#and thank you for making the console in black again

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hit The Gas

[Written to 'Renegade (We Never Run)' from Arcane]

Technically speaking, Mr. Masters, Gotham's new aspiring crime lord, did provide them with a getaway car. It's just that, in Tim's honest, objective opinion, said car sucks major ass.

First of all, it's white, which is, well, not the best color for disappearing into the night. Then, it's old — not vintage old, thank fuck, but definitely made before 2005 — and long overdue for a makeover. Tim doesn't see a single part of it that doesn't have a scratch or a dent on it, and are those bullet holes on the passenger door?

Eh, whatever, this is a staged escape anyway. Tim doesn't need it to be successful, he only needs an alibi. Someone — their driver, in this case — to later tell Masters that Alvin Draper did everything he could to keep the package safe. So he can stay in the man's moderately good graces even after they get caught by Batman tonight.

Tim makes it to the car first, throws the back door open and slides inside in one motion, slamming it behind him. Jason, the drama queen, jumps in through the open window and into the front passenger seat.

"Hit the gas, they are on our heels!" He yells at the driver, struggling to turn himself over and put his ass in the seat. Serves him right, opening the door and getting in the normal way would have taken literally two seconds.

The car jolts into movement without a moment of hesitation — so at least the driver has a good reaction time — but Tim still hears a dull sound of a betarang hitting the rear end of it. Nice throw, Cass!

It's only then that he cares to actually look around and realize a few things. A few, arguably, very important things. Like the fact that their driver is a redhead girl who looks barely sixteen. Or that there are two kids, looking no older than ten, in the back seat beside him.

He blinks and stares. The kids — both boys, one of them white as milk with a dark mop of hair and the other one black, wearing glasses and a red beanie — pay no mind to either him, Jason in the front seat, or the speed the car is going at. In fact, they pay no attention to the outside world as a whole, hunched over an outdated PSP. They are playing it together, one of the kids in charge of action buttons and the other one controlling the D-pad, so Tim can understand the need to focus: it takes some impressive teamwork to sucessfully go through the game like that. And they are using some complicated combos while at it, wow.

Wait, no, this is such a wrong time to marvel at videogame skills! They are kids, in a car, in a getaway car, in the middle of a car chase with the fucking Batman!

They take a sharp turn, and Tim grabs onto the handle in order to not bump into the door.

"Oh, you didn't tell me we're racing with the Batmobile," the redhead girl says, but it sounds surprisingly nice and polite, like she's merely asking about the weather.

"Yeah, well, we didn't expect that kind of trouble either," Jason snaps back, scrunching his nose, but the girl just laughs softly.

"No, don't worry. It's no trouble," she assures almost gently, and then reaches one hand behind the seat without looking, tapping the black boy on the knee, "Tucker, sweetheart, switch with me?"

Hold on, what?..

"But Ja-a-azz," the white boy whines.

"We've just got to the boss fight," Tucker pouts, but the redhead just taps his knee more insistently.

"And I'm sure you'll get to it again after we make it out," she says, still perfectly polite and collected. Tim glances out the window. Either this girl has nerves of steel or there's something very wrong with both her and the kids; they are going at least 95 mph, and she keeps only one hand on the wheel like it's nothing.

"Ugh, fine," the kid rolls his eyes and nudges his friend in the shoulder, passing him the console, "Save it, I'll get the cord."

"What cord?" Tim asks because he thought this was a simple undercover mission, but now he gets a sneaking suspicion there's a lot more to it than it looked.

Tucker, with one hand under the driver's seat and searching for something blindly, turns to glare at him.

"The control-cord," he answers like the dumb one here is Tim, "How else do you think- A-ha!" His face lights up as he emerges victorious from under the seat, holding... Yeah, a cord, okay. Which he plugs into the PSP that the other boy hands him without prompting.

"Maybe fasten your seat belts, this is about to get interesting," Jazz offers, but doesn't do so herself. Neither of the kids do it either, and Jason just snorts dismissively.

"You're saying it wasn't 'interesting' before?" There's definitely some teasing in his voice. Tim looks down to the package in his lap, a metal box holding some unknown but evidently very important content.

He fastens his seat belt just in time. The car jerks and speeds up — they are definitely past 110 now. And Jazz is not holding the wheel.

It only takes a moment for Tim to connect the dots and look to the PSP in Tucker's hands. Sure enough, instead of a game, his screen is now a perfect replica of the car's windshield in real time, and his fingers are firmly placed on controls. Like he's done it hundreds of times.

They are racing the Batmobile, and a ten-year-old is driving. This mission is fucking wild.

"Brakes, brakes, BRAKES!" Jason yells from the front, and Tim only gets a moment to notice the quickly approaching back of a truck in front of them and realize they are going to crash before their car just goes through it with no resistance. He even looks in the back window to make sure he didn't hallucinate the truck, but no, it's still there and still real.

Did they... Phase through it?..

"What the fuck," he mutters under his breath.

"Language, there are kids in the car," Jazz chides him with a huff of laughter, and then there's a click.

"What the f- fudge," Jason repeats the question, albeit much louder and way more alarmed than Tim before.

When he turns back around, the redhead is holding a grenade launcher. It doesn't look like a model Tim is familiar with, but it's for some reason painted white, just like their car. Is that some kind of Masters' thing?

Wait, that's a grenade launcher.

Jazz ties her hair in the back in less than two seconds and then reaches up to the roof of the car, pressing a button to open the sunroof.

"Wait, you can't shoot a vigilante, they'll-" Tim yells over the wind, but Jazz just smiles at him and stands up on the driver's seat, peeking out and taking position. Tim throws a panicked look at Jason — they sure didn't plan for anything like this. The car chase was supposed to be over in less than a few minutes, none of them thought that Masters, a fairly new figure in the Gotham underground, would have a kind of vehicle that can phase through things and drive at- at 150 mph through the city roads! Not to mention some strange fucking kids and a teenage with grenades!

"She won't kill anyone," a voice comes from Tim's side, and when he turns his head, he finds the other kid, the one he doesn't know the name of, looking at him, his eyes calm and unblinking. And slightly glowing, okay, and here he was, thinking this clusterfuck of a ride can't get any weirder.

"How do you know?" Tim snaps because there's only so much he can deal with at once in the span of five minutes. The kid shrugs.

"It's Jazz. She has morals," he says, like the word disgusts him, and Tucker huffs a laugh.

"You have them, too. Vlad and Dan killed people before, though," he argues, his eyes still glued to the screen of the PSP.

"Not in Gotham," his friend adds, seemingly just for the sake of having the last word in the argument.

Whatever Tim wants to say back gets cut off by a sound of a gunshot. He turns to the back window again, his heart stuck in his throat, but it looks like the white kid was right: the roaring Batmobile is still on their heels. Whatever the redhead tried to do, she missed.

"Danny, on three!" Jazz yells from above, and the kid springs to action like he's been waiting for this moment his whole life.

"One!"

Tucker moves out of the way as Danny climbs over him and towards Tim, unceremoniously shoves the precious metal box away and all but falls into Tim's lap despite his loud yet wordless sounds of protest.

"Two!"

The boy yanks the latch and throws the door open, leaning down while still sprawled over Tim's knees, and Tim grabs the back of his shirt out of reflex. It doesn't matter that the whole thing is a disaster, he's not letting a ten-year-old fall out of the car on his watch.

"Three!"

There's a loud pop somewhere behind them, and the car suddenly turns and drifts sideways, the sound of skidding tires grating on Tim's ears. Yet, he still feels Danny move and sees him reach and touch the ground. There's a short moment of panic — at this kind of speed, the pavement will shave the skin off the boy's hands in seconds — but then there's a shimmer of white bursting from Danny's palms.

When Tim looks up, the road behind them is covered in ice, the smooth surface of it shining in the yellow light of streetlamps. And, a bit further, there's a thick layer of smoke that should definitely hide them from the view of pursuers.

Smoke grenades. And ice powers. That explains the glowing eyes, Danny must be a meta.

The car shifts again, changing directions, and Tim, almost like in slow-mo, sees the metal box that they've gone to such great lengths to steal, slide towards the open door and tip over the edge.

He is still holding Danny's shirt, and the boy is still hanging halfway out of the car.

The seat belt is pressing tightly into his chest.

The box falls out, and Tim shuts his eyes close. Fuck it, he can fail the mission, it's not the end of the world, Jason can still try and weasel his way into Masters' close circle, and Bruce would understand if Tim explains why quickly enough, it's okay, no big deal-

"Gotcha!" Danny yells cheerfully as the car makes a sharp turn and comes to a halt all of a sudden.

Tim opens his eyes.

Danny, a wide, wicked grin on his face, is holding the box in his hands.

"You're a little shit," Tim breathes out, and the boy laughs, wiggling on Tim's lap and trying to get back inside the car.

"Born and raised," he answers with such a shit-eating expression on his face that Tim doesn't even bother holding back his urge for petty revenge. He releases his death grip on the back of Danny's shirt and gleefully watches the brat lose his balance and faceplant the ground.

The 'quick' undercover mission is sure getting an extension, but somehow, he can't bring himself to feel bad about the fact.

[lustlvii]

Ateez members when you squirt. Ft hyung line

Including: Hongjoong , Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang x fem!reader (all separate!)

Warnings: studio sex (hongjoong) dirty talk, squirting, name calling (slut, dumb little thing), mean! seonghwa, porn no plot, overstimulation, possessive! yeosang, unprotected sex, choking (yunho), size kink (yunho), Daddy kink (Yunho), dirty dirty dirty just dirty so prepare yourself, lmk if I missed anything

Authors note: I'm so happy the maknae line received lots of love 😚 here's the hyungs!!! I love yunho btw 😋

Hongjoong.

“Don’t move.” His voice cut sharp through the low hum of the studio monitors, barely audible over the looping instrumental still playing in the background.

You were supposed to be here for feedback on a demo. Just to sit pretty in his lap while he worked. But then he slipped his hand between your legs during playback—just to “check something.”

And now you were panting, lips bitten raw, clinging to the armrests of his black studio chair like they were the only things keeping you tethered to earth.

Hongjoong’s fingers were coated in your slick, his knuckles deep inside you while the pad of his thumb rubbed quick, unforgiving circles over your clit.

“Look at you,” he murmured into your neck, voice low and dangerous. “So fuckin’ wet in my chair. Acting like you didn’t wear that skirt just so I’d do this.”

“Joong—p-please—” you whimpered, voice cracking, not even sure what you were begging for. To stop? To keep going? You didn’t even know anymore.

“You feel that?” he whispered as he crooked his fingers just right, curling them up against that spongey spot inside you that made your legs kick. “You’re close, aren’t you? So fucking close.”

Your hips bucked. The coil in your belly was snapping tighter and tighter and—

“Oh my god—!”

In a split second, his hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your cry as a gush of wetness spilled out of you, soaking the front of his sweats, the leather of his chair, and dripping down your thighs.

You squirted.

All over him.

Hongjoong stilled. His fingers still nestled deep inside your pulsing heat, the other hand still clamped over your mouth. His breath was shallow. And then he laughed.

“Holy shit.”

You squirmed, blinking hard, barely able to see through the tears blurring your vision. “I-I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry I—”

“Don’t apologize.” He pulled his soaked hand back slowly, glistening in the dim LED light, watching your cunt twitch around nothing now. “Fuck. That was beautiful.”

You flinched when he leaned down and licked the mess off his own fingers, groaning like he’d just tasted the best meal of his life.

“You made a mess, baby,” he mocked sweetly, palming the soaked fabric of your panties now stuck to your skin. “Didn’t think I could make you squirt, huh?”

You shook your head, cheeks burning.

Hongjoong gripped your chin, forced you to meet his gaze—intense and hungry, his pupils blown wide with lust. “You’re gonna do it again,” he said simply, like it was fact. Like you owed him that.

“W-what? I—I can’t—”

“You can.”

He dragged you off his lap, bent you over the mixing console, careful not to press any buttons—though at this point, you wouldn’t have noticed if the whole song deleted itself.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he growled, freeing himself and shoving back into your soaked, trembling hole. “And this time, you’re gonna squirt on my cock like a good little slut.”

The music kept playing. The beat rolled on. But all you could hear was the slap of skin, the lewd squelch of your wetness, and Hongjoong’s filthy voice in your ear:

“That’s it, baby. Dumb little thing. Cumming again already? God—you really are mine.”

And you did. Again. And again. Until you couldn’t even cry anymore, only whimper and shake and thank him with slurred babbles.

The studio was ruined.

He didn’t care. He kissed the crown of your head and whispered with a devilish smirk:

“Let’s get that on the next track.”

Seonghwa.

Seonghwa was so pretty when he was gentle. The soft-spoken voice, the feather-light kisses, the way he tucked your hair behind your ear like you were glass.

But that wasn’t the version of him hovering over you now.

His hands were planted beside your head, and his hips were deep—so deep inside you, your belly ached. Sweat glistened down his neck, damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead. And his dark eyes… they weren’t soft anymore.

“Thought you said you could handle it, princess.” He thrust in once, slow but devastatingly deep. “So why are you crying?”

“I-I’m not—ah! Hwa—!”

Your voice pitched up into a sob as the next thrust knocked the breath from your lungs. You could feel yourself getting wetter, feel your thighs trembling and twitching as he pulled back and slammed into you again.

“Liar.”

He dipped his head low, kissing the tears from your cheeks while his cock bullied your walls open all over again.

“You said you could take it.” A hand slid under your leg and pushed your knee up to your chest. “You begged for it, remember?”

You nodded weakly, fingers gripping the sheets, eyes rolling back.

His pace was cruel now. Calculated. Your slick coated his lower stomach, smearing against his skin with every thrust.

“God, this pussy’s filthy. You’re fucking dripping,” he hissed. “Look at you. You're making a mess on me.”

“H-Hwa—please, it’s too much—!”

“Too much?” he echoed, mocking, as his thumb found your clit and started circling fast, relentless strokes. “This too much? Or this?” He pressed harder.

That’s when it happened—your entire body seized up and then released.

Warm liquid gushed out from you, soaking his thighs, your own skin, the sheets. You squirted so violently it splashed his hips.

Seonghwa didn’t stop. Not even close.

He growled low in his throat and pulled out for a second just to watch it. Watched your cunt pulse and gush and spasm like you were ruined from the inside out.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, voice husky and hoarse. “You squirted for me.”

You could barely breathe. “I—didn’t mean—”

“Yes you did,” he cut in. “You wanted to. Your body begged for it. Don’t pretend you’re not a little slut for it now.”

You whimpered, biting your knuckles.

Seonghwa climbed back between your legs, cock still hard, dragging it up and down your soaked slit. He didn’t slide in yet—just rubbed his tip against your clit, teasing, tapping. Watching you squirm.

“Wanna do it again.”

“I—I can’t,” you breathed out, voice hoarse from moaning.

“You can. You will.” He finally pushed back inside—too slow, too deep—and your eyes immediately crossed.

“There’s my girl,” he purred, kissing your jaw, then nipping it. “Gonna fill you up this time, make you squirt while I cum in you. Don’t stop till you do.”

And he fucked you through it, again and again, until the only words you could say were half-spoken sobs and the sound of your own squirt hitting the ruined sheets.

Yunho.

“Holy shit.”

Yunho froze for a half-second, blinking down at where you lay trembling beneath him—your thighs shaking, your pussy gushing.

Clear liquid sprayed from between your legs, soaking his stomach, his cock, and the sheets beneath you both.

He stared, wide-eyed, lips parted. Then his expression twisted.

Into a grin.

“Did you just fucking squirt?”

You let out a choked sob, covering your face with your hands in pure embarrassment.

“D-Don’t—Yunho—”

“Oh no, no,” he laughed darkly, reaching up to yank your wrists away and pin them to the bed. “You don’t get to hide from me now, princess.”

His cock was still buried inside you, twitching, hot and hard and pressing deliciously against the spot that had just made you lose control.

“You squirted all over me, baby. That’s what this pretty little cunt does when it gets really full, huh?”

You couldn’t even talk. Just moaned, legs weak, cunt still fluttering from the orgasm that wrecked you.

“Was it too much?” he cooed mockingly, thrusting his hips once—slow, just to feel you twitch again. “Can’t handle it?”

You shook your head. “C-Can… but—”

“But what?” he leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “Wanna do it again?”

Your moan gave you away.

He groaned, like he was the one about to fall apart.

“Fucking knew it,” he growled. “Knew this pussy would be obsessed with me. Can’t even stop leaking.”

With your legs still spread open and held wide, Yunho started to move again. More deliberate this time—less punishing, more controlled. Watching you the whole time like a man obsessed.

And when your thighs twitched again—when your moans pitched up, when your hips tried to wiggle away from the pressure—

He sped up.

“Don’t you fucking dare run from it,” he hissed. “Wanna see it again. Wanna feel you gush around my cock, baby.”

“I can’t—! S’too much—”

“You can. You’re gonna squirt for me again, just like the messy little thing you are.”

Your toes curled. Eyes rolled. The pressure hit you even harder than the first time—like a dam about to break.

And then—

“F-Fuck—Yunho—!”

It happened. Again.

Your second squirt hit his thighs, his cock, your belly, everything.

Yunho’s laugh was breathless, wrecked. He kept fucking you through it, holding your legs in place, watching you fall apart with complete awe and total pride.

“That’s my girl. That’s my dumb, messy girl.”

You were crying by the time your third orgasm hit.

And he didn’t stop. Not even close.

“Not done ‘til you’ve soaked the whole fucking bed.”

Yeosang.

You had always assumed Yeosang would be soft.

Gentle. Polite. Almost shy.

But now you were underneath him—spread open, legs over his shoulders, dress bunched around your waist, his cock buried inside you—completely wrecked and shaking.

And Yeosang?

Yeosang hadn’t said a word.

Not one.

Just stared down at you with that unreadable, infuriatingly calm look on his face while he fucked you slowly—so deep, so controlled, so consistent it was driving you insane.

Your fingers twisted in the sheets. “Y-Yeo—can’t—”

His hand came up to your throat—gently, but firm enough to make your next gasp catch—and his hips rolled again.

Right into that spot.

Right into that place he kept hitting again and again and again.

“You can,” he finally said, voice quiet but sharp. “You can take it, baby.”

You whined, vision blurring. “M’gonna—f-feels—”

Yeosang looked down between your bodies, his brows twitching ever so slightly when he saw it.

The wet.

The way your pussy clenched hard around him and started gushing—clear liquid spraying with each helpless jolt of your hips.

You squirted.

You didn’t mean to. Didn’t expect to. But it happened.

“Oh.” His voice dipped lower. Still calm. Still steady. But different.

“You’re squirting?” he murmured, more to himself than you. “That’s how good it feels?”

You covered your face. “I-I—Yeosang—”

He reached down and pulled your hands away, grabbing both wrists and pinning them above your head.

“Don’t hide,” he said, and this time there was a flicker of something smug in his eyes. “Let me see what I did to you.”

You shuddered.

And then he did it again.

Same angle. Same roll. Same deep thrust right against the spot that made your body jerk.

You squirted again.

“Mm.” He tilted his head, blinking slowly. “So messy. What a cute little thing you are.”

“Yeo—Yeosang—too much—!”

“Then cum again.”

That deadpan. That almost disinterested tone as he kept pounding into your soaked cunt, no change in pace, no hesitation, just quiet confidence as he made you come again—

—and squirt again.

The sheets were soaked. Your thighs were shaking. You were gasping, clawing, babbling.

And Yeosang was still looking at you like you were his favorite fucking experiment.

“Didn’t know you could do that,” he murmured, licking his lips. “Guess I’ll have to keep making it happen. Over and over. Until you can't even blink without dripping all over me.”

Writing by @lustlvii please do not translate or publish anywhere

[gguk-n]

Silent Connections (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Some people can hear their soulmates thoughts, but only when they think. Oscar isn't sure he has a soulmate.

Oscar Piastri wasn't even sure he had a soulmate. His mum would talk about how she could hear his dad's thoughts and how they met for the first time but Oscar had yet to hear a single thought from his soulmate. He even voiced his concern once; "I don't think I have a soulmate" he told his mum when he was 5. His mother consoled him and tried to cheer him up.

Oscar was shocked, he skid his kart in the middle of the race and almost crashed out when he heard it. A giggly voice, he wasn't even sure what she said but he was sure, it was her. Maybe he didn't finish that race but he knew now that he had a soulmate. He told his dad as soon as he hopped out of the kart. But he didn't really hear her after that, not for a while. He doubted himself again, maybe he hallucinated that. But as if on cue, he heard it loud and clear; she's a meany. I hate her. It made Oscar laugh out loud; he was 9 and meany was a pretty bad thing to call anyone.

With time, Oscar would hear some parts of his soulmate's thoughts. That's how he learned what she sounded like since his mum said he would hear her thoughts in her voice. Oscar loved his soulmate's voice, he was sure he would love her too; the moment they met. He couldn't wait to meet the love of his life.

Y/N knew she had a soulmate. She knew since she could form thoughts. She could hear him, in her head. It would get chaotic and annoying at times. She couldn't think properly. She could recognise her soulmate's voice even in her sleep since that boy didn't stop thinking. The first thoughts of his that she remembers are about some cars. She wasn't sure what they meant but she did learn a lot about cars from him. She was practically a natural when it came to driving and she only had her soulmate to thank for it.

Even if her soulmate's thoughts were chaotic and annoying sometimes, there were time when she was happy to have his voice in her head, especially on shitty day's like today. She failed her test, her car broke down and she had an assignment to submit in 12 hours with a blue screened laptop. She had started bawling when his smooth voice cut through her. It's fine. I can do it. I've come this far. I'll achieve my dream. I have to keep going. Y/N was glad for his constant reassurance even if it was not for her. Thank you soulmate. I hope you get whatever you want because your thoughts comfort me everyday. Oscar heard it. His brain stopped working, this was the first time they had had a conversation of any sort.

Y/N had pursued a career in cars, she wasn't sure what she would do but she did automobile engineering since her soulmate rubbed off on her. She knew she should've done some research on the company she was joining but she forgot and right now she was standing in a room full of her new colleagues when her eyes landed on a man in a orange shirt and black shorts. He's fucking hot. She thought but Oscar heard it loud and clear. Who's hot? He thought, face visibly annoyed. He's so cute annoyed. She couldn't help but swoon over the orange shirt man. Hey! you have a soulmate you know Oscar huffed. Y/N giggled Sorry Mr Soulmate, I'm sure you're hotter she reassured. Oscar smiled. I wanna make him smile like that. Y/N thought looking at the orange shirt guy smile. Oscar was getting annoyed by the second with who ever his soulmate found attractive.

Y/N was called by her team to introduce herself to the drivers who they would be building the cars for. The first man introduced himself as Lando Norris with a smile. Y/N smiled back and then the other spoke, "I'm Oscar Piastri" making Y/N's eyes bulge out. That voice, she could recognise it anywhere and he was an athlete. How long ago would they have met had she known? My Soulmate's fucking pale. was the first thing Oscar heard making him quickly scan the room. Y/N smiled at Oscar looking for her, his soulmate. "Hi, I'm Y/N Y/L/N" she introduced herself. Oscar's eyes landed on her before muttering, "soulmate" a small smile playing on his lips.

The two of them were able to slip away from the team; "I can't believe this is how I meet you. If I knew you were famous, I would've stalked you years ago" Y/N rambled. "No wonder I couldn't hear your thoughts. You don't think" Oscar laughed. Y/N caught herself blushing, embarrassed. "You're cute though" Oscar stated. "If it's any consolation, the guy I thought was fucking hot was you" she bit her lips. It was Oscar's turn to blush. "As long as I'm the only man you find hot, I have no problem" he said. "Maybe, we should exchange numbers?" she suggested. "Yeah" Oscar smiled. This was the start of a forever the two of them had been waiting for, for a long long time.

[goyardgoyangi]

I am in LOVE with your street racer Sukuna!!! It's so good I wanna cry

I dunno if you take requests but I'd love to see how he'd react to someone hitting on you in front of him (or someone hitting on HIM in front of you)

Hi anon thank you for gooning over street racer! sukuna with me <3 mwah mwah MWAHHHHH here is a snippet from a fic i wrote that's similar to ur req 😚😝

someone hitting on you in front of street racer! sukuna

You expected champagne. Maybe even a full-on victory lap with Sukuna—him pulling you into his arms, wild with adrenaline and pride. You pictured the whole thing: arms around your waist, a cocky grin, the taste of sweat and sweetness when he kissed you in front of everyone like you were his prize.

Instead, second place earns a clenched jaw and dead silence on the ride to the restaurant.

Everyone else is buzzing—his team practically bouncing on their heels, thrilled he even placed at all. “Second in your debut? That’s crazy,” you hear someone say, followed by a solid clap to Sukuna’s back. It doesn’t shake the mood off. If anything, he just gets quieter, retreating further into his own storm cloud.

He slides his sunglasses on as he takes the wheel of the sleek black Porsche Cayman he refused to let anyone else drive. His hands grip the leather like it’s got something to answer for.

You peek at him from the passenger seat. “You were amazing out there.”

“Didn’t win.”

“It was your first pro race.”

“I don’t race to be almost the best.”

You sigh. He’s impossible when he gets like this—stubborn, coiled, biting at the edges of his own ambition. But under the frustration is something else. Something raw. So you reach across the console, slipping your fingers between his.

He doesn’t say anything, but he laces them tighter.

That alone makes you smile.

The restaurant is warm and buzzing—low lights, exposed brick, loud conversation rolling off the walls. You slip into the seat beside him at the long table, and he stays pressed close, his thigh brushing yours, hand resting just barely on your knee beneath the table.

He hasn’t touched his food. Keeps nursing a drink like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You looked so good out there,” you murmur again, leaning close enough that only he can hear.

Finally, he glances your way. Just for a second. But it’s different this time. Softer.

“You looked better,” he says, and you see the corner of his mouth twitch—half a smirk, almost a smile.

You nudge his knee under the table. “You know, I almost ran onto the track.”

That earns a full smile. “Yeah?”

“Wanted to kiss you through your helmet.”

He chuckles. Then bumps his shoulder against yours. “Next time.”

You’re mid-laugh when a voice cuts in.

“Didn’t expect to see someone like you here.”

You blink up at the guy—button-down shirt, expensive shoes, that unmistakable air of confidence that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. He isn’t part of the crew. Doesn’t even have a lanyard. You’re already annoyed.

“I’m with the team,” you say politely.

“With the team,” he echoes, amused. “That include him?” He nods toward Sukuna without making eye contact.

You straighten. “Yeah.”

There’s a beat where the guy just smirks, oblivious or stupid. Probably both. “Honestly, are you here for the cars, or a boyfriend?”

You shoot him a tight smile. “I’m only here for one person.”

“Damn,” he says. “Wish I was him.”

You don’t get the chance to reply.

Sukuna stands.

The chair scrapes against the floor and the whole table quiets. Conversation dies as six-foot-something of fury plants himself squarely between you and the guy, casting a long shadow across the floor. His expression is calm—but in that wrong way. Like the calm right before lightning splits the sky.

“You got three seconds to walk away,” Sukuna says. Voice low. Controlled. “Before I stop playing nice for sponsors.”

The guy stammers out something—hands raised, steps back. You don’t even hear what he says. Just the sound of retreat.

Sukuna doesn’t chase. Doesn’t puff his chest. Just turns back to you, jaw tense, eyes scanning your face for anything off. His hand finds your thigh again under the table—firmer this time, anchoring.

“You good?”

“I’m fine,” you murmur. “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His thumb starts rubbing slow circles against your bare skin. You can tell he’s still stewing. Still not letting it go.

“I was already pissed about second,” he mutters. “Didn’t need some idiot acting like you’re—” He swallows. “Like you’re not mine.”

You reach for his hand under the table and link your fingers again. This time you lift them to your lap, keeping him close. Warm. Real.

“I never am,” you say. “Not to anyone else.”

[writingwisterias]

Anon from the professional boxer Leon request, I have an idea 😍

One, he comes home from after a fight he lost, with a nasty black eye and a bloody nose, and we just tend to him and gently kiss his sweaty face while icing his eye. But he’s also like, all riled up too, shower sex.

I'M HERE I SWEAR ANON SORRY! I will not let boxer!Leon go. He's on my brain again finally... I hope you enjoy

Boxer!Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut MDNI, Praise Kink, soft Angry Sex? idk he's using you to calm down, Soft Dom Leon, Shower Sex, Implied Size kink, Semi-public sex, Porn with little plot

Who knew I just needed to sit in another room to be so productive and finish this off! Thank you @shymoob for proofreading again ily

Taglist: @senawashere @danigirls-missions @lxzy-bxby @074calicocat @gut1ess

You didn't need to mention the outcome of the match to him, there was no need to console him in the mistakes he had made. It was evident with the tension that laced his body, the words that spat out of his mouth to his manager, he already knew what he did. That he was already beating himself up with what could have been. There was no point in reminding him that he failed, it would just land you in the firing line of his anger and tension. Instead it was safer for you to follow him, despite being blinded by all the camera flashes and disappointed fans, all of them trying to get a word or glimpse of him.

Your hand covered your face to block, whilst the other hand was held tightly by him making sure to keep your body hidden close to his back. You could feel the hardened muscles through the dressing down he had draped around himself. The silk fabric decorated in his name like it was something to be proud of.

A polite smile was plaster on your lips, one of the kind that formed out of awkwardness. You could see the door you were both aiming for now at least, finally able to move from behind him as you both exited the tunnel. The same one he was bounding out of a few hours earlier eager and smiling, feeling like he was on top of the world.

With just a glance to his face you can tell the last half of the match the opponent had knocked his game up. The blood dripped slowly out of his nose, one of his eyes slowly swelling shut with the promising bruise that was coming into play. No one would bother either of you in here, the locker room after the match strictly out of bounds as it was the only way you could calm him down. Using both traditional and not quite traditional methods. The manager couldn't give a fuck, as long as he got his money from Leon and his head was screwed on for next available match. You were the stress reliever of his team and with his mood like this, your skills at the job were definitely going to be tested today.

Leon slumped on the bench first, a large frustrated groan leaving his lips as his palms rubbed into his eyes. You rummaged through the numerous bags he has in here, most of them being stuffed with many outfits for him to decide to wear in the ring. However, you were looking for the minor first aid kit whilst Leon began to shrug what little clothes he had left on. The robe with his name dumped carelessly on the floor, his surname in a satin font laid face up, glinting in the light. Leon refused to look at it, as if looking at the blue letters made him admit his defeat tonight.

You didn't miss the hiss of pain as he leaned back against the wall or the groan as the aches began to settle in now the adrenaline wore off. “I can't believe I lost,” he grumbled, another sigh rumbling through his body almost like a growl. Your fingers lifted his chin, guiding his features to look at you as you began to wipe him free of any blood. Leon's hands gripped your hips, holding you like a life line as he swallowed himself in self pity. His eyes avoided you, worried he wouldn’t see the love and affection that normally laced them compared to the alternative look of disappointment everyone else seemed to sport today.

“Everyone loses sometimes” you spoke softly, acting as if the man in front of you was but a wounded animal and you needed to be gentle so you didn’t spook him. Sometimes even Lions have to get their egos bruised every now and then. “I shouldn't have lost, the fight was easy. It should have been an easy win” his chin jerked from your hand, his eyes fierce with something you couldn't quite pinpoint. “Even so…I think you did well. You looked good” Your tone dropped to that sultry one he loved so much, his eyes watching as yours narrowed a smile growing across your pretty face. You were tempting him and who was he to refuse?

You watched eagerly as his own smirk grew, his touch slowly becoming more possessive as the fight of self-pity left him. His mind as it always did grew distracted by your taunting presence, the way your fingers worked softly through his sweat slicked hair. Playing with a few of the strands that fell in front of his face, curling them between your fingers as you looked down at him. His muscles rippled with temptations, stiffening his form as you touched his shoulders again. “You seem like you need a shower, maybe all the hot water will ease all your– tension” you whispered, your breath tickling against the shell of his ear. Leon smirked, his body towering over yours as he stood up. “Are you going to join me?”

“Did you even have to ask?”

His hand engulfed yours, the heat spreading throughout as he walked over towards the showers. Steam slowly filled the room, the warmth spreading throughout you faster as his hands went to the hem of his tight shorts. His hardened length is prominent through the spandex material. Your fingers twitched at your sides as you watched him pull them down his thighs, clearly flexing the muscles he had gained through his training. He was putting on a show for you, as if he was attempting to make up his sour mood to you. If there was one thing Leon never failed at it was ensuring you were never left unsatisfied.

His tip was beading pre-cum for you eagerly as he turned to look at you, his fist slowly working his length as he backed into the shower stream. You watched his eyes roll back, a his of pleasure escaping his lips as he worked himself. You felt targeted when he opened his eyes– watched as they raked over your body with lust and desire. “Seems a little unfair, sweetheart” He teased, his free hand gesturing to your current clothing situation as his other hand continued to pump himself. You watched his thumb move over his slit, gathering the fluid he was presenting you with.

You started with your blouse, the buttons already straining against your chest. He grinned as your breast became exposed, your nipples hardened against the mesh of your bra. Perked and beautiful craving for his attention. Your trousers were next giving him a little shimmy as you let them drop onto the tiled floor. You pulled the underwear away displaying your pussy to him– a light shine already decorating your thighs as your arousal pooled. “You were turned on before we got here, weren’t you?” Leon taunted, chuckling as your eyes widening before nodding sheepishly. “Your anger is hot”

“That so?”

You cupped your breasts as you approached him, now playing with your peaked nipples once they were free from the bra. Leon watched your actions, mimicking a similar motion with his tip until you were finally within reach. His hands left his cock to reach for you, his length twitching in the stream. Leon’s lips were upon your neck instantly, his hands gripping the flesh of your ass pulling you closer into his frame. He was hungry for you, desperate for a prize he should have won today.

He shouldn’t be here in the locker room fucking his frustrations out on you, he should be listening to his fans scream proudly, listening to the praises offered by his manager. Instead he got your needy noises, the sweet whimpers you offered him when he sucked against your pulse point. Whilst it wasn’t the reward he was expecting tonight, it was one he would gladly take. Leon hoisted you up, holding your weight as your legs wrapped around his hips. Your nails scraped his shoulders as they wrapped around his neck making his already battered skin. You hissed at the feeling of the shower wall hitting your back as he spun you both behind, his tip pressing against your entrance groaning as it fluttered at his slight intrusion.

“Such a good girl for me” He groaned, his lips finding your in a messy kiss again. You could feel his muscles tighten as he pushed himself inside of your pussy sighing thankfully at the feeling of you wrapped around him. His usual methods of foreplay forgotten as his desire for a release on the forefront of his mind, he couldn’t find himself to care at this moment. Not as your cunt squeezed the life out of his cock, the burning feeling flooded through the system as he began to move. “Squeezing me so tight – fuck girl” He grunted, the pain soon turning into the pleasure that only he could achieve.

He held you effortlessly, your weight never a bother. Leon’s head fell to your shoulder, biting and soothing the skin in a continuous battle. “Leon–so fuck–” You whimpered. Your nails left crescent marks in his skin, the biting pain you were causing him helped distract himself from the loss. The angry shouts of his fans, their hurtful words of disappointment fading away with your persistent whimpers and begs for more. You wouldn’t break on him, lose your faith in him like they would. Each flutter of your cunt was a praise, well done for all his efforts today.

You could feel his ass muscles clench beneath your heels as he pressed himself closer, forcing his cock deeper. His tip brushed against your cervix bullying his presence inside of your cunt. His mouth left bite marks as he felt himself grow closer, each spot feeling tender despite the kisses he left after. Your mind was filled with nothing but him, your body was filled with nothing but him but as your orgasm grew closer you didn’t care. “More” You begged, “Please”

Leon grunted, his cock twitching as he stilled his movements. He moved you both to the nearest bench, the sounds no longer muted as the shower faded to a stop. You began to bounce immediately, your slick body moving with ease as you began to chase after your high. Leon watched your tits, following them like a cat with a laser as you pushed them further in his face, your hands braced on the wall behind his head as you focused. “Such a good girl using me like that – makes me feel like I’m good for something” He cooed, his lips kissing the breast closest to his mouth before latching on. Pleasure shot to your throbbing core, his wisps of hair teasing your clit with every movement.

“You’re perfect” You moaned, slowing your bounce to a low grinding, following the pleasure his hair was giving you. Leon wasn’t going to stop you, not as his hands encouraged your slow grind pressing you further into his lower abdomen. “Leon–”

“That’s it, good girl, give it to me baby” he whimpered, his balls tightening. At his praise the coil snapped, your hips slowing their movements as your thighs shook with pleasure. Leon smirked before working your over sensitive body on his cock like you were some expensive fleshlight before with a final deep groan he spilled himself inside you.

The pulsing of his cock was beautiful, the thickness and length keeping the warm love he gave you plugged inside. Leon stroked your hair, cooing at you as you collapsed on his chest. Feeling used and useful in his huge world. “Fuck baby, so good for me” He whispered against your temple, pressing a kiss in the spot as well. You giggled against his form, relishing him in his lighter mood. “I’m proud of you Leon” You muttered against his neck. Leon stilled, his hips jolting his now softening length inside you as your words affected him more than he thought. “Really? Even though I lost”

“Yeah because I know you can still get up and win”

[onlyheluvsme]

I've been loving your big clit abby series!!! So blessed to have another talented writer in the fandom hehe.

If youre looking for inspo, how about flustering abby while she's driving? Perhaps some roadhead? I think abbys so perfect as a sub

road head!!!! ive always wanted to try this but isnt there some final destination scene or something about that? i like my head on my neck lol. sorry for that horrible visual heres your porn lol. thank you for the req anon!

˗ˏˋbig clit!abby vi´ˎ˗

in which abby gets road head — mdni, lowercase intended, modern!au, f!reader, reader has hair, smut, mentions of: parents, siblings, driving, cars, oral, fingering ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ pls leave reqs

parts: one-five | six

after moving half way across the country with your girlfriend and flight prices being way too high, the two of you drove to your parents for your siblings graduation. the first few hours were perfect, you sang, played the license plate game, asked her which five letter word she could think of for ireland.

however, when hour five came around the tiredness hit,

"we should probably find another rest stop, i need to get another coffee" abby rubbed her eyes quickly, her other hand on the wheel.

"you sure you don't want me to drive?" you lob your head from looking out the window to her.

"absolutely not" she chuckles, her hand coming down to grip your thigh.

"we gotta make it to your parents in one piece" she jokes,

"haha" you mock, even though you knew she was right, you were a horrible driver.

a big blue sign passed on your right, 'rest stop in three miles, exit seventeen' and your eyes lit up,

"exit seventeen has something i think" you tell her as your hands begin to play with her hand on your thigh, lightly drawing shapes into the skin.

"alright" she says, moving around uncomfortably in her seat, the feeling of sitting for so long becoming bothersome.

a sweet silence came over the car, the radio playing softly, the sun roof open slightly letting the warm air and sound of nature in.

you couldn't help but to look over at your girlfriend as you appreciated the serene moment, the domesticity of it all. the wisps of hair that had fallen from her braid danced with the wind, framing her face like an angel. your eyes traveled down her beautifully sculpted face to her arms and chest, admiring the muscle through her black tank. the few tattoos she had along her arm ripple over her thick forearm as she rubs the warmth of your thigh.

the sight was one that quickly made your core heat and panties soak. your eyes trailed down to the hand on your thigh, watching the fingers closest to your cunt, suddenly hyperaware of every movement of her fingers. without thinking, your hips slightly buck as her pinky lightly glosses the hem of your shorts.

her head turns to your at the feeling, eyes slightly wide,

"baby?" she asks,

"i need you" you huff, removing the seat belt and bending over the console to press wet kisses into her neck,

abby's breath is caught in her throat for a moment and she almost swerves the car into the other lane. your lips start an assault on her neck and abby can't help the way she angles her neck to give you more room.

within seconds she's wide awake again, the tiredness from before completely dissipating with the shock of warmth of your lips behind her ear. one of your hands gripped her seat to hold you up while the other roamed her body, pinching at her nipples through her shirt,

"fuck baby, what are you doing?" abby asked, feeling her core heat at the feeling of you, clit becoming uncomfortable in her boxers. abby had to force herself not to close her eyes in bliss and focus on the road.

the hand that roamed her chest and pinched her nipples trailed down her stomach to find the band of her sweat shorts. your finger slightly pushed inside, feeling the warm skin underneath,

a shaky breath left abby's mouth, "be careful" she mumbled.

out of instinct, abby's thighs spread against the seat, foot staying on the pedal. the extra space gives you room to move your hand slowly down her abdomen till it reaches the hem of her boxers,

"can i touch you abby?" you whisper into her ear, shivers go down her arm.

"b-but i'm driving" she mumbles but theres a slight desperation to her tone.

"then you better pay attention," you say as your hand slips into her boxers.

with quick thinking, abby puts the car into cruise control, letting herself take her foot off the pedal — she had never been more grateful for the empty road.

her hips raise as she helps you guide off her shorts and boxers, leaving abby's soaked thigh to stain the seat. her thighs spread and you find her clit already at its full size, all pink and swollen begging to be sucked.

you moved yourself so your entire upper body laid across the console between you, your legs bent into your seat. with the side angle, you weren't give full access to her, so you had to improvise, spreading her glistening lips with your two fingers.

a line of spit comes down from your mouth onto her clit and abby's hips raise, cunt desperate for your tongue. you watch as her clit twitches before bending your head down to wrap your lips around it.

abby's chest deflates in relief at the feeling of your lips and tongue as they slowly began to massage her sensitive clit. abby's eyes stay on the road as you start to slowly bob your head up and down on her, hands gripping the wheel so tight her knuckles where red.

your tongue swirls around the reddened tip of her clit, the most sensitive part, mouth suctioning the rest into your mouth. you begin a rhythm with your mouth, bobbing your head slightly to press as much of her into your mouth.

abby's legs began a slow shaking underneath you, hand removing itself from the wheel to grab your hair into a ponytail,

"f-fuck that feels really good" she whispers into a moan, you moan in response letting the vibrations hit her core. the hand you used to spread her lips slipped lower to find her weeping hole, her slick covering your fingers within seconds.

your pointer and middle finger slowly slip into her tight hole, you pumped them into her until they were all the way in.

it took everything in abby to hold herself together, to not pull the car into the shoulder and let your finish her off — yet she wouldn't abby refused to give up the moment.

her hips bucked sporadically against you as you continued to fuck her tight velvety walls with your fingers, mouth lapping at her enlarged clit,

"i'm not gonna last" abby whines, head hitting the headrest behind her, eyes forcing themselves on the road.

your pace against her picks up and soon enough abby's hand is pushing your head down onto her clit as her orgasm rocks through her.

your fingers are met with a rush of her come as your mouth sucks her clit vigorously, tongue rapid against its tip. abby's moans above you stir you on, so instead of slowing down your pace and pulling away, you latch onto her.

abby's thighs quiver as a second orgasm approaches rapidly, so your fingers curl inside of her and she loses it again,

"fuck fuck fuck" she whines above you, hips unable to stay still.

your mouth final relents after you clean as much of her cunt as you could, lapping her slick into your mouth as you savored her taste. soon enough you were helping her guide on her boxers and shorts,

"c'mere" she said when you finally got her settled, you twist yourself around to lay across her lap, head into her shoulder as one of her hands wrapped around your torso the other on the wheel.

"you're a dangerous girl, you know that?" she asked you, hand slipping under the hem of your shirt to feel the heat of your belly.

the two of you slip back into the serene moment from before, however this time feels slightly more special, like your appreciating being together as one.

abby was grateful for the next few hours as you laid across her, slowing down when she drove near a state trooper, no need to get the two of you into trouble. she hadn't even realized she missed exit seventeen till she drove passed exit thirty-two.

[bc abby masterlist]

[abby masterlist]

[nayaesworld]

Rugged Whiskey

Warnings: Mentions of killing, smut, toxic behavior and situations

—

Terry Richmond X OC!Khia

Part 2

__

|Future Wifey: If you can find out where I’m at in the next hour this pussy is yours again daddy 😉

Terry sprung up from his couch and headed out his door, he had no time to waste and he had a lesson to teach. There was no telling where she was at the moment but Terry had a few places in mind he would look, Hide and go seek for pussy huh? She just knew he would come running, and here he was scrambling his brain like eggs neurons firing off with thought after thought of where to search first.

Her voice stuck inside his head like the call of a siren to a lonely pirate.The black ski mask and leather gloves inside his glove compartment would finally see the light of day again. Terry was flying around the city desperate to leave no stone unturned. The park,the grocery story, the bar, her favorite spa place. All places left him no closer to Khia than he was when he first left home and it was nearing nightfall. An annoyed growl left his lips as he slapped his steering wheel, he was frustrated and starting to feel anxious. His left eye began to twitch and his palms rubbed constantly on his black jeans trying to calm his bouncing leg. He already owed her one for blocking him, and now she was making it worse for herself not being easily accessible to him.

His phone vibrated in his console and he snatched it up to see a new text from her. She was taunting him.

|Future Wifey: Did you give up on me daddy? I don’t see you anywhere.

A picture attached to the text message made him lean up in his seat. A sliver of her face shown in a failed attempt at hiding her background from him. At first nothing about the tiny view of her surroundings looked familiar, until he noticed the orange neon sign in the background. Sensual, a popular lingerie store located in the mall, he now had her location and it was time for the real games to start.

By the time he had reached the parking lot of the mall the sun and moon had exchanged places in the sky, and only a bold white moon lit up the night. Ski mask rolled up on his forehead and leather gloves on he started the trek into the mall. She could be anywhere in there now. His all black attire had him gliding through thick crowds of people, like a scene straight out of Halloween he glided slowly through the mall. His eyes sliding slowly left to right surveying his surroundings carefully. He just needed one flash of her.

He rode the escalator up to the second floor of the mall and found the lingerie store, he had to check inside it first to be sure.

“Hi, welcome to Sensual. Is there anything I can assist you with today?” A chirpy voice greeted him from behind the counter and he glanced at the tall brunette.

“Good evening…I was looking for my wife. She was just here but I seemed to have lost her.” He pulled out his phone and showed the woman the photo Khia had just sent him.

“Oh yess I remember her, she bought a few items but left shortly after… she said she had an Uber to catch.” She drifted off the last few words as she glanced at the leather gloves on his hand, eyebrows scrunched with worry. Noticing her change in demeanor immediately, he knew it was time to cut the convo short.

“Ok thank you, have a good night.” He turned on his heels and headed for the escalators. He had to get back to the front of the mall asap and now he knew she didn't drive her own car there he needed to be quick on his feet. He was itching to touch and squeeze flesh..her flesh.

Reaching the entrance of the mall outside he finally saw her, and that was almost enough to make him nut just from relief alone. She stood waiting with her shopping bag faced away from him, mindlessly tugging on the necklace around her neck . The grey sweats and jacket hung off her in an oversized fashion and he couldn’t wait to tear them from her. Dark natural curls blowing slightly in the wind made her this picturesque beauty and he knew he couldn’t wait any longer to bring her home.

Gloves tight on his hands and ski mask pulled down, he approached the dark shaded area she stood in. It was perfect cover and no one would notice him dressed to the nines in full out burglar gear. Slow quiet paces made him invisible to her, and when he finally stood behind her he slid a hand over her mouth and wrapped his other arm around her waist. Anchoring her to him with nowhere to run. A gasp and a small scream exited her mouth as she thrashed around in his hold trying to get a look at the creep that had his hands on her.

“Stop all that screaming shit, save it for later. Now walk…and don’t try no funny shit. I won your little game fair and square.” When he finally let her go he saw her eyes were slightly damp and reached out to wipe them.

“Aww I scared you baby?… good don’t have me out here looking for your ass. I’m sad too but I’m not crying.”

He watched her scrunch up her face and roll her eyes. “I’m not crying, and I definitely wasn’t scared.” He didn't buy her little act, he knew a genuinely stunned face when he saw one.

“Mm yeah yeah, now walk. You know what I drive.” With a nudge he pushed her into the parking lot, taking her bag from her hands to carry it and toss in his truck.

__

The drive was silent and Khia had no idea where he was taking her. A slight downpour had covered the truck on their drive and the sounds of the windshield wipers against the glass was the only sound available. Terry was eerily quiet. She expected him to gloat and nag her but he was just silent, an unnerving silence.

“Are you gonna take off that mask?” The ski mask was still pulled over his face and she was getting hot from it.

His head glanced her way then back at the road before he answered her. “Why you scared..?”

“No, and where are we going, your apartment is in the city. We’re on the outskirts of town?” He put a finger to his lips signaling for her to shush and cut on his radio. She sat back in her seat and huffed loudly, maybe she should’ve just stayed her ass home and kept him blocked.

“You good… you got something you wanna share? Sit tight and chill out we almost there.”

“I don’t wanna chill out, I wanna know where we’re going, all this blowing up my phone and stalking me for nothing…I never should have texted you back.” She sat in the passenger seat face frowned up from pure impatience. He was annoying her and she wasn’t holding her tongue.

“Oh you just a mouthy little brat tonight ain’t you…if I tell you to close your mouth again trust me you won’t like what comes next.” A big hand laid on her thigh in warning and she finally sat back and stayed quiet.

Terry made a sharp left turn onto a rural back road. It was dark and the only thing she could see was miles and miles of field. She sat up in her seat trying to gauge where she was but nothing looked familiar and she’d never been this far out of the city, she had no reason to come way out here. He made another left turn and this street sign she caught a glimpse of. Stone Hill road? Was he being serious right now?

The eerie dark road had been the chosen spot for a link of murders. Each body made its way to Stone Hill road and was disposed of, only to be discovered months after they’d been killed and buried. The person was never caught but everyone knew to steer clear of the road. Yet Terry had just pulled to the side of the road, parked and turned off his truck.

“Terry, why are we here?”

He threw her a squinted look before answering. “Why do you think we here?”

“Haha very sarcastic, but did you pick THIS road specifically…don’t you know what happened here?”

“Yeah I know, that’s why it’s perfect. It fits the occasion…lil bit of serial killer dick never hurt nobody.” He mumbled the last part more so to himself but Khia swore she caught the tail end of it.

“What?… Terry what did you say?”

“I said a lil bit of scary dick never hurt nobody…what did you think i said?” His green eyes peered into hers in the dark cabin of his truck.

“I-I don’t know..just forget it. I think I’m just tired.” She gave him a small nervous smile and pushed a curl behind her ear.

He snatched her up by her jacket and pulled her in close, pressing his soft plump lips to her ear. “Don’t question me again, I’m in charge..you know that.”

Her chest rose and fell quickly. She was more and more turned on as the seconds flew by and her clothes began to feel completely uncomfortable on her hot skin.

He needed her in the worst ways right now. And more importantly he needed her out of those clothes and on his dick. He pulled off his ski mask and leather gloves and placed them in the armrest, long fingers reaching over and stroking her thick thigh.

“Dig in your panties and let daddy smell that pussy… mm mm don’t act shy now, do it.” He watched her breathe shakily as she slid the sweatpants past her ass and slid her hand into her pink panties, fingers moving slowly in her panties gathering her juices on her fingers. She lifted her fingers from her panties and put her index and middle finger under his nose.

He gripped her wrist and inhaled her sweet scent, nothing in his life smelled better than it. A smell so intoxicating and raw it made his most primal thoughts and feelings rise to the forefront. He wanted to own her and fill her head with his own thoughts, but she had to be somewhat willing. The tangy taste of her juices made his taste buds tingle and mouth fill up with water. Pussy definitely made the world go round and there was no denying that fact.

“Come sit on daddy’s lap, let me feel you.” He patted his thighs and used the automatic button next to his seat and pushed back along with reclining it a bit for more space. She kicked her shoes and sweats off and crossed the console to sit on his lap letting him pull off her jacket and t-shirt. He came out of his black denim jacket and tossed it on the dashboard along with her clothing, his urge to feel her made him feel like he’d absorb her into his skin. He gazed into her damp brown eyes as he rotated her hips in a circle on his bulge, his pants slowly finding their place down his ankles.

Their breathing picked up and they grinded against one another at a quicker pace. Her bare chest on his clothed one as he pulled her closer into him, his hips lifting up to meet her soaked center every time, loud grunts and growls jumping from his mouth. The dry humping had them drunk on lust. Mouths sliding hungrily against each other's faces in a rush to assert dominance over the other. His low moans had her pussy clenching around nothing in her panties and she was sure she would combust from the feeling beneath her. She slowed her hips and looped her fingers around the hem of her panties and threw them aside. She needed him badly.

“Baby I need you to touch me please…look how wet I am for you. Put your fingers inside me, make me cum.” She leaned back against the steering wheel to give him a view of the mess she was making in his lap, and watched him drag a lone finger down her slit before he slowly pushed into her.

“Tj you make me crazy… I thought about you everyday I had you blocked.” He let his finger speed up slowly adding a second and pushing in until only his knuckles showed.

“That’s because I’m daddy, and I told you that. You gonna block me again mama?”

“No Noo I promise, I’ll never do it again daddy..that’s my dick.”

She threw her head back and bounced slowly on his fingers. Her pussy had his lap wet with her arousal and his wrist was working overtime between giving her good penetration and clitoral stimulation.

“What you gonna do for this dick tho baby, tell daddy what you willing to do for it.” She leaned forward into him nuzzling her lips against his ears, sucking his earlobe into her mouth.

“I’ll catch a charge behind this dick, it’s mine and nobody else’s. I’ll beat you and any bitch that doesn’t get that.” Terry let his Hand come down on her ass cheek hard, and quickly pulled his shirt from his body.

Her tongue slithered across his chest and to his neck.

“Oh yeah, you fighting about this dick?..you gonna fight daddy in the backseat and ain’t no running back there.”

__

Terry's hand wrapped around Khia’s throat as he drove his hips into hers. He had her folded up in the backseat of his truck feeding her inch after inch of hard dick. She had nowhere to run.

“Daddy it’s in my stomach…mm fuckkk please just cum already I-ahh.”

Terry pressed his hand onto her belly watching his bulge form behind her skin in and out. “That's where I’m supposed to be..right mama. Mhmh fucking this pussy, my pussy!”

“Tj my pussy…my pussy is yours, and that dick is mine.” She reached between them and held onto his dick as he sped up splashing her cream onto his seats. He’d get it detailed sometime soon to cleanse his truck of their sex.

The windows in the truck held a slight fog as the temperature inside it kept rising. Body temperatures collectively turning their fuck session into a homemade sauna. He glanced down at Khia watching her whimper, a glazed film over her eyes as her breathing slowed. He took his hand from around her neck to slap her cheek lightly.

“You better breathe.. I can’t believe this dick got you about to pass out!” She breathed in a large gust of air and reached forward to pull him into her body.

“Because you’re fucking me daddy, you fuck me so well.” The helpless look on her face mixed in with the sentiment had him exploding internally, if she said one more thing like that he wouldn’t last any longer.

“Fuck..fuck say it again. Tell daddy what he’s doing to this sweet pussy.” Praise was one of his kinks and she was playing right into it. His head dropped to her chest to suck on a plump nipple and his hips rolled slowly trying to hold back his release.

“Tj you're such a good boy…you found me and brought me back with you..you did so good. And now I feel it coming, you about to nut daddy..please cum Tj.” Her honeyed tone weakened him and had him sucking breaths in quickly to make himself sane in the moment. But her pussy was constricting him. Her tight hot walls suctioning him in further resembling a racing heartbeat. He had to fight against it and pull out hot slimy coats of white jizz covering her belly and breast.

She dozed off quickly after he sat her back in his passenger seat. Spent body curled against the door using his jacket as a blanket. Terry was fatigued but pushed back towards the city to his apartment, they needed a hot shower and food. He woke her up and grabbed her stuff from his backseat, swiping his keycard to get into his building. She trudged behind him, yawning and stretching as they made it inside his apartment. Clothes stripped off again for the second time that night. The two stepped into the spacious shower together. She slid her hands around his waist locking her fingers as she held her head against his chest. A thudding heartbeat echoing in her ear. Warm shower water pouring onto them in gentle pulses.

“You ok mama..what’s on your mind?”

“You are, I loved tonight, and I love your body. You’re like an Adonis.” He felt the feather-like touches slithering all over his back and meeting together in the front to explore his large biceps and toned abdominal muscles.

“Mm thank you my baby I try, but have you seen you, you stacked lil mama. Really ain’t ever seen anything like it… that’s why I can’t let you out my sight.” They continued exchanging compliments and exchanged kisses as they washed each other's body from head to toe.

Freshly washed and moisturized, they chatted in his kitchen. Khia sat swiveling left to right on his bar chairs, body covered in a red and white polka dot slip watching Terry’s naked back as he cooked up a mini brunch for them. He placed a few crispy edge pancakes on a plate for her along with a fried egg and breakfast sausage. She drowned everything in syrup and sipped on her cold glass of orange juice tucking into the sweet and savory late night brunch. Conversation drifted onto the two of them discussing being hit on in the workplace and Terry let his resolve slip once more.

“So what would you do if you saw me flirting with another man, it’s just a little flirting can’t be that bad right?” He watched a sneaky smirk form on her face and enlightened her with a matching one.

“I’d kill him…simple, just to make sure you get the memo that is. You want his life taken from him, then go ahead and play in my face.” She laughed loudly and waved him off, hand in front of her mouth just cracking up at him.

“Terry you can’t say stuff like that, that’s crazy.” Hadn’t she caught on yet? That’s exactly what he was.

“Of course I can, and I can mean it too.” He stuffed the last piece of egg into his mouth before moving to wash out his plate.

“You would kill for me Tj?” Her voice came out low and sultry and he whipped around to stare at her, dark brown eyes low but expressive.

“Fuck of course you would… you’d do anything I asked you, right daddy?” She continued speaking to him in that tone, breaking him down further and placing her in the driver seat of his body. She leaned onto the island titties jiggling from the low cut of her slip.

“Good boys get all the pussy in the world when they listen…are you a good boy Tj?” Terry was under her spell lock and key. He shook his head quickly, he was a good boy and he would do anything she asked.

“Yes I’m a good boy mamas…haven’t I shown you that though?” He rounded the island to stare down at her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She pulled him down to her face by his ears, gripping and rubbing them. She placed chaste kisses behind his ear lobe.

“Yes you have baby but I want more, can you do something else for me…so I know it’s real? Can you do this one thing to solidify us…make us one?”

“Yes yes anything, name it now.. you got it I swear…I want us to be one. Tell me what I have to do to earn you?” She sucked a hickey onto his neck, a warm hand down his grey sweats stroking the head of his dick softly as he breathed harshly in her ear. Terry was putty in her hand, his brain on autopilot as he turned into a living breathing ventriloquist dummy right before his own eyes. Worshipping wasn’t enough for him, she was goddess-like. She could snap her fingers and like a dog he would do what she said when she said it.

“Can you make someone disappear for me…I want you to be the last person he lays eyes on before you take his life, plus you're a beautiful sight who wouldn’t wanna die to your face daddy.”

Terry fell apart from that alone, spongy tip and her hand covered in webs of cum. She played with it some more on her hand before she stuffed the sticky fingers into her mouth. Making a scene of the milky white slime sticking to her lips. He gripped her chin and sucked her tongue into his mouth, he didn’t give one fuck about her having a mouth full of his nut.

“Count him as dead already, give me his address and workplace..let me prove how badly I want and need you.”

__

A/N: And that praise kink? IMMA WRITE IT. I hope yall enjoy these cuckoo birds as much as I do🫶🏾 I tried to tag everyone but if I missed you my bad!

@venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @brattyfics @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @starcrossedxwriter @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @blackmoonchilee @invisiblegiurl @blackerthings @19jammmy

[jobean12-blog]

Rush

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: You and Bucky have places to be and people to see but neither of you can seem to keep your hands to yourself.

Author's Note: All these new pictures of him dressed up....yummy! I would never be able to keep my hand off him 😏thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: it's soft and the love is always there but there's a lot of desperation and neediness, flirty tension, semi-public car sex, smut

“Why can’t you just get dressed here?” he pouts.

You step closer and press your body along his. “Because Nat asked me to come help her get ready and pick a dress.”

His hands slide around your waist, and he dips his head, lips hovering just above yours. “I think Nat can handle that herself.”

“Of course she can,” you answer as you fingers dance up his chest. “But it’s fun to get ready together.”

“I’m fun,” he practically whines before he kisses you.

“The most fun,” you laugh against his lips. “But you own clothes in three colors and have like two pairs of shoes and don’t wear any make up. It’s easy for you to get ready.”

“Hey!” you says, feigning hurt. “And you don’t need any make up.”

You smile and kiss him again. “Love you. I’ll be back to pick you up at seven.”

“Shouldn’t I be picking you up?” he says as he watches you walk toward the door.

“On your bike?”

You raise a brow and pop your hip.

“Sure! Why not?” he counters, stepping closer.

“Because I’ll be in a dress and heels and…”

“Doll,” he murmurs, closing the distance and pulling you into his arms again. “Just stay.”

At his pleading words and soft expression, you almost give in but then you feel his hand inching down your back and when he squeezes your ass you let out a squeal and push him away.

“You’re so full of shit Barnes. You just wanna get laid.”

His eyes widen.

“I…what?”

“I have to go,” you tell him, turning and grabbing the door to pull it open.

He lifts his metal hand above your head, flattening his palm to the wood and pushing it closed again.

“You have to say goodbye first,” he smirks.

You turn back around and drop your bag to the floor then stretch up to kiss his neck.

“Bye baby,” you whisper against his skin, trailing kisses along his jaw.

With a teasing brush of your lips, you start to move away but he grabs you and presses you into the door.

He reaches behind you, closing his fingers around the back of your neck, and tilts your head closer. His lips slide across yours and he eases his tongue inside and all at once it turns desperate.

When he finally breaks the kiss it’s with a low, hungry groan and his hand releases you, but his gaze doesn’t.

“I’m going to make you beg to come later doll face.”

“Is that a promise?” you breathe out as you cling to him for dear life.

The smug tilt of his lips is all the answer you get as you reach back and fumble for the doorknob.

“See you at seven doll.”

He’s dressed and waiting outside when you pull the car into your parking spot in the darkened garage under your apartment building. He’s wearing his black suit jacket and pants and a crisp white button down, the first few buttons open and the collar fluttering lightly in the wind.

He climbs into the passenger seat, grumbling about wanting to drive, and then looks over at you.

“Fuck,” he says. “Get out.”

You panic, looking down at yourself to make sure you didn’t spill something everywhere.

“I want to see you,” he says, leaning across your lap to open the door from the inside. “Get out so I can see you doll.”

“Oh.”

You climb out and smooth your hands down your dress and walk to the front of the car.

He doesn’t follow you out, he only slumps back against the seat and stares at you through the windshield.

You watch his mouth say, “fuck,” again.

“What?” you call out.

Shaking his head, he says, “you look gorgeous.”

When you get back into the car he immediately leans across the console, taking your face in his hands, and looks at you for a heavy, pounding heartbeat before he presses his mouth to yours.

As soon as he touches you, his lips part slightly and he exhales a quiet, “doll,” and then leans closer, taking your bottom lip between his.

Your hands fly into his hair, and you need to feel him along every inch of you. His sounds are so deep and quiet they’re like vibrations that run across your skin, taking you apart piece by piece; your blood that rushes too strong, your hands that slide down his chest, and legs that push up off the seat and over his lap.

He drags you down, grinding up and into you and you sigh out his name when you feel the thick press of his cock between your legs.

When he groans, it sends you over the edge and you’re tugging and pulling at the buttons of his shirt, his belt, anything you can get your hands on.

He’s one step ahead, reaching between you to unzip his pants and shove them down his hips. You feel his bare cock on your thigh, skin warm and soft around something so inflexible.

His long fingers fumble with your panties, pushing them aside, not even bothering to take them off, fingertips seeking and find you wet and needy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck baby. I can’t…I can’t wait. Need you now.”

You nod urgently and he holds himself, sinking deep inside as you both gasp and try to breathe.

His gaze catches yours and the unbridled desire and love in his expression makes you feel shaky and fragile.

He sits up, kissing you, groaning against your teeth when he’s buried inside and grunts these tiny perfect sounds of approval every time you rock forward and back.

Words of praise leave his lips, over and over, and more kisses, his lips brushing your jaw, your neck with more sounds of need.

Reaching between you, he teases with two fingers right where you need him, a ragged groan rumbling up his throat when you tighten around him, and the rush moves down your spine.

Your head falls back with a cry of his name, and he arches beneath you, shoving deeper inside.

It feels like forever before you catch your breath, your hands on his face and his soft sounds pressed into your skin. His kiss is gentle when he pulls away.

“I hope I didn’t ruin your dress.”

Your nose brushes his, a tender bump before a soft kiss.

“We can go clean up quick. Hopefully, we won’t be too late.”

With careful movements he lifts you off his lap and you do your best to keep your dress out of the way as you walk back into your apartment building. Thankfully, there aren’t any neighbors out in the hallway or stairwells, so you make it inside unseen.

He helps you clean up, his hands delicate and so different from their desperation just minutes ago.

“We could just skip the party…” he starts as he fixes his pants and shirt.

You smile but lift your hand as he advances.

“We’re going. And if I remember correctly you promised you’d have me begging to come later.”

His eyes darken and he hums low and deep.

“So…that’s what you can think about at the party and when we get home, you can make it happen.”

You slide past him, your breasts brushing against his chest as you lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

Bucky presses you against the wall outside the elevator, growling into your neck over how long you had to stay at the fucking party. You nearly pulled over on the side of the road on the drive back because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

Once you’re upstairs and manage to get your keys out he grabs them from you and opens the door, pushing you inside. You’re on your back on the floor only a split second before the door slams shut.

He hovers over you like a predator and you slide your hand down between his legs to grip him. His fingers work swiftly to slide your dress off, unzipping and pulling with ease. You push up into his touch and when you’re almost completely naked he shrugs out of his suit jacket and leans back over you.

His arms strain against the material of his dress shirt and it seems to somehow barely contain his biceps and the wide width of his chest. He runs a warm palm up your stomach and spreads his fingers.

You wait, about to tell him to stop staring and start fucking but then he stands and reaches for your hand, pulling you into him and wrapping you in his arms.

“I’m not fucking you on the floor,” he says simply.

“Then why did you put me there,” you ask with sass.

“I’m impatient.”

He can’t keep his hands off you as you walk toward the bedroom and when his hand dips between your legs to find you soaked he growls, caging you against the wall.

With heavy breaths he tries to regain his control, taking your chin between his fingers and holding your gaze.

“We’re never gonna make it to the bed doll.”

[muniimyg]

⋆꙳•❅ ksj: buy me presents ❆•꙳

in which you and your boyfriend, jin, do a gift exchange... you get him a new game console and he gifts you his credit card

series m.list // taglist

note: pretty intimate..... idk..... holy shit !!!!

warning: body worship, spitting, fingering, jin eats her ass and pussy ??? choking, raw sex, missionary, doggy, anal !!!! oc's legs are over her head at one point, and jin has a big cock (duh)

//

the christmas tree bathes the room in a soft, golden glow, its twinkling lights dancing over the crinkled wrapping paper scattered across the floor. the scent of cinnamon and pine lingers, weaving through the faint melody of holiday music humming softly from the speaker perched on the shelf.

you’re cross-legged on the rug, knees almost brushing seokjin’s, his gaze fixed on you with that familiar mix of curiosity and warmth. the final gift for him sits in your lap, its weight pressing into your palms, making your heart skip with a giddy kind of anticipation.

“okay, this is the big one,” you say, nudging the box toward him.

he eyes it suspiciously, his head tilting like he’s trying to solve a riddle without all the clues. “what is it?”

“just open it, jin,” you reply, leaning back on your hands, and biting back a grin.

he makes a show of inspecting the wrapping job first, his fingers tracing the perfectly folded edges. 

“you wrapped this, didn’t you?”

“obviously.”

“of course you did,” he mutters, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “it’s too perfect. how am i supposed to rip this open?”

“you could just do it,” you tease, gesturing impatiently. “before i take it back—”

immediately, he starts peeling the paper. he’s careful at first, then impatient when the box beneath reveals itself. when he lifts the lid, the air between you shifts.

“no way,” he breathes, staring at the pristine, matte-black console nestled inside. “a PS5?”

“yeah. do you like it?” you ask, your grin widening as his eyes flicker between the console and you, disbelief written all over his face.

but then he spots the second item tucked beneath it, a signed copy of valorant with the unmistakable signature of ninja, his favorite streamer.

“you’re kidding,” he says, pulling the case out with both hands like it’s the holy grail.

“merry christmas!” you say softly, watching as his lips part, his expression stuck somewhere between awe and amazement.

“this is—how did you even—” he trails off, his thumb brushing over the sharpie scrawl. “ninja… how? h-how’d you do this?”

“turns out he’s not that hard to track down if you know the right people,” you reply with a shrug, trying to play it cool even though your chest feels warm from how happy he looks. “he’s pretty nice too. chill guy.”

“you talked to him?”

“yeah. he said you’re handsome.”

jin sets the case down gently, like it’s made of glass, and reaches over to grab your hands, pulling you closer.

“this is insane,” he says, his voice quieter now, like he’s still processing it all. “you’re insane.”

“in a good way, right?”

“the best way,” he says, squeezing your hands before letting go and reaching for the console again. “i seriously don’t know how i’m supposed to top this. thank you, love.”

he reaches for you. you kiss him softly and giggle against his lips. he doesn’t want to let go of you just yet. seokjin leans in again, kissing you more. 

laughing, you pull away and reach your arms out to him. 

“my turn!” 

seokjin reaches behind him and takes out his present. his fingers nervously trace the edge of the ribbon tied around the small box in his hands. he looks at you, then at the box, then back at you, and finally thrusts it forward.

“here,” he says, voice low and almost embarrassed. “merry christmas, love.”

you take it gently, the velvet box cool against your palms. the name cartier gleams faintly on the lid, and your heart jumps. you glance up at him, but his eyes are fixed on the floor, his knee bouncing slightly.

lifting the lid, you see it—a thin gold promise ring, the dainty diamond catching the glow of the lights. 

it’s beautiful, understated in a way that feels so seokjin.

before you can say a word, he shifts forward, his hand brushing yours as he lifts the cushion beneath the ring. 

“there’s, uh… also this,” he mutters, revealing his sleek black credit card tucked underneath. he groans softly, his ears burning pink as he stumbles through his explanation. 

“to be so honest with you… i didn’t know what else to get you. the ring—it’s been in my sock drawer for 2 months. i couldn’t think, i ran out of time, and… i’m sorry. your present was so much better than mine. i feel so bad—”

your fingers tighten around the box, a laugh bubbling out of you before you can stop it. “seokjin,” you say, shaking your head, “this is perfect. thank you so much, love.”

he blinks at you, a little uncertain, and you reach for his hands, tugging him closer until your knees bump. 

“seokjin, i love it,” you murmur. “i love you.”

he exhales, shoulders relaxing as a small smile pulls at his lips. he takes the ring with careful hands, holding it like something precious. 

“this isn’t just a christmas gift,” he says softly, slipping it onto your finger. his eyes meet yours, steady and warm. “it’s a promise. i promise to take care of you, to make you laugh, to be patient when you’re stubborn and to listen when you need me to... and i promise to give you a better christmas gift next year… and the year after that. the year after that… and the year after—”

“i get it,” you laugh. “you could give me a paper ring and i’d still love it.”

he rolls his eyes, partly because he knows you’re telling the truth and partly because it’s riddiculous that he’d ever give you a paper ring. come on. he’s fucking rich and the ideal provider man. a paper ring? he’s not here to play games—10 carat ring minimum for your engagement (which he’s in the middle of planning). 

seokjin takes your hand and slips the ring on your 4th finger. 

“it fits,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly over the ring now resting on your finger.

“it fits,” you echo, the corners of your mouth lifting as you admire the delicate band.

the mall is bustling with last-minute shoppers, but none of it phases you as you tug seokjin along, weaving through the crowd with his hand firmly clasped in yours. he follows you willingly, even when you pause outside a lingerie store, the display mannequins clad in delicate lace and silk.

you glance back at him, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. 

“what do you think? should i?”

his eyes widen slightly, his ears already tinged pink.

“uh—yeah. yes. absolutely.”

you giggle, dragging him inside.

a few minutes later, you’re behind a curtain, slipping into the first set—a soft pink number that feels like it was made for you.

“jin,” you call out, peeking your head through the curtain. “ready?”

“more than ready,” he replies, his voice slightly strained.

when you step out, his reaction is immediate. his jaw slackens, and he leans forward, elbows braced on his knees as he takes you in.

“oh my god,” he mutters, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. “you’re—wow.”

you do a playful spin, the fabric fluttering lightly. “so? should i get it?”

“get all of them,” he says without hesitation. “max out the card. please."

seokjin fears he might cum too fast tonight.

you’re wearing one out of the literal twelve sets and he can’t breathe. as his fred chain dangles above you, he leans down to kiss you. before he does, he pauses.

his presence fills the space like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. his eyes that have you pinned. dark and searching, like he’s memorizing every detail of you, every breath you take.

“you’re so…” his voice trails off, soft and low, like he’s lost the words somewhere between his chest and yours. his hand lifts, fingertips brushing the curve of your jaw, then settling there like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you tilt your head up, heart thundering in your chest as his thumb grazes your cheek, his touch both gentle and deliberate. he leans down even more, slow enough to send shivers down your spine. 

“love,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a touch, like he’s asking permission, like he’s afraid of what happens when he finally gives in. but then he does—closing the space between you, his mouth firm and soft all at once, his other hand slipping to your waist to hold you steady.

he kisses you like it’s the only thing he’s ever been sure of, his frame looming over you, protective and unyielding. his fingers tighten at your jaw, tilting your face just so, and when he deepens the kiss.

you grasp at his polo, bunching the fabric in your fists to keep yourself upright, and he makes this low, quiet sound in the back of his throat… it’s like the idea of you falling is too much. his lips leave yours for a moment, just long enough for him to rest his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven.

“you’re so perfect,” he whispers, his voice a little ragged, his thumb brushing once more against your cheek before his lips find yours again. “i love you so much.”

before you know it, he shifts, kissing you from your lips to down your neck. then, over your breasts. gently, he tugs on your new lace bra and reveals your breasts. he kisses them, finding your nipples along the way. sucking them, you let out a moan. 

then, he moves down. 

down to your stomach. 

down to your hips where he bites them. 

then, finally…

“all that lingerie shopping only for me to take it off of you, huh?” 

you giggle as he lifts your legs to get a better view of your pussy in the lace lingerie. he lets out a groan, admiring the way your body looks. quickly, he takes his shirt off and shifts out of his boxers. he’s totally naked now and you can’t help but admire his build. 

he’s so… strong. his body is so fucking lean and the way his muscle are carved makes it so difficult for you to not be soaking wet. 

and god… his cock?

his perfect cock. 

seokjin’s cock has to be the best one you’ve ever seen. actually, it’s the only one you’ve ever seen. you’ve been in a relationship with him since your early 20s and he was the one to take your virginity. when you talk about sex with your friends, you can’t help but feel sorry for them. 

not because their sex stories are mid… but because they don’t know how good you have it. how fucking good seokjin gives it to you. 

he always makes you cum first.

he’s good at foreplay—sometimes you cum so fast and hard that you sob. 

despite his size (which is an XL), he truly knows how to fuck. he’s so hot. all his mannerisms and the way he maneuvers during sex make your inside tighten and flip over. it’s almost indescribable how good he makes you feel during sex… just the thought alone of having sex with him gets you wet. to be in this position? underneath him, wearing the lingerie he bought you? 

you’re as wet as a fucking rain forest. 

and he knows. 

“so wet, love.”

“i know.”

“for me?”

“only for you.”

he smirks as he takes his cock and gives himself a few lazy pumps. he brings one of your legs over his shoulder and pushes the fabric to the side. he then drags the tip of his cock around your entrance. he taps on it and lowers his head to spit on your clit. jin takes a moment to massage his saliva into your clit, earning moans from you. 

“wanna play with you,” he mumbles. “but i… i can’t. you’re so pretty right now, love. can i just tell you that? you’re so perfect. i love the way your tits…” 

he pauses and caresses them. you get goosebumps. 

“they’re so plump. i love how they fit in my hands and… i love it when i stuff my face in them. so fucking perfect… and your neck,” seokjin’s hand trails up to your neck. he cups them, lightly choking you. “i love it when i wrap my hands around them. so dainty. so perfect for me…”

then, he cups your face and tuns his thumb over your lips. 

“pretty lips too… love it when they’re wrapped around my cock. love it when you kiss me and i bite them. i love how they feel agaisnt my skin… y-you’re… so fucking beautiful, love. your body is my favourite thing in this world. it’s my favourite gift. what did i do to deserve you?”

as you’re about to reply, you let out a small gasp as he pushes himself inside you. 

you squirm, trying to adjust to the sudden harsh push. his cock is hard and long, you feel it reach your guts. 

he stays still for a moment, lowering his body and kissing your neck. in your ear, he murmurs; “you okay?”

“mhm.. so big, love.”

“sorry,” he chuckles. “do you want me to pull out? i didn’t stretch you out… just… just wanted to be in you.”

“it’s okay,” you tell him, reaching to fix his hair. “can i have a minute, though?”

he nods with a soft smile. “of course, love. let me know when i can move.”

you nod and he continues to kiss your neck. he sucks on it, working on giving you a hickey. you try to relax your upper body and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. the sharpness of his cock inside you eases for a moment and you take that as a sign. 

“ready,” you whisper. “softly please.” 

seokjin moans in response as he gently thrusts inside you. 

he plants his forearms around you and pushes himself in deeper. his chain dangles on top and you watch it, trying to distract yourself from the burn. soon, you adjust and begin to feel the pleasure. when you feel it, you wrap your legs around his torso. jin takes note and begins to fuck you faster. you hold onto him, unable to stop yourself from moaning and groaning. 

he grunts a few times, feeling your warm pussy tighten around him. 

“jin…”

“yes, love?”

“doggy?” 

you don’t have to tell him twice. 

seokjin pulls out and gets up from the bed. he stands on the edge as you get on all fours. you arch your back as he takes your lace pantie and tugs it to the side. he slips his cock back in and you let out a shaky moan. 

he begins to fuck you, his pelvis hitting your ass loud and fast. 

“this ass….” seokjin breathes in awe. he slaps it before squeezing it. “god, it’s so perfect. look at your curves… love, you’re so perfect. i want to buy every piece of lingerie the world has to offer. you need to be on display… you’re so fucking perfect, my love. oh fuck, i… wow, this ass is so fucking big, i wish i could—f-fuck. let me just—”

without warning, he pulls out and kneels. seokjin shoves his face in your ass and begins to eat you out. he digs himself under, running his nose through your folds and a little on your clit. next thing you know, he’s running his tongue all the way your asshole. you yelp. 

“anal?” he requests. 

“sure.” you breathe, “can you do the thing—”

without hesitation, he stands up and reaches for your neck. he grips it tightly, choking you with a good pleasure. seokjin then runs his hand through your pussy and spreads your wetness into the rim of your ass. he spits on his cock, spreading the saliva to make it more slippery. then, he shoves it inside. 

you breathe in the sharpness and pleasure. 

seokjin chokes you a little harder as he fucks your ass. 

"fuck. you're so tight... so fucking tight... i love you. thank you for letting me have this... love fucking your ass, love."

"mhmm," you moan. "feels so good... cock so big, jin. i love it."

then, you cough and he lets go. 

his hands move to your hips, holding them steady as he fucks you. your body follows and he watches in disbelief how lucky he is to have you. 

then, his fingers find their way to your clit. underneath, he plays with you. you throw your head back from how fucking good it all feels. he plays with your pussy, flicking, pinching, and fingering you. 

“selfish little thing,” seokjin hums. “you want it all, don’t you? you like it when i fuck you in the ass and play with your pussy. i choke you and you love it. i… i give you everything. i love to do this, you know? i love giving you everything.”

you moan at his words. 

then, you hear him pant and feel him fuck you harder. 

“f-fuck,” he stutters. 

then, a few seconds later, as you feel his dick twitch—he pulls out. 

not to cum. 

but to flip you over. 

he kisses you while his hands guide your legs to go over your head. he stretches you, and you almost sob from the way your pussy pulsates. aside from all the fucking positions and everything you two have done so far—he’s also fucking insanely handsome. 

his innocent face and soft features contradict so much of what he’s done to you tonight. 

he takes your hands and tells you to hold the position. wrapping your arms around your legs, he kneels over and spits in your pussy again. you watch as his saliva slips inside you. then, he takes his cock and runs the head over your pussy. he pushes the tip in and then takes it out. he drags it down to your ass, lifts you a bit, and does the same to your asshole. 

“which one should i fuck? i love both equally.” 

you pout. 

“my pussy, please.”

he smirks lazily. “so polite.”

then, he shoves his hard, thick, long cock inside your pussy. 

he pumps himself inside and out of you. his eyebrows furrow from the pleasure and you feel him stiffen on top of you. you clench your pussy as you feel it throb. he fucks you through the sensation. 

“jin…” you breathe. “i’m… i’m gonna cum—oh my g-god—”

he slaps your pussy. 

then, he fucks you harder. 

“can’t this pretty pussy take more?”

you pout at him. 

“i’m… i’m s-so close,” you let out a sob. “you’re so mean.”

he chuckles and lowers himself. he kisses you and swats your hands away from your legs. finally, you let them go and lay properly. his hands then roam your body as he kisses you. against your lips, he murmurs;

“sorry, sorry.. got carried away. i love you, ___. sorry, love.”

as he fucks you, you forgive him. “it’s okay, love.”

“love, you cum if you want.”

you shift and give him a tired smile. 

“but you said not to."

"don't listen to me," he huffs. "i lose my mind whenever i'm inside you."

you giggle and kiss him once. twice. and then a third time before suggesting; "soft, lazy, sloppy missionary? think i can last longer.”

seokjin chuckles and nods. he kisses the top of your head and wraps himself around you. 

“whatever you want, love. i'm gonna give you everything.”

[berrryparfait]

Can o request college au with caleb and or sylus where they’ve been dating since high school and reader doesn’t go to college since she’s a freelance artist but sometimes go to her man’s courses to just be near them while she works. I like to imagine the teacher asking for a volunteer to answer a multiple choice question, and reader who picked up some information, raises her hand and answers it, and get is right

friendly competition . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: finance! sylus, engineering! caleb x artist! fem!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ word count: sylus – 1.1k | caleb – 1k

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: acting my age – the academic

✧ a/n: thank you so much for the request love! sorry this took a whole week TT... i really love writing college aus because the idea of the boys (alongside reader ofc) figuring out what they want in life and chasing their dreams is so heartwarming to me <3

You haven’t seen Sylus in, what, two weeks? The both of you have been so busy lately—him with his presentations on hedge funds and you with the flurry of commissions you’d just received—being in a relationship is beginning to feel like a part-time job.

I should probably go visit him… But when? He’s always in school… An idea strikes you then: crash one of his lectures and impress him with some economic knowledge of your own. I mean, hey, you’re well read and up to date on current affairs. You refuse to believe it would be impossible to outsmart a few students in that class—at least in a few select topics.

Besides, your main objective is to spend some quality time with him, anyway. You’ve been missing him so much lately it hurts, and nighttime video calls are only a temporary consolation. You’ll surprise him with your knowledge in class, take his breath away all over again, and remind him who’s really boss.

Game on.

…

The lecture hall is grander than you expected, with elaborate framework and likely the most sophisticated soundproofing you’ve ever seen. It’s an artistic marvel in itself, and your heart leaps at the sight of it. Anticipation pumps through your veins as you search the crowd of students for your boyfriend. Tall, white hair, red eyes… You simply can’t miss him.

There. He’s sitting next to a friend somewhere in the middle of the theater, sharp concentration written on his face. The class hasn’t even started and he’s already scribbling away on his textbook with a very familiar ballpoint pen. Aww, the one I gave him for his birthday…?

You have to remind yourself to breathe just looking at him in that black button-down, the hard edges of his jaw and cheekbones squeezing your heart like the first inversion of a rollercoaster ride. God, he’s gorgeous.

You find a seat a few rows up, closer to the right, giving you an unobstructed view of him from behind. Good, he hasn’t noticed me yet.

The professor walks in then, a lean, elegant lady wearing a gray suit and stilettos. She looks intimidating. Imposing. Ready to humble every single person sitting in this class. “Good morning, students. Today we’re starting on derivatives.” You can tell by the way the entire class falls silent that she’s someone who knows her stuff. The way she commands attention seems effortless. “Can anyone tell me what a derivative is?”

A hand goes up almost instantly, and you don’t have to look to know whose it is. A deep, rich voice echoes through the lecture hall, equally as commanding as the professor’s. “A derivative is an instrument of sorts, derived from the value of a stock, interest rate, bond…” He trails off, waving a hand as if to say the list goes on. “They’re like contracts. They protect you from risks, market fluctuations… Derivatives help you speculate on how something else moves.”

The professor’s satisfaction is obvious. She smiles and resumes her pacing. “Thank you, Sylus. An excellent answer.” You can tell he’s the star student here. “Now, would anyone like to share with the class an example of a derivative?”

Sylus answers again when no one else makes a move to, and once again his answer brings a grin to her face. You listen to his responses with rapt attention, trying to absorb as much as possible. You understand what’s being discussed. It’s…interesting.

“Another question. Give me an example of a real company using derivatives to hedge currency risk.”

This question, you just might be able to answer. You’d heard of an animation company based in Linkon using currency forwards to secure exchange rates. Here goes nothing.

You raise your hand at the same time Sylus does. Surprise flickers across the professor’s face, but she looks equally delighted to see a fresh face shoot their shot at contributing to the class. She gestures at you and beckons for you to answer.

“I have an example that hits close to home.” You go on about currency forwards and investor confidence and budgeting, using simpler phrases in place of technical terms where the gaps in your understanding lie. The professor nods at you in understanding, and you feel Sylus’ eyes under your skin as they slowly find their way to yours, equally shocked and impressed to see you in his lecture hall, challenging him to a death battle.

What are you doing here? he asks with his gaze. You raise a cheeky brow and give him a smirk to match his, shrugging your shoulders.

The professor doesn’t notice your blush as she commends your valiant effort, and the sudden academic validation makes you blush even harder.

You take turns answering the next few questions, correcting each other and adding on when the opportunity presents itself. Your heart and mind race in tandem as you let your competitive streak intertwine with his, and the feeling is indescribable.

In this theater, it’s just you, him, and the explosive crackle of flirtatious banter.

“O-Okay, you two! That’s enough!” The professor ends the pop quiz then, and you turn around to see the entire lecture hall staring at the two of you like you’ve both grown second heads.

The debate may have ended for now, but the devilish look on his face tells you you’re in for a whole lot more.

…

Everyone gets up to leave the moment class ends, but Sylus makes his way up the stairs to you. He’s grinning that devastating smile again, and you know you’re in trouble. “Missed me?”

You roll your eyes and struggle to fight a smile of your own. “You wish. I only came here to learn more about financial instruments.” You toss your hair proudly, looking down your nose at him despite his obvious height. “Which, it appears, I do not require much tutelage on.”

He squints at you, a cocky grin twisting his mouth. “Are there…other subjects in which you’re an expert?” He takes a step closer to you, the subtle scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. “I found that speech of yours on currency swaps very…intriguing.”

“Take a day off with me and find out. Consider it a business deal.”

“Done. You have my word that I’ll be investing a hundred percent into our mutual pleasure.”

“It can’t be that hard…” you tease, earning you an agitated grunt in response. You can’t help it—rage baiting Caleb is just too easy.

“Do you know how tough of a course mechanical engineering is? It’s rigorous, it’s complex, it’s—it’s…” he trails off then. “You’re joking, aren’t you,” he says flatly, realization taking its sweet time to kick in.

You giggle, holding the phone closer to your ear. You haven’t seen him in two weeks, and you miss him like crazy. Who else is going to remind you to take your meals, to drink enough water? Who else is going to hold you in the middle of the night when you have a bad dream? God, you hate this whole “college” arrangement. But you couldn’t be prouder of him for working towards his dreams.

“It’s late. Goodnight, Caleb.” A wave of sadness crashes into you, sobering you.

“Goodnight, Pips. See you in a week.”

He hangs up just as a crazy idea pops into your head. What if you didn’t have to wait a whole week to see him in the flesh? His college is a two-hour drive away from you. It isn’t impossible. It would be one hell of a date.

Gear up, engineer. I’m going to show you just how much I know.

…

The campus is vast and beautiful, autumn-colored trees sandwiched between every historical building and tower. You shouldn’t be this surprised, given its status as one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Is this where he goes to school everyday? Damn…

With great difficulty, you finally find the lecture hall he should be sitting in right now. You’re a good fifteen minutes late, but if you’re going to crash a college class, you might as well do it with a bang.

You push the large wooden doors open as discreetly as possible and try your best not to wince as you feel every single pair of eyes in the room fall on you. Sitting somewhere in the front is Caleb, whose blue and orange jacket you recognise instantly. He startles slightly at the sight of you, but his shock is quickly replaced with a smug curiosity. Come to lose? he taunts with a smirk, slender fingers tapping his pen on the table to a steady rhythm.

A casual, relaxed expression settles over your features. You wish, you smirk back, taking a seat across the row from him. Thankfully, the professor doesn’t seem to notice your presence as he scribbles annoyingly complex equations and formulas on the chalkboard.

He pivots suddenly, a fresh brightness lighting up his wrinkled face. It’s easy to understand why these students are so passionate about the subject. The old man is thrice their age, yet thrice as lively.

“Class,” he begins, his voice wobbly and unyielding at the same time, “we’re going to touch on stress-strain curves today, and I want everyone’s full and undivided attention. Now, can anyone tell me what a stress-strain curve is?”

Caleb’s hand shoots up like a laser. “It shows you how a material behaves under a load, and allows engineers to gauge how much that material can hold before it snaps.” He adds on, infuriatingly, “In layman’s terms.”

“Good,” the professor remarks. “Would anyone like to add on to that?”

Hell yeah, this is your chance to strike. You might not know much about the math behind it, but having lived in Linkon your whole life, heavy buildings are like trees to you.

You raise your hand. “Sir, many of the skyscrapers in Linkon’s financial district had been meticulously designed and constructed over the course of a decade. It wasn’t just the steel and concrete that required extensive stress-strain calculations, but the aesthetic elements as well. Not to mention the added element of inertia during periods of high winds.” You pause to glance over at Caleb, who looks like he wants to eat you. “That’s architecture and engineering in bed together, doing unspeakable things.”

That strange glint in his eye intensifies.

Fortunately, the lewd joke goes over the professor’s head. “What an interesting perspective. I don’t believe I’ve seen you in class before. Are you a transfer student, perhaps?”

You lean back in your seat and reply, “No, sir, I usually sit in the back of the hall.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

You turn to meet Caleb’s eye once more, and your skin flushes embarrassingly pink. “Let’s just say I’ve acquired a special interest in nuts and bolts recently.”

Now it’s Caleb’s turn to blush. “Someone hasn’t been paying attention in class.” You stick your tongue out at him, making him laugh.

For the remainder of the lesson, you both take turns answering the professor’s carefully crafted questions, with him tackling the technical aspects and you pointing out the practical. It’s a mentally stimulating back and forth that makes you wonder why you’ve never crashed one of his classes before. It’s so…fun.

…

By the time everyone is dismissed, you’ve gained a renewed thirst for knowledge that can only be quenched by one thing: going out for a meal with your boyfriend. That is—if he’d even look at you. His face is flushed and his throat has seemingly gone dry.

“Hope I didn’t make it too hard for you,” you muse as the last group of students leaves the hall.

He glares at you while taking a desperate sip of water from his bottle, his perfect lashes making your heart race all over again. “You wish. I went easy on you.”

“Oh, admit it. I bested you. No shame in that, you know.”

“Just you wait, Pips. You’ll be eating your words by the time I’m done with you tonight.”

Your mouth goes dry then and there, and you understand now why he had to take so many sips of water, “Am I being punished for crashing your class?”

“Let’s just say you’ll know what a real stress-strain curve looks like by tomorrow morning.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[mamiobesssionfics]

Drunk Dial Darling

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Summary: After a night out, you drunkenly call Rhea Ripley to pick you up.

The bar’s neon lights blur into a fuzzy rainbow as you stumble your way out the door, phone clutched in your unsteady hand like a lifeline.

Your vision is hazy, your thoughts fuzzier still, but one thing cuts through the drunken fog like a spotlight on a dark stage, her.

Her number is already dialed, thumb pressing the call button with the kind of determination only tequila can inspire.

It rings twice.

Then, her voice answers, low, amused, and unmistakably Rhea.

“You better be dying or this better be cute.”

“Rheaaaaaaa,” you drawl, swaying on your feet. “I miss your face. And your arms. And your face again.”

There’s a pause, then a snort of laughter.

“Where the hell are you?”

You look around dramatically, even though she can’t see you.

“Uhhhhhh... a bar? A bar with very slippery floors. I almost kissed the ground. Isn’t that hilarious?”

“Send me your location, ya menace.”

You do. Very slowly.

You mess up probably three times before you finally manage it. You think you might’ve sent her an accidental selfie with your nose squished against the camera.

Fifteen minutes later, headlights slice through the darkness outside the bar, and the passenger door of her car swings open with a theatrical creak.

You don’t so much walk as you do dramatically collapse into the seat with a loud groan.

“There she is,” you sigh, dramatically clutching your heart as you look at her. “My beautiful, beautiful girlfriend. Are you an angel? Be honest. You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”

Rhea glances at you, her eyes shining with laughter. “You’re absolutely off your face.”

“And you’re so pretty it should be illegal,” you say with a serious nod, your words slurring just enough to make her laugh again.

“Thanks, baby. You gonna serenade me next or what?”

You lean in closer, lips puckered in a way that’s definitely not seductive. “Only if you let me kiss you right now. Come on, just one. For good luck. For the road.”

She raises an eyebrow. “We’re not even moving yet.”

“Exactly,” you whisper, placing a dramatic finger on her shoulder. “We’re at a standstill in life. Emotionally. Romantically. Spiritually. Kiss me and set us free.”

Rhea bursts out laughing, hands still on the wheel, shaking her head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You love me,” you mumble into her sleeve, already halfway slumped against her shoulder. “You can’t resist me. I’m irresistible. Irresist... ib... whatever.”

She smiles, fond and amused, letting you lean into her as she starts the car. “You’re a handful.”

“And you’re holding me. So technically, you like it.”

“Unfortunately for me,” she says, chuckling, “I really do.”

The car hums quietly as she drives you home, your fingers laced lazily with hers across the centre console. You drift in and out of sleep, occasionally murmuring compliments that make her shake her head with that little half-smirk of hers.

And when she finally tucks you into bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin, you peek up at her through sleepy, half-lidded eyes.

“You’re gonna marry me one day, you know that?”

She presses a kiss to your forehead, soft and slow.

“Let’s see if you remember that in the morning.”

The sunlight creeps through the blinds like it’s out to personally ruin your life.

Your head is pounding, your mouth feels like it was filled with cotton, and your memory is... fuzzy at best.

You groan and burrow deeper under the covers, only to realize, this is not your bed.

And that smell?

That’s her. The crisp scent of sandalwood and something unmistakably Rhea.

You blink your eyes open slowly, head still pounding, and turn over to find her sitting at the edge of the bed, scrolling on her phone.

Her black tank top clings to her shoulders and arms in ways that should be illegal before noon, and her hair is tied back in a loose bun.

She looks annoyingly good for someone who picked up a drunken disaster a few hours ago.

She looks over her shoulder the moment you groan again.

“Good morning, my emotionally liberated little flirt.”

You squint. “Oh no. What did I say?”

Rhea grins like the devil himself. “Nothing too wild. Just asked if I was an angel, tried to kiss me in the parking lot, and proposed.”

You let out a strangled whine and flop face-first into the pillow. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did. You told me to ‘set us free romantically.’”

You groan louder.

She leans down, brushing her hand over your hair gently.

“Relax, babe. It was cute. Hilarious. You’re lucky I didn’t record the whole thing.”

You peek up at her through your pillow fortress. “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” she scoffs, settling beside you again, the mattress dipping under her weight. “Nah. I’d drive to the ends of the earth if it meant hearing you call me your beautiful, beautiful girlfriend in a drunken slur again.”

You blush furiously. “Stop.”

She grins. “Not a chance. You also said I couldn’t resist you.”

You stare at her.

“And?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

Rhea shrugs, leaning over so her face hovers above yours. “And maybe you were right.”

Your breath catches.

Her voice drops, low and teasing.

“You’re lucky I didn’t take you up on that kiss.”

You freeze. “I offered you a kiss?!”

“Oh yeah,” she murmurs. “For good luck. For the road. You were very convincing.”

You groan again, this time hiding under the blanket.

Rhea laughs, tugging it down just enough to see your eyes. She brushes your cheek with her thumb.

“Hey.” Her voice is quieter now. “You’re okay. You’re safe. And yes… you’re still irresistible. Even with morning breath.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, and when she leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple, your heart does that stupid thing where it flutters and flips and falls a little deeper.

“Next time,” she says, lips brushing your ear, “call me sober. I want to hear all those compliments again when you know what you're saying.”

You grin, your fingers brushing hers beneath the covers.

“But only if I still get that kiss.”

She leans in, her smile wicked and warm all at once.

“Then come here, drunk dial darling.”

[revelboo]

Are you okay writing for tfp Knockout or Breakdown? Maybe they are either another (human) racer or heck even someone who works at the car wash who gives some of the best cars waxes, Knockout befriended. That or maybe they’re a mech experiment (mostly) human survivor that helped Breakdown escape MECH. Or literally whatever you see happening these where just some of my suggestions. The floor is yours if you’re okay writing for them? Thanks either way 😄

My Favorite Accident

Knockout x reader-race

18+ 🌶️

• Huh. Of all the ways you might have imagined you’d die, death by a furious, alien pimp car wouldn’t have made the top ten. Or hundred. Fingers going white knuckled on the helmet in your hands, you feel curiously numb. Drag racing was dangerous and sooner or later, you’d push your luck past the point of no return. But this?

• When you’d managed to pass that stupidly gorgeous, red sports car for the third night in a row, you’d wanted to laugh your head off. Maybe dance a victory jig because your old, rusty Trans Am looked like an ad for tetanus and it’d still beaten all those other pretty, expensive cars. So yeah, when the candy apple red car had followed you and stayed right on your bumper after the race, you’d sucked it up and pulled over. Letting the guy follow you to your house wasn’t happening. If you were going to get screamed at, it was going to be on your terms.

• You grab your switchblade out of the center console and slide it into your back pocket in case wealthy sports car guy decided he could try and bully you out of your winnings. Hip cocked and arms folded across your chest, you wait for the guy to get out and yell- probably accuse you of cheating.

• That sound was something you’d never forget, almost a musical thing as metal shifted and rearranged. And grew to tower over you in the form of a sleek robot.

• An infuriated robot as it takes a thunderous step your way and your helmet hits the asphalt. More than anything, you want to run. The problem is your body isn’t on board. You can’t move at all as it crouches down. “Mind telling me how you beat me in that scrap heap?”

• Cold fury sparking through him, Knockout glares down at the human staring up at him. “Well?” He demands. “You cheated didn’t you?” Because there’s no way a human beat him in that… abomination. It’s not even a car, more a mobile scrap heap. And that just makes it so much worse.

• Huh. Indignation wins out over common sense. “I’m a better driver,” you say. Those strange black and red eyes narrow and you have the thought that you can duck, grab the helmet and sling it at the robot. Maybe buy yourself a whole thirty seconds before it stomps you to death.

• What you don’t expect is for it to throw up an arm in all too human exasperation. “Hardly. I’ve been driving long before you were even alive,” it says, walking past you to stalk around your car. “Do you have any idea how mortifying it is to lose to… this? What it does to my reputation?”

• You can breathe now that it’s not glaring down at you, because it’s popping the hood on your car and shaking its head in disgust. “That’s gotta hurt, huh?” You snark, wincing as it glowers at you over its shoulder with murderous intent.

• “We’re going again. Now.” Because he can’t stand it. And it’s been a long time since anyone’s given him a real challenge. A thrill of electric anticipation makes him smile when your uneasy expression smooths into a cocky sureness, because he knows you won’t just let him win- you’ll fight him tooth and nail for it. A kindred spirit.

Next

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 16 - Self Sacrifice

Summary: poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: angst, injuries, hurt/comfort.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

AO3

Enjoy <3

“Ghost! We need that door open now!” Price shouts as he turns. Gaz comes over to the window in the door. 

“On the console, there should be a green switch. Try flipping it.” He says. You nod heaving as the fresh oxygen in the room slowly gets replaced with whatever gas is being pumped in. Finding the green switch is harder than you think. The gas is stinging your eyes now, they fill with water and you have to keep brushing tears out of the way with your free hand. 

It feels like you’re looking forever, your fingers running over every button and switch. You finally find it blinking a few times to get the tears out your eyes before flipping it. The switch clicks and the hissing stops. You regain your composure, you cough breathing in big gulps of air. 

Your hand squeezes your vest then you hear coughing. You look over at the window. You see Price cough, you can hear the others start too. You look back at the console. 

It’s you or them. Fuck.  

Your eyes lock onto Price as you wipe the tears from your face. Fuck . This was going to suck. You can’t let them die though. You move back over to the green switch. 

“Dont, you dare!” Price shouts between coughs. You look over at him. You can’t listen to them suffer. You can’t let them die. 

You flick the switch. There’s a few seconds of silence then the hissing starts up again. The smell of chemicals fill the room making your eyes sting, slowly their coughing stops as yours starts up again. 

“NO!” Price shouts, you look over at him, your hand comes up to your nose and mouth. It doesn’t matter though. You move away from the console and towards the window. 

“Can’t let you die.” You wheeze, your eyes are stinging, you can barely see him now. You think back to the kiss, the sex. You wipe your eyes, looking past Price but you can’t see anything. 

“Ghost. That door needs to be opened!” You hear Price shout. “Gaz, is there anything you can do?” 

“I’m trying!” You hear Gaz shout. Your lungs are burning now, there’s not much clean air  in the room, your head is starting to spin. You can’t tell if it’s the poison or the lack of oxygen. It doesn’t matter. They’re safe. 

Your hand drops from your face and you smile at him. For a second your eyes clear, you can see his face, his hand pressed up against the glass. You reach up and press your hand against his. You swear you can feel the heat from his hand on the other side of the door. 

“Price.” You cough, pressing your body against the door to hold yourself upright. You don’t know how much time you have. You don’t expect them to save you, but if they don’t get out you’ll haunt them from the beyond. The thought makes you chuckle which throws you into a coughing fit. 

“GAZ!” You hear Price shout. You slam your hand against the glass and he turns back to look at you. It’s not Gaz’s fault, it’s no one’s fault. You hear banging, pounding against metal.

“Price. Thank you.” 

“John, and you can thank me later.” He says, you smile, coughing. There’s not going to be a later. You can’t hold yourself up for much longer black spots flash in your vision. 

“Got it!” You hear Ghost shout. You try to take a breath in but you can’t panic rises in you and your legs give way. You fall to the floor looking up to see the gas coming in through the vents. 

You die and they live. It was how it’s supposed to end. Ever since the beginning when they were going to put a bullet in your head. Maybe it’s fate or something. It feels like a fitting end. You let out one last long breath before everything goes black.

…

Price is holding his breath as your body slides down to the floor. He watches you go limp against the door. He wants to tear the door off, they need to get you out of there. Suddenly there’s a wiring sound and the gas in the room starts to get sucked back up the vents. 

A few seconds later the door clicks and slides open. Price moves to the side, Soap and Ghost push past him and grip your vest pulling you out the room and into the hallway. 

“Is she breathing?” Price asks, he doesn’t get a response straight away. “Soap!”

“She’s breathing, barely.” He replies, his ear pressed up against your face.

“What the fuck happened?” Price asks following Gaz into the main room.

“Makarov left a trap for us. He knew we were getting close.” Gaz says. “There'll be more Konni on the way we need to leave.” 

“Shit.” Price curses under his breath pulling the sat-phone off his vest. “Ghost, go get us a car. Gaz get what data you can.” He holds the phone up to his ear listening to it ring out. 

“Price.” Lawell’s voice comes through the phone.

“Laswell. We need exfil, medevac.” 

“Not possible.” 

“Why?”

“Captain, you did this without our approval, we cannot send unit’s into Russia right now.” Shepherd says. Price pulls the phone away from his ear and curses. 

“Makarov is dead.”

“Good. But you still have a job to do, Captain. Secure the weapons in Russia and the nukes in Urzikstan then we can call it even for this little revenge mission you’ve been on.” Shepherd says, Price looks over at Gaz typing on the laptop. 

“Hard to do when you’re one man down.” Price spits. 

“Who is injured? Or is it that smuggler you’ve insisted on dragging around?” Shepherd asks, he sounds mad. Price doesn’t say anything, he hears a sigh down the line.

“Acceptable losses I'm afraid. For the best really, the amount of paperwork she’s generated is unbelievable.” Shepherd says. Price turns to look at you, Johnny is holding you in his arms, all the colour looks like it has drained from your face. Acceptable loss . It makes him mad, so mad he wants to throw the phone across the room. You’re not a loss, because they’re not going to lose you. 

“You have a job to do Captain and I would suggest you do it quickly. If we have to send someone else in to clean up your mess it won’t end well for you.” There’s the warning, the threat. It almost makes Price laugh, he holds it together turning to look at Gaz who nods at him. 

“We’re sending the data from Russia.” Price says keeping his voice level. 

“Good. Now get back to Urzikstan. Preferably without picking up any more strays.” The call ends. 

Acceptable loss . How dare he.

“When’s evac coming?” Soap asks. Price swallows, building his confidence back up. 

“There is no evac. We need to get to Urzikstan ourselves.” Price says.

“What!” Soap shouts gripping you tighter. He can hear the anger in his voice. “Cap, she needs medical attention.” 

“If it’s anything like the gas I inhaled in Verdansk she’ll be fine.”

“It’s nothing like the gas from Verdansk.” Soap snaps back before looking down at you. 

“Price, vehicle secured.” Ghost’s voice comes through the radio. 

“Okay, let's move.” Price says. 

…

Ghost insisted on driving. Price wanted to drive, he wanted to have something else to focus his mind on other than the sound of your laboured breathing from the back seats. He should be happy, you’re breathing which means you’re alive. As long as you’re alive he’s not going to panic. 

He looks back in the rear view mirror. Soap is still fussing over you, he hasn’t let you go since they dragged you out that room. His fingers brushing your hair and face, his other arm keeping you steady while Ghost barrels down the road. 

He looks over at Gaz, their eyes meet for a second and he looks down to his hand rubbing your thigh. He smiles, swallowing some of the dread away and looking back out to the road. Kyle was the most sceptical about you, said he didn’t want to waste time getting close to you if you were going to betray them.

Johnny tried to convince him it wasn't going to be like that. Even Price had his doubts, all the way up until the kiss, he couldn’t wait any longer not after hearing what Simon and Johnny got up to. There was something in your eyes, something about the way you kissed him back he knew you weren't going to betray them. 

He can almost feel the guilt radiating off of Kyle. He never got to give you a chance, now he might never get to. Price lets out a breath pushing the thought away. They’re not going to lose you, they’re taking you to Farah, they have doctors, you’ll be fine. 

“What the hell?” Ghost says. Price snaps over to look at him as the car rolls to a stop.

“What is it?” He asks. 

“I don’t know, something’s broken.” He says getting out of the car. Price follows him, they walk over and Ghost opens the hood, steam and smoke fills the air. It’s so hot they both have to take a step back. When it dissipates, Ghost reaches down to touch something but pulls his hand back straight away. 

“Fuck. Cooling system must be broken or something. Engine overheated.” Ghost says. 

“Shit.” Price responds looking around. This is not a good place to be stuck. They’re by the border but there’s nothing around for miles, scattered farms and some houses. No cars around for them to take, it’s starting to get dark too. 

“How far can we push this before it breaks totally?” Price asks.

“I don’t know, a kilometre, maybe 2 I wouldn’t want to risk it and be left with no transport whatsoever. If we could leave it for a few hours to cool we might be able to make it over the border.” Ghost says, Price sighs looking around again. 

“Price!” Soap calls. He hears the urgency in his voice, the fear. He walks round the car leaving Ghost. 

“What?” He asks, his eyes scanning over you. You’re shaking, beads of sweat have formed over your body. 

“Feel.” Soap says pulling Price’s hand to touch you. 

“She’s freezing.” He says pressing on your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“What’s wrong with the car?” Gaz asks. 

“Overheating, Ghost thinks the cooling is broken or something.” Price says as the hood of the car is slammed close. 

“There’s a house back down the road at the end of the field. Looks empty, maybe we could see if they have anything to help?” Ghost asks. Price looks over to where he’s pointing.

“That or we can sit for a few hours, let the car cool.” He looks back over at you. “Get her inside somewhere warm, try and get her temperature back up.” He doesn’t like the thought of stopping here, but they’re running out of options. 

Everyone seems to silently agree, Price and Ghost get back in the car. The drive back to the house felt like it was taking hours, not minutes, the drive down the mud offroad was the worst. Ghost had to slow down to stop the car from skidding and Price was worried they could get stuck. When they make it to the house it really is starting to get dark. There are no lights turning on, that's a good sign. There are plants in the window that look like their wilting, maybe this place was abandoned when Konni increased their presence in the area. 

“Me and Ghost will clear the place. You two stay here.” Price says as Ghost gets out of the car. There’s looks of concern on Gaz, and Soap’s face, your lips almost look like they're turning blue. They need to be quick, before this gets any worse. 

The house is clear, they know that before they make it to the second floor. Opening the door to furniture covered in sheets, boxes strewn all over the place. Upstairs the building is an empty bar one bedroom with a double bed and a bathroom. 

Gaz and Soap are already carrying you into the house before they get the all clear. They place you down on the sofa running around and finding anything to cover you in. Even with a pile of blankets on you covering everything but your face your lip is still quivering. 

“Body heat.” Gaz says. “She needs body heat, like if someone has hypothermia you warm them up with your heat so they don’t warm up too fast.” 

“She doesn’t have hypothermia.” Soap says. 

“No but she’s freezing and her lips are turning purple.”

“It’s worth a try.” Price says, you look like you’re getting worse, not better. “There’s a bed upstairs.” Soap sighs but starts pulling the blankets off you before scooping you back up in his arms. Everyone follows him to the second floor. Ghost pulls the sheets off the bed and Soap lays you down. 

“Take her clothes off, it needs to be skin to skin contact.” Gaz says pulling the bottom of your shirt up. Soap raises an eyebrow but listens, helping him strip you down to your underwear. Then they do the same stripping down to their boxers before climbing into bed. 

Gaz rolls you on your side pressing his chest against your back. “Christ, she’s freezing.” He says reaching down for the duvet and pulling it over you all. 

“You sure this will work?” Soap asks reaching over to wrap his arms around Gaz pulling them close. 

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Gaz says. Ghost lets out a sigh slumping down on the armchair in the room, he pinches the bridge of his nose closing his eyes. Price walks over to him and rests his hand on his shoulder. 

“She’ll be okay.” He says, he’s not sure if he believes it himself but it has to be real. There’s no way after everything that this is the end. 

“And if she’s not?” He asks looking up at Price.

“Then at least we know who to blame.” Price says.

…

Everything hurts. Your chest hurts the most, and your eyes. You’re freezing but there’s someone laid next to you. You move, hands instantly find you, voices filling the air as you open your eyes to look around. 

“Easy, you’re okay.” Johnny says. You open your mouth to speak but it’s dry, you slap your lips together trying to swallow what little moisture there is. It throws you into a coughing fit. You shoot up in the bed, your hand pressed on your chest. 

Hands land on your shoulders and back as you try to suck in gulps of air between the coughs. Someone presses a bottle of water in your hand and you bring it to your lips gulping it down. The coughing stops and you sit there panting. It’s like you can’t get a full breath of air in. 

You can hear the wheezing in your breaths, each breath stings your chest. It feels like you can still smell the sickly sweet odour of the gas. Someone reaches over and takes the bottle out of your hand. You look up to see Price stood by the side of the bed. 

“John.” You say smiling at him. Your voice is hoarse, it doesn’t sound like your own, it sounds weird. Your free hand comes up to rub your neck. He smiles back at you and you look round at Johnny and Gaz holding you up. 

“Where’s your shirts?” You ask, turning to Gaz. Before any of them can respond he leans in and kisses you. His kiss is soft, his hands come up to cup your face. You want to keep kissing him, you want his lips and hands to never let you go. You can’t kiss him for long though, you’re holding your breath, you have to break from him to breathe. 

“Kyle,” he says. You smile at him.

“You gave us a proper scare lass. Thought we’d lost you.” Johnny says pulling you against him and kissing the top of your head. 

“Don't do anything like that again. I don’t think my heart can take it.” Johnny says chuckling. You smile in his chest, yawning and closing your eyes. They made it out, made it out safe and managed to get you out too. They didn’t have to do that but they did. 

You feel Kyle’s hands rubbing your back and John sits down on the bed. You open your eyes looking up at him. He reaches over to stroke your cheek. 

“Thank you.” He says, you smile at him. “But seriously, don’t ever do that again.”

“Only if your life depends on it.” You reply. He tuts, shaking his head. 

“Get some rest.” He says leaning forward to kiss your forehead before standing up off the bed. You look over at the light coming in from the doorway. You see Ghost’s silhouette blocking most of it. 

“Good to have you back.” He says. You nod yawning again, your head still feels stuffy. 

“C’mon, a few hours kip will do you the world of good.” Johnny says encouraging you to lie back. As soon as your head hits the pillows you feel exhausted. 

“Will you stay?” You ask as you close your eyes.

“Yeah, we’ll stay.” Kyle says as you feel him lay back down next to you.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Johnny says pulling the duvet over you. 

“Good.” You whisper feeling their arms wrap around you, pressing their bodies against yours. You never would have imagined the very people you thought would end your life in a heartbeat would be the people you risk your life for. A few days ago you were all strangers, now you’re lovers? Partners? It doesn’t matter, all you know is you wouldn’t want to change it for the world.

next

Banners by plum98

[daydreamgoddess14]

Backseat Driver pt. 1

Summary: Bucky Barnes is reluctantly running for Congress with the financial and political backing of Pepper Potts. Everything is under control until she assigns him a driver. A very chatty, overly enthusiastic, playlist-addicted driver who seems determined to worm her way past his hundred-yard emotional perimeter. He hates the arrangement. Until he really doesn’t.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,800 (might've gotten so carried away I actually broke Tumblr and couldn't post the whole fic in one post.... so I feel like that deserves some kind of award 🤭, part 2 will post tomorrow)

Warnings/Tags/Info: No use of y/n, l/n, reader is described as female. I have literally no idea whatsoever the process involved in running for Congress or being a Congressperson. Expect grumpy!Bucky, sunshine!Reader, fluff, Sam being the most glorious human ever, Pepper Potts continuing to be a badass.... Ummm... I can't think of anything else to warn you of? Enjoy! 🩷

Main Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“I don't need a driver.”

“You're not driving yourself anymore.”

“The hell I'm not, this might have been your stupid idea, but it doesn't make me your little pet.”

“James,” Pepper Potts said smoothly (that’s when he knew he’d pissed her off), “you'd know if you were my pet. Now shoo. The car is downstairs along with your driver. Do not keep them waiting.”

Conversation over, apparently. He waited, just a little longer. Just long enough for her to sigh and pointedly not look at him. Just long enough to let her know that he owed her nothing. 

If anything, he was the one doing her a favour. And a big one, at that. 

“Congressman Barnes -”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm gone.” 

He didn't close the door behind him. 

Another small act of defiance.

The elevator ride felt like an eternity. He stepped out into the heavily guarded parking level, the security guard nodded in his direction, and pointed to a sleek, top spec Range Rover with blacked out windows.

She leaned over the bonnet, scribbling into a notepad. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned abruptly.

“Congressman, hi -” she began, holding out her hand. 

He didn’t take it. “You’re my driver?”

“I am,” she said cautiously, waiting for him to interrupt again. “Ready to go?”

He didn’t respond. 

Vibranium clinked dully against the metal of the car door.

“Uhh, that’s my seat?” She said, her lips pinched to hide her smile. 

He left the driver door wide open and moved to the rear door instead, sliding into the car without a word. 

“Thanks!” She chirped, hopping up behind the wheel.

The seat automatically adjusted to her height. He watched the mirrors shift too, suiting her position. 

She threw her notepad and phone onto the seat beside her. In the centre console, she’d wedged a water bottle and a half empty iced coffee.

“Can you even reach the pedals?” He couldn’t help asking.

“Good one, haven’t heard that before. Little ol’ me, great big hunk of a car… course I can reach. I have this poking stick, see - helps me push the pedals ‘cos my tiny legs just can’t do it -” she laughed.

“Right, I get it. You can reach.”

“Sure you’re done? Would you like to see my licence? Proof that I can drive stick? How about you jump out and make sure I can see over the steering wheel?”

He stared out of the window instead.

With a self-satisfied smirk, she watched him through the rear view mirror. 

“Seatbelt on?” She asked. 

“Are you always like this?”

“Yep. Now, any music requests?” 

His frown deepened. 

“Good, I don't want to hear them. Driver privileges. Hope you like 90s dance.” She waited until he'd caught her eye in the mirror, the horror crossing his face. 

And then she winked. 

The car roared to life. The V8 engine growled, low and powerful, but the smooth leather seats and plush interior barely shuddered. The tyres squeaked on the ramp and as the sounds of Faithless filled the vehicle, she pulled out into the steady stream of traffic.

The thumping beat reverberated through the speakers and the driver hummed along to the music, sneaking glances at the grumpy figure in the backseat. 

Bucky's misery was obvious. He kept his arms crossed over his chest, and his gaze fixed out the window, his jaw clenched.

The sound of the music was only broken by the occasional sound of him sighing deeply.

The humming grew louder until the track reached the chorus and the driver began singing along, full, off-key commitment.

Bucky couldn't help but grimace at her wildly out of tune efforts. She had to be doing this on purpose.

"Do you have to do that?" He asked shortly. 

"Do what?" She called over the thumping bass. 

"Can you turn it down?"

"Huh?"

"Turn. It. Down."

She reached for the volume dial. "What are you saying?"

"God, finally," he muttered. "Do you have to do that?" he asked. 

"Do I have to do what?"

"Sing along? It's awful."

"Oh. Well... I just like to," she shrugged. 

“But you can't sing. You're way off," he said bluntly, his tone flat.

She shrugged. “Isn't that part of the fun?”

“Says who?” 

“Oh I love this one!” She said gleefully, ignoring his question and turning the volume dial up again, higher than previously. “Love life and laughter is all I believe…”

Ahead of them, the traffic slowed and Bucky watched with increasing alarm, his brows pinched together, as the driver bounced and shimmied in her seat to the beat of the music, her hands either waving enthusiastically or clutching her heart like the song had cracked her open. 

“I feel your hands, your lips, the heat of your body

Whisper your love to me say that you love me

Please just love me down and never leave me,

I'm a dreamer-uh-uh-uhhhhh!”

“Kill me now,” he growled, yanking his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts and raised the phone to his ear. 

"Yo man, I was just about to call you,” came Sam’s voice, already full of smug amusement. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I heard you got yourself a new ride?" Bucky rolled his eyes at the barely contained laughter in Sam’s tone.

"News travels fast," he grumbled, watching her continue to bop in her seat. Sam chuckled on the other end of the line, clearly amused by the situation.

"How's that going for you?"

“How’d you think?” Bucky hissed, “How’d you find out anyway?”

"Let's just say, my sources are always reliable," Sam replied cryptically. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide a small smirk. “Pepper just told you, right?”

“Bingo.”

“That figures," he said.  

"Yeah, some of us have gotta be the grown ups around here,” Sam laughed. "So… you having fun?"

"I don't need a driver."

"A little louder, I don't think she heard you." Sam deadpanned.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “I don't need a driver," he repeated louder, making sure she heard this time.

“Pepper’s right, you’re a public figure now, man. You can’t just be tearing your motorcycle around like a feral cat.”

As Sam negotiated, the driver in question lifted her hand and flipped Bucky the middle finger.

Too busy flipping him off, she didn’t notice the traffic ahead slowing - and slammed the brakes hard.

Bucky lurched forward in the back seat, instinctively reaching out to brace himself, gripping the back of her seat.

"Oof, shit, sorry." She grimaced, easing to a more gentle stop behind the car in front.

He slumped back, indentations left in her headrest from the tight grip of his vibranium fingers. 

He tried to play it cool, acting like he hadn't been caught off guard.

"Watch where you're going," he muttered, his voice gruff.

"Sorry," she said, her eyes still on the road ahead. "These idiots don't know how to drive. I'm pretty sure they're texting."  

"You sure it's not your reckless driving that's the issue here?" Bucky retorted.

He went back to his call before she could respond. 

"I gotta go, I'm on my way to a meeting,” he told Sam, barely holding back a growl. “Y’know, if my damn driver can get me there in one piece. I should probably read the notes before I go in." 

"Enjoy the drive buddy, see you later," Sam cackled as Bucky ended the call with a sharp tap.

He leaned back in his seat, glowering out the window as the city whizzed by outside.

"You don't have to look so miserable," the driver said, her voice cutting through their uncomfortable silence.  

Bucky didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on the city outside.  

She rolled her eyes at his stubbornness. 

“Honestly, it's not the end of the world, having someone drive you around. You get more work done, you get to listen to my excellent music -”

"We're not talking about this," he muttered, opening the files he'd put on the seat next to him. “I'm sorting this out with Potts, your assignment will be over by the end of the day.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

They lapsed into a kind of truce, the radio mercifully turned down and the driver still singing along at a more acceptable volume. 

Her singing was the only nagging reminder that she was there. He tried to ignore her and focus on the files in front of him, but his concentration kept getting derailed by her off-key humming. 

"Can you stop that?" he snapped suddenly, surprising even himself.

"Youuu got it," she said quietly, falling silent at last.

Her smile faltered for the first time, just long enough for Bucky to notice.

A quiet sense of relief washed over him, but then, after a few moments an uneasy feeling settled over him. 

The quiet was too stifling. 

Without the white noise he found himself hyper-aware of her presence. 

He could now hear the rhythm of her breathing, the squeak of the leather steering wheel beneath her grip. He could hear the steady drum of her heart, a few beats quicker than a resting rhythm.

His focus sharpened on the sound of her pulse. 

He wondered what could be causing her heart rate to increase. Was she nervous? Excited? 

He snuck a glance at her, taking in the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled, the quick exhale.

Before he could ask, she brought the car to a smooth stop outside a towering building. 

"Here we go, first stop. I'll be here whenever you're ready to move on." She said softly.

Bucky collected his notes from the seat and shoved them into the leather messenger back that rested on his lap.

He exited the car without a word, taking a moment to take in the impressive building before him. Behind him, he heard her window glide down, the tinny motor sound imperceptible to most ears.

“Thank you,” she prompted him with a grin.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged without turning around. “Thanks.”

He didn’t turn back until he got to the revolving doors of the building, by which point he could see her huddled over her notepad once again. 

As if feeling his stare, she turned to the doors and smiled brightly, waving in his direction.

He ignored her.

~~~~

His meeting dragged on for over two hours. Irritation and fatigue picked at his brain and made his eyes itch. He felt dehydrated, hungry, and by the time he finally stepped out into the sunlight, his stomach rumbled in time with the traffic.

Out front, the Range Rover sat proudly - exactly where he’d left it.

Or rather, where he’d been left.

He could see her, either talking on the phone or - more likely - singing along to the radio.

He wondered if she’d even moved for the last two hours.

Seeing him on the sidewalk, she jumped out of the car and opened the rear door for him. Further along the seat, the drinks holder had been pulled down and inside sat a large bottle of water and a tightly wrapped foil… something.

 “What’s that?”

“Figured you’d be hungry. And thirsty.” She shrugged, closing the door behind him before he could respond. She slipped into her own seat and turned the ignition.

He could feel her snatching glances at him in the rearview mirror while he carefully peeled back the foil on what turned out to be a still warm burrito. 

“What?” He asked warily through a mouthful of food. 

“Don't talk with your mouth full. It's not becoming of a Congressman.” She teased. 

“Not a Congressman yet, doll.” He sneered. 

She pulled out into the stream of traffic into a gap he'd only have taken on his motorcycle. The car behind flashed its lights in annoyance but she just flicked her hazards on and off in thanks. Over the sound of her music, the GPS announced a delay ahead. 

“We're gonna be late,” he complained. 

“Have a little faith, please.” She grinned and took the next left, ignoring the directions on her phone. Twenty minutes later, her passenger fed and watered, and the traffic defeated, she pulled up at their next stop. 

Early. 

“Shall I say I told you so now, or save it for later in case any more rack up?”

“How about you don't say anything?” 

“Not going to happen. Enjoy your meeting, I'll be right here.”

He hesitated before getting out of the car. “You know, you didn’t have to…” he started quietly. 

“I wanted to.”

And that was it.  

Every day when he stepped out of his house, the car was parked up and waiting for him. And every day, the music was too loud, she talked too fast, too much and drove the Range Rover like she'd stolen it. 

Every day he threatened to fire her. And every day Pepper Potts told him to get his head out of his ass.

A week into his enforced new staff member’s tenure, he text her. 

Corner of Grattan and Bogart. Don’t be late.

Sam was in Washington heading north and had suggested meeting him part way. He picked up two coffees and waited for her, his baseball cap pulled low. 

He wasn’t scrolling his phone. 

He wasn’t really doing anything.

Just sitting. 

Waiting.

When he heard the low purr of the Range Rover pulling up, he stood. One coffee in each hand. She rolled down the window.

“You know it's Saturday?”

“What, no dramatic music this time?” he asked.

“It's soul Saturday, I thought I'd wait for you.” she grinned. “You want in or are you just here to judge my taste again?”

He climbed in and handed her the drink without saying anything.

She looked at it. Then at him.

“…You got my order right,” she said, half-suspicious. “How?”

“You’ve ordered it three times already this week,” he shrugged, like it was no big deal. “I have ears.”

She looked down at the cup. Her name was scribbled across the side. In his handwriting.

She smiled softly. 

Bucky stared straight ahead, pretending to study the road. She pulled away from the curb without saying another word, but the silence between them this time wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was familiar.

“So, where to?”

“Jersey, gonna collect my bike from the shop and meet Sam.”

“So this is a one way trip? And you couldn't just… jump on the train?”

“Potts said no.”

“Oh, and you always do as you're told,” she scoffed. 

“Occasionally, when it suits.”

She yawned into her coffee and fell silent again. “I mean, I probably wouldn't cross Pepper either.” She admitted after a while, before treating him to her singing once more. 

~~~~

Days later, with the sun dipped low enough to cast a golden wash across the buildings, traffic was thick, and for once she wasn’t weaving like a maniac. 

The music was low, piano versions of recognisable songs. Bucky had his eyes closed, head tilted slightly back against the seat. He wasn’t asleep.

He never really let himself sleep while he was on the move.

“Rough day?” She asked softly. 

He didn't answer right away. 

“It’s always a rough day.”

“You still showed up. That counts for something.”

He opened his eyes and glanced at her in the mirror.  

“I’m bored,” she said suddenly. 

He arched an eyebrow. 

“Then maybe pay attention to the road,” he muttered.

“I am paying attention. I’m also multitasking.”

He exhaled through his nose. A smirk, barely there.

“You want to pick the next song?” she asked casually.

He frowned. “What?”

“Music. You know? You can be DJ.”

“I don’t… I don’t really know what I like.”

She blinked. “You don’t like music?”

“I didn’t say that.” He looked out the window again. “I just haven’t had a lot of… say. In what I hear.”

There was something in his voice, flat, but not dismissive. It suggested years of noise he hadn’t chosen. 

Propaganda. Orders. Guns. Screams. Silence.

She swallowed, nodding slowly.

“Well,” she said after a second. “Let’s fix that.”

She handed him her phone, unlocked and open to her music app. “Pick anything. Go on.”

He held it like it might bite him.

“Not gonna lie to you,” he said dryly. “This feels like a trap.”

She laughed, not mocking, just easy and warm. “Worst case scenario, you pick something awful and I throw us into oncoming traffic.”

“Fair. What classes as awful?”

“Let's find out, shall we?” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

He scrolled hesitantly, his thumb moving slowly, like he was trying not to break anything.

Finally, he tapped something.

A slow, smoky jazz guitar slid through the speakers. She looked at him in surprise. “You just… picked that out of nowhere?”

“I didn’t just pick it.” He didn’t look at her. “I have been trying to adjust for the last few years. Sam's thrown a few suggestions my way.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while. 

“…Not bad,” she murmured eventually.

His mouth quirked, just barely. “Yeah.”

She stopped the car outside his house.

“Get some rest, Congressman. You look like you need it.”

“Thanks, so I look like shit?”

She laughed sharply. “Yeah, right. As if. Look, it may not feel like it, but you’re making a difference.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.” 

He nodded tiredly and stepped out of the car. 

At the top of the steps, he turned, noting that she always waited for him to go inside before she left. 

It didn't stop him from checking that she was still there. 

~~~~

The events, meetings, townhalls, meet and greets were beginning to blur.

He stepped out of the building, tie loosened, shoulders tight. The black Range Rover was already parked across the street, perfectly aligned in a no-standing zone, hazard lights blinking innocently.

She leaned casually against the side of the car, sunglasses perched on her head, sipping an iced coffee with more espresso shots than he dared think about. 

“You’re early,” he grunted as he slid into the backseat.

“I’m always early,” she said brightly, climbing into the driver’s seat. “What, you just think I appear like magic?”

He didn’t respond, but she caught the faint twitch of his mouth in the mirror. 

Close enough to a smile.

As she pulled into traffic, he noticed they weren’t heading in the usual direction. “You missed the turn.”

“Not going home yet. I’ve got one more stop and then I have instructions to take you to Pepper.”

His jaw tightened. “You have another pickup?”

“Yup.”

“Oh,” he said, trying and failing to sound unaffected. “Didn’t realise you chauffeured other people.”

“Although you're technically my only client, and the most dramatic, I'm doing her a favour,” she said, clearly amused. 

He didn’t answer. 

Just sat there, seething quietly at the idea of her smiling and chatting with someone else the way she did with him. 

Someone younger. Cooler. 

Probably not traumatised and 100 years out of place.

The Range Rover coasted to a stop in front of a sleek private school entrance. She unbuckled her seatbelt and twisted to glance at him. 

“Back in five. Try not to melt in the leather.”

He grunted, but watched her go.

It wasn’t a man. Not even another client, not in the way he thought.

A moment later, she returned with a kid practically bouncing alongside her. The girl looked up at her with absolute adoration, and she responded with a warmth Bucky hadn’t seen before.

She walked the girl, Morgan, (it clicked a second later) back to the car and opened the rear door.

“You remember the Congressman,” she said by way of introduction.

Morgan clambered in without hesitation, sliding across the backseat until she plopped down beside him like they were old carpool buddies.

“Hi,” she said, pulling her seatbelt across. “You look less mad than last time I saw you.”

Bucky blinked. “Uhh… hi.”

She looked up at him, curious. “You still mad about her?”

He glanced toward the front, where the driver was watching them in the mirror with raised brows.

“...No,” he muttered. “She’s fine.”

“I know,” Morgan said matter-of-factly. “She makes the best lunchbox snacks. Sometimes she lets me drive in the driveway if Mom’s not home.”

“Don’t say that in front of people,” the driver said quickly, tossing her a warning glance.

Morgan narrowed her eyes. “Anyway, Mom said you were mad that she made you get a driver, and I said -”

The driver was hiding a smile now, fiddling with the GPS. “Alright, kiddo, seatbelt on?” She interrupted, “Get on with your homework, stop bothering Congressman Grumpypants.”

As they pulled away from the school, Bucky sat back. The heat of his earlier jealousy had died off, leaving him embarrassed. 

He'd been jealous of a kid. 

Not just any kid, Morgan Stark.

Morgan rolled her eyes and pulled a tablet out of her backpack, popping in earbuds and disappearing into whatever assignments awaited her.

He didn’t know what the hell was happening between him and the woman in the front seat. But it was starting to get harder to pretend he didn’t care.

At the office, Pepper Potts was exactly where he expected her to be, half-glancing at a screen floating in midair, tapping on her phone, eyes flicking up to meet his with a sharp, calm kind of clarity that always unnerved him.

“You’re early,” she said, without looking at the time. “That’s rare.”

“I wasn’t driving,” Bucky replied dryly.

That got him the faintest smirk. She waved a hand and the screen blinked away.

“She’s good,” he said, casually. Too casually.

Pepper tilted her head. “Morgan?”

“…Your driver.”

“Ah.”

He scratched his jaw, suddenly feeling defensive for even bringing it up.

“I didn’t know you were hiring clowns,” he added, trying to sound annoyed, but the words lacked his usual bite. “She talks a lot. More than Sam, and that's… a lot.”

“She does,” Pepper agreed smoothly. 

“Where’d you find her?”

“Hmm?”

“The driver.”

“Why?”

“Just curious.” He tried to sound disinterested. Neutral. 

He failed miserably.

Pepper gave him a slow, knowing look. 

“You never ask about people, Bucky. Ever.”

“She’s… unusual,” he muttered.

“Unusual how?”

“Drives like she’s in a Fast and Furious movie. Listens to the worst music I’ve ever heard. Talks too much.”

“But you’re still in one piece.”

“Barely.”

Pepper smiled. “You could’ve just said you liked her.”

His eyes flicked up. Sharp. “Didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He scowled. “This isn’t… I  just wanted to know where you found her.”

“She interned with us a few years ago. Logistics. She's smart. Too mouthy for upper management though. Too good for it, in all honesty. She freelanced security logistics for a while, specialising in VIP movement, crisis response. Tony would’ve liked her.”

Bucky blinked. “Wait, she’s trained?”

“Extensively. Don’t let the coffee cups and dancing fool you.”

He blinked again. 

It clicked. How she always had them out of tight traffic. How she knew exactly when to pull up, when to back off. How she always parked near exits without seeming to think about it.

He felt a little stupid, honestly.

Pepper watched him closely. “She knows what she’s doing. And before you ask, no, I didn’t pick her to annoy you. That's just an added bonus.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She grinned again. 

He shifted his weight. “She ever drive for someone else?”

“Not like this. You’re the first.”

That meant more than it should’ve.

Pepper leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. “Why don’t you just ask her these things yourself?”

He looked away. Jaw tight. “Not my business.”

She smiled gently. “You’re wrong, Bucky. It is your business. She’s in your life now, whether you like it or not.”

He didn’t answer.

Pepper didn’t push.

“Go home,” she said finally, turning her attention back to her screen. “And don’t fire her. You’d regret it.”

He looked incredulous, then it dawned on him. 

“She tells me you threaten to fire her every day.” Pepper arched an eyebrow. 

“I wasn’t really going to -” he started, then stopped. “…Whatever.”

He left without saying goodnight.

~~~~

The event had gone better than he’d expected.

A few speeches. Awkward handshakes. 

But people had listened. Some had nodded. A few had smiled. He could handle that.

It was easier when they wanted to be there to listen to him. He found it much harder convincing people who'd already made up their minds to dislike him. 

What he couldn’t handle was the crowd waiting outside.

Photographers. Reporters. Bright flashes already popping the second the door opened.

His chest tightened immediately. He knew this feeling, It started in his hands - both of them. 

Tight, twitchy, like even the coils and springs in his metal arm were tightening.

Then his jaw, clenching so hard his teeth ached. He froze in the doorway, half in shadow, half in the spotlight.

Too many faces. Too many voices, all shouting his name.

Winter Soldier!

Congressman Barnes!

Are the rumors true? Are you stepping down?

Smile for us, sweetheart!

That was a new one - they didn't usually call him sweetheart. He realised why. 

That last one wasn’t even aimed at him, it was aimed at her. Parting the boisterous group like the red sea. Appearing before him, still and quiet. 

And somehow, that broke the spell.

Before the tension could boil over, before he could even think about turning around and bolting, she stepped forward. Like it was nothing.

She slid into the space beside him, hand lightly brushing his arm, not grabbing, not controlling. Just grounding.

“You ok?” she murmured, almost under her breath. 

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t flinch either.

“Sorry folks,” she called sweetly. “Congressman Barnes is late for a call with Captain America himself. No time for pictures.”

Someone tried to shout over her. She cut them off without raising her voice.

“And no further questions,” she glared. 

He didn’t say a word until they were both back inside the car, the Range Rover felt like a little island of peace in the chaos.

She didn’t turn the music on. Didn’t start the car. Just looked at him.

“Better?”

He nodded stiffly, trying to force his pulse back under control.

“…Thanks,” he muttered eventually.

“Any time. I'm calling Pepper, you need real security. This is getting ridiculous.”

“It's fine, I'm fine.” He insisted. 

“No.” she said forcefully through gritted teeth once they were on the road. She sounded angrier than he'd ever heard her. “No. You don’t have to be bulletproof all the time.”  

He didn't say anything, but he felt the comment land, however off-the-cuff she made it sound. 

“And you actually do need to call Sam back,” she sighed. “That wasn't a lie. Any objections if I get us a little sugar rush?” 

She was in the drive-thru for doughnuts before he could reach for his phone. 

~~~~

She was unusually quiet when she picked him up the following day.

No radio. No singing. No bouncing in the seat. 

Just a distracted hum of energy, like her thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

He climbed into the back as usual and settled in. 

She fumbled slightly with the steering wheel, then sat still for a moment too long before starting the engine.

She didn’t even check the rearview to throw a quip his way. Something was off.

She drove in silence for about ten blocks before he spoke.

“...You good?”

She blinked. Glanced at him in the mirror. “Me? Yeah. Why?”

“You haven’t said a single annoying thing today.”

That made her snort, but there wasn’t much force behind it. “Wow. That worried you?”

He shrugged, looking back down at the folder in his lap. “Not really. Just weird when things are quiet.”

She didn’t answer. They drove another block. Then he cleared his throat.

“I, uhh, got something,” he said awkwardly, reaching into his jacket. “For the… silence.”

He handed her a small, beat-up flash drive.

She frowned. “What’s this?”

“I made you a playlist.”

She blinked, stopped the car at the red light and fully turned to look at him. “You… what?”

“Songs you’ve played. Stuff I caught. Things you like. That dance crap. Some other stuff too.”

“…You made me a mix?”

He shifted, looking suddenly very interested in the pattern of stitching on the car door. “Don’t make it weird.”

She stared at the flash drive like it might spontaneously combust. 

The car behind them honked, making her jump. She eased the car into gear and set back off, then carefully, slotted the drive into the dash and started skipping through the tracks.

The car filled with familiar sounds. Her favourites, blended with a few odd choices that had to be his. 

Jazz. Old-school rock. One or two that made her laugh. The Supremes, show tunes, K-Pop…

“I can’t believe you did this,” she murmured.

“Don’t make it a thing.”

“It’s definitely a thing,” she whispered, half-dazed.

And for a few miles, she forgot to drive like a maniac. Forgot whatever had been bothering her. 

He kept seeing her in the mirror, like she was waiting for him to say something disdainful.

But he didn't. He didn’t look smug. He looked quietly proud. Like it had been worth the effort, just to see her stunned into silence for once.

By the time they reached his next appointment, she was singing along again. 

~~~~

The evening events were the worst. The events where spouses attended and made him look painfully single. 

His driver had delivered him home, shoved a Prada suit bag into his hand and told him she'd wait outside. 

“You could just wait in there,” he waved vaguely toward the front door. 

“Ha! No, god no that's weird. I'll be here.” She shooed him into the house, “go on, hurry up, you have thirty minutes.”

Forty minutes later he was battling with his bow tie.

“Up and then under,” Sam said, his voice muffled by his hands covering his face. “No that bit goes round -”

“Round where?” Bucky turned to where he'd leaned the phone so Sam could see. 

“Man, please go and get in that damn car. Your driver will tie it for you.”

“I need to learn…”

“You don't have time, you gotta get movin’. I'll send you a YouTube video later.”

“YouTube? C'mon, man -”

“Buck, so help me I will kill you if you don't get in that car. If Pepper gets on to me ‘cause you're late, I will throw you under that bus.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too buddy.”

The faint beep of the handset let him know that Sam had hung up. By the time he made it outside, she was pacing by the car. 

“Jeez, thought you'd gotten lost! What took you so long? Pepper is blowing up my phone,” she wheeled on him, scowling, but stopped immediately on sight. 

“You any good with a bow tie?” 

She stepped closer and took it from him. Her hands fluttered nervously but she looped the tie around his neck and used it to drag him a little closer to her height.

“You ok?” He asked. “You were about ready to kill me but you stopped?”

“Fine, totally fine.” She tied the knot carefully and tucked the band under his collar. She stepped back after tying the knot, brushing her fingertips along the edge of his collar like she couldn’t quite stop herself. 

He caught the way her hands hovered for a second too long, like she’d forgotten what they were supposed to do.

“There,” she said, voice a little quieter than before. “You’ll do.”

He didn’t move. Just watched her. Her eyes flicked to the side like she was desperate to be anywhere else.  

“What?” she asked.

“I told you, you were scowling. Then I walked out, and you just… stopped. Like you forgot to be mad.”

She rolled her eyes, but her voice was softer now. “You're being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, stepping just a little closer. 

Her breath hitched, just barely, but he heard it.

“Are you worried?” He asked. “About Pepper being mad?”

“No, of course not.”

“You don't have to be.”

“I'm not.” She looked up at him then, and there was something in her expression he couldn’t place. He squinted at her.

“Then what?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Instead, she turned on her heel and yanked open the car door. 

“Bucky, just… just get in before Pepper has both our heads.”

The silence that filled the car was different this time. Not the usual, comfortable quiet they’d eased into over the last few weeks. 

This was charged. 

He didn’t say anything. He wasn't sure he trusted himself.  

When she finally pulled up to the event, she shifted into park and twisted to look at him.

He leaned forward instinctively.

Her eyes dropped to his lips for a split second.

“You never call me Bucky,” he said, voice low.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, just above a whisper. “It just… slipped.”

“Yeah?” 

She didn’t reply, she stayed frozen, eyes on his, like something might snap between them if either of them breathed too hard.

And then…

The rear door opened abruptly, and a polite young valet with the worst timing beamed in at him.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re ready for you inside.”

Bucky stared straight ahead, past the driver, jaw clenched. A breath passed before he looked back at her. She hadn't moved. 

“Enjoy the party,” she said, neutralising her expression and making her voice light and even.

He stepped out of the car, bow tie neat, posture perfect. But his hands were still shaking.

He hated these kinds of parties on a good day. There were always too many people pretending not to be watching him. 

But tonight was worse. He couldn’t stop replaying that moment in the car. The way she’d looked at him. The quiet inhale. The feel of her fingers at his collar.  

He was halfway through a conversation with some city councilman when he realised he hadn’t heard a word of it.

“Earth to Barnes.”

He turned to find Pepper raising a perfectly groomed brow, two champagne flutes in hand.

“You’re a million miles away,” she said, handing him one. “Did I miss a memo?”

He cleared his throat and took the drink. “Just... tired.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, clearly not buying it. 

Her eyes flicked toward the entrance. “Your driver peeled out of here like someone was chasing her… know anything about that?”

His grip on the flute tightened so hard he could hear the faintest crack. He downed the contents quickly and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter.

“I think there's a tiny crack in that glass,” he told them before turning back to Pepper. “She did?”

“She did,” Pepper said dryly. “I hope you're not upsetting her.”

He didn’t answer.

PART 2

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (5)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the support for this fic has been amazing, so trust me when I say that I take no pleasure in all the angst and heartache that follows (or do I?) I'm sorry, readers. I'm sorry, Ewan. We'll sort this out somehow - all my love, Freyja <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

A beginning. A first date. Whispers, sightings abound. Falling in love. A necessary lie. Hearts breaking. An end.

Ewan stands in a studio backlot in LA, bouquet of flowers clasped in one hand while the other is nervously stuffed in his tracksuit pocket.

He's itching for a smoke, but he stops himself from doing so, in some lovesick attempt to keep himself as clean and nice-smelling as possible when he sees you again. He already mentally kicked himself for not dressing better, clad in his staple Adidas blacks. But he couldn't wait any longer.

His flight from New York to LA hadn't been the most pleasant. His mind raced for hours, the thought of you being his only consolation. His meeting did not go well.

But enough of it. There is you, here, now.

In this moment, you are all that matters.

The first couple of workers make their way out the studio doors, chatting enthusiastically despite their tired faces. Ewan shuffles on his feet, keeping an eye out for you. Soon enough, your assistant Clara exits, and he waves in an attempt to get her attention.

"Ewan!" she greets brightly. "She'll be out in a while. Are those flowers?" A blush materialises on her face, and she looks so excited Ewan awkwardly thinks she would take them for herself.

"Yeah, do you think she'll like them?" he asks, giving the bouquet a once-over. The classic dozen long-stemmed red roses, kept together with black-dyed muslin wrap.

"She'll love them!" As if perfectly timed, the doors open again, and they spot you walking out with several of your co-stars. Clara smiles to herself as she walks away to give you two some space.

When your eyes land on him, it's like everything falls into place, the ear-splitting smile you give him enough to quell any worries he might have. You meet each other halfway, melding together in an embrace so tight he nearly drops the flowers to the ground.

"Look who it is," you say, still wrapped in his arms, "the internet's babygirl."

"Just your baby, darling." He pulls apart, but only just enough to look at you. "I missed you."

"Mmm, I can see that."

You're about to comment on the flowers, but he can't hold back any longer.

And so your first proper kiss happens behind an LA studio, adjacent to the parking lot and surrounded by prying eyes. The burnt orange haze of the sunset peers from the horizon, casting a glow on the scene. And it's perfect. His lips are gentle as they dance with yours, his warm breath fanning your face when he breaks apart for mere milliseconds, only to resume the kiss as if he can never get enough.

A moment later, there's a couple of woohoos from a distance, your costars oooing and aahing at the sight, making you giggle against Ewan's lips.

"Shall we, then, darling?" Ewan asks.

"Shall we?" Your brows raise, mirroring his question.

"Our first date." He takes a step back, but only to ceremoniously hold his hand out for you to take. "Will you do me the honour?"

"Why, good sir, are we going on a regular date or some super fancy ball?" you laugh, lacing your fingers with his anyway.

He only smiles, planting yet another kiss on the corner of your mouth. "God, I missed you."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You can't help but cast glances at him every now and then. Ewan, effortlessly cool as he drives the both of you across LA, with one veiny hand gripping the steering wheel while the other envelops yours on your lap.

His thumb draws circles on the back of your hand, and you're thankful for it; you need the comfort because you're growing nervous. A first date.

A first date! And not just with anyone.

"What is it?" he smirks, his eyes finding yours as the car idles at an intersection. There's a smugness there. He caught you staring.

You avert your gaze, a pleasant wave of heat rising to your face.

"Hmm?" he leans across, pecking your cheek and resting his forehead against your hair, eager to get a rise out of you. "I mean, I've been told I'm handsome, darling. You already know, something of a babygirl. But it's even more special that you think so."

The light turns green. You grab his jaw, and lightly push him away, raising your eyebrows. "Careful, baby," you smile knowingly. "Your Aemond is showing."

"Oh, yeah?" The car revs up again, rows of palm trees speeding past in a blur. "Does that - uhh - turn you on?"

Your head snaps to him at his bold insinuation. He gives off an unaffected air, smirking to himself in an undeniably hot what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it way. But you make him nervous too. He swallows, and clears his throat, anticipating your response.

"Maybe," you bite your lip, squeezing his hand harder, "but you don't need to put on your Aemond to turn me on."

"Just me, then?" he chuckles lowly, feeling lighter.

"Yup," you shrug. "But if you ever wanna put on a blonde wig and an eyepatch, I won't stop you."

"For when, darling?" Oh he knows what you meant. It's been a constant on his mind too. He's lost count of the nights when thoughts of you consume him, and what happy news it is that you might have been going through the same.

"Mmm... " You look out the window innocently, but you guide his hand higher up on your thigh, allowing his fingers to splay open and squeeze at the flesh covered only by the material of your jeans.

A minute passes. Driving past a street of exclusively only mansions and expensive cars. Then downtown, low-rise buildings as far as the eye can see. Another minute, slow and steady.

Then he says, "You're going to fucking drive me insane, baby."

A soft sigh escapes your lips. "Well, you started it."

He sneers, accompanied by a humourless shake of his head. "I think you overestimate my self-control." The air is thick, but it's quickly diffused when he pulls into a clearing. You realise you're out of the main road, the car slowly coming to a halt in an empty lot beside a low brick building.

"We're here, darling," he says, but he gives you a look that clearly means this matter isn't over. You have something of his, and he's going to claim it.

He half-jogs over to your side, opening the door for you and taking your hand in his.

"Where are we?" The building is nondescript, with a plain white facade, a small cafe and a laundromat on street level, both of which happen to be closed.

"Had to call in a favour from an old mate of mine. His family moved here from Derby a couple of years ago, and they own that laundromat over there," he explains, leading you inside through a door in the side alley.

You're met with a narrow flight of stairs and he gestures for you to go ahead. "What have you got up your sleeve, Mitchell?" you ask, excitement taking root as you climb up to the very top.

It only takes three floors before you reach the heavy steel door of the roof deck. He shuffles to your side, one hand on your back to keep you steady, and pushes the door open which relents with a loud squeak.

You're met with something you have only seen before on Pinterest boards - the rooftop is softly aglow from hanging string lights. In the far side, a screen projector is set up, and in front of it is a low plush sofa cocooned amidst throw blankets and cushions. There's a wooden tray on one on the blankets, containing treats of all sorts and a bottle of wine glistening in its ice bucket.

You take in the magical ambience of the scene with widened eyes. The haze of faint LA sunlight only serves to make everything more beautiful, though it seems hardly necessary.

"Do you like it, darling?" he asks and what a ludicrous question it is. Do you like it?

He continues, "I admit I didn't have to lot of time to set it up, and I had a bit of help but - mmmpph - "

You lace your hands around his neck, silencing him with a searing kiss. He moans unto you, his tongue dipping past your lips as he nearly relinquishes control. He could forget about the set up, the date he had planned, and just take you here on the rooftop. Would you let him?

"I take it that everything is to your liking?" he purrs, watching you in adoration as your head swivels on its own accord to canvas the scene yet again.

You spot something in the corner - a bouquet of fresh flowers surrounded by some lightweight paper lanterns.

"Oh no!" you moan. "The flowers you gave me... I left them in the car!"

He laughs fondly at the sheer panic on your face. "Don't worry about them, my love. I've got more flowers for you here." He points to the bouquet you just saw.

"But those ones... won't they wilt or something? I don't want them to go to waste."

His heart swells at your genuine concern. The furrow between your brows, the way you chew on your lip in worry, your fingers absentmindedly clutching his wrist - it all makes him fall even harder.

"They'll be fine, darling."

"Are you sure?"

He nods once, pulling you in, "Mhmm, just... come here, please." Another kiss, gentler this time.

This is bliss, he thinks, sweet solace after his days in New York, days he aims on forgetting from now on.

You eventually find yourselves on the velvet seat, the tray of food nestled on your laps. He pours wine into the paper cups as you reach for a chocolate-covered strawberry and bring it to his lips.

"Thanks, love," he mumbles with his mouth full.

"Oh, baby, you've got chocolate on there," you motion to his bottom lip.

He sets the cups of wine on the tray, making a move to wipe it off, but just as his fingers hover, his mind takes on an alternative action.

"You do it, then," he leans close, tilting his jaw.

"Okay." With a smile, you begin to oblige him, but you halt when he playfully says, "Not with your hands, darling."

You feel your heart race at his teasing, and at the way he stares at you with blatant desire. Never mind the fact that you were just making out moments ago. The rush of being with him has not subsided. Maybe it never will.

You kiss him, paying mind to the smudge on his lip, licking your own lips afterward to savour the taste.

You pull back slightly. "All better," you say, patting his cheek lovingly.

"Hmm," he hums, "I suppose I'll just have to make a mess of myself more often."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Nightfall had already descended when the credits to The Princess Bride start rolling, dotting the sky with twinkling stars.

Ewan has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, before he declares, "If they ever do a remake to this film, I'll only take the role if you would be my Buttercup."

"As you wish," you smile, nuzzling closer against his black hoodie. "I remember watching this when I was a kid. Believe it or not, it was one of the films that inspired me to get into acting."

"Did you wanna be Buttercup, my Buttercup?"

"No," you respond. "I wanted to do what Inigo Montoya was doing. He's so insanely cool."

"Of course you did," he says affectionately, "my darling."

"What about you, hmm? Did you always want to be an actor?" you ask. You might have read an interview of his where he explains something to that effect, but he doesn't need to know that now.

"As far as I can remember, yes. It was always going to be acting for me. Even when everyone laughed it off when I brought it up in primary school." He shakes his head, the once bitter memory reduced to an anecdote. "I... I find purpose in what we do, being able to slip inside different skins, different lives. It allows me to explore the human psyche, you know, and to make sense of all this madness."

You listen intently, in awe at his words and his sheer sincerity. The world is made better with Ewan able to live his passions. And you feel fortunate that his life is one he may be willing to share with you, if everything goes well down the line.

"I almost forgot - you have to tell me about how your big meeting went."

He shifts slightly, eyes darting downward as he pouts on instinct. He realises he can no longer keep the subject under wraps.

You sense his reluctance, and immediately try to soften your approach. It could have gone either way, and though rejection is part of an actor's bread and butter - you certainly would know - there are some instances where you just let it get to you.

"Is this producer as scary as they say?" you ask lightly, poking his chest.

He smiles, but his expression is still clouded. "You know those mafia dons in Scorcese's movies? This guy practically inspired them, I'd say."

"Goodness."

"He did try to give off a welcoming air, but there was still something... sinister underneath."

"I suppose when anyone is afforded this much power..."

"Especially in this industry..."

"Mhmm." Face half-burrowed in the soft material of his hoodie, you tilt your head up at him. "So it was a bust, huh?"

He shrugs, "The role just wasn't for me. It's all for the best, I reckon."

You hold his hand tight, eager to soothe any worries he might have. "That's a shame. They would have been damn lucky to have you."

He smiles, flattered by your comment. "I am lucky to just be here with you, darling."

You smile in return, tilting your lips to his, coaxing him to lean in close and seal the kiss.

And he does.

And this is the most perfect first date there ever was or ever will be.

"Darling?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I've fallen in love with you."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The next few weeks pass blissfully slowly, you and Ewan caught in the euphoria that only a fresh relationship can bring.

Rehearsals for your upcoming movie had ended, and you get a month off before filming begins in Atlanta. Ewan also stays in LA, keen on spending every waking minute with you. His team takes advantage of the situation, booking him for several interviews and a feature with Esquire. You were more than happy to accompany him - or rather, distract him - on these occasions.

Once, the team even jokes that you had to stay in the other room because Ewan keeps looking over at you behind the camera and forgetting what to say. Ewan, of course, quickly protests. "My girl stays with me," he confidently says.

It doesn't take long for news to spread. Rumours, at first. Allegations bred from blurry fan photos and supposed encounters with yourself and Ewan while out in LA.

They were holding hands!

They're not just friends, I swear. He was kissing her the whole time in the restaurant!

What about her and Jacob? I thought they'd been dating all this time?

House of the Dragon stars spotted on a date in Hollywood!

Headlines. Gossip fodder. Statements made by people who claim to have seen you.

Sure, you do meet some of the sweetest and friendliest fans during all this, who only gush at the sight of their favourite actors getting together.

There are others, especially online, who are less pleasant, accusing you of cheating on your supposed lover Jacob Elordi.

Jacob, already used to rolling with the punches, gives you a call so the two of you can laugh it off together.

"I'm happy for you, mate," he expresses, voice muffled from the other line. "You and Ewan... you guys just make sense. Do you remember that night when he stormed in all jealous like? Holy shit..."

As if on cue, Ewan shifts underneath the sheets from behind you, peppering your naked back with soft kisses. "Tell him I said hi," he whispers, his tone doing nothing to mask his possessiveness.

And so the days roll on, and it couldn't be more perfect.

That is, until the first cracks started to show. As they always do.

You're in a meeting with your publicist Mallory, at one of the many quaint hipster cafés in LA, discussing your upcoming filming schedule and the other things you have booked in between.

"You've got a busy few months ahead, but the film is of course top priority," she says. "It's slated to be the top rom-com of next year."

"That's great, Mal."

"I mean, I think you know that Ewan was meant to lead that romance-fantasy franchise? That's a big deal, and people are saying it'll be bigger than Twilight!" she gestures wildly with her hands. "But since he had a falling out with Bruce Haversham - and trust me, if he ever sets up a meeting with you, you do not want to go against him - what was I saying? Oh yeah, the release for that will be delayed so your film will get prime spot for a summer premiere."

You grow apprehensive at her words. Ewan never got into detail about that meeting, and you didn't really want to pry. But if that producer's reputation is indeed accurate, it doesn't bode well for Ewan's career that he might have done anything that displeased him.

With a sickening dread, you realise that Haversham might have something to do with Ewan failing to book the two films he went for in the past month. Despite the fact that the local casting director practically raved about his audition, and stated that he pretty much had both of the roles in the bag.

"Mal, you know Donna right? Ewan's publicist?" you ask, knowing that she and Donna are under the same agency. "Does she talk to you about Ewan at all? About what went down in New York?"

"A little, honey, yes," she admits. "But about that meeting, I thought you would know. He didn't tell you?"

"Not in too many words, no. Just that it didn't work out, and that the film wasn't meant for him."

"Oh, I see," she smiles, almost ruefully, like she feels sorry for you. That look compels you to ask, "What do you know, Mal? Tell me."

Her hand reaches and clutches yours atop the table. "From what I heard, he refused the role because of you."

"What?"

"It's rare with young actors like you guys, to be so devoted so early on."

Growing impatient, you say, "Mal, please, what are you saying?"

"Look, I don't know the details of it. But apparently Haversham wanted him to get into a PR stint with his love interest for the film, and to hide whatever real relationship he has going on with you. This ordeal was going to be more restrictive than the arrangement you have with Jacob, which is more or less over at this point."

"I didn't know that," you whisper hoarsely.

"Honey, don't worry about it," she consoles you, taking a sip of her coffee. "Like I said, I don't know much. I can get you in touch with Donna if you want to speak with her? I'm 100% positive it's not all bad. There's one thing we can be sure of, at least!"

You look at her expectantly, unable to formulate a guess.

"That boy loves you!"

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

With only a few days left before filming, you had begun to make the final preparations before moving to Atlanta.

It's a late night, one laden with anxiety and nervous jitters, and the several shots of whiskey you had just taken do little to keep the walls from closing in.

Although, perhaps, it is better if they do. If they imprison you, even just for tonight, to keep you from whatever it is you plan to do.

It's for the best. I have to do this. I'm doing this for him, you keep telling yourself. You keep repeating the lies, letting them bounce relentlessly in the walls of your mind, until you fool yourself into thinking them to be true.

You had met with Donna a few days prior, and the whole situation was made clear to you. You didn't know for certain when the decision formed in your mind, but it's there, as real as the love you feel for Ewan.

The love you will have to bury.

He picks you up in his rental Rover, after you told him that you wanted to go for a drive. But you ask him to park his car behind the private apartment building where you're staying.

The car grinds to a halt, like a signal for you to get it over with. There is no going back now.

"Ewan... I - " You can't push the words out, more so when he reaches for your hands and squeezes. He looks at you with those eyes, expecting anything but what you're about to say.

"I'm sorry," you try again, and your voice breaks. His face slowly drops, the mood instantly changed, but the worse is yet to come.

"What are you sorry for, darling?" He rubs his thumb along your cheekbone, the sensation willing you to just abandon your plan completely. To abandon the lie.

"Whatever happens..." Just get it over with. "...I want you to know that I'll always be here for you. We are friends first, aren't we?" Peel the bandaid. Rip it off. Let it bleed.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," he says.

You sound robotic, emotionless. But one wrong turn and the floodgates may break. There's a lump in your throat and you push it down. Reminding yourself to act - use your fucking acting skills if you actually have any. Now's the time. "We can't be together, Ewan."

There it is, sounding itself into existence, ruining the love you have in front of you.

His hand drops, as if he recoils back into himself. Away from you. It's cruel, but you know you will have to do more damage. You have to make it stick. This becomes clear when he says, "No", with conviction. "No, darling," he repeats. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Ewan - "

"You're not being funny, darling." He tilts his head, testing you, giving you the chance to retract your words and start laughing at your twisted joke. Darling comes out a mockery, something to say out of spite.

He takes a deep breath, leaning back in the driver's seat. "I don't... I don't accept this." He looks straight ahead, his lips pursed and jaw taut. "Fucking... why ?"

"I just... don't think it's going to work out."

"Bullshit."

Your words come out rushed, "You should take that role. I don't want you to hold back just for me. This could be something really great for you, Ewan. This could be it! Most actors pray for an opportunity like that to come along and I wouldn't want you to - "

"That's the reason?"

" - refuse it because of me. So we should - "

"Stop."

" - end this."

Silence. Not a single sound in the near-empty parking lot. No sirens in the distance, no pedestrian chatter. Just slow, heavy breathing in this rental car, both of you looking out the windshield. It feels stuffy all of a sudden, and not in the heated way when your limbs entwined in a jumble in the backseat a mere week ago.

"Please. I... I don't want to end this," he pleads. His knuckles are bone white, harshly gripping both sides of the steering wheel in an attempt to anchor himself. He shakes his head, and with some sense of hope, he says, "I don't care about that role. Okay? It's not the end of the world if I don't accept it. Have some faith in me, darling. I'll make it work. Surely there are plenty of other things down the line."

"Ewan," you whisper. You knew he would say this, which is why you prepared something worse. If that were even possible. You suck on your teeth, pulling on whatever poison you keep hidden away. You sigh and look away, a gesture that lets him know nothing will change your mind. "This fucking PR relationship business... it gets to you, you know? We don't know any better. I for one never expected to feel this way about - "

"About?" he finally turns to shoot you a look of betrayal, the pain in his eyes clear as day.

"I might have feelings for Jacob," you lie, "or I might not, I don't know. But there's something there, and I... I can't let this - us - go on while I'm conflicted about everything. It wouldn't be right."

Nothing about this is right.

But you go on, "I'll be off filming, with him, for a couple of months. And it's only going to make everything more confusing, and it wouldn't be fair to you, I know that - "

"I love you."

It's the first time he ever utters those three words, completely and without any doubt. He says them, despite everything you said before. And he means it.

A tear falls down your cheek, and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep the rest at bay.

"I'm sorry," you look at him, in finality, and you want nothing more than to passionately kiss him hard on the mouth, to hold on to him tight and plead for him not to let you go. With your quivering form, you amble out of the car. Every step worsens the weight of what just transpired. His side of the car opens, and he calls for you, but you can't bear to look back.

He catches up to you, breathless and with a wild look in his face. His blue eyes swell with tears, but his brows are scrunched down as if he isn't bothered by them.

"I want you to look me right in the eye and tell me we don't matter. I want you to tell me you don't love me," he says, and it's the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. He searches your eyes for something, anything to hold on to. Part of him is still desperate enough to grasp at straws, on the hope that you will change your mind.

But the other hardened part, has become angry. Indignant. Because how could you do this to him? The only girl he has ever loved. So he needs to hear it from you, clearly. He needs you to drive the final nail on the coffin.

"I do love you," you croak, and you do nothing to stop your tears from flowing freely.

"Darling..."

"But I can't be with you," you turn away, one last time. "Goodbye, Ewan."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Some time ago, during the meeting in New York...

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden furniture, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot...

(to be continued)

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @hotdismylife @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @dracaryxzs @aemondwhoresworld @aisselasstuff @onlyrealjoy

Update! Read the second bonus chapter here ~

💌 next chapter

HOW DARE YOU, reader. How dare you.

The gif above paints a clear picture of Ewan's heart breaking in the car 🥲 just in case you guys needed a visual aid 🥲🥲

Next chapter - the meeting in New York, the reader's conversation with Donna, and.... we see them move on from each other (?) You know these bloody actors, one relationship in the first half of the year and then another right after...

Feel free to come for me in the comments <3 it was the most heartfelt chapter, after all. Also, let me know what yous want the bonus chapter to be about!

[brookediamonds]

heyy, is there any chance i could request where there's a young competitor on the iron dragons like devon/kenny's age and axel and the reader sort of take them under their wing and act like their second parents? no worries if not!

next to you | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: Taking the newest Iron Dragon student under your wing, or wings, you and Axel unknowingly adopt the newcomer creating a new title for your relationship.

Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: None, tooth rotting fluff

(A/N: I love this!! 🥹 I hope you do too!!)

gif is not mine

"Chop, chop, let's go," you clapped your hands as you stood outside of Axel's black convertible as your mini me walked down the driveway.

Marcus rolled his eyes at your bossiness, making you quirk a brow up from under your sunglasses.

"Don't give me that look, we brought you a bagel," you hold up the brown bag that contained an everything seasoned treat.

Marcus perks up taking the bag from your hand before hopping into the backseat of Axel's car.

"Thanks, guys!" The 15 year old grins reaching into the bag for the breakfast item.

"Don't get my car dirty," Axel warns him as you fastened your seatbelt.

"He wouldn't," you frowned. "He knows better."

Axel scoffs beginning to back out of the driveway. "Right."

The sun beamed down on your skin, wind blowing softly through the flyaways from your french braided hair, as Axel drove down to the local arena of Hong Kong.

"Are you nervous about today?" You ask the young boy, turning in your seat slightly.

"Kind of," he mumbles through a mouth full of cream cheese.

"You will do fine," Axel spoke assuringly. "You've been doing very well at practice."

You nodded in agreement reaching over the console to grab at Axel's hand. Your boyfriend flips his palm up, letting your fingers slip into his before giving them a gentle squeeze.

Wordlessly, he lifts your hand, giving the back of it a soft peck in reassurance. While you two had been dating for three years already, his small gesture still sent butterflies to your stomach.

"You two are gross."

You grinned leaning over to press a long dramatic kiss to your boyfriend's cheek with a, "muah!" Making Axel smirk and Marcus groan.

"Thank god we're here," the prepubescent boy exhales as Axel pulled into the parking lot.

You rolled your eyes, the smile never leaving your face. Once you're parked, the three of you head into the building, seeing some of your teammates already there.

"Morning," your Sensei greets you as all of you pass him into the locker room.

"Good morning, sensei," the three of you respond in unison. You head into separate locker rooms, changing into your green gi’s for the tournament.

When you head back to your team, you see Zara talking with Axel and Marcus. The stands were filled with people, the environment buzzing with excitement and occasional cheers for the competitors.

"Oh look, mom and dad are here," Zara teases you as you approach them.

You stop mid-step, eyes flickering over to Axel and Marcus who looked just ask amused and stunned as you.

"Come again?" You inquire.

"Yeah, you two hover over Marcus like concerned parents. You train with him, hype him up, lecture him when he gets reckless—" Zara begins to list off examples of your actions towards the boy.

You raise your eyebrows taking everything she was saying into consideration.

"She's not wrong," Marcus pipes in as he stretched next to you all. You scratched the back of your head awkwardly. Looking over at Axel, who is also processing her words, you nudge him with your elbow.

"We do bring him breakfast a lot," you admit.

"And pick him up and take him home," Axel realizes.

You stare at Marcus, scanning his facial features when it suddenly dawns on you, "Wait… does he kinda look like us if we had kids to you?"

The three of you all suddenly began to study the boy's face when he narrows his eyes at you.

"I do not look like you two!" Marcus interrupts your unhinged thinking. "It just so happens I have your same colored eyes and am almost as tall as Axel."

You pouted dramatically walking over to him, wrapping your arms around him as he stayed still, arms by his side with a sour look on his face.

"You totally look like us!" You cooed squeezing him.

Zara bursted out laughing, Axel shaking his head at the whole ordeal.

"Please make her stop," Marcus begs looking over at your boyfriend.

"Sorry kid," Axel shrugs with his arms crossed.

"Alright," you sighed releasing your hold walking over to Axel's side, nudging him playfully. "Come on, dad, let’s get our kid ready for his match."

"Not funny," Axel mutters, but the smirk on his face betrays him.

The tournament soon began, the competition starting off with the kata category soon transitioning to the one on one's between males and females.

You and Axel easily dominated your age division, earning The Iron Dragons 1st place for Seniors. Marcus was in the Junior division, fighting well but struggling when it came down to the finals for the boys.

Marcus is a headstrong adolescent, he fights with integrity and struggles to accept defeat when a mistake is made. He reminded you a lot of yourself when it came to dwelling on your loses and reminded you of Axel when he fought with everything he has inside of him.

When Marcus joined your dojo, you quickly took notice to his hard working demeanor and love for the sport that you didn't want Sensei Wolf to corrupt that innocence and passion he held.

So you took him under your wing, you and Axel. You gave him the words of encouragement and assurance your Sensei never had to offer.

You didn't want him to resent the sport like you and Axel were starting to when you were Marcus's age. Together you and Axel kept each other afloat, and stood by each others side when things got too hard, mentally and physically.

And you would be sure to do the same for the young boy that stood defeated on the mat from the loss that just occurred.

Marcus walked off the mat, holding his head held high like you taught him to if this should happen. Your Sensei stood with his arms crossed, prepared to release his wrath for losing when Axel stepped in front of him.

"What did you do wrong?" Axel asked, his voice steady but firm.

Marcus, still catching his breath, glanced between Axel and Sensei Wolf before answering. "I dropped my guard after the second counter," he admitted, jaw tight. "I thought I had him, but I hesitated."

Axel nodded, his expression unreadable. "And what should you have done?"

"Stayed on him. Followed through instead of waiting."

"Exactly," Axel said, crossing his arms. "Don't hesitate, you go for it, something we can work on, right?"

Marcus exhaled slowly, nodding. "I can fix it."

"Good." Axel nodded before finally turning to Sensei Wolf, who had remained silent, watching the exchange with narrowed eyes.

For a moment, it seemed like he might object, might force his authority back into the situation. But then, without a word, he stepped back.

You let out a quiet breath, glancing at Axel, sighed in relief as well.

"You okay?" You ask quietly walking up to the defeated boy.

Marcus nods, still holding his tall stance, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands remain clenched at his sides. 

"You fought well," you say lightheartedly. "You made one mistake, and you already know what it was. That means you’re learning."

Marcus exhales sharply, shaking his head. "Learning doesn’t win matches."

"Well, no," you agree. "But it does make you better for the next one."

Marcus looks down at your optimistic smile, feeling a certain amount of weight lift from his chest.

"You're gonna win the next one," you state reaching out to squeeze his arm.

"I'm gonna win the next one," Marcus repeats after you.

"Exactly," you state. Axel can't help the small smile tugging at his lips when you give your words of encouragement.

Marcus huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. "Wow," he mutters. "You two really are my parents."

You and Axel glance over at each other, smiles forming on your faces.

"Yeah well, someone's gotta look out for you," you tease the fifteen year old. He snorts, shaking his head before walking off to join the rest of the team.

As you watched Marcus rejoin the team, you feel Axel’s hand brush against yours before he takes it fully, his thumb running absentmindedly over your knuckles making you look up at him.

"You really have a way with him," Axel says lowly, eyes softened.

"And you don't?" You tease, turning to face him.

"I just tell him what he did wrong," he shrugs nonchalantly. "You actually make him believe he can do better."

You reach for his other free hand, intertwining your fingers together.

"We make him believe he can do better," you correct him. Axel huffs a quiet laugh, squeezing your hands.

"Guess we make good parents,'" He smirks down at you. You feel your heart flutter in your chest, a small chuckle escaping your lips.

"Agreed," you finish before standing up on your tippy-toes to brush your lips against his. Before Axel can kiss you again, Zara's whistle echoes through out the arena.

"Alright, mom and dad, quit making heart eyes and get over here!" She calls out to you guys.

Axel groans making you chuckle under your breath. He throws an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to where your team stood.

"She's never gonna let us live that down, you know that right?" You smile glancing up at Axel as he sighs dramatically.

"I know," he mutters, shaking his head. "But at least we’re the cool parents."

You laugh, leaning into his side as you approach the team. You squeeze Axel’s hand one last time before letting go, stepping into place with your team.

No matter what happened next, one thing was certain: Marcus would always have you two in his corner. And he was grateful for that.

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

(a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! ❤️ Axel for sure would drive an all black vintage 1969 Camaro, I don't make the rules. Not 100% I'll have a V-Day one shot, but gonna try my best to make one up, I'm thinking it's gonna be with the sunshine axel x grumpy reader trope. Still working on other requests btw!!)