he hauls you into your bedroom, and teases you with his tongue while his lashes flutter against the apex of your thighs.

It’s not on reflex, when he asks if he needs to use a condom. It breaks the lust-fuelled haze, and instead it’s got you on the brink of crying in the blink of an eye. But you’re so close now, can almost taste the way in which this is going to both ruin and complete you at the same time.

You know this is exactly why you shouldn’t have called him, but it’s also exactly why you’re not going to stop this now. Even when you know you should.

So instead, you let the anger course through your body, scratching his back with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. “You tell me,” you pant in his neck, before sucking a bruise into his skin. You can feel his jaw tick, but he refrains from grabbing a condom nonetheless.

It shouldn’t make you feel the things it does.

Then again, Carlos shouldn’t be in your bed, buried balls deep inside of you, making you come three times in a row either.

Not when you’d been doing so well at the no contact rule.

You guess, then, that you deserve the feeling of hot shame and embarrassment rushing over you the next morning. It’s your punishment for being foolish, as you realise you shouldn’t have been surprised at the fact that he’s no longer next to you.

The only evidence he was ever there, is the stupid fucking hoodie left on your bedroom floor, and the sticky feeling between your legs.  

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Let me know what you think <3 Likes, comments, reblogs, asks are all appreciated.

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Thirty One

Jungkook leaned back in his leather chair, one hand gripping the phone to his ear while the other drummed impatiently against the dark mahogany desk. His office was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, where the city stretched out in endless golden streaks against the night.

His jaw was tight, his voice low and steady. “I need you to do a job for me.”

A pause.

The voice on the other end was smooth but skeptical. “Didn’t think you’d be calling me of all people. You sure about this?”

Jungkook’s grip on the phone tightened. “Find out whatever you can about Aylah Jace Banks.”

There was a brief silence. Then, a low chuckle. “A name. That’s all you’re giving me?”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, his patience thinning. “I don’t have much else. But you’re good at what you do, aren’t you?”

A rustling noise came through the line, followed by the faint sound of keys clacking against a keyboard. “Alright, alright. I’ll bite. You want a standard background check or… something deeper?”

Jungkook hesitated for half a second. Then— “Everything. Where she is, who she’s with, what she’s doing. I don’t care how long it takes, just get me answers.”

A low whistle. “Must be one hell of a girl.”

Jungkook’s jaw flexed. He didn’t answer.

The man on the phone didn’t push. “Alright, I’ll see what I can dig up. Might take a few days, might take longer. Depends on how easy she is to track.”

Jungkook’s fingers tapped against the desk, his mind already racing through the possibilities. “Just let me know the second you find something.”

“Fine, fine. But let me ask you something first.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “What?”

A pause. Then, the man’s voice dropped into something almost amused. “What exactly are you hoping to find?”

Jungkook clenched his teeth, the answer sitting heavy in his chest.

That she’s okay.That she doesn’t hate me.That she’s still mine, even if she never was to begin with.

Instead, he simply said, “Just do the job.”

The man chuckled again. “Whatever you say, champ.”

Aylah’s POV:

I swirled my straw absently in my caramel frappuccino, watching the golden-brown liquid mix with the melted ice as my mind drifted back to yesterday.

The way Adam had reacted. The way he had towered over me in the storage room, his arms caging me in, his voice laced with barely contained irritation. His eyes—dark, unreadable, but holding something underneath. Something I couldn’t quite place.

I sighed, taking another slow sip of my drink. What the hell is his problem? One minute, he was acting like I didn’t exist, and the next, he was catching falling boxes and getting all up in my space like—

“BOO!”

“OH MY GOD!” My entire body jolted as I nearly spilled my drink, clutching my chest as my heart tried to recover from the near heart attack.

Cyrus burst into laughter, doubling over at my reaction. “Damn, AJ, I didn’t think you’d jump that hard. Didn’t realize you were so deep in thought.”

I exhaled sharply, placing my cup down before I actually dropped it. “Jesus, Cyrus! I swear, one of these days, you’re gonna be the reason I go into cardiac arrest.”

He smirked, plopping into the seat across from me. “Sorry, girl, but you were looking way too serious. What’s got you all spaced out?”

“Nothing,” I muttered quickly, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”

Cyrus gave me a look like he knew I was lying, but to my relief, he didn’t push it. Instead, his lips curled into a grin, his entire demeanor shifting as he clapped his hands together excitedly.

“Anyway, forget all that! It’s Bank Holiday, which means—” He stretched out the words dramatically. “—we can close up early.”

My head snapped up so fast I probably gave myself whiplash. “Wait, really?” It was like life suddenly flooded back into my body.

“Yep,” he confirmed, looking way too smug at my enthusiasm. “So, how ‘bout me, you, Serena, and Leah hit up that pizza place in Central? You know the one.”

I let out a groan, pressing my hands together in mock prayer. “Oh my God, yes. I’d kill for pizza right now.”

Just as I was about to start fantasizing about all the cheese and carbs I was about to inhale, the café door swung open, and Leah and Serena strolled in, looking suspiciously guilty.

“Guys,” Leah started, her tone careful. “We… may have a slight change of plans.”

Cyrus narrowed his eyes. “What? Why?”

Leah winced, rubbing the back of her neck. “Soooo… I may have mentioned to Adam what our plans were.”

My stomach immediately twisted.

Cyrus blinked. “Okay… and?”

Leah let out a slow breath. “Aaaand… he’s kinda coming with us.”

The entire café went silent. Even the coffee machine seemed to stop making noise.

Cyrus leaned forward. “Wait. He agreed?”

Serena nodded, eyes still wide like she couldn’t believe it herself. “Yeah, I was literally listening to their conversation, and I was shocked when he said yes. He always turns us down when we ask him to hang out.”

Leah groaned. “That’s why I asked! I didn’t want to be rude and not invite him, but I wasn’t expecting him to actually say yes.”

Serena suddenly grinned, nudging my shoulder. “Maybe it had something to do with little miss over here.”

My mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

Cyrus wiggled his eyebrows. “I mean, think about it. He’s never hung out with us outside of work before, and now—suddenly, after your little run-in with him today—he magically decides to come?”

I crossed my arms, scowling. “That’s ridiculous.”

Serena smirked. “Is it?”

“Yes!” I said firmly. “Adam doesn’t even like me.”

Leah hummed, tapping her chin. “Mmm… Are we sure about that?”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Guys, seriously. He’s coming because he wants pizza, not because of me.”

Cyrus grinned. “Suuure, AJ. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

I grabbed my frappuccino and took a very aggressive sip. “I hate you all.”

They burst into laughter.

Before I could argue any further, the door chimed again. We all turned at the same time—

And there he was.

Adam was dressed in a black hoodie and dark jeans, his usual cap pulled low over his eyes, his sharp jawline illuminated by the café lights. He stepped inside quietly, his gaze sweeping over the four of us before locking onto me.

My breath hitched.

His stare was unreadable. Not necessarily hostile, but… intense. As if he was trying to figure me out, trying to understand something about me that even I didn’t know.

I swallowed. What is with this guy?

Leah cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. “Uh, hey, Adam. Ready to go?”

Adam tore his gaze away from me, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah.”

Cyrus leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Girl, I felt that in my coochie, and I ain’t even got one.”

I shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

He smirked but didn’t push it further.

Leah clapped her hands together. “Alright then, let’s go get some damn pizza.”

The cool evening air wrapped around us as we stepped out of the café, the sky painted in deep shades of purple and navy as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The streets were still buzzing with life—cars honking, groups of friends laughing as they passed by, and the scent of street food wafting from nearby vendors.

Cyrus jingled his car keys in his hand as he led the way, grinning like he was up to something. Leah walked beside him, scrolling through her phone, while Serena and I trailed just behind them. Adam, as usual, was silent, walking slightly apart from the group with his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.

I tried not to think about the fact that he was right next to me. Tried being the keyword.

“So, what car are we taking?” I asked, mostly to fill the silence.

“Mine,” Cyrus answered over his shoulder. “Biggest one out of all of us.”

Leah smirked. “And you just love driving us around, don’t you?”

Cyrus scoffed. “Please. You peasants should be grateful you get to experience my excellent driving skills for free.”

Serena snorted. “Oh yeah? Tell that to the parking ticket you got last week.”

“That was a setup,” he argued. “The parking sign was misleading, and I refuse to take responsibility.”

Leah shook her head, laughing. But then, her eyes flicked to Cyrus, and her expression shifted slightly—mischief flashing behind her gaze.

Cyrus slowed his pace, letting the distance between us and them grow just enough before he leaned toward Leah and whispered, “I’ve got a plan.”

Leah arched a brow. “Oh? Do tell.”

A devilish grin spread across Cyrus’s face. “So, you know how I have two boxes of weights on my back seat? The ones I use to work out at home?”

Leah nodded slowly, catching on. “Yeah…?”

“Well, I conveniently forgot to take them out, and there’s no space in the boot.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Which means our dear AJ is gonna have to sit on Adam’s lap.”

Leah gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Cyrus. I love the way you think, my friend.”

They shared a sneaky high-five behind us, completely unnoticed by Serena, Adam, and me.

As we continued walking toward the car, completely oblivious to the scheme unfolding behind us, I let out a content sigh, stretching my arms. “Man, I can already taste that pizza.”

“Right?” Serena chimed in. “I’m getting extra cheese on mine.”

Adam, as expected, didn’t say anything. But I could feel his presence beside me, a silent but undeniable weight in the atmosphere.

Leah and Cyrus, on the other hand, were grinning like two kids who just got away with something very bad.

As we finally reached Cyrus’ car, he suddenly gasped dramatically, throwing a hand to his forehead like he had just remembered something crucial. “Oh no,” he said, voice laced with faux distress.

I blinked at him, confused. “What? Oh no what?”

“My weights!” He motioned toward the car like it was some tragic scene. “I completely forgot I had them in the back seat.”

I frowned. “Weights? What weights?”

Cyrus sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I work out at home, obviously,” he said, flexing his arms for emphasis. “And I bought some new ones yesterday, but I completely forgot to take them out.”

Adam, who had been mostly quiet the entire time, finally spoke. His deep, calm voice cut through Cyrus’ theatrics. “Why don’t you just move them to the boot?”

Leah perked up immediately, jumping in right on cue. “Ohhh, yeah, about that…” She winced, rubbing the back of her neck. “I may have borrowed Cyrus’ car a few days ago and may have forgotten to take out my shopping bags. Sooo… the boot is kind of full.”

I glanced between them, something about this situation feeling oddly off, but I wasn’t sure what exactly. “So… what are we gonna do? There are five of us and only four available seats.”

Leah smirked, and I swore I saw something mischievous flash in her eyes before she spoke. “Well, Cyrus is driving, obviously. And I’m a passenger princess so that seat is mine.”

I turned to Serena, already knowing what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.

“Yeah, no way am I squeezing in the back with someone,” she said, shaking her head. “I get motion sickness way too easily so I need my own seat.”

Which left—

My stomach dropped.

Leah’s smirk grew wider. “Sooo that leaves you and Adam.”

Before I could even begin to protest, Cyrus clapped his hands together like it was the most obvious solution in the world. “AJ, you can just sit on Adam’s lap.”

I swear my entire body combusted on the spot.

“What— no, absolutely not—”

Before I could finish, a low, impatient voice cut me off.

“Fine. Get in the car.”

I turned to Adam so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. He was standing there, looking completely unfazed, scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t just agreed to this situation with zero hesitation.

Behind me, Leah, Cyrus, and Serena squealed excitedly, but the moment I turned my head, they immediately coughed and looked away, trying (and failing) to contain their delight.

I was so going to kill them for this.

But, at this point, what choice did I have? Everyone was already climbing into the car, and I’d look even weirder if I kept standing there, refusing to move.

Taking a deep breath, I reluctantly opened the back door. Adam was already seated, legs spread slightly as he leaned back, one arm draped over the headrest as he scrolled through his phone. He didn’t even look at me.

I hesitated, shifting my weight between my feet as I stared at him from outside the car.

That’s when Adam finally glanced up, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

“You getting in or what?” His tone was even, unreadable.

“O-oh, yeah, yeah, I am,” I stammered, feeling beyond awkward.

Gripping Leah’s seat for support, I carefully climbed into the car, lowering myself onto Adam’s lap with extreme caution. I tried to leave as much space as humanly possible between my back and his chest, my entire body rigid with tension.

Well, that was until Adam suddenly grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back flush against him.

My breath hitched.

“Sit properly,” he murmured against my ear, his voice low and firm. “Or you’re going flying forward when he brakes.”

I swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “O-okay.”

I tried to ignore the warmth of his tattooed hand resting around my waist, the heat of his body pressed against mine, the way his scent—something dark and woody—wrapped around me like an embrace.

In front of me, Leah and Cyrus exchanged triumphant smirks.

I had just fallen perfectly into their trap.

Jungkook’s POV:

Jungkook sat in his office, the dim glow from his desk lamp casting shadows across his features. He exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the cool surface of his desk as his phone buzzed beneath his palm. His patience was wearing thin.

He had given it two hours. That was already more waiting than he was used to.

Without hesitation, he picked up his phone and dialed the number, pressing it to his ear. The call barely rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

“Yo.”

Jungkook didn’t bother with greetings. “Did you find anything?”

A dry chuckle came through the line. “Bro, you called me two hours ago. I told you it would take a few days to get all the information you wanted.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw. Days? He didn’t have days.

“I’ll pay you triple,” he said flatly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Make it quick.”

Silence.

Then, the unmistakable sound of the guy sucking his teeth, clearly irritated. But Jungkook knew money talked, and sure enough—

“Well,” the guy sighed, his tone shifting. “She’s in South London. Works at some café.” There was a brief pause before he added, almost amused, “So far, that’s all I’ve got.”

Jungkook sat up straighter, his grip tightening around his phone. His brain latched onto two word.

South London.

His pulse quickened as he processed the information, but he kept his voice calm, steady. “Send me her address.”

The guy let out a low chuckle. “Damn. Not even a ‘thank you’? Thought you’d want more details. Like, I don’t know, what she’s been up to, who she’s hanging around, maybe even why she left—”

“You can find all that out and tell me later,” Jungkook interrupted, his patience wearing thinner by the second. “Just send me her address. Now.”

The line was quiet for a moment before the guy finally sighed. “Whatever you say, man. Sending it through right now.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzed almost instantly. He pulled it away from his ear just in time to see a notification pop up on his screen—an address in London.

His lips curled slightly.

Found you.

Before he could hang up, a thought gnawed at him. He brought the phone back to his ear.

“How’d you even find her?”

The guy snorted. “Man, it was easy. To be honest, you could’ve found her yourself.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

The guy let out an exasperated chuckle. “That iPad you gave her? It’s still logged into your Apple ID. You could’ve tracked her using the Find My app.”

Jungkook froze.

Then, realization slammed into him like a punch to the gut.

Fuck.

How had he forgotten about that? The iPad—he had given it to her back when—

His jaw tightened. He shoved the memory away before it could drag him under.

Doesn’t matter. He knew where she was now. That was all that mattered.

“Right. Got it,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah,” the guy drawled lazily. “Anything else?”

Jungkook inhaled deeply, running a hand through his curls. “No. That’s all.”

“Alright, man. I’ll keep digging. You’ll hear from me soon.”

Jungkook ended the call without another word and tossed his phone onto the desk, staring at the address glowing on the screen.

He leaned back in his chair, letting the information settle. The city that had swallowed her up, kept her hidden from him all this time—he was finally about to break through.His fingers tightened around his car keys, the cool metal pressing against his palm.

He didn’t know why he felt this rush of adrenaline. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find when he saw her again. All he knew was that he had to see her again.

A smirk ghosted across his lips as he pushed himself up from his chair.

"London, here I come."

Aylah’s POV:

The heat in the car was stifling, the kind that pressed down on your chest and made every breath feel a little too shallow. It was more than just the summer warmth, though; it was the overwhelming sensation of being so close to Adam. His hand was still on my waist, a firm, constant presence that sent a strange fluttering sensation spiraling in my stomach. What was worse, though, was the way he casually moved his fingers in small, slow circles, as if it was no big deal. It made everything feel a little too intimate, a little too personal, especially considering the tension between us.

At first, I tried to ignore it, focusing on the blaring horns and the constant stop-and-go of the traffic around us. But with each passing second, I felt his touch more acutely, the warmth of his palm pressing into the soft skin of my midriff. The fabric of my crop top offered no barrier between us, leaving my body fully aware of his presence.

His touch was making my heart race, my thoughts scatter. I was trying to make sense of it all, trying to figure out why he was acting this way. He didn’t like me; of that, I was sure. But then why was he here? And why did he feel the need to touch me, to keep his hand where no one else’s hand should be?

Just stop thinking about it, I mentally told myself, but the words did nothing to quiet the chaos in my mind. The car seemed to grow smaller, the air thicker. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on anything but him—anything but the way his hand felt on my body.

But then, as if the universe decided to add another layer to my already overwhelming thoughts, the car jerked forward. Cyrus had swerved suddenly, his eyes wide as he tried to avoid a drunk man who had somehow found it necessary to start twerking in the middle of the road. It was an absurd sight, one that should’ve made me laugh or at least acknowledge the ridiculousness of it, but I couldn’t. My attention was still on Adam.

“Get out of the way, you nitty!” Cyrus yelled, leaning out the window to shout at the man who seemed completely oblivious to the chaos he was causing.

Leah’s laughter echoed through the car, a sound of pure amusement at the ridiculousness of the situation. But I couldn’t join her in her laughter. I couldn’t even appreciate how comical the moment was because everything around me seemed distant. Adam’s hand. His touch. His proximity.

My head snapped back to reality as Adam spoke, his voice laced with mild concern. “You’re going to hit your head on the headrest if you don’t move.”

I blinked, confused for a second, before I realized that the car had stopped moving, and I had been inches away from slamming my face into Leah’s headrest. Without thinking, I tilted my head downward, my cheek now resting against Adam’s shoulder.

There was no escaping it now. His scent, the warmth of his body, the proximity—it was all too much, too close. I could feel his breath against my skin, and it made the air between us feel thick. It was uncomfortable, yes, but also strangely intimate, as if the whole world had narrowed down to this moment, to the feeling of his body against mine.

I barely had time to process the discomfort before I felt his hand move again. This time, it wasn’t on my waist, but on my upper thigh. His fingers stretched across my skin, draped lazily but firmly there, resting in a way that made me acutely aware of every muscle in my body. The contact, the subtle pressure, the warmth of his touch—it was impossible to ignore. My body tensed instinctively, and my heart skipped a beat.

I couldn’t keep my focus. Every breath felt too short, too shallow. Every shift of the car made his hand feel more invasive, more overwhelming. He wasn’t even paying attention, scrolling through his phone with the kind of casual indifference that made it feel like this was normal.

Desperate for a distraction, I turned my head to glance at Serena. She was slumped in her seat, her head tilted back in a deep, seemingly effortless sleep. It almost made me angry. How could she be so relaxed while I was practically suffocating in this charged silence?

Motion sickness, my ass, I thought bitterly.

I shifted my gaze back to Adam’s phone. I needed to focus on something else, anything but the way his hand felt on me. That’s when I saw it—sketches. Detailed, beautiful sketches of the café. The lines were sharp, the shading precise, and the designs looked almost like something out of a high-end architectural magazine. I was mesmerized by the intricate detail, by the way each curve seemed to flow effortlessly into the next.

“Wow,” I muttered, unable to hide my awe. “These are amazing.”

Adam didn’t look at me. He didn’t seem to notice my growing fascination, his attention still fixed on the screen of his phone. But then his voice cut through my thoughts, teasing but with an edge to it.

“Didn’t know you were nosey.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the humor in his voice or because I was trying to ignore the fact that my pulse was racing, but I let out a breathless chuckle. “Hard to miss when your phone is practically right in my face.”

He smirked, his lips curling into that trademark expression of his. I felt it—a slight brush against my cheek, a fleeting contact that only made everything worse. My stomach fluttered again.

“Fair point,” he replied, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

I wasn’t ready to stop there. Not with these incredible designs in front of me. My curiosity was overpowering. I had to know more.

“So, whose sketches are these?” I asked, leaning in a little closer.

“They’re mine,” Adam said without hesitation, his voice sounding almost bored, as if it was no big deal.

I couldn’t stop myself from blinking in surprise. “Wait, these are yours?” I repeated, my voice a little too high-pitched. “You designed the café?”

He shifted in his seat, his hand adjusting on my thigh as he did so. The sudden pressure made me gasp, but I quickly tried to regain control of myself. “Yeah,” he said casually, almost as if it were nothing special. “Interior design was my thing. It’s what I studied.”

My mind was racing. “No way,” I whispered, still processing what he was saying. “I studied design too. But in car design.”

Adam’s eyes met mine then, and for a brief, fleeting moment, there was something in his gaze—something soft and sincere. It was gone as quickly as it came, but for a second, it felt like we were connected in a way I couldn’t explain.

“It’s a rewarding degree,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter now. “Hard, but rewarding.”

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the moment sink in. “Yeah, you’re right,” I murmured softly.

But as I looked at him, at the way his hand still rested so comfortably on my thigh, the question that lingered in my mind was no longer about design. It was about us—about what the hell was happening between us, and why it felt like everything was shifting so quickly, too quickly for me to keep up.

For once, I didn’t have an answer.

Sure, let’s extend and enhance this scene:

We pulled up in front of the famous pizza place, its familiar neon lights blinking in the early evening dusk. The whole group, myself included, had been craving this pizza all day—the kind of pizza with the crisp crust, gooey cheese, and just the right amount of toppings that made it the local legend. But as we approached the door, Cyrus came to an abrupt stop, his face turning from eager anticipation to utter disbelief.

“No fucking way,” he muttered under his breath, his hand falling away from the door handle as he stared at the sign on the window. I leaned in to get a better look, and my stomach dropped when I saw the bold letters.

Closed for Bank Holiday.

I groaned, staring at the sign in shock. The pizza, the one thing that had been keeping me going today, was now off the table. Serena, who had been half asleep in the backseat, suddenly jerked awake, her face contorting in disbelief.

“It’s closed?!” she said, her eyes wide, as if hoping that maybe the sign was some kind of cruel joke. “No fucking way!”

Leah, standing at the front, looked equally shocked. “What the hell? These guys are never closed on a Bank Holiday! What gives?” She knocked on the door as if trying to will it open.

We all stood there, staring at the closed doors like they held all the answers to life’s problems. The weight of disappointment settled in my stomach, making it feel even emptier than before.

“So what now?” I asked, glancing around at the group. Nobody seemed to have an answer.

Cyrus sighed, looking up at the sky like he was trying to draw some cosmic inspiration. “I vote we go back to the café. We can cry while eating dessert,” he said dramatically, throwing his hands in the air.

Leah perked up, nodding enthusiastically. “I second that. There’s nothing better than drowning in your tears while eating cookies and cream ice cream.” She glanced at me, giving me a playful grin.

I let out a little laugh at that, trying to shake off the frustration. As much as I hated to admit it, there was something comforting about the idea of heading back to the café and indulging in something sweet to lift my mood. I was about to agree when my phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me out of the moment.

I glanced at the caller ID: Kayla.

I slid the phone open, lifting it to my ear. “Hey, Kayla!”

“Where are you?” Her voice was warm and chipper, but there was an underlying curiosity in her tone.

I sighed, glancing at the group. “I’m just with my coworkers. We were going to grab lunch, but that famous pizza place in Central is closed.”

Kayla let out a dramatic groan. “Awe, man, I would’ve killed for some pizza.” Her voice was light, but I could tell she was just as disappointed as I was.

I smiled, a little amused by her over-the-top reaction. “I know, right? It was the only thing you ate in college.”

She laughed at that, the sound soft and easy. “True, true. But hey, I just got back from work. If you guys aren’t going anywhere, how about you bring them all to my place? I’ll whip something up.”

The offer was tempting. Kayla could cook, and her meals were always incredible. I looked back at the group, trying to gauge their reactions.

I spoke up, excitement creeping into my voice. “Hey, guys,” I called. “What do you think about eating at Kayla’s place?”

The change in Cyrus’s demeanor was immediate. “Kayla? The Kayla? The one you said cooks like she came from heaven?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly excited by the idea.

Leah’s eyes lit up too. “Is it that Kayla?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, that’s her.”

Serena, who had been unusually quiet up until that point, perked up. “Then what are we waiting for? To Kayla’s, it is!”

I nodded, pulling my phone away from my ear to tell Kayla we’d be there in a bit. “Cool, I’ll get started on the food. See you soon,” she said before hanging up.

I felt a familiar pull—a strange twinge in my chest as I looked at the wallpaper on my lock screen. It was a picture of Jungkook’s car, the one I had designed. My pride and joy.

Adam, who had been standing beside me, glanced down at my phone as I put it away. His eyes lingered on the screen for a moment before flicking up to meet mine. “Is that an F1 car?” he asked, his voice genuine, curious.

I nodded, feeling a slight rush of pride at his attention. “Yeah. I actually designed it about a month ago for the Monaco Grand Prix.”

His eyebrows raised, clearly impressed. “Wow. I didn’t know you were that talented.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. I wasn’t used to this—getting compliments, especially from someone like Adam. It felt a little surreal. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

His eyebrows quirked, and he leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on mine. “Oh yeah?” There was a challenge in his tone, playful but layered with something else I couldn’t quite place.

I felt a knot twist in my stomach at his words. My heart picked up pace, but I wasn’t about to let him see how much he affected me. “Well,” I said, holding his gaze. “If you stick around, maybe I’ll tell you.”

The tension between us grew, thick and unspoken. For a second, the air around us seemed to hum with something almost electric. But before anything more could happen, Leah’s voice cut through the moment as she whispered into my ear.

“Let’s get going before you two start fucking each other in front of us,” she teased, giving me a playful nudge.

I snapped out of it, feeling my cheeks warm slightly. “Right, right. Let’s go to Kayla’s. I’m starving.”

And with that, we all piled back into the cars, the mood lifting slightly as we drove through the streets. But as we made our way toward Kayla’s place, I couldn’t help but feel that strange mix of excitement and nervousness again.

[ruewritesoccasionally]

hi girl could u do a Aaron x reader on a red carpet type of thing?

pairing: aaron pierre x black reader

warnings: pure fluff, implied flirting, suggestive whispering, Aaron being obsessed with Reader (as he should)

summary: Aaron is being honoured at a red carpet event, and Reader—his date and the love of his life—is by his side. She’s nervous, but Aaron is there every step of the way, making sure she feels like the star of the night. Between teasing interviews, stolen glances, and a whisper that nearly makes her lose composure, it’s clear to everyone—especially the cameras—that Aaron Pierre is absolutely smitten.

word count: 514

a/n: i have such love/hate relationship with asks cos when they're vague, it means that i have full creative control which is exciting but it's also overwhelming cos then idk if it's come out how the reader wants it to 😭😭 but anon, i hope this is along the lines of what you were thinking !

The flash of cameras was relentless, a steady wave of light as Aaron guided her down the red carpet with effortless ease. His hand rested at the small of her back, his touch a quiet reassurance beneath the whirlwind of it all.

“Breathe, love,” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, a whisper of warmth against her skin. “You look beautiful. They’re all going to be obsessed with you.”

She exhaled slowly, nodding, though the weight of a hundred eyes still pressed against her. This wasn’t her world—flashing lights, interviewers shouting names, the hum of celebrity chatter all around. But it was his. And somehow, standing beside him, fingers lightly grazing his, she didn’t feel so out of place.

They paused at a checkpoint, a journalist calling out to Aaron. “How does it feel to be honoured tonight?”

Aaron’s smile was immediate, easy, but before answering, he glanced down at her. “Feels like the real honour is having her here with me.” His voice held that familiar warmth, that teasing edge, and she rolled her eyes even as her lips curved.

“You’re so full of it,” she murmured.

“You love it.”

She did.

They moved further along, cameras flashing, their chemistry undeniable. The way Aaron absentmindedly adjusted the drape of her gown, how his fingers trailed over the dip of her waist. How, when she stumbled slightly—heels catching on the plush carpet—his reaction was seamless, catching her as if it was second nature.

Twitter was already in shambles.

📸 @PopCultureDaily: Aaron Pierre catching his girl like they’re in a rom-com?? We are SICK.

📸 @FilmFanatic: He’s so obsessed with her it’s actually unfair.

“Aaron, what did you just whisper to her?” another journalist called out, eager for a soundbite.

Aaron barely blinked. “Nothing fit for broadcast.”

The reporter laughed, and YN pressed her lips together, trying to fight the warmth creeping up her neck. Because what he’d actually said, voice husky against her ear, was—

“As good as you look in this dress, I can’t wait to take it off you.”

She nudged his ribs discreetly, and Aaron only grinned, charming and utterly unbothered.

The rest of the carpet was a blur of moments—shared glances, stolen touches, inside jokes murmured between posed smiles. But the real moment, the one that mattered, came later, when they finally had a second away from the chaos.

She relaxed as they stepped into a quieter space, heels aching, adrenaline still buzzing beneath her skin. Aaron turned to her, eyes tracing over her face with something softer now, something private.

“You did amazing,” he said, voice quieter now. “I know this isn’t your world, but… you handled it like you were made for it.”

She tilted her head, teasing. “Oh, so I’m a natural now?”

Aaron leaned in, brushing his lips against her temple. “You’ve always been.”

And just like that, the lights, the noise, the cameras—it all faded away. Because here, in his arms, was the only place that ever felt like home.

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[companionjones]

Days, Weeks, Months, Years (9/10)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Fandoms: MCU, Marvel

Warnings: Coma, Cursing, Implied almost self harm

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10

*******

In the days you were gone, I mean physically there but mentally gone, the compound was at a standstill.

The only person who didn't understand it all was Valentina. She had expected to be interrogated and grilled. Maybe even tortured or maimed by Bucky or someone, but she was just locked in a room and fed three times a day. It was like she was already in prison. Which didn't make sense to her because no one knew why she did it.

****

The Avengers took shifts being in that room with you, but Bucky never left. He slept with his head on your bed and his hand holding yours. Sometimes, he was convinced to eat, but after a certain point, it was to keep himself from passing out during the day.

The Avengers took shifts being in that room with you, but Bucky was also given some time alone with you. When it was just you and him, Bucky would pray like he never had before, which he hadn't, not since the 40s, anyway. Bucky would talk to you, too.

"...Everyone...Everyone always talks to people when they're in your position. But...I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, doll...Not just for not being able to s-save you, but for...for not being able to be with you...Really with you. Like you deserve.

"When you first got here, I knew I was in trouble. You were everything. Smart, beautiful, badass, sexy; I barely knew what to do with myself around you. So, I did what I always do. I shut down completely, and I waited for you to go away.

"But you never did. Wherever I went, you were always there at my side. At first, I found it annoying because I could never be at ease around you, but soon, that all went away. Soon, you were you and I was me and there was nothing that could keep us apart. And...that scared me.

"Then, that first night happened. We were alone, watching that cheesy movie you love, and I...I couldn't help myself. God, that night was perfect. You were perfect. I mean, you're always perfect--But I'm getting ahead of myself.

"Despite how amazing everything was that night, I don't remember being more scared than that morning after--excluding the past few days, of course.

"I woke up that morning, I looked at you, you were still asleep, and all I could think about was fucking this up--fucking you up.

"God, I am such an idiot. I preach about how much I don't want to hurt you, yet that's what I've been doing all this time. God, why can't I just get my shit together--" Bucky's hands were shaking as he flexed them in front of his face. It looked like he was going to hit something, maybe himself.

"Stop." Your voice, barely audible, told him. You gently touched his hand that was closest to you, your weak a hand a stark contrast to his strong one.

Bucky gasped when he heard your voice and felt you touch him. "Y/n?" He wondered if you were really there.

He saw your eyes barely open to look at him.

"Hey," he softly greeted, took a big breath, then repeated, even softer, "Hey." Bucky adjusted himself accordingly to get closer to you.

The smallest of smiles appeared on your face. "Missed you."

Bucky let you take his face into your hand. He whispered, "Missed you, too."

*******

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

*******

Tag List: @sidraaaaaaaaa // @dontworryboutitsweetheartxx-blog // @mayusenpai666 // @onceithough // @greatenthusiasttidalwave // @shadowzena43 // @ampersam // @sebastians-love // @cjand10 // @silentwhisper666 // @superaveng // @vicmc624 // @ltsaradharkness

[pricegouge]

part of the honey series, this time with kyle. you can thank woolie and stelle for this one

font

cw: f!reader. microphilia, objectification, exhibitionism. dubcon kinda but everyone is into it. MDNI

kyle had asked for dinner and a show, but it's hard to command a room at your size. harder still when you're trapped in a drink dispenser.

men stop occasionally, only usually taking notice of your presence after reading the card set beside your display, and then only usually if they were alone, no one to distract them. they'd hit the tap, sway idly, cast about for some sort of entertainment while the liquid bubbled around you, a series of temporary vacuums which made your ears thrum. eventually their eyes would land on the placard - fairy fresh honey, for your enjoyment - and they'd look to the dispenser with renewed interest, delighted even further when they caught the double meaning.

from your perch atop a raft of orange slices, you've been charged with keeping yourself entertained all night, a constant source of sweetener to make the punch more heady and saccharine by the hour. it was an easy task from the safety of your container. guests were permitted to look but not touch, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't do anything for you. you liked the attention, liked seeing the repeat customers getting more and more intoxicated as the night went on - with your taste, with the sight of you; it didn't matter much. just more kindling for the heat that burned within you. sometimes, they'd go and fetch their friends to share in their new-found treasure, a ring of guests looking on and cooing at you as you kept yourself teetering on that constant edge, teasing you to tip yourself over and give them what they wanted. their faces were refracted and distorted through your container, voices muffled, but it only added to it all, made them unreal and nonthreatening.

but kyle had said you couldn't, that you were to save yourself for his drink later, his 'nightcap', after everyone went home. he'd come by every now and again to sample the punch, make sure it wasn't overly sweet. he'd wink at you when he found you were behaving for once and reward you by being gentle when he'd have to top off the dispenser, a ladle kept down by surface level to ensure the drink mixture wouldn't splash too much as he poured it in. your little raft would float back to the top easily each time and then kyle would lean close to press a kiss against the sticky crown of your head and you'd start all over, skin abuzz with his touch.

but as the night drags on and little twinkle lights replace the sun, your bubble grows cold and your pleasure grows sparse. you tap on the glass as kyle passes with a tray of finger foods and he frowns at you for a moment before processing the ice still floating around in the punch, the warmth of the day having died off enough that they haven't melted in a timely manner. he nods and holds up his finger. wait. you're still pouting about it when he gets back and he laughs as he scoops you up in a cup, lets you hide low beneath the rim as he walks around saying good night to everyone.

outside of the protection of your container, the guests take on a bit of a beastly quality. you see more fairies, worn like lanterns on the hips of their companions, or decorated in jewels and chained to their throats like necklaces. you've always known you were lucky to have been found by kyle, but you gain a new appreciation for that when you see one poor soul clenched between the teeth of a rather grisly looking man, her face twisted in some bad mixture of pain and pleasure. some of them see you, dare to ask kyle for one last taste. you sink further into the cup each time, eyes burning as you stare up at them through the murkiness of the sugary punch. you wish kyle would put his hand over the cup like a lid but you know he likes showing you off too much and he never does, lets you flounder under each stranger's gaze as he takes too long to deny them.

but eventually everyone does leave, and kyle retreats inside where he places you on the counter in the kitchen and tells you to stay in your cup.

"don't worry, you'll be warm enough soon," he promises, then goes about getting the kettle on. he showers you in praises as he waits for it to warm because he doesn't play fair, tells you how well you did for him and how everyone talked about you. says you looked so cute on your clever little raft. he kisses your forehead again and grins when he sees how it makes your wings flutter.

he doesn't let the kettle come to a boil, stops it just before it can and pours some water on his wrist to make sure it's not too hot. his tea bag goes in before you but you're quick to follow, loosing a deep sigh as you're lowered into the welcome heat. you loosen up as the tea steeps, tacky, sugary residue left over the punch sloughing off in iridescent swirls across the surface as the water slowly darkens to his preferred level. you hadn't realized how sore you were until right then, the balance of having to keep your raft level while actively fidgeting on it all day having left your core a little overworked. kyle lets you steep just as long as the tea itself, cooing at you all the while just to watch you squirm.

but eventually it's enough and you grin when he goes to fish the bag back out, bare finger dipping into the mug alongside you. not even bothering with pretenses, it seems.

"c'mere," he mutters, but it's not the tea bag he goes searching for. you dodge him a few times, more out of playfulness than a genuine desire to deny him. kyle isn't fooled. he grins as he corrals you against the wall of the mug, the base of his forefinger pressed against your chest to keep you place as his finger tip slips lower, wedges itself between your thighs to force you straddle it. already you're leaking, muted gold ink swirling into his favorite nightcap.

"that's it, luv," he jostles his finger gently, encouraging you to ride it. he always takes good care of his fingers for you but in the heat of the tea his skin feels even softer, a pillow to rest your abused cunt on. when you rock forward, you can feel the hard ridge that makes up the inner hinge of his first knuckle. "one last show for the night, hm? just for me, so make it good."

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Their shared bliss

Roronoa Zoro x reader. NSFW!!

This fic is the last in a trilogy that also includes His fourth sword and Her sweet peach.

*****

Toc-toc.

“Zoro, it’s me. Open up.”

Silence.

Toc-toc.

“Come on, I know you’re in there. We need to talk, open the door.”

Silence.

TOC-TOC.

Silence.

Sigh. 

“Zoro, don’t be a child. You’ve been avoiding me for three days; why don’t you come out, so we can… discuss what happened?”

Huff.

“It’s fine; it’s not like I wanted you to say it back if you… if you don’t feel it. Leave me be for a while, (name)...”

“I think what happened is already perfectly clear.”

“You… caught me off guard! I’m sorry!”

Absolutely not, you think. Avoiding you was relatively easy while the Merry remained at the harbour of the latest town your crew had reached, since Zoro could simply walk away every time you approached and tried to talk to him and spend the day wandering around the island or sulking at some bar; but now that you have sailed and are surrounded by the vastness of the sea, the only way he could keep you away would be barricading himself in the boys’ cabin, whatever complaint the others may have.

Also, his attitude might cause more problems that he’s trying to solve. Naturally, Zoro has the right to his privacy and no one, not even his partner -who you are proud to say you are, and have been for the last four months- can force him to share what he’d rather keep to himself. On the other hand, you know well that ignoring an issue rarely solves or makes it go away, and couples who do not discuss sources of tension or disagreement are often short-lived, which is obviously an option you want to avoid. 

It’s your fault if Zoro is hurting, and his reaction is, all things considered, more than fair given what you did. You didn’t want to hurt him, quite the opposite in fact, but you did, after he had had the courage to open his heart to you, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t do now to make things right… to make him see how much you care for him and feel lucky to have him by your side. 

 “I know you’re still there.” Zoro calls from behind the door “Go away, (name).”

“I will, if you really want me to; I’ll respect your decision, whatever it is. But please, Zoro, give me the chance to talk, only for a moment. Haven’t we promised each other we would always listen when one of us wanted to share something with the other? Five minutes, that’s all I ask, and then…” you force yourself to swallow, suddenly more afraid than you have ever been in any of the many battles you have fought alongside your friends “... and then we can break up, if this is what you want.”

You wait, biting your lip, at once anxious and afraid of the answer you might receive, and finally steps are walked across the cabin, the key turns in the lock, and a moment later the door opens, revealing the tense, but also vaguely perplexed, face of the future strongest swordsman in the world. “Why would I want to break up?”

“What? Of course not!” you exclaim, nonplussed “Zoro, is this why you’ve been avoiding me? Because you thought I’d tell you it’s over, let’s never speak again?”

“Well, I don’t know, I…”

“I thought you’d want to.”

“Well, I was hoping we could remain friends, but…”

“Oh… oh, you dummy!”

You throw your arms around him, holding Zoro tight as if you feared being swept away from the waves; you kiss his cheek, relieved to feel his arms close around your waist. Zoro closes the door behind you before you both walk to the bed.

I love you. This is the brief, full of meaning but deceptively innocuous phrase that caused so much trouble for you and your partner, three simple words that threatened to destroy all you had started to build together. It was Zoro who uttered them, as you lay together on a blanket on the otherwise deserted deck, a couple of empty beer bottles by your side and more stars in the sky above you than you had ever seen. 

You had spent several minutes making out, mouths and hands moving on each other’s bodies as the symphony of your moans filled the air, but the next half an hour had been even more intense and sweet; Zoro’s arm draped around your back, your cheek resting against his shoulder, your hearts beating as one, the feeling that the world had disappeared beyond the two of you.

And then he told you he loved you, and you reacted in a way that had Zoro, a man who had never backed down from a fight, stomp away with the same determination and speed of a death row inmate who had found the prison’s gate open, deaf to your calls and requests to stop and let me explain, dammit!

All things considered you really can’t blame him for having avoided you.

“I really don’t want to break up with you, Zoro.” you murmur, taking his hands in yours “And to be honest, your words made me happy; very much so. It’s just…”

“You don’t have to justify yourself; or to say something you don’t feel.”

“I know; it’s just… well, talking about feelings has always been a little difficult for me…”

Before you can elaborate, Zoro has taken you in his arms, a hand resting on your hair. “It’s alright, you don’t have to explain.” he mumbles “Damn… I made a big deal out of nothing, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have avoided you, and it’s fine if you just need… some time…”

I just want to know you’ll fall in love with me sooner or later. It doesn’t matter if it takes you years, or decades, I just need to know one day you’ll tell me. This is what you perceive as the real meaning behind his words, and what Zoro feels unable to say; in short, what he feared. Four months after your official relationship started, discussing his feelings is still something your partner struggles with, and you can’t imagine the amount of courage -something he normally owns in large quantities, as long as it requires facing a whole Marine platoon alone or risking his life when he’s already gravely wounded; the situation is different here- it took him to confess his love to you. 

And yet, you couldn’t say it back. Damn, you feel like the worst of women!

“Do you want to break up?” you ask, lifting your gaze to meet his and forcing yourself to utter the words; losing Zoro would break your heart, but you don’t want to force him into a relationship that leaves him unsatisfied “I don’t want to lose you, but if you’d rather take some time…”

Zoro hurries to shake his head. “Hey, hey… no pressure, alright? I’m happy being with you, and if you’re happy with me, I think we can leave things as they are now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course; now come here, I have missed you.”

You share a long kiss, then Zoro moves his swords away from the bed so that you can lie on it together, your legs intertwined; you rest your cheek against his shoulder, closing your eyes to focus on the pleasant sensation of his calloused fingers running through your hair. 

“You make me very happy, you know?” you murmur after a while; relief has filled your heart, as well as joy and a small amount of guilt, because you couldn’t give your partner what he deserves - and what he needs “Happier than I remember ever being.”

“I’m doing nothing.”

“You’re being yourself, Zoro; believe me, that’s all I need.”

You feel his laugh rumble in the firm chest under you. “No effort required, then.” 

“Ah, ah, ah…”

You spend a few minutes enjoying each other’s presence, the gentle lull of the ship surrounding you, as you reflect that for those last three long days you have seriously feared you were going to lose him, a realization that filled you with fear and guilt. It’s perfectly normal if a person’s feelings take longer than another’s to develop, but Zoro is a wonderful partner: caring, passionate, faithful, and while this is his first relationship, he’s doing his best to treat you right, even seeking advice from Robin and Nami about things a woman would appreciate.

And yet, you couldn’t say those three small words back to him - and not because you don’t feel the same, quite the opposite. It’s stupid, because that person is long gone and he hurt you too much in the past for you to let him still influence your life, but you can’t help it…

Lost in your thoughts as you are, it takes you a while to notice the change the contact with your body has operated on Zoro’s - namely, the erection now pressing against your belly. 

“Hmm, what do we have here…?”

“It’s not my fault!” Zoro protests, an adorable blush spreading on his face “We have been apart for three days… and you are wearing shorts, your legs are naked…”

You have been together -in practice if not officially- for months, and have fooled around so many times you have lost count, and Zoro still gets embarrassed when he has to acknowledge the effect each of you has on the other; it’s sweet, as well as something you occasionally like to tease him about. Like now…

“I know; and I have missed you very much.” you murmur, moving your hips against his so that Zoro can feel what you are doing but not find any relief in it; a moment later your hand has slipped under the hem of his shirt, tracing the firm muscles of his chest “Every moment, especially at night.”

Zoro gulps. “(name)...”

“I have tried doing it by myself, but it wasn’t the same; it wasn’t as good as having you there with me would have been. Maybe we should make up for lost time…”

Your partner groans, a clear sign of the effect that your words are having on him; your hand drifts downwards until it rests on the front of his trousers, where his hard member is already begging to be touched and kissed like it deserves. And who are you to deny it?

You meet Zoro’s eyes; he’s smiling, even though he’s trying to hide it by biting his lip. “May I?” you murmur, despite everything determined to know he’s comfortable with it and wants it as much as you do “It’s fine if you’d rather just stay and cuddle a bit.”

“Then… alright. I-I mean, I’d really like that.”

“No, it’s fine.” Zoro rushes to answer; then: “Can we cuddle some more later?”

“Of course.”

“Then…”

You move slowly as you sit on your knees between the legs Zoro has quickly spread for you; you bend to kiss him again, and help him take off your shirt before doing the same with his. You like feeling Zoro’s hands on your naked skin, the touch firm but gentle, and he knows it all too well, given the swiftness with which he takes off your bra and starts massaging your breasts, tearing a moan from your lips.

“You are more beautiful every time I see you.” Zoro says, and then he looks away, as if embarrassed by his own words; you smile, touched.

“Let me take care of you, baby.”

You can feel Zoro hold his breath as you kiss your way down his body, from his sweet, hungry mouth to his muscled chest, until you reach his waist, and the more and more evident turgor tenting the fabric under it. You linger for a moment, and Zoro groans, his fingers running through your hair.

“Please…”

You smile into his kiss and untie his belt; Zoro lifts his hips, allowing you to free him from the rest of his clothes. His naked body, strong and virile, modeled by years of hard training and aroused by the promise of your shared pleasure, is a sight that feels more breath-taking every time you get to admire it, so much that you take a minute to just look at him. Every inch of Zoro’s body is lovely and perfect, from his strong hands and handsome smile to the many small wounds and scars littered across his skin, but your eyes can’t help focusing on the beautiful, hard member your partner has already started pumping, a proud smirk on his lips; seeing him touching himself never fails to have an effect on you, and he knows it all too well. 

Warmth is pooling between your thighs, a nameless, hungry beast rearing its head in your stomach and demanding to be satiated. Maybe, once you’re done, you’ll ask Zoro to return the favour, since he’s not the only one who has missed the other in the last three days, but now you want to focus on him… to prove your partner that even though you’re unable to confess your feelings like he deserves, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him, and you know how lucky -how blessed- you are to call him yours.

“Let me.” you murmur, and your partner happily lets you take over, looking avidly as you start caressing his erection, pumping it, and then quickly lowering your mouth to it.

Sucking Zoro off is heaven; he fills your mouth as if he were made for it, your tongue naturally finding the spots along the column to stimulate, the acrid but pleasant taste filling your senses. You keep touching him, your hands moving on the rest of his beautiful, powerful body, whose strength no enemy -well, bar one- could hope to match and whose warmth and tenderness only you were gifted; you want to make it clear that all of him is perfect and beautiful and deserving to be worshipped.

All of him, from all of you.

“You alright?” Zoro murmurs, propping himself on his elbow to meet your eyes after you’ve stopped sucking him off “(name)? You don’t have to go on if…”

“No, I’m fine; it’s just… I was thinking…” you begin, and then you stop, biting your lip as you search for the right words, and the courage to utter them. You have no reason to feel awkward, since you’re reasonably sure Zoro will appreciate your offer; still, you can feel yourself blushing hard “Do you… do you want to do it?”

“Do it?”

“Yes. Since we’re here, we could have sex, if you want.”

It’s probably the most awkward, not to mention unsexy, way you could have put it, and you have ample time to regret opening your mouth -to speak, at least- while Zoro blinks, and then swallows. “Are-are you serious?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, we have been together for a while, we are comfortable with each other… but I know we have never really talked about it, so if you want to wait…”

“I don’t.”

“Are you sure? Because really, it’s not a problem if… “

Zoro grins. “(name), you can’t tell a man you want to have sex and then propose you don’t.” he points out “Of course I want to, I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

Thrilled, even though your unexpected shyness hasn’t dissipated fully, you stand to quickly remove the rest of your clothes, your sandals and shorts discarded to the floor before you return to the bed; you’re about to lie down, when Zoro sits up.

“Let me.” he murmurs, quiet and almost reverent as he reaches towards your hips, and a moment later he has freed you from your panties; your partner gulps, and you let his hand pull you to the bed once more.

A situation like this, both of you naked at the same time, has already occurred before, you and Zoro almost competing in who could make the other come first, but this feels different, this is different, and your heart is pounding with something that is both pure joy and almost crippling anxiety. You grin as you take his erection in your hand once more to pump it, making Zoro groan.

“A couple months?”

“Do I… need to put something on?” he asks, making a valiant effort to speak coherently.

“You have them?”

“I do; I bought them a couple months ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes.” Zoro admits, and now he’s not just blushing; his face looks literally on fire “I had hoped we… well, we’d do it soon.”

“You could have told me. Zoro, you need to understand that talking to your partner is not only natural; it’s necessary. I can’t read your mind, and if there’s something you want or that worries you, I can’t know unless you tell me, and secrets and misunderstandings are often harmful for a couple, like you’ve already seen.” 

“It’s fine. Anyway, I don’t think we need anything.” you explain; your trusted contraceptive implant, which you got from your local doctor years ago before you took to the sea, protects you from unwanted pregnancies, and your monthly check-ups with Chopper ensure that neither you nor Zoro have to worry about sexually transmitted infections “But if I have to take you I’ll need some help first.”

“Gladly…”

You kiss passionately as you lie on the bed together. You can feel Zoro’s heart pound against your chest as his hand slips from your shoulder to your hip and then between your legs. His fingertips brush against your core, making you jolt; Zoro meets your eyes, suddenly tense, but what he sees in your gaze must reassure him because he slowly cups you, gently massaging that part of you that today he’ll know like he has never done before.

“You’re wet.” he murmurs, almost awed, and you find yourself smiling.

“I’ve been wet for a while, baby; and the fault is all yours.”

What he wants at the moment is kiss you, which he does, avidly to the point you are almost struggling to breathe, your arms locked around his broad shoulders, while his fingers play with your core, gentle and vaguely awkward at first, but then he finds that tiny part of you that has been screaming for him, and you feel his smile into the kiss as he adds pressure, his weight pushing you against the mattress. You pant, the pressure in your stomach mounting quickly, and you want to tell him to slow down, because you have all the time and you want to focus on him first, make sure that he is… he is…

“Do you… err, should I use my mouth or…?”

“”Whatever you’re more comfortable with.” you invite him; you’re thrilled, happy and excited for a moment you know you’ll remember forever, but this is Zoro’s first time, and you want it to be perfect for him, special and intense beyond his wildest dreams “Do whatever you want with me, and I’ll tell you when I feel ready.”

“Shiiit…!”

You come, your scream suffocated by Zoro’s mouth pressed on yours, your body writhing under his. “Oh, God.” you pant, and he laughs, unashamedly proud of himself.

“Good?”

“And I thought you were wet before.” he comments, and then he raises his hand to his face and licks it “You think you’re ready for me, baby?”

You don’t answer - you physically can’t, since you’re still catching your breath. Zoro grins, and then kisses you again, soft and gentle; soon, his fingers are on you again, caressing you until they find your entrance. 

“Good.”

Several minutes pass like in a dream while Zoro makes sure you’re ready to take him. Not wanting to just receive his affection without reciprocating, you keep touching and kissing him, murmuring how handsome he is, how good he is making you feel, and how lucky you are to be his. You have completely lost track of time, unable to know whether you’ve been alone in the cabin for ten minutes or two hours; the world outside that tiny room has disappeared, and nothing matters anymore - nothing except you, and Zoro, and the moment you’re about to share. 

His erection is pressing against your core, a firm reminder of your partner’s needs, and no matter how pleasant it is to just lie on the bed and let him worship you like no deity in history has ever been, he deserves to be taken care of as well. You still don’t trust yourself to speak, so you rest your hands on his shoulders to gently push him back, and Zoro lets you straddle him, his beautifully hard member pressed against your stomach. 

“Is this alright?” you murmur “I can let you be on top, if you want.”

“I think you better do it, since you’re the only one between us who knows what we are doing.” Zoro points out, his hands already cupping your waist. Acknowledging his complete lack of experience in matters of sex is something your partner usually struggles with, no matter how many times you’ve tried to convince him he has nothing to prove, but right now he doesn’t seem to mind… quite the opposite, in fact “I like having you like this.”

“You look very nice from up here too.”

So nice, in fact, that for a full minute all you can do is look at him, marvelling in a beauty that goes well beyond his smile, or the firm muscles you have caressed so many times before. He’s perfect, a man who cared nothing for love before the two of you stumbled into it, but who is brave and generous and kind, and who has chosen you, of all the people he has met and known, to share this part of him.

You, who had sworn off love, and had come to consider it nothing more than a source of shame, something to avoid in order to protect yourself. How could you deserve such a gift? Have you really earned it? Are you worthy of it, or will you ever be?

Zoro looks at you; he can see how tense you suddenly are, and he’s about to tell you it’s fine if you want to stop, or take a moment, but he doesn’t have the time before - 

“I love you.” you murmur; you’ve never been so scared, but you want to do it now, rather than in ten minutes when Zoro might think you’re letting your emotions speak for you and say things you are not completely, deeply convinced of “Zoro, I love you so much.”

“(name)...”

“I’m sorry if I couldn’t tell you before; I’ve been cruel and a coward, but I do. I love you, with all my heart, and I am so glad I get to tell you.”

You hold your breath, absurdly convinced something terrible is going to happen, a seaquake or a meteorite destroying the ship, or Zoro laughing in your face or suddenly realising he’d be better off single - which makes no sense, since he confessed his feelings first, but at the moment rational thought has completely escaped you. Already regretting your words, you’re about to stand and run away, even naked as you are, but Zoro, thank God, instinctively realises what you need.

He sits up, and holds you in his arms. “Thank you.” he murmurs softly, and you nod, eyes downcast “It made me really happy. You make me really happy.”

“I do?”

“Of course you do. Do you, err, still want to…?”

You hurry to reassure him that yes, of course you still want to, and as it happens you like this new position even more than the previous one, since it allows you to keep kissing Zoro as you have sex, and kiss him is exactly what you do, the fingers of one hand running through his green hair as the other holds his erection to help you find the right position… just the right point to…

“Oh, God…”

“Zoro…”

And then you’re impaling yourself on him, slowly lowering yourself on your partner’s hard member as your wet entrance swallows it; it hurts, just a little, because Zoro is more than well-endowed and you haven’t been with anyone in a long time, but it’s sweet, intense, and absolutely amazing, all of it, from Zoro’s strong hands kneading the soft flesh of your buttocks to his voice, whispering your name in a neverending litany of moans.

Soon you’ve taken him fully inside you. “You feel amazing.” you murmur, your forehead resting against his, and Zoro grins “So warm… so hard and so big…”

“Shit, (name)...!”

You like the way he’s saying your name, you quickly decide, and you wouldn’t mind hearing him scream it. “Lie down for me, baby.” you tell him “No, keep holding me; I like it.”

You lower yourself on Zoro, your arms pressed on the mattress near his head. You share a look, both of your hearts overflowing with an emotion so special and so intense there is no name that could describe it; you smile, filling your eyes with the joy on Zoro’s handsome face… and then you move, arching your hips in a way that has your partner scream. “Fuuuck…!”

“Good?” you ask with a grin, and nod is all Zoro can do, breathless as he realises what happened and a huge grin opens on his handsome face.

“We’re making love.” he murmurs, awed.

“We are, darling.” you confirm “And I promise, I’ll make sure you enjoy this.”

You do, and he does.

You start moving slowly, cautiously, the undulating motion of your hips against Zoro’s pushing him further and further inside you; your partner, still partially in control of himself -a situation, you decide, you’ll rectify as soon as possible- is clawing at the sides of the bed, his only good eye focused on the bouncing of your chest, groans and moans and whimpers rising from his lips. “Shit… (name), yes, feels so good…!”

“How good, baby?”

“Better than… anything else, It’s like… it’s like something -ah God yes like that- mounting inside me… like you’re eating me… it feels…”

“Yes?”

Zoro looks at you; he’s panting hard, but you perceive that’s not the only reason why he doesn’t immediately answer. You see him lick his lips, as if mentally preparing himself for a very tough challenge, and then: “Blissful.” he explains, the word sounding and tasting almost alien in his mouth, as if he had never ever considered describing something as such, as if this were the first time he found himself using it “It feels blissful, (name); you feel blissful.”

“You do too, baby.” you murmur, touched “Mind if I pick up the pace a little?”

He grins, and that is all the approval you need. You start moving faster, your body and Zoro’s by now used to each other enough that the movement doesn’t cause more pain than either of you can handle. The obscene sound of your skin slapping against his fills the room, and you’re forced to find purchase on Zoro’s broad shoulders to steady yourself, your pace growing desperate, almost brutal, because you can feel it as well, mounting inside you, and you can’t fight it, you can’t and don’t want to, because it’s scary and powerful but so sweet and good and hot, and it’s been so long since you’ve felt it, and this is Zoro, your Zoro, your brave and generous and loyal swordsman, and you don’t just want to give him a first time worthy to be remembered for the rest of his life… you want to give him all of you, and have a piece of him for yourself, to cherish forever.

Because, unlike someone else, you know Zoro is worth it.

“Oh… oh God, baby, you feel so good…!” you scream - you really do, loud enough for the whole ship to hear, and you don’t mind, no, you’re proud of it, proud of feeling Zoro’s hands on you and of how good you’re fucking each other even though it’s your first time, as if you were made for it “So good, so…!”

“... blissful?”

“Yes! Yes, it feels blissful!” 

You’re babbling, not fully aware of your own words, but you’ll later reflect that it’s true, that what you’re living does feel like a blessing from above - more than simple sexual pleasure exchanged between two partners attracted to each other, a gift from some deity that allowed you to meet the only person who could make your bodies, and your hearts, sing like they are doing now. 

“I’m gonna come.” you tell him; it’s soon, embarrassingly so, but you don’t mind, not when it’s so good, and this is going to be the first of many, many times “Zoro, I…”

“It’s f-fine, baby.” he says. His hold on your buttocks has grown greedy, the push-and-pull movement forcing you to a brutal, almost frenzied pace; he’s not just making you come, he’s forcing you to - pounding into you, making you bounce on his lap while his big, hard cock works its magic and makes arousal mount inside you. He’s now in control of the wave, and he’s pushing it towards you with the same strength and surety with which he usually handles his swords, despite his apparently submissive position completely in control and clearly proud of it, judging from his proud smile “Come for me, (name); come for your man, let me see how pretty you are as you fuck yourself on my cock.”

You obey, letting pleasure wash over you, and now you are screaming, screaming his name, and Zoro is screaming as well, following you beyond the edge. 

The next minutes pass in a haze, as you and your partner slowly catch your breath, kissing lazily and murmuring sweet words to each other. “You were right.” you murmur “It was blissful.”

Zoro laughs. He has never been more handsome, dazed with pleasure, perspiration glistering on his chest and shoulders. He reaches out towards the bedside table next to the bed to retrieve a couple of small towels, which you use to clean yourselves; both of you are in desperate need of a bath, but there will be time for that. You could also take it together, just to save water and the time to fill the tub twice… 

“Zoro… about what I said before…”

“Are you alright?” Zoro murmurs, turning and circling your waist with his arm to hold you close as you lie down together once more; you smile happily.

“Never felt better.” you assure him; the truth is that you are more than a bit sore, but it’s the sort of pain that pleases more than it hurts, and you don’t want your partner to worry or feel guilty. You can’t wait to do it again, and you will, before the end of the night - as soon as you have found a more private and safe place on the ship than a cabin shared with three other people; but now all you want, all you need, is to enjoy a few minutes warm and safe in your partner’s arms.

He sighs. “Please tell me you don’t want to take it back.” he says, sounding more serious, and almost afraid, than he probably intends to. You shake your hand, moving carefully in his embrace until you are returning it, your hand moving slowly up and down his back. 

“Absolutely not. I… I do love you; and I have known it for some time. I just want you to know why I couldn’t tell you right away.”

It feels wrong, almost sacrilegious, to discuss one of the most painful experiences of your life in such a happy, intimate moment, not to mention that no man who has just had sex for the first time wants to hear about his partner’s ex lover, but this is important, because you want Zoro to know everything about you, everything that made you the person you are today.

Zoro knows that unlike him, you’ve already been in a few relationships, both romantic and sexual, but this is the first time you mention your former lover K., the first one you grew to really care about, and who didn’t deserve your affection in the slightest. 

“He was the first, and until now last, person I ever told I loved them, and I actually thought I did, even though I now see he simply seduced me with a few sweet words and his charming smile.” you admit with a sigh “He… wasn’t a good partner. He knew how much I cared for him, and took advantage of it; he told me terrible things, and… and cheated on me, without even bothering to hide it. If you really loved me, you would forgive me, (name), he would tell me. Do you want to break up? But you just told me you love me, I guess that wasn’t true then?”

“God, what an asshole…”

“I know! I was younger then, but I’ll never forgive myself for having let this bastard treat me like crap for so long. I did feel better when I finally broke up with him, and I went on to have other meaningful, happy relationships… but what happened with K. had burned me; I promised myself that I’d never fall in love with anyone else, never utter those words again, and never let myself care for someone if it meant letting them mistreat and humiliate me.”

Zoro sighs - in pain for you rather than, like you had instinctively come to fear, in disgust on hearing how low you had stooped. “I am not that sort of man, (name).” he murmurs quietly; he kisses your brow, holding you close in what is both protectiveness and jealousy “You have to know it.”

Of course you do, and this is what makes the whole matter so painful, even though thank God you still managed to make things right in the end. “Of course I do; I wouldn’t have been in a relationship with you for months otherwise.” you point out softly “But you’re the first person since K. I’ve cared so much about, and… I don’t know, it’s like a survival instinct halted the words in my throat. But I don’t want to be afraid anymore, and I don’t want the memory of a man I haven’t seen in years to stop me from being happy with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you I loved you straight away, like you deserved; I… could tell you often from now on, if it helps.”

“Well, that’d be a start…”

Zoro grins. “We still have some time before dinner.” he considers “Do you wanna rest a bit, and then do it again?”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

You grin, adoration in your eyes as you kiss Zoro softly, murmur that you love him once more, and let him hold you tight as you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace.