#and that he looks completely at ease with his sleeves rolled up and still in his work clothes

[mariasont]

EEEEK your post prison fic for spencer is fREAking me out!!! could you maybe do one where spencer is now teasing the reader a bit? maybe he's giving her extra praise and she freaks (what would i do if he called me a good girl? 😩) (this is very indulgent to my praise kink i'm so so sorry 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️) tytyty!! i adore love and cherish you and your work 💕

I Aim To Please - S.R

a/n: shewwwwww to be complimented by post prison spencer fucking reid. im drooling!!!! but anyway babes i adore & love YOU!!!! so thank u so so sooo much for requesting 💖💖

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x shy!media-liaison!reader

warnings: spencer being hot, reader being shy girl, spencer being a little shit who loves to tease

wc: 1.5k

There were a few basic rules you had established from working at BAU. First, avoid Rossi at all costs until he’s had at least two cups of coffee. Second, never attempt to outwit Emily; she’ll see right through you and crush your argument every single time. And third—perhaps the most crucial—do everything in your power to maintain your freaking composure around Dr. Reid.

That last one, however, was proving to be a monumental challenge. It wasn’t just the way he spoke, his brain firing off at a speed only he could keep up with. It wasn’t even the way he seemed oblivious to how endearing those very quirks were. No, it was the fact that the simple act of him breathing in your direction had you scrambling to hold yourself together. And honestly you were failing miserably.

Which is why you spent most of your time holed up in your office. It wasn’t much—just a desk, a slightly uncomfortable chair, and a perpetually growing stack of case files that seemed determined to bury you. But it offered privacy, and that was enough. Here you could breathe, decompress, and occasionally allow yourself to daydream about a certain genius profiler without the risk of public humiliation.

The bullpen was proving to be too chaotic, too close to him. Your office gave you distance, a buffer. But, as you had come to learn, hiding only worked when he didn’t decide to seek you out. And Spencer Reid had a knack for finding you when you least expected it.

"Hey."

You jumped slightly, nearly fumbling the stack of press notes you’d been carefully organizing.

Turning toward the door, you found Spencer leaning casually against the frame, a file tucked under one arm and a distracted sort of smile on his face. His tie was slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, and—just like that—your brain completely short-circuited.

"Hi," you said, trying not to sound too startled. "Do you, um, need something?"

"Yeah." He further into the room, lifting the file in explanation. "I was looking at the local coverage of our case, and I noticed a couple discrepancies in the timeline published."

"Oh,” you said softly, quickly shuffling the press notes into a messy pile and pushing them to the side. "Well, um, sometimes reporters try to fill gaps when they don't the facts. It's... frustrating, but it happens."

You glanced up at him briefly, but that look of his made your cheeks warm. Your fingers twisted together in your lap as you tried to focus on anything other than how ridiculously self-conscious you suddenly felt.

"That makes sense. I figured you'd know."

Instead of lingering in the doorway or leaving like you assumed he would, Spencer, casually grabbed the chair across from your desk. He spun it around in one fluid motion and sat it backwards, draping his arms on the backrest with an ease that felt strangely familiar—like you had been friends or colleagues for years instead of just a few months.

"I'll reach out to them about fixing the timeline," you said, your hand instinctively moving a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You clasped your hands together to still them, offering a small, nervous smile. "It shouldn't be too hard to correct."

"Thanks," he said. "That'll probably save from giving another long-winded lecture on factual reporting."

You gave a quiet laugh, grateful for the distraction from your tasks, though you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about the company. Not that you didn’t enjoy his company—there was plenty to enjoy, more than you cared to admit. If you could manage to function like a normal human being around him, you might even look forward to moments like this.

But then he tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying you as if he were unraveling some kind of puzzle and for one terrifying second, you were convinced he could hear every single thought racing through your mind.

"So," he began, "how are you liking it here so far? The job, I mean. Is it what you expected?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "Oh, um... yeah. It's been great so far. Busy, but... I like it."

"That's good," he said, nodding. "I know it’s not exactly the most predictable job. Some people don't expect it to be so... chaotic."

"Well," you said, fidgeting slightly with your pen. "I knew what I was signing up for. Or, at least I thought I did. It's a lot, but it's rewarding."

"That's a good attitude to have," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Honestly, you're doing a great job. I don't know how you manage to keep everything straight."

Your heart leaped, thudding in your chest as warmth flooded your face. You weren’t used to hearing compliments, especially from someone like him. You wanted to savor the moment, to bottle up the way his words made you feel, but your nerves refused to let you fully enjoy it.

"I'm just, um, organized I guess,” you stammered, your hand flying up to rub at the back of your neck.

"More than just organized," he replied easily, completely unaware of how his words were affecting you. "You've got half the team wrapped around your finger already. Even Rossi listen when you talk. That's impressive."

Your face burned. "I think that's more about respect for the job than me."

Spencer shrugged lightly, as he was watching you, like he didn't quite believe you. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just better at this than you give yourself credit for."

You let out a nervous chuckle, fingers twitching as you fiddled with the corner of the paper in front of you.

"I don't... I don't know about that."

He tilted his head, again, his brow quirking. "Do you know how to take a compliment?"

"Of course I do." You were sure your voice lacked the conviction needed.

He smirked, leaning forward over the chair. "Doesn't seem like it."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat, tangled in the frantic web that was your thoughts around this infuriating man.

"Well, uh, you’ve only done it twice, so I don’t think that’s enough for you to judge."

His grin widened. "Oh? So you’re saying I should try again? For research purposes?"

Your eyes widened, and you blinked rapidly as if to process his words, your hands shooting up as if to physically block the implication. "I—uh—no, that's not what I meant.”

"No, no," he said, sitting up straighter and waiving off your flustered attempt to deflect. "I aim to please. If more compliments are what you’re after, I’ve got plenty.”

"Please, no."

"You're incredibly efficient. Seriously, I think you've managed to anticipate what the team needs before we even know we need it. And your ability to keep your cool under pressure? That's impressive. I mean, do you even get stressed? Because if you do, you hide it really well."

"Dr. Reid—," you squeaked, covering your face with your hands as if that could somehow shield you from the onslaught of praise.

"And," he continued, clearly now enjoying himself. "You're probably the most patient person, I've ever met. Which is something, considering you work with people who constantly interrupt and derail your perfectly planned press briefings."

Your stomach flipped, and you felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment pooling in your chest. As much as you wanted to sink to the floor, the way he looked at you sent every nerve in your body spiraling. Each word felt like it was tailored to you, peeling back the very thin veneer of control you’d desperately tried to maintain over the massive crush you found yourself drowning in.

Your head dropped to the desk with a soft thunk, muffling your groan. "Okay, okay, I get it."

He leaned forward just slightly, resting his chin on his arms atop the chair. "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you."

He smirked widened. "See? That wasn't so hard was it?"

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you averted your eyes, trying to hide the nervous smile tugging at your lips. "You didn't have to go on and on..."

"Oh, but I did." He was still grinning. "You deserved it."

You risked a glance back at him, losing your cool by the second. That only made your face heat up more. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you haven't kicked me out of your office."

"That's only because I didn’t think it would work."

"Well," he said, turning towards the door. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't mind the compliments."

You opened your mouth to protest but no words came out. Instead, you watched helplessly as he shot you one last smile before disappearing into the hallway.

When the door finally clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath and drop your head back onto the desk.

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[leviathanleva]

Caffè Crema

[Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!FemReader]

After months of giving your all to a man you barely even knew, you're finally rewarded. He takes off his mask in front of you almost hesitantly and you're overjoyed. Still, you want to, need to know why and so despite your better judgement, you ask him only to receive a laugh in response.

“Wan’ed you to see what the father of yer kids looks like, Birdie.”

[5.1k words] [Slightly NSFW]

Chapter 3 "Powder"

Simon had expected tension when he’d relied to you the news that he was leaving on deployment soon. But no, you were as chipper as ever, rolling your sleeves instantly and beginning to prepare him for the journey while bombarding him with questions.

It was…different, in a good way. There was no guilt for having to abandon you to fulfill his duty. You were worried, that much was clear, but you didn’t let it bother you enough for him to have to figure out a way to comfort you before leaving.

He was grateful even if he didn’t show it, hoping that the crinkled skin in the corners of his eyes was enough of an indicator.

He stretched lazily on your small couch, feet tucked under your bum as per your usual arrangement, while you absentmindedly folded his freshly washed clothes back into his duffle bag. A random sports channel is playing on the telly, drowning out the silence while he watches you fuss with a shadow of a smile hidden under his mask.

A pile of dry laundry was splayed over the armrest you were leaning against and you plucked each piece with the utmost care, looking over it for any spots that the washing machine hadn’t been able to get rid of before laying into his bag.

“Is this a bullet hole?” You murmur to yourself while looking over a gray knitted blouse, particularly at the edge of one sleeve where the stitching was ruined. You run your thumb over the hole, brows furrowing as you inspect it, then turn to Ghost with a small frown. “There’s a bullet hole in this one. You wanna keep it?”

When he realizes your question is targeted at him, he blinks away the thoughts swirling in his head and shrugs.

“Keep i’, adds character.”

You snort, but fold it regardless and stuff it with the rest of his clothes.

A distant whistling erupts from the kitchen and you stand to dust off the lint from your sweats before scurrying to get the kettle. It doesn’t take long before you reemerge with two steaming mugs in each hand and set one before him on the coffee table. He grumbles out a thank you while sitting up and tugging his mouth free from his mask.

Back tea with milk, just how he likes it, piping hot in a mug big enough for him to comfortably wrap his hand around.

“Gonna make a real good missus.” Ghost murmurs out casually and picks up the mug before taking a prolonged sip and letting his eyelids close at the familiar flavor.

“Yeah? Well, you’d make an awful husband.” You joke, playing along with the innocent understanding that he’s joking and not trying to figure out how to get your ring size without making it obvious. You kick at his knee with your own, a playful smile tugging on your lips. “You never fight with me over anything. Even when I try new cooking recipes off the internet.”

He mulls over your words for a moment, eyes focused on his steaming beverage.

“Didn’ leave no marks on me las’ night. Can complain abou’ tha’.”

“Jesus Christ, Simon.” You gasp and sputter to place a palm over his mouth, thrusting yourself into him as he fights off your flailing hands with ease. “Don’t say such things!”

“Why no’? ‘m just ‘aving a fight with me wife is all.” His teasing doesn’t relent but he lets you press your weight on him and guide him down into the cushions of the sofa. There’s a rumble coming from his chest, a series of snorts as he watches you struggle to keep from becoming completely flustered.

“Oh my God, stop! Stop it!” you’re already a flushed mess, he can feel your face burning from his position beneath you as you fight your wrists free from his loose grip.

“Tryin’a mount me like you did las’ nigh’, Birdie?” His hands come to rest on your waist, the words slipping past him just before you press both your palms against his mouth with a doe-eyed look on your face. He holds you steady, a wolfish smirk making his canines peak beneath his upper lip.

For a moment he thinks your abashed state will hit its limit and you might faint right on the spot, what will the uneven breathing and shaky arms, flared nostrils and quivering bottom lip.

“Shut! Shhh. No more sinful talk. Awful man you are, I’ll never marry you.”

An empty threat that only makes his smirk grow as his chocolate browns twinkle up at you adoringly. It doesn’t cross his mind even for a second that you’re unaware of just how serious he is and how much planning has gone on inside his thick skull over the past few days.

It’s okay, you don’t need to fret over such things, all you need to do is say yes when he finds you a pretty enough ring.

“Gonna behave now, old dog?” You ask and hesitantly free his mouth before settling down on top of him and crossing your arms, a hint of a victorious aura to your puffed-out chest and twitchy smile.

He pats your bum ever so gently and sits up abruptly, causing you to slide into his lap. The power imbalance tips in his favor as soon as he’s looming over you, wide shoulders and muscly arms making you nearly disappear in his embrace. He bumps his nose into yours, head bent down to your level and tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

You swallow thickly, your heart leaping in your throat and staying there as he lingers just on the edge of kissing you. And he’s already pawing at the waistband of your bottoms, greedily trying to slip his thick fingers beyond and toward the comfortable warmth of your sex.

A shiver crawls up your spine and a pleasant tingle settles low in your tummy. Your head snaps towards the digital clock propped above the TV.

“Stop it.” You scold, push him away from sniffling at your neck like a curious wolf and again on his back before slipping out of his lap. “Greedy old dog. I have to go shopping or else you’ll be having fried air with a side of nothing.”

A displeased grumble reaches your ears as you make your way towards the bedroom, intent on changing. You scoff, roll your eyes at your roommate’s childish pouting. Flicking the lights on, you trudge towards your wardrobe, your shared wardrobe although shared was a very generous way of putting it. Aside from a pile of boxers and socks and the occasional black top, there wasn’t much of Simon’s attire.

You wondered if this was all he had while slipping into a pair of jeans, thought over the fact that he did look like a guy who’d be caught dead before going out clothing shopping. It was a sad realization, you made a mental note to buy him some more things when your next paycheck arrived or when he decided to leave another wad of cash on the kitchen counter and label it as rent money.

At least he had a toothbrush, even though with how used and abused it looked, you considered getting him a new one alongside other male toiletries like soap that didn’t smell like wildflowers and shampoo that was a bit less strawberry scented.

After donning a comfy hoodie and walking to the hallway to put on your shoes, you glance at him and see him molding into the couch while his stare is glued to the screen and his brow is visibly lowered in displeasure.

“You can either sulk or you can come with me and get your blood going.” You suggest and straighten up once you’d tied your laces. He didn’t budge, only gave you a side glance. So you try again, more softly this time. “I’d like the company.”

You bat your lashes at him prettily, toss him a girlish smile and coquettishly slip on your jacket and he’s just a man after all, he gets up and pats down his top before joining you.

Coaxing him to do anything was never difficult, all that was needed from you was to look weak and cute and like you’d yield the moment he lumbered over to you. You liked to think you were special and that he wouldn’t bend the knee to just anyone, but then again you hadn’t seen Simon interacting with other people.

Most of your time together, all of your time together, was spent within the confines of your home. Ghost wasn’t one for going out, he was selfish like that, liked you all to himself, and with your attention nowhere else to be set except for him and his needs. You didn’t mind, it was cute in a way. He was needy and touch-starved even if he refused to admit it aloud.

Poor old dog, you’d take good care of him.

Although while you were locking the front door and felt him hook a pinkie finger around yours and lead you down the stairs, you got to thinking. Maybe you were more of a dog than him. You were the one bowing your head to his every wish and did anything you could think of to please him. It was one of your greatest pleasures to slave over him because he’d been so tired and beaten down when you’d first kind of “adopted” him.

Then again, he’d sort of made you adopt him. He’d just brought his things over and hadn’t left. You were certain he would have if you’d just said something, but you never had, you hadn’t confronted him about any of the weird things he’d done so far. Maybe it was too late now or maybe he’d just bury himself between your legs and lap at you until you were near unconscious like the last time he had when you’d seemed displeased. Or maybe he’d actually disappear and never come back and even though you’d known him for a couple of months, something sinisterly painful jabbed at your heart at just the image.

No, this was fine. You were happy to have him. Right…?

The grocery store wasn’t too far away, you could get to it on foot easily. Although something felt off. As you walked down the street with Simon in tow, you noticed the quick, ridged glances you were receiving from people of all kinds of ages. Some of them even made the effort of walking out of your way or taking sharp turns to avoid the two of you.

It was an odd experience, one that also subtly tickled a particular pleasure gland in your brain.

Was this what having a scary dog privilege was like? If so, then you were having the time of your life.

If only people knew what an actual sweetheart your companion was, they’d double over laughing at their first assumptions. But they never would because Ghost was yours.

When you picked up a cart that required both your hands to steer, you felt a tug at your jeans and glanced down to see he had hooked one finger around the belt strap on your side. You offer him a soft snort and try to bite back the grin that was growing on your face.

The place was full as expected, newly stocked as well for the weekend shopping most customers did around your area.

As you made your way through the aisles you scolded yourself for not scribbling down a list of what you needed, then proceeded to pick up a good amount of garlic and onion because most dishes need one or both aplenty. Wouldn’t hurt to have more even if you already had some back home.

Slowly, but steadily, your cart begins to fill the more you walk around and your vision falls on something that you were running low on. Funnily enough, since your new roommate, you’d found yourself having to shop more than once a week. He had a ravenous appetite and you liked that about him, liked having someone there to enjoy your cooking.

Living alone was a blessing, but it did get lonely sometimes.

And before you’d just make something hasty and easy for yourself, too busy with work, too tired after work, or just too lazy and not seeing the appeal of treating yourself. But now, you had someone who depended on you and it felt exhilarating to prepare meals and have another mouth to feed. It didn’t matter to you that Ghost wasn’t big on verbal praises in regards to the food you made him or the care you put into him.

You were happy just having him contently lounging on your couch and stroking your thigh while you lay beside him.

“Milk, eggs, cheese, butter, Simon, you’re tugging too much.” You call back while sifting through the egg cartons and trying to find one that has all ten eggs intact. When the tugging didn’t relent and you received no answer, you turned back with the intent of scolding the silent giant. “Simon, I said you’re – ”

But it wasn’t Simon. He was on your opposite side, staring downward. You follow his gaze to find a little sprout of a being hooked to your jeans and looking up at you with just as much confusion.

Apparently, the toddler had seen your tall, dark, and handsome partner linked to you and with their guardian nowhere to be found, she’d done the same. A child’s mind will forever stay a mystery to you.

The child doesn’t look older than five or four, with large eyes and a small mouth that was shaking with uncertainty while she gawked up at you in a silent plea. The jacket she had on made her look like a walking square, her hands barely poked out of the sleeves. She’d be adorable if not for the tear-stained cheeks that immediately tugged at your heartstrings.

You shake off the shock that has stiffened your joints and push your cart away.

“Hey, there.” You coo gently, shoo both of their hands off your jeans before they end up pulling them off your hips, and kneel down to greet the poor thing that was already hiccupping with sobs. “Hey, little Darling. Where’s your mommy? Did you get lost?”

When the waterworks start again, you gently pet her back.

“There, there. Let it out, it’s okay.”

You curse yourself for not packing any tissues in your bag and wipe the tears off her chubby cheeks with your thumbs.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” You soothe, glance up at Ghost to see him standing there silently and watching the encounter unravel with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Typical guy. “Can you tell me your name? Your mommy’s name?”

“Julie.” Was the choppy, nasally answer you receive as the toddle clumsily wipes the snot in the sleeve of her jacket.

“Is that your name or your mommy’s name?” You ask while unzipping her jacket enough to get it off her mouth and find it coated in a sheen of saliva.

Tissues, wet wipes, freaking toilet paper, you would have liked to have something to wipe the poor thing clean, but of course when you needed your supplies most, nothing but your wallet and chewing gum were in your bag.

“My name is Julie. Mommy’s name is Mommy.”

You would have giggled at that answer if Julie wasn’t pouring out her little heart’s sorrow in front of you. Instead, you nod with an okay and rise to face Ghost while resting your hands on your hips. From what you can see around you, nobody is looking around frantically for a lost toddler so you sigh and run a hand over your hair, thinking.

“Might have to take her to reception and make an announcement. Or the mom might already be there.” You say and give the hulking behemoth a once over before cocking your head to the side. “I’ve got the cart. You mind taking her?”

You take a step back, but by the uneasy looks both of them are giving you, it dawns on you that playing mediator was your next step before taking the child along.

“It’s okay.” You give Julie a warm smile, eyes moving between her and Ghost while he also squats down, a foot away from you as not the scare the little thing. “This is Simon. He’s really nice, I promise. He’s my best friend, in fact, he won’t hurt you. Promise.”

It takes some more convincing on your part before the toddler agrees to be picked up by your companion, but once he’d set her on his shoulders to scan the area for her parents, she seemed as cheerful as a cherub. Apparently, she’d never been held that high off the ground before, it was a whole new experience for her, and by the way Simon supported her back with a hand larger than her head and the gentle shine in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t having too bad of a time either.

You make your way towards the reception desk, accompanied by a symphony of kiddish giggles, your grocery shopping left on the back burner until you relieve yourselves of your new bundle of joy.

Squeals would come from Julie every so often as she fidgeted around on Simon’s shoulders, her pudgy hands splayed in his dirty blond locks or tugging gently on his ears. It suited him being in charge of a little one, the fatherly appeal caused a pleasant knot to tighten in your chest and you tried to wipe the wide grin off your lips, but you just couldn’t.

“Hi, good evening.” You call out to the staff on the other end of the wide reception desk, thankfully catching their attention just before they turned their back on you. “Hi…We found this little girl in the dairy aisle, haven’t been able to find her parents. Would you be able to make an announcement maybe?” You lean in and lower your voice, glancing back briefly to see Julie preoccupied with giggling while toying with Simon’s free hand to hear. “We don’t know the names of the parents. I tried asking but…no dice. Her name is Julie.”

It takes less than ten minutes of you hanging about the reception after the announcement was made, while Ghost entertains the lively toddler, for you to see a flushed woman hurrying your way with her purse clutched under her arm.

You straighten up and adjust your jacket before taking a few small steps forward.

“Oh thank God. Julie!” The mother you presume, presses a hand to her chest when she sees her baby girl atop your roommate’s shoulders. “Thank goodness.”

She surges forward before plucking her child from Ghost’s hand and squishing her to her cheek with a relieved expression softening her earlier strained features. You guess Julie would have been just as vocally ecstatic if her face wasn’t immediately squished to her mom’s neck. You watch her flail for a bit before being maneuvered on her side so she can say a thank you.

“Thank you so much! I turned around for a second and – ”

“ – It’s not a problem.” You chirp back, waving your hands to hopefully dismiss the built-up anxiety that had the mother’s eyes still as wide as saucers. A polite smile adorns your lips, your gestures open and stance friendly to ease the poor woman before she suffers a heart attack at your feet.

“I hope she didn’t give you any trouble.” She says while smoothing out her daughter’s hair lovingly and pressing a feverish kiss to her forehead, earning a giggle in response. Then she extends a hand towards you, which you shake with pleasure. “She can be a bit of a handful. My name is Lily, by the way. I’m sorry to have to meet like this.”

“No trouble at all, ma'am.” You nod, let her shake Simon’s hand as well while you give her your name, and toss a fleeting glare at your loving roommate for not offering his. “We’re happy to help. Nice to meet you.”

“Thank you again, bless you. Say thank you, Julie.” Lily urges and gently grabs Julie’s arm before waving it at both of you. She turns then, readjusts the toddler in her arms, and offers you one last farewell before walking away. “Have a good evening and thank you.”

Despite both the distance and the chatty surge of people around you, you can hear Lily scolding her daughter under her breath before returning to the cart she’d abandoned. It all makes you laugh, especially hearing the muffled mumbles of protest as Julie stares at you and Ghost over her mother’s shoulder.

You wave at her one last time before fetching your discarded grocery cart and rolling it to Simon’s side.

“Didn’t know you were so good with kids.” There’s a teasing note to your tone as you glance at him from under your lashes, hiding a smirk behind the collar of your jacket.

You take the lead, slowly making your way back between the aisles while skimming around for any products you might have skipped past the first time.

“Didn’t eithe’.” He says softly as if the whole situation was the most foreign thing he’d ever witnessed. As if this had been the first time he’d held a toddler, it was heartwarming to feel the thought behind his absentminded voice.

“You’d make a great dad one day.” You hum and poke at his side with your elbow to make him look down at you only to beam up at him.

He’s silent for a while as you stop by the stacks of instant ramen, eyes never leaving yours as his head tilts to one side.

“Tha’ so?”

“Absolutely.” You respond with confidence before breaking your heartfelt eye contact to pick out a packet of noodles for rainy days when you don’t feel like cooking. “Maybe I’ll get to be the Godmother.”

You miss the way he arches an eyebrow at your statement as if you’d said the most blatantly inaccurate thing ever. You miss the way his chocolate brows fall down to your belly where they stay for a suspicious amount of time while he thinks over how nice it would be for you to go shopping with a wee one fussing about in your cart.

For the rest of your stay in the grocery store, Simon was noticeably more touchy. Instead of hooking himself to your jeans, he had a hand pressed to your lower back, thumb rubbing circles into your jacket, hard enough for you to feel. You didn’t question it, thinking his good mood was probably due to your encounter with Julie earlier, the toddler did boost his spirits up after all. He persisted while you were making your way home, holding the groceries in one hand while keeping his other on you.

Nothing seemed out of normal to you while you were outside besides him being a little needier than usual. You didn’t ask about it and didn’t tease him either, instead, you were trying to figure out what to cook up tomorrow because you had all the time you could wish for since it was Saturday. Then again, you had other chores to tend to. There was the washing up, hoovering, dusting.

But as soon as you twisted your key in the lock and stepped inside your now-shared apartment, he had you practically pinned against the wall. Grabby hands were fumbling to get your jacket off while you kicked off your shoes and spat mewling protests against the bulk of his shoulder.

Between getting you and himself undressed, you managed to slip out of his grip and pattered to the kitchen hurriedly, groceries in hand. You barely managed to set them on the table before Ghost twirled you around in his arms like you weighed nothing and bent you over the counter.

“Simon!” You hiss back and fuss to get yourself free. “What’s gotten you so riled up all of a sudden?” You feel a prominent bulge press against the soft curve of your ass and squeal. “Darling, please! At least take me to the bedroom first.”

A “tsk” comes from behind you and you’re about to yap at him that that’s no way to respond to the person who’ll be making him breakfast tomorrow, but the air is knocked out of your lungs as you’re picked up with ease and flopped over his shoulder like a potato sack.

“Simon!” You thump a weak fist against his back as he carries you down the hallway and it still makes you laugh that he needs to duck past your kitchen door, despite the situation. “Talk to me, Darling? Please? Not that I mind, but I need to put the groceries in the fridge and – ”

He tosses you on the bed and crawls on top of you, the mattress dipping under his weight. There’s a certain flare to his eyes as he stares you down and you feel a lump form in your throat before you force it down and coo up at him.

“Wanna tell me what’s been going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You try to squirm away but only end up with his erection lodged between your thighs and his body weight locking you down against the sheets. A moan slips past your lips before you cup his cheeks and run your thumbs over his eyebrows to ease the tension that’s built up there.

“Tell me, please?” You urge while getting comfortable beneath him and swatting away the hand he has toying with the button of your jeans. You lock your legs around his thick waist and pull him a little closer. “Please?”

He doesn’t respond right away, apparently smacking his hand off you thrust him into a spree of thoughts. You wait patiently, one hand scratching at his scalp tenderly while the other stays on his cheek. He looks away from you after a while, something you don’t quite comprehend darkening his moment of contemplation as he mulls over a decision you can only guess at.

His earlier desperation has all but vanished, leaving you absolutely confused.

“Si…Darling.”

You don’t expect him to turn back to you with pain glistening in those brown orbs you like so much before he props himself up on one elbow. Don’t expect the uneven movements of his hand as he slowly, timidly takes one of the black bands holding his mask in place and unfurls it from his ear before taking the little slip off entirely. He places it by your head and adjusts himself on both elbows, a thin-lipped frown tugging the corners of his mouth down as he watches avidly for your reaction.

A pang of guilt surges through you because of how long you’d been silently staring back at him in the darkness of your room. The street lamps illuminate the walls, illuminate his bare face as well.

His. Bare. Face.

The one he’d been hiding since you’d first met, the one you hadn’t seen even when you’d seen the rest of him stark naked whenever you made love. It doesn’t register at first, that you can see his whole face, that he’d finally let you see all of him.

Then your chest flourishes, it feels like exploding in a heap of budding flowers and a breathless laugh leaves your lips, one of joy, of an achievement long overdue, finally accomplished.

You hesitantly cup his cheeks again, this time feeling the light stubble grazing your soft skin.

“Hey…” You manage out, fighting to kick away the surprise and give him the love he deserves for taking such a step forward. “Hey, handsome old dog.”

Your tender expression forces him to halt his breathing altogether before he buries himself in the safety of your neck, breathing you in slowly, the familiar scent calming his strained nerves. You feel the muscles on his back ripple under your touch as you run your hand over his form tenderly, feel his chest expand with every strictly controlled breath he takes.

“Hey…” He murmurs back, greeting muffled into your skin as you rest a trembling hand against the back of his head and sink your fingers into his short hair.

You hadn’t even paid attention to the scars littering his battle-honed skin, they’d been the last thing on your mind as you’d taken him in. He was ruggedly charming, uniquely handsome, it boggled you why he so fiercely hid his face when there was nothing wrong with him. But that was a discussion for another day, you pushed down your bubbling questions and just let the moment consume you.

You feel his lips move against your neck as he swallows, and nuzzle your cheek against his crown lovingly before closing your eyes with a sigh. He relents when you nudge him with your nose to lift his head before pressing a kiss to his nose, then his cheeks, his chin and forehead before finally planting your lips on his. His desperation to remove your bottoms returns then and he’s back at toying with your button and zipper.

You let him take off your jeans while you tug at his jacket, leaving it to pool on the floor before he eases himself out of his blouse and nestles back above you. Your feet come to rest on his strong calves, hands in his hair and glazing over his back as he loses himself in your skin, nipping incessantly at your collarbone while silently asking for you to take off your top and let him feast on more than just your neck.

And as always, you’re pliant when he’s finally caught you under his bulk. You push him off enough to discard the article of clothing before letting yourself fall back into the sheets, mewling happily while he laps at your flesh like a man starved.

A heat pools in your loins, one you try to soothe by pushing your hips up into his and earning yourself a choked growl that makes you quiver with excitement.

But a question keeps nagging at you no matter how heated you become and how low his insatiable lips travel down your body. You hum when his nose nudges the hem of your panties and you stop him before he can pull them off and descend on your gathering slick.

“So…” You begin through a strained voice and glance down at him, finding his eyes already locked on you. Your mouth goes dry, throat tightening, but you force yourself to ask. You need to know, if nothing else, at least this. “What’s the occasion?”

He laughs at your hesitation, a deep, rumbling laugh choir that should come from the monsters in your childhood fairytales, not the man about to stuff his face between your thighs.

“Wan’ed you to see what the father of yer kids looks like, Birdie.”

<<< Chapter 2

Chapter 4 >>>

Masterlist

[winwintea]

inyun

PAIRING ↬ next door neighbor!mark lee x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, potential soulmates, past lives au, friends to (?), shared dreams, the idea of inyun/inyeon or “fate”

SUMMARY ↬ when you move into a small apartment complex in seoul, your next-door neighbor, mark lee, seems like nothing more than an ordinary guy. but as the two of you get to know each other more, it suddenly feels like you’ve known him forever. then mark mentions his grandmother's belief in 인연. the idea that every encounter is woven by threads of fate. are these coincidences between you and mark really accidental or is there something deeper going on?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ somebody (me) decided to rewatch past lives 🙈 this was supposed to be fluff and a gift for @https-lvesick but finals week started sinking in… thank you to my saviors @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading, love y'all <33

PLAYLIST ↬ jazz bar - dreamcatcher; mago - gfriend; you - nct dream; dejavu - nu’est w; wham bam shang-a-lang - silver

THERE IS A WORD IN KOREAN:

"인연"

it means providence or fate. 

but it's specifically about the relationships between people. 

it's an "인연" if two strangers even walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush. because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives.

Your apartment door was wide open, boxes half-unpacked and filling the hallway. You’d tried to keep things organized, but between the moving of your furniture and the delivery guy calling for directions, you slowly lost your organization.

You were crouched on the floor, handling a box of kitchenware, when you heard a muffled voice behind you.

“Uh, hi? Excuse me?”

Startled, you turned to see a guy standing at the end of the hallway, a paper bag balanced in one hand and a set of keys dangling from the other. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, glasses fixed upon his face, and his hair slightly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Are… are you my new neighbor?” he asked in Korean, motioning toward the boxes that completely blocked his door.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” your voice squeaked as you responded in some broken korean, not mentally prepared to face a neighbor on the first day of moving him. You scrambled to move a tower of books out of his way. “I didn’t realize—let me just—”

“It’s fine, really,” he interrupted in English this time with a small laugh. “I’m Mark, by the way. Do you speak English?”

“Oh!” You paused mid-shove, shocked at his perfect accent. “Yes. Yes I do.” You were suddenly aware of how disheveled you looked. “Y/N,” you replied, brushing stray hair from your face. “Nice to meet you, and again, sorry for the mess. Your English is really good.”

“No worries. Happens to the best of us,” Mark said, crouching to help move the heavier boxes. “I’m from Canada, so English is kind of my thing.”

“Aah. I see.” You nodded, still mortified.

“This is your first day here?”

“Yeah. My friends were supposed to help, but they bailed at the last minute. So here I am, single-handedly creating a big explosive mess.”

Mark chuckled, lifting a box with ease. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty solid job for one person. Though... maybe try not to block your neighbors' doors next time.”

“Noted,” you said with an embarrassed laugh, standing to hold the door open as he slid the box inside.

When the hallway was clear, you expected him to leave, but he stayed, looking at the stacks of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. “Need an extra pair of hands?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” Mark said with a grin. “I’m a pro at this. Moved like five times in the last three years.”

Before you could protest further, Mark rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He moved like he really had done this a hundred times, lifting heavy items with ease and made the process less awkward with his small jokes.

“This box says ‘Bathroom,’ but it’s definitely full of shoes,” he teased, pulling out a pair of sneakers.

“Okay, maybe I got a little lazy with the labels,�� you admitted.

“Lazy? Nah, this is strategic. Keeps life exciting,” he quipped, tossing the sneakers back in.

You laughed, the tension from earlier fading away. Somehow, he’d turned what felt like a stressful task into something almost fun.

Once the last box was inside, Mark clapped his hands together. “Mission accomplished. And since I’m basically your hero now, I think I’ve earned a reward. Got any snacks?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I have… instant ramen?”

Mark grinned. “Perfect. My favorite.”

After settling in for a few days, you don’t encounter Mark again. That is, until a series of random moments start pulling you back into his orbit.  

On one of those nights, just past 9 p.m., the apartment complex suddenly plunges into darkness. The familiar buzz of your refrigerator stops, and the streetlights outside shut off, leaving your apartment only dimly lit from the moon. 

Groaning, you fumble around for your phone, only to realize the battery is at 4%. Great. You grab a flashlight, slowly open your door, and step out into the hallway, hoping to find someone who knows what is going on. 

That’s when you spot him.

Mark is sitting on the floor just outside his door, a small stack of candles beside him.

“Hey,” he greets, a faint smile on his face as he waves a lighter. “Power’s out in the whole block, apparently. Wanna borrow a candle?”

You take in his setup and smirk. He’s surrounded by neatly arranged tea lights and thick pillar candles.“Uh, are you in a cult or something?”

“Eh, my grandma’s kinda superstitious. Always told me to keep candles around the house just in case,” he says, shrugging. “I thought she was overreacting, but turns out she’s kind of a genius.”

You sit down a few feet away, gratefully accepting a candle he lights for you. The flame brightens up the dark hallway, leaving warm shadows on Mark’s face.

“So,” you start, leaning against the wall, “What do you normally do during blackouts? Just... sit around and wait?”

“Basically. Or… get this,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “People actually talk to each other. Crazy, right? You could, I don’t know, tell me something about yourself. Like… how many candles do you keep at home?”

“None,” you admit holding up your flashlight. “This is all I’ve got. I guess I’m doomed in a blackout. Your grandma would be so disappointed in me.”

“She would,” he agrees with a laugh. “But I’ll let it slide. Only because you’re new here.”

The conversation flows easily after that. You both begin trading random facts: Your favorite childhood snacks, his love for playing guitar, the time you accidentally dyed your hair orange trying to bleach it yourself. He counters with a tale of a botched bleach job that left him looking like a walking science experiment for months. 

Minutes turn into an hour, the candles continuing to burn as the two of you share quiet laughter and stories. And for the first time that night, the darkness doesn’t feel so bad.

—

A few days later, you’re hauling overstuffed grocery bags up the stairs when Mark pokes his head out of his apartment. His hair is tousled, and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie that practically swallows him whole.

“Oh, hey!” he calls, his face lighting up when he spots you. “Need help?”

“I got it, thanks!” you manage to say, despite your arms straining and the bag handles digging into your fingers.  

Before you can argue, Mark is already down the hall, grabbing it from you, and effortlessly carrying it to your door. “Looks like this thing was holding on for dear life,” he teases, hoisting it easily as he follows you to your door.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I was gonna knock on your door anyway,” he interrupts with a grin. “I baked something earlier and thought you might want to try it.”

That makes you pause mid-door unlock. “You bake?”

“Why does everyone react like that?” he says with mock offense. “Yes, I bake. Don’t look so shocked.”

“You don’t look like the baking type. Or cooking.”

“Oh, I can’t cook.” He scowls as if thinking about a bad memory, “But baking is pretty easy. It’s just throwing everything into one bowl, mixing it up, and waiting. Piece of cake. Or, in this case, cookies.”

A few minutes later, you’re both sitting on your tiny kitchen floor, a plate of freshly baked cookies between you. The smell of warm chocolate and butter fills the air.

“These are amazing,” you say after taking a bite, your voice muffled by the cookie in your mouth.

Mark beams, leaning back against the counter. “Not bad, right? I got the recipe off some YouTube channel. Figured I’d test it out before offering it to my friends.”

You squint your eyes, pretending to look offended. “Wait, so I’m just the guinea pig?”

He admits, laughing. “Pretty much. But hey, honest opinion: too sweet? Not sweet enough?”

“Perfect,” you reply, reaching out for another. “But you should’ve added nuts. Makes it more sophisticated. Just make sure you aren’t allergic.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Sophisticated? Wow. Didn’t know I was baking for royalty.”

You chuckle, playfully tossing a crumpled napkin at him, and the conversation once again flows effortlessly from there. You laugh over Mark’s failed attempts at “fancy” macarons, and somehow turn into stories about childhood food disasters.

By the time the plate is empty and an hour has vanished. With Mark, even the simplest moments feel like they belong in a movie.

—

Then it’s yet another lazy Sunday when the doorbell rings. You open the door to find Mark holding a massive box labeled 50-pack instant ramen.

“I think this is yours,” he says, biting back a laugh.

You glance at the label and groan. “Oh my God. I ordered five. Five!”

“Well, congrats,” he says, handing you the box. “Looks like you’re set for the next year.”

You sigh, dragging the box inside. A few minutes later, there’s another knock. Mark’s returned to your door, grinning this time.

“You know,” he starts, leaning against the doorframe, “if you need help finishing all that ramen, I’m just next door. We could, like, host a ‘ramen buffet.’ Charge admission or something.”

You snort. “Sure. I’ll make you the first VIP guest. Free ramen for life.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve ever gotten,” he says, eyes sparkling. “But seriously, I’ll take a few packs off your hands if it’s too much. My midnight snack stash could use a refill.”

Later, you text him a picture of your pantry. 

YOU: Your VIP pass is ready 

MARK: I’ll bring the chopsticks! 😂

The first time the dream comes, it’s vivid enough to remember even after you wake up. In the dream you’re walking through a bustling marketplace, the air thick with the scents and noise of those around you. People push past you, but you don’t feel overwhelmed by them. Instead, there’s a strange pull, like a thread tugging at your body. You turn your head and catch a glimpse of someone—a young man with a warm smile, eyes glinting in the sunlight, and a soft laugh that echoes through the din. 

You can’t see his face clearly, but his hand brushes yours as he passes. And in that moment, it leaves a spark. A warmth that feels almost familiar.

When you wake up, the details are already fading, but the feeling of that touch, that spark, seems to linger, and you can’t seem to get it out of your head.

A few days later, you're sitting with Mark in the hallway outside your apartments, the floor scattered with takeout boxes and empty soda cans. The two of you have somehow fallen into the habit of these late-night talks, sharing parts of your day and random thoughts that cross your mind in the moment.

“Have you ever had weird dreams?” you ask, swirling the straw in your drink.

Mark leans back against the wall, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times. “Weird how?”

“Like…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “Like they’re not just dreams. More like memories. But not yours.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve got me curious. Spill.”

You chuckle, feeling a little silly but continuing anyway. “I’ve been dreaming about this place—a market or something. It’s super crowded, and I’m just walking around. But then…” Your voice trails off as the memory becomes clearer in your mind. “There’s this guy. I don’t know him, but when I see him, it’s like I do. And when our hands brush…”

Mark’s expression shifts, his playful smile fading into something more serious. He sits up straighter. “Wait. You said a market?”

“Yeah.”

“And… hands brushing?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah. Why?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair again. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but… I’ve had the exact same dream.”

For a moment, the world feels like it’s spinning. You blink at him, looking for any hint that he’s maybe joking, but his face is earnest, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve a mystery.

“No way,” you say, laughing nervously. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not!” Mark protests, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I swear. There’s a market, right? And I’m just walking, but then I see someone—you, I guess? And when our hands touch, it’s like—”

“—like a spark,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mark stares at you, his eyes wide. “Exactly.”

The air between you grows silent, the laughter and casual banter from earlier replaced by something more ominous.

“Do you think it means something?” you ask after a long pause, your voice trying to stabilize itself.

Mark lets out a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “My grandma used to say that some people are connected through 인연—fate, you know? Like… maybe we knew each other before. In another life.”

You study his face, the soft curve of his jaw and the way his lips press together like he’s holding back more than he’s saying out loud. “Do you believe that?”

He turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. But if it’s true…” He pauses, his gaze dropping to his hands, which rest in his lap. “Maybe it’s why I feel like I’ve known you forever, even though we just met.”

Your breath catches, his words affecting something deep inside you. The dreams, the strange familiarity, the unexplainable pull towards him, the way you could spend hours with each other, you’ve felt since the day you moved in. It’s all beginning to make a strange kind of sense. 

You don’t say anything, but your hand brushes his as you reach for your drink, and in that moment, the spark from your dream seems to jolt back to life.

Mark glances down, his fingers twitching as if he’s tempted to close the gap. Instead, he looks at you.“Maybe we’re just imagining things,” he says softly, but the hope in his voice betrays his words.

“Maybe,” you reply, though you’re not sure you believe it either.

For the rest of the night, neither of you mention the dreams again. But when you go to bed, the image of two hands brushing in a crowded marketplace still lingers in your mind, clearer than ever.

It’s a Friday evening, and you’re sitting on Mark’s couch, a blanket thrown over both of your laps. The faint smell of popcorn fills the air as a half-watched movie plays on the screen. Mark’s head is tilted back, his eyes weary from the long day, his fingers idly drumming to a beat on the couch cushion between you.

You glance at him, noting how cozy it seems here. It’s moments like these that feel strange… and effortless. Like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

“Hey,” you say, nudging his arm lightly. “You’re zoning out. The movie isn't that bad.”

Mark snorts, turning his head toward you. “Oh, yeah? Name one character besides the main guy.”

“Uh... The dog?”

“Exactly.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your stomach flip.

But before you can laugh along, his phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking the moment. Mark’s smile fades as he leans forward to grab it. You watch his face shift—something serious.

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice careful.

“It’s... uh, an email. From SM,” he says, mentioning the entertainment company where he’s been interning. He hesitates, scrolling through the message. “They want me to come in for a meeting. Apparently, there’s a potential opening on one of their teams in Vancouver.”

You sit up straighter. “Vancouver? Like... Canada?”

He nods, his thumb still hovering over his phone screen. “Yeah. They’ve got this big international project coming up, and I guess they think I’d be a good fit.”

You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words setting in. “That’s... amazing, Mark. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” His tone is quiet, almost hesitant, and it doesn’t match the words. He sets his phone back down and leans back again, trying to avoid your gaze.

“So,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant even as your chest tightens, “you’re thinking of going?”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve noticed over the months. “I don’t know yet. It’s a huge opportunity, but... I’d have to leave. Like, soon.”

“Right,” you say, your voice a little too steady. “It makes sense. You’ve been working toward something like this for a long time.”

He finally looks at you, his dark eyes searching. “Yeah, but... leaving means leaving everything. Everyone.”

You know what he’s implying, but neither of you says it out loud.

—

It’s the day of Mark’s big decision. Whether to take the overseas job offer or stay in Seoul. You’ve been avoiding the topic, scared of what it might mean for you. But tonight, the two of you find yourselves on the rooftop of your apartment building. The breeze carries the faint scent of flowers that Mark planted the other day in the community garden.

You sit side by side on the edge, legs dangling over the low wall. Although dangerous, Mark always promised that he’d catch you if you fell. He also wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. He’s always thoughtful like that.

For a while, neither of you says anything, just watching the sun slowly start to descend down the bustling city. 

Finally, Mark breaks the silence. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about 인연.”

You turn to look at him. His face is painted in soft, golden light. “Yeah? What about it?”

He chuckles softly, almost nervously, running a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought it was just a cool idea. Like, ‘Oh, that’s neat. Fate and past lives and stuff.’ But… I don’t know. Every time I’m with you, it feels like there’s something bigger happening. Like I’ve known you forever, and I don’t even know why.”

Your breath catches. Hearing him say it out loud makes it feel so much more real than you imagined in your head. “I feel it too. Like… we’ve been here before. Not just on this rooftop, but in some other life, in some other time.”

Mark finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours. “But what if we’re just making this up? What if we’re using fate as an excuse to… I don’t know, hold onto something that isn’t real?”

The vulnerability in his voice shakes you. He’s scared, just like you are. Scared of the intensity of it all, scared of what it means to let go. Or to keep holding on.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I don’t know if this is fate, Mark. I don’t know if some invisible thread tied us together, or if we’re just two people who got lucky enough to meet. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s not about why we found each other, but what we do with it now.”

Mark looks at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitates. You can tell he’s turning your words over in his mind, weighing them. “So… what do we do with it? What if I take the job? What if I leave? Does that mean we weren’t meant to be?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing before he laces them with yours. “You taking the job or staying doesn’t erase what we’ve shared. If this is fate, Mark, it’ll find a way to bring us back together. And if it’s not… then I’ll still be grateful for every moment we’ve had.”

“You make it sound so easy. Like letting go wouldn’t completely wreck me.” His grip tightens, and you see his throat bob as he swallows hard. 

You smile, but there’s a little sadness to your voice. “Who says letting go has to mean goodbye? Maybe it just means letting the story unfold the way it’s meant to.”

The silence that follows feels heavy but not uncomfortable. You can see the wheels turning in Mark’s mind. He’s thinking, unsure of what to say. 

Finally, he exhales a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know if I believe in fate, either. But I believe in you. And I believe in us.”

Your heart skips a beat, but he’s not done yet.

“So… if I stay, it won’t be because I’m afraid of losing whatever this is. It’ll be because I want to keep building it with you. And if I go… it’ll be because I know we’re strong enough to handle the distance.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you laugh softly, shaking your head. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

He grins, that familiar smile that’s become so dear to you.

“Not really. I’m just winging it.”

You both laugh, the warmth from your voices cutting through the bittersweetness of the moment. The future feels uncertain, but for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t feel so scary.

As the last rays of sunlight fade, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Whether it’s fate, luck, or sheer coincidence, you’re here now. And for now, that’s enough.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania

[motherismotheringggg]

SLOW BURN

okay wow my first public fic — i’m terrified so pls be kind but feedback is OF COURSE welcome!!

type: female reader x nicholas chaves x cooper koch

(^this is the greed they talked about in the bible 🤭)

tags/warnings: 18+; nsfw; smut lite; kissing; fingering; groping (i think that’s it!!)

word count: 7317 (i was gonna post it in parts but i changed my mind)

*used AI to help organize structure

pt.2 out now!!!!

pt.3 out now!!!!

⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️

You and your friend Vanessa laughed as you walked into the cafeteria of Camp White Water from a joke that had you both laughing since you both got ready and started heading toward the first day of camp counselor training.

This was your second summer of being a camp counselor at this month-and-a-half long sleep away camp. And you always looked forward to it, the leadership staff was always kind, the campers were actually not too bad and the other counselors were your favorite. All of the returners had become super close and it was super exciting to be reconnected with them when summer rolled around.

This year there were a few new counselors because of the amount of campers that were coming in this summer, particularly in your group. That being said, you were given two new co-counselors.

You and Vanessa were still in stitches about whatever joke had been continuing when you got closer to your assigned table, you noticed your name card with your name between two other name cards, one read “Nicholas Chaves” and the other “Cooper Koch”.

“Whoa..two news guys?” You were surprised, you expected to at least have another returner on your side, “Do they think I’m responsible enough to train two newbies?” you chuckled as you sat on the cafeteria bench.

“Well if they’re dumb and hot, send them over to the young eagles team, I’d love to have fresh meat”, Vanessa gestured to her table with Gene who was the oldest camp counselor and a bit of a gangly man who meant well but wasn’t exactly summer camp eye candy.

You both looked in his direction and giggled, “Hey Gene! You look ripped this summer. I’ll send her over to you in a second” you called out, causing Vanessa to laugh even harder.

As you both continued cackling in a room full of lively conversation, the group of new counselors walked in, it was tradition that the current counselors applaud them as a bit of a harmless hazing ritual.

You clapped and laughed with your friend as the newbies looked around excited but nervously for their name tags. In the middle of your giggling, you noticed two men stopped at your table and started settling in, “this must be them” you thought.

Copper was tall and broad. He had hazel brown eyes and deep brown curly hair. He was wearing a gray zip-up hoodie and tennis shorts and you could tell from his leg muscles that he was in good shape. He had soft features that made you feel immediately calm and at ease - safe almost.

Nicholas was the opposite, he had straight hair and darker eyes. His face was very chiseled, his jawline was impeccable. He had a defined and muscular physique, which stood out even when he’s dressed casually in his shorts and long sleeve college shirt.

He was also tall with broad shoulders but his muscles were more pronounced - a strong chest, and visible arm muscles that give him a commanding presence.

“Hey guys, I’m Y/N”! Cooper went for a handshake, which was too formal for you, without thinking you went in for a hug. You figured you’d get close through the summer like the rest of the counselors.

Cooper was caught off guard but quickly adjusted to the hug, Nicholas was a little reserved but even with just a side hug you felt his biceps take you in completely. They sat on either side of you and you started talking about your experience at the camp the group you’ll have this year.

The camp director gave some opening remarks and then the assistant director had you all start with those cringey ice breakers. He went around and gave out a stack of cards to each group that had random questions on it.

When he got your table, he said “Ah Y/N, happy to see you back again! Boys you’re in good hands, she’s a pro.” You playfully shooed him away to be humble. “I mean it, but you also have some star athletes next to you. Cooper and Nicholas were both finalists in the west end tennis conference and since you’re working on rec fit this year, it should be perfect!”

“Tennis boys huh?” you gestured to your co- counselors, “I knew those builds weren't for nothing” you jokingly nudged both of them in the side. Cooper giggled and you finally got Nick to crack a smile and loosen up.

The ice breakers were stupid but kind of fun and they opened up more conversation; “if you were a fruit, what fruit would you be?” turned into you three talking about your families, “what three things would you need on a deserted island” turned into talking about your favorite vacation spot and “what;s your morning routine” let the guys start to talk about their training which you found…hot. The way they describe conditioning and training completely hypnotized you, like you could understand it but just barely. And watching them interact was a real treat, Cooper was very funny and lighthearted but still very direct and expressive in his words. Nicholas was very sincere in everything and said it with such conviction, even if he was joking it came out so earnestly you thought he was being serious.

Later, for training you all got to wander the camp site as groups. The three of you found yourselves sitting on one of the picnic benches along the trail route, the ice was finally broken so the conversation flowed very casually.

It started to get a little warmer out, too warm for a hoodie so both you and Cooper took yours off. Cooper was wearing a tank top that revealed even more of his physique and you were wearing a stretchy tank top body suit. Realizing this was the first time they've seen your arms, they noticed you had a few tattoos and were both instantly intrigued. "You have tattoos?" Cooper asked, his voice more excited than you expected.

"Yeah, just a few!” You started pointing them out to Cooper while he walked around your body to get a closer look at each one. “I got this one with one of my friends, they are not quite matching but they’re similar” you went on.

Nicholas was also listening to you talk about your tattoos but he wasn’t as outwardly interested as Cooper was. He mostly just nodded in approval after you explained each tattoo. It wasn’t until you bent a certain way to show Cooper a different tattoo that your tennis skirt raised a little, revealing the very bottom of a tattoo on your thigh. "Is that… another one?" Nicholas asked, gesturing to your thigh, catching you off guard.

You blinked. "Oh, yeah," you replied, laughing lightly. "Good eye." You hadn’t expected him to notice that one—it was usually pretty hidden. But it wasn’t awkward and you were happy he actually spoke. “Yeah it’s just my zodiac constellation, I just thought it was cute, maybe a little stupid to get that tatted but I like it”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Nicholas replied, more confidently this time. Cooper nodded in agreement.

“In fact,” Nicholas stood up and took off his bookbag “As long as we’re showing off our sick ink…”. You and Cooper’s eyes widened, you had no idea what this man, who had been fairly silent this whole time, was about to show. He took off his shirt and revealed his perfect abs. They looked like they were chiseled from marble but also soft like flesh. You cleared your throat and gathered yourself. You glanced over at Cooper who was equally entranced by Nicholas’ body.

“What do you think?” Nicholas posed in front of you two and you both looked confused, “I thought we were just showing off tattoos, not seeing who’s built like an adonis” Cooper joked.

You laughed, “yeah, this is a summer camp so the chance to take off your shirt was coming soon enough” you added.

Nicholas laughed back, “no get closer, it’s there!” You and Cooper looked at each other and then got closer to his man’s perfect body and there it was, two small tattoos under both pecs, a smiley face and a frowny face.

‘Totally sick ink right?” Nicholas joked in a surfer voice, you and Cooper threw your heads back in laughter as you jokingly agreed. “It certainly is … ink on your skin,” Cooper added.

“They were stick-and-pokes I did in college just for fun, you can even feel the weird texture of them,” Nicholas said. Without missing a beat, he grabbed Cooper's hand and placed it on the small tattoo. You had to find a way to act normal about this but this was incredibly hot. Two gorgeous men essentially groping each other in the woods felt like something out of a fan fic.

Nicholas looked at you and said, “Don’t be shy, I don’t bite”, in a quiet gravely voice. You felt your shoulders drop and your eyes widened, internally you thought “what is happening right now??”

You used your finger tips to feel the tattoo but followed Cooper’s lead and also felt his chest too. Nicholas would glance down at you two feeling him with his breath hitching just a little. Cooper was into the moment, you were still taken aback. Before this moment could progress, the camp alarm blared calling us all back in for dinner.

For dinner, groups got to mix and mingle so you and Vanessa decided your groups should eat together. Dinner was fine, you were fine. It seemed odd that these two boys who were basically mute at the beginning of the day had this moment earlier with you and were now just so chill about it. But you were going to match their vibe and keep it lowkey.

After dinner, you were all texting and realized you wanted a sweet treat so you went off-site and ended up at this diner a few miles from the camp. You three sat in this round corner booth and just talked about each other.

It was getting progressively later and later in the night and you felt yourself getting tired. Cooper went to the bathroom before you all headed out and you instinctively rested your head on Nicholas’s shoulder. Completely forgetting what happened earlier and just needing a place to rest for a minute.

It took him no time to accommodate your needs and lift his arm up so you could properly get close. He pulled you close to his chest and rubbed your arm as you slightly drifted in his arms.

You all drove in your car there but Nicholas saw how tired you both were so he offered to drive. “Give daddy the keys” he gestured to you to throw them in his direction, “I’ll get us back safe”. You mentally noted that he called himself daddy and tossed him your keys. “You both should ride in the back seat because if you're up here yawning by me that could be dangerous”.

You and Cooper hopped in the back seat and again, you just wanted to lay down, so Cooper sat upright and you laid down with your head in his lap. He also wanted to make you feel comfortable so he started stroking your cheek and did that for the entire ride back to camp.

---

The next morning was Special Classes day, all the counselors would be in various groups to get trained on the specialized activities for the camp this summer. Swimming, archery, arts and crafts, home ec, etc., you were partnered with Nicholas in the swim group while Cooper took the archery class.

The sun beat down on the lake, making the water glisten. You all had been in and out of the water several times for various tests. Every time you glanced at Nick and noticed the way the water drops would sit in between the ridges of his abs you felt something electric in you.

“You all have done a fantastic job today,” the instructor addressed the group, “and we wrapped up earlier than I thought so that’s good. Feel free to go for a free swim or head out until your next activity.”

You and Nicholas non-verbally agreed to head out but not before the instructor asked you both to take some supplies to the first aid shed before you left out. You wrapped a towel around your body and Nicholas wheeled the cart of medical supplies.

When you got the shed, which was more of a small cottage, you held open the door while Nicholas wheeled the items in. He started putting them away while you just stood and watched. Watching the way his back muscles moved with every action, the way he towered next to the shelves and how broad he looked from the back.

He turned to see you checking him out and chuckled to himself, “do you mind helping me out a little?” a smirk brandishing on his face.

You didn’t hear what he asked you when you were in your trance so he chuckled again, a little louder this time, “they’re getting lower in the wagon, could you hand them to me?” he asked again.

“Oh my bad – yeah of course! Sorry, I was just thinking about dinner or something” you tried to cover your tracks in the worst way possible, “or ‘something’ is right” he retorted back, you felt your face get hot.

When you were finished putting the boxes away, you wheeled the cart to where the other storage containers were and joined him back in the main room. The shed was so warm so neither one of you wanted to leave. Nick went to sit down in a chair by the desk in the room. There were papers on top of the chair he went to move but when he picked them up he got a paper cut.

“Shit,” he hissed “oh my god” your eyes widened. It wasn’t a lot of blood but you could yell it hurt because he kept hissing in pain. At one point he even hissed your name asking you to grab him a paper towel and you felt your heart skip a little.

He sat on the chair while you cleaned him up and gave him a bandaid. Once you got him squared away and you put the kit back on the shelf, you just kind of stood in front of him. There was nowhere else to go and not much to say.

He grabbed your hand, closing the distance between you two, pulling you toward him “the old ‘nurse me back to health’ trope huh? What a classic” he joked in a low gravely voice

“You’re so annoying”, you whined jokingly pushing away, as his one hand placed your arm on his shoulder and the other wrapped around your waist.

You caressed the side of his face with one hand, contemplating if this was really about to happen. You just met this guy yesterday - but you have already felt his pecs, cuddled with him in public and let him call himself daddy.

You leaned down and hovered in front of his mouth, “don’t make me beg” he whispered as he moved closer to plant his lips on yours. It started slow but very deliberate, he was soft but sturdy, your knees felt weak and you could feel him holding you up with the strength of his arm alone.

He took more initiative in the kiss and started taking control, his tongue now fighting for dominance in your mouth and he pulled you down into a straddling position on to his lap, never breaking apart. The more intense he got the more inhaled and exhaled sharply, the breathing made it all so much hotter. He started kissing down your neck, using his hands to guide which way you leaned your head to receive him.

He got to your ear and whispered , “I wanted you the second I saw you”, and started kissing and licking your collarbone, “you’re so perfect” he said into your neck before biting and sucking at various spots. While he worked on a particular part of your neck – biting and sucking, making you moan his name. He started to lower your bathing suit strap to reveal your soft wet breasts.

He looked at you as he kissed down your chest and gently placed it in his mouth, sucking and licking at the nipple making you thrash in excitement. You moaned his name out loud again, he switched to the other breast with the same licking and sucking motion while using his hand to play with the nipple of the other. You felt a rush when he moaned, it sent a vibration through your body that you felt it below.

He was so attuned with your body, he knew you could feel the excitement pooling down there and went to feel you over the bathing suit down there. Your back arched the second he touched you, your breath shaky. You locked lips again as he continued to graze it.

Just as you went to reach down to feel him hard through his trunks, the camp alarm sounded, calling everyone back to the main area. The rudeness of the alarm made you two separate and understand what you were really doing.

When you both come down from the euphoric feeling of being wrapped up in another stranger, you pulled your straps back up to cover yourself and he helped you off him. He pushed the chair back, you grabbed the towels both of you came in with and left, not saying a word.

When you joined the group again, you had to sit with your team. You and Nicholas found Cooper and sat on either side of him, typically you had been in the middle of them two but you needed a little distance from Nicholas at the moment.

“You guys are still in your swim stuff? I saw you guys wrapped up earlier than us” Cooper genuinely asked

There was a pause that needed to be filled, you went to speak but Nicholas also started, you both stopped and almost started again and then stopped fully and there was another long pause

“Oh no that's fine, that’s totally how normal people answer a question” Cooper said sarcastically.

---

The next day of training, returners and new counselors had separate schedules. This was perfect because after yesterday, it’s not that you were avoiding Nicholas but you certainly needed a break and time to process how this all progressed so quickly.

That night, in the cafeteria certain counselors signed up for different kitchen shifts, you and Cooper got put on clean up duty. When dinner was wrapping up Nicholas hung around for as long as possible. It wasn’t weird, there was an energy between you two but mostly he just hung around to talk to Cooper. You kept a distance and participated in the conversation from afar.

Cooper went to the back to handle the trashtrash and you were clearing off tables. Nicholas stood up to leave and called you over. You didn't know what he was going to say, was he going to ask you why haven't we talked? Does he want to have sex? Does he have a girlfriend? Every thought ran through your mind as you walked over to him from a few tables over.

You got to him and asked “what’s up?” he paused, stood up and looked down at you. He used his fingers to lift your face in his direction and planted another kiss on you right then and there, without a care in the world. His lips were soft and plush, you felt yourself melt into him from how smooth it was.

“Let me know if we’re doing another sweet treat run tonight” he said just a few inches from your mouth and walked out.

You were floored, who is this man? That kiss was so comfortable, as if you were his and he was yours. It felt natural and right to him.

You wiped down the counters while Cooper stocked and organized supplies for the next day’s meals, the silence between them was oddly comfortable. From the second you met them both Nicholas was a little harder to read and you felt like you had to do a little more to get his attention. Not that you necessarily wanted his attention but with Cooper, he immediately opened up. He was warm, comforting and quiet. He just felt safe.

When everything was done, you and Cooper sat on top of a table while the floors dried and ate ice cream. You couldn’t help but smile at him as he sat across from you criss-cross apple sauce style, him being easily over 6 ft and sitting to make himself look small was so endearing.

The more you talked the smaller the distance grew between you two. Your knees were touching and he was stroking your leg as you both continued talking, doting into each other’s eyes.

He glanced at you, a small smile playing at his lips. “You know, you’re probably the most beautiful person I’ve met.”

You raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “Where’s this coming from?”

He finished his cone just in time to place both hands on your legs while he answered. His hands were large and strong, with veins subtly tracing the surface, hinting at a quiet power beneath his skin. The rough texture of his palms contrasted with the smoothness of his long fingers, which moved with a practiced, almost careful grace. There was something magnetic about the way they flexed, confident and capable, as if they knew exactly how to hold the world—firm, yet gentle.

“Just being honest. You’ve been, like… really good to me since day one. Everyone here is nice but you and Nick have made me feel comfortable here”, he said through a smile.

His words made your heart skip, but you tried to play it cool. “I mean, I hope you gave Nicholas thanks like this too, don’t want him feeling left out.” you let out a laugh and so did he.

“No, but it’s different with you,” he said, and this time, he didn’t look away. “I was nervous as hell coming here, and I wasn’t expecting anyone to make it easier, but you did. I didn’t feel out of place with you around. You’re, like, ridiculously sweet and also…” He trailed off, eyes scanning your face like he was debating how much to say. “You’re also, like, the most attractive person here.”

Suddenly you were in the same position you were in with Nicohlas in the shed, a moment of silence where nothing needed to be said, only action needed to be taken.

Copper leaned forward and quietly said, “I’m gonna kiss you now”

He leaned in slowly, his breath warm against your lips as he hesitated for a moment, savoring the closeness. His kiss started soft, tentative, like he was afraid to rush it, each movement deliberate and tender. His lips were gentle against yours, almost shy, and you could feel the slightest tremble in his touch. But as you pressed closer, he exhaled, letting go of his nerves, and the kiss deepened naturally. He found his rhythm, and what began as slow and cautious soon turned into something warmer, more fluid, their lips moving together with a sweet, unhurried certainty.

You felt his one hand on your thigh and the other slipped under your shirt, warm and steady against your skin. His fingers curled against your side, massaging gently as he explored the curve of your waist. Slowly, he moved his hand upward, caressing your breasts with a careful touch, his thumb tracing soft, deliberate circles until your body relaxed into his hands.

'Is this okay?' Cooper pulled away from the kiss, his forehead resting lightly against yours as he searched your eyes, his voice soft and filled with concern. The tenderness in his question only made you want him more."

You nodded, your breath hitching as his lips found yours again, this time with more confidence. His hand slipped back under your shirt, his movements unhurried but more intentional now, as though he wanted to savor every second of the moment. His thumb brushed across your skin, sending little sparks through your body, and you leaned into his touch, your hands finding their way to his hair. You tugged gently, and he let out a low, quiet groan that only made you pull him closer.

Cooper’s kisses grew deeper, more fluid as he relaxed into it, his earlier nervousness melting away. His hand continued to explore, fingertips dancing across your body as if he was learning every inch of you. There was something almost reverent in the way he touched you—gentle but filled with intent, as though he couldn’t believe this moment was real. He pulled you closer, his lips moving from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath warm and steady against your skin as he took his time, each kiss slower than the last.

'You’re incredible,' he whispered against your neck, his voice rough with affection. The way he said it, so soft and unassuming, made your heart swell, and in that moment, you knew that every touch, every kiss, was laced with more than just desire.

You felt wrap his hands around you and he shifted his position to lay you down gently on the table. He continued kissing you on your neck, whispering praises softly in your ear while his hands smoothly roamed your body, “you’re so perfect”, “I need you”, “you’re a goddess”.

You felt his hand go lower and lower on your body until he got to your waistband. He pulled from the passionate kiss to look at you, he thought you were so beautiful in this moment. Frazzled from his passion, your eyes begging him to keep going. His fingers slipped into your shorts, but stopped, “are you sure?” Cooper asked you again, wanting to make sure you felt safe.

You pulled him down on top of you to kiss again and pushed his hand down so his fingers just grazed over the clit. His fingers continued to massage your area, with each pass you moaned into his mouth. Your kisses became deeper and frantic as you struggled to keep from completely unraveling from him.

“Let go for me baby”, he said with his forehead resting on yours. Before you could catch your breath his hand went lower and he angled his fingers at your entrance, your back arched in anticipation.

He pulled back completely so he could see your reaction to his fingers slipping inside if you. He traced around your entrance a little before slipping in his middle finger. You gasped and shuttered as his finger moved in and out, your moans turned to whimpers as he slipped in another finger.

You moaned out his name as his fingers curled inside of you hitting your spot. You had no control of your body, your body spasming from his touch which was getting deeper and faster by the minute, you were moaning so loud you didn’t care who heard you and your hands searched for some part of him to touch to return the favor. You reached out for his waistband, his hard member was pressed against his pants. You wanted to make him feel as good as he made you.

Just as you were about to return the favor, the camp alarm went off for a final roll call for bed. You and Cooper froze, reality settling back in as you both quickly gathered yourselves, adjusting clothes and catching your breath.

Cooper sat back with a sheepish grin, running a hand through his hair. 'I guess I got a little carried away,' he admitted, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he glanced at you, clearly still processing everything.

You smiled back, your heart still racing but now more from the situation than the moment before. 'It’s fine,' you said with a light shrug, your voice playful. 'It was fun... and now I think the favor's officially been returned for being so sweet.'

He let out a low chuckle, his eyes soft and warm as he looked at you.

---

A few days had passed, and while you hadn't been actively avoiding Cooper or Nicholas, you also hadn’t been seeking them out either. You needed a moment to clear your head after everything, to let the tension simmer down before the campers arrived. Still, you didn’t want things to feel awkward, so you invited them over to your cabin to help put together goodie bags for the kids. Your cabin mate was out for the night, so you even suggested they sleep over since their cabins were farther away. It was a subtle effort to show them you were cool, if they were cool. Even though every time one of them shifted closer, the heat between your legs was impossible to ignore.

You all worked in a comfortable rhythm, talking and laughing as you assembled the bags, until a song came on that sent Nicholas into nostalgic mode. His eyes lit up, and with a grin, he said, "This song always reminds me of my first kiss." You laughed.

Nicholas leaned back, his eyes dreamy with the memory. "Middle school. At a dance. I was so nervous I almost missed her lips entirely."

The three of you burst into laughter, and soon the conversation flowed into everyone sharing their stories, one kiss memory after another. Cooper shared about his first kiss behind the bleachers at a football game, and you talked about a spontaneous kiss under the basement steps of your friends’ house with her hot older brother. The mood was light and fun, each of you enjoying the trip down memory lane.

But then Cooper, ever the curious one, leaned forward, his tone more playful than usual. "So... has anyone here fooled around at camp before?" The question hung in the air for a moment, and you could feel the tension shift. You knew exactly why you were feeling awkward, but you noticed Nicholas’s smirk almost instantly. His eyes flicked between you and Cooper, as though daring one of you to speak first.

You opened your mouth, not entirely sure what you were going to say, when Nicholas took the chance. "Actually," he began, leaning forward with a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I’ve done it twice already. And both of them are in this room."

Your eyes shot open, heart hammering in your chest as you whipped your gaze to Nicholas. Cooper let out a surprised laugh, and for a moment, you were too stunned to speak. Wait—Cooper already knew? Your mind raced to piece it all together, the realization dawning on you like a light bulb flicking on. You’d hooked up with Nicholas. Cooper knew. And they had hooked up too?

"Hold up," you finally managed to say, your voice a mix of shock and curiosity. "You two—?"

Nicholas nodded, leaning back with an easy confidence, clearly enjoying your reaction. "After arts and crafts clean-up a few days ago," he said, glancing at Cooper with a smirk. "We were the only ones left in the room, and we ended up in that tiny back closet putting away supplies…”

Cooper chimed in, chuckling. "It was kind of inevitable. I mean, we were basically on top of each other. And then... one thing led to another. I pulled his shirt off and started kissing chest. He kissed down my neck. Mouths went places, hands went places and rest is a fogged up window.”

Your mind spun, trying to wrap around the image of Nicholas and Cooper together. You could practically picture it—the tension, the closeness, the heat of the moment in the small, confined space.

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise between the three of you again, but this time it was different. This wasn’t about embarrassment anymore—it was curiosity, excitement, a shared secret now out in the open.

Cooper and Nicholas exchanged a glance before bursting out into laughter. Cooper was the first to speak. "Oh, it was obvious," he said, still chuckling. "When you came to the camp meeting that day after special classes, the hickies already started forming on your neck. You weren’t exactly subtle."

Nicholas leaned forward with a mischievous grin. "And I tried to come back to the dining hall after I left that night you two had clean up duty and I heard you two making out in the distance, so I turned right back around."

The three of you erupted into laughter, the kind that shakes your whole body and makes your cheeks hurt. It was funny now, how you’d all tiptoed around it, trying to keep it secret when in reality, none of you had been fooling anyone.

When the laughter finally died down, Nicholas’s curiosity took over. "Okay, so... real talk. Who do you prefer more?" His eyes sparkled with playful competitiveness, and he leaned back with a smirk, clearly ready for whatever answer you had.

Cooper grinned, nudging your shoulder. "Yeah, no pressure, but... we’re all dying to know."

You couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it was—being asked to choose between them like it was some kind of game. You paused for a moment, then gave a mock-serious look as you made a reference only you could deliver. "You know, it feels like Tyra Banks standing here with two contestants in front of her, and only one can stay."

Cooper burst out laughing, recognizing the reference immediately. "No way, you’re not about to do an America’s Next Top Model elimination on us right now!"

You grinned, savoring the dramatic moment. "But if I had to choose..." you began, your eyes darting between them, building suspense. Finally, you pointed to Cooper. "It’s you."

Cooper jumped up from the floor, arms raised in victory. "Yes! I knew it!" he shouted, dancing around the room like he’d just won a championship. Nicholas, meanwhile, was in mock shock, his mouth hanging open as he smiled at the absurdity of it all.

"You’ve got to be kidding me!" Nicholas exclaimed, shaking his head with a grin. "I thought I had this in the bag!"

You laughed, trying to calm the chaos around you. "Hooking up with you, Nick, was fun and spontaneous. But Cooper..." you turned to Cooper, who was still grinning like an idiot, "...was gentle, tender, and made me feel really special."

Cooper shrugged nonchalantly, though the satisfaction was clear on his face. "What can I say? I just know how to make a woman feel special."

Nicholas rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, leaning closer to you. "Okay, fine. But..." he gave you that familiar smirk, "...if you let me have another shot, I can be gentle too."

You raised an eyebrow, curious. "Oh, yeah? You think so?"

He nodded, the playful tone in his voice now edged with something more serious. "Absolutely. If you’ll let me."

You smiled and nodded, your body buzzing with excitement. "Okay, I’m down."

With that, Nicholas took your hand and guided you to the bed. He sat down next to you and this time, there was no rush, no quick or hurried movements. He was slow, deliberate, his hands softer as they found your waist and pulled you gently toward him. He kissed you with a tenderness you hadn’t felt from him before, each movement careful, as though he was savoring the moment.

The heat between you built gradually, the tension thick in the air but controlled. Nicholas was taking his time, just like he promised. His lips moved against yours with a softness that surprised you, his hand sliding up your side in a slow caress that made your breath hitch. Compared to your first time hooking up, this was different—more intentional, more intimate.

You felt Cooper watching from the other side of the room, clearly entertained but also intrigued. Nicholas’s kiss deepened, but the pace stayed slow, methodical, as he explored every part of you with a newfound gentleness.

"Not bad," Cooper teased from the sidelines, his voice light but clearly enjoying the view. Nicholas smirked against your lips, but didn’t break the kiss, his focus entirely on you. He put his hand on his thigh and started messaging, working his way further and further up.

Nicholas parted from your lips to make his way down your neck. When you first hooked up, he would’ve started biting and sucking but this time he placed soft kisses on your neck, while lightly squeezing your thighs. He whispered in your ear “see, I can be anything you want me to be baby” he nearly whimpered in your ear.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your body quivered in response. You were melting into the moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling, when suddenly, Nicholas pulled away. Your eyes shot open in confusion, the warmth of his body leaving yours too soon.

“Why’d you stop?” you asked, breathless, your lips tingling from his touch.

Nicholas smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Just wanted to show you I could be gentle,” he said with a wink, clearly enjoying how worked up he’d gotten you.

You let out a soft laugh, though you couldn’t help but still want more. “Well, you’ve definitely proven that,” you teased back, a smile tugging at your lips.

Cooper stepped in, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, if we’re all trying new things, maybe it’s time I take a shot at being more... aggressive."

You smiled wide as you agreed, Cooper crossed the room in a few long strides and came to sit next to you on the bed. He gently but firmly grabbed your face, pulling you to his direction. His lips met yours with a fiery intensity, pulling you on top of him and kissing you harder, deeper than before. His hands gripped your hips with a sense of urgency, and he moved faster, more aggressively, his kisses more forceful as he claimed your mouth. The energy was completely different from the gentle, careful approach Nicholas had just taken, but it was equally intoxicating.

You gasped against Cooper’s mouth as he pressed into you, his lips trailing down your neck with no hesitation this time. He kissed you with raw hunger, teeth grazing your skin, his hands roaming your body with confident, demanding touches that sent heat pooling low in your belly. Every move he made was firm, and you could feel the shift in energy—this was Cooper letting go, leaning into the moment with full force.

But out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Nicholas watching from where he stood, his eyes dark with anticipation. His gaze was hungry, eager, as if he didn’t care who he joined in on, just that he wanted to be wrapped between you and Cooper.

Cooper noticed it too, pausing briefly to glance over at Nicholas. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes flashed with a knowing look, as if he was silently inviting Nicholas to join. Then, in one smooth motion, Cooper gently but firmly placed you back on the bed, your body sinking into the softness of the blankets beneath you.

Nicholas didn’t need any further invitation.

He crossed the room and joined you both, sliding onto the bed with that same eager smirk he always wore. Without missing a beat, he moved in close, taking his place on one side of you while Cooper positioned himself on the other. You could feel Nicholas’s breath warm against your skin before his lips pressed to the side of your neck, the same spot Cooper had just claimed moments ago.

The sensation of both of them on either side of you was overwhelming, in the best way possible. Nicholas’s kisses were slow but deliberate, each one more lingering than the last, while Cooper’s lips moved more urgently, as though he couldn’t get enough. You were surrounded by them, their hands tracing up and down your body as their mouths explored your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive spots just below your ear.

Nicholas’s fingers skimmed across your waist, his touch light but teasing, while Cooper’s hand slid down your thigh, squeezing gently. The contrast between the two of them made your heart race, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft, involuntary moan as you sank deeper into the sensation.

“This is what you wanted, right?” Nicholas murmured against your neck, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “Both of us... all over you?”

Before you could answer, Cooper’s lips moved to your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, “Tell us what you like.”

You felt completely overwhelmed, your senses flooded by the way both Cooper and Nicholas were hitting every spot that made your body hum with pleasure. Nicholas's lips left soft, teasing kisses along your collarbone while Cooper’s hands roamed your body, his grip firm and sure. The contrast between their touches, one gentle, one rough, had your heart racing, and you were utterly lost in the sensation.

Needing more, you reached up, grabbing Cooper’s face and pulling him into a heated kiss. You matched his intensity, your lips moving hungrily against his, both of you completely giving in to the moment. His hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you closer, as if he wanted to devour you whole.

Meanwhile, Nicholas’s kisses continued to trail down your shoulder, slow and deliberate, each one sending shivers down your spine. His hands were patient, exploring every inch of your body with a calm but insistent touch, as if he wanted to memorize the way you felt beneath his fingers.

Cooper pulled away just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, and before you could even process it, Nicholas unhooked your bra with expert precision, leaving you bare in front of them. For a second, the weight of their gaze made you feel vulnerable—but the way they looked at you, eyes full of hunger and admiration, made the tension crackle in the air.

Without missing a beat, Nicholas’s lips found their way to your breast, his tongue tracing soft circles before he took your nipple into his mouth. The sensation sent a wave of heat through your body, and you gasped, arching into his touch. His mouth was gentle, but the pressure was enough to make your body ache for more.

At the same time, Cooper’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, biting down just enough to leave a lingering sting that made you squirm in his grasp. His hands explored your back, pulling you flush against him, and every bite, every nip, felt like it was setting your skin on fire.

The combination of Nicholas’s slow, teasing kisses and Cooper’s rough, hungry bites made your mind spin. You could barely keep up with the sensations washing over you, your body reacting to every touch, every kiss, every movement. It was almost too much, but you couldn’t get enough.

“You’re perfect,” Nicholas whispered against your skin, his lips still trailing over your chest. “I could keep doing this all night.”

Cooper smirked against your neck, his hand sliding down your waist. “We might just have to.”.

[ebodebo]

getting high with your brother’s best friend!

"Really shouldn’t let you take a hit, Sweetheart," Jason muses, taking a drag from his blunt as you both sit side by side on your roof.

Your brother had stepped out for a bit, likely to take care of things with his new girlfriend, leaving you alone at home with Jason.

Since your brother had been friends with him for a long time, he felt at ease leaving you two alone together.

Your brother was completely oblivious to your secret crush on his close friend.

After about thirty minutes of Jason clutching the blunt he had prepared for himself and your brother, he quietly made his way up to your roof to indulge.

You followed closely behind, eager to join him.

“Come on, Jason,” you nudge, your eyelashes fluttering. “Don’t go all gentlemanly on me now.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, a cloud of smoke swirling around him as he does so.

Your eyes wander to observe him further.

God, he was so fucking hot.

He had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen, a warm smile that lit up the room, and not to mention his arms.

Fuck his arms.

You swallow hard as you notice his bicep flexing under his short sleeve while he raises the blunt to his lips.

"Have you ever even smoked before?" He asks, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.

You quickly shift your gaze back to his, hoping he didn’t catch you shamelessly checking him out.

“Like once,” you say almost too quickly.

He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“Here,” he says, holding the blunt between his fingers for you to take. “Just don’t take too big of a hit.”

You nod and carefully grab the blunt, placing it between your lips. As you take a deep inhale, you end up coughing hard, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

"You alright?" Jason asks earnestly, taking the blunt from your trembling hands with one hand while his other gently rubs your back to ease your coughs.

You nod your head vigorously as the coughing dies down, making an effort to ignore the way Jason’s hand seems to brush against your bare back, even through your shirt.

“No more for you,” he teased, a smile dancing on his lips.

You let out one last cough. “Will I even feel it?”

“Yeah,” he replies, taking another drag from the blunt that now rests between his lips.

“You’ll feel it.”

That was about ten hits ago.

While most of them were Jason's, you still managed to snag a few for yourself.

Your brother sent a text saying that he had to handle an emergency—most likely something related to his overly attached girlfriend—and that he would return as soon as he could.

You and Jason were sprawled out on the roof, the blunt long gone and nothing but silence hanging in the air.

Your body felt weighed down, as if you could simply plunge through the metal roof and drop into the room below.

Meanwhile, your head spun mercilessly, even when you weren’t moving an inch.

“How’s Cock?” Jason's voice broke the silence.

You turn your head to his direction, your cheek pressed against the chilly shingles of the roof.

“Jason,” you respond, a touch of frustration in your voice, but a hint of humor plays on your lips. “You know his name is Brock.”

“Sure, Brock, whatever you say,” he replies, playfully rolling his eyes. “How's he doing?”

You chuckled softly. “To be honest, I’m surprised that you even care about his well-being.”

“I don’t. Just trying to make conversation,” he replies with a shrug, his tone dry.

You shift your gaze to the stars sparkling overhead. “I can’t say how he’s doing,” you say slowly. “We broke things off like two weeks ago.”

Jason looks at you in disbelief. “No shit?”

You glimpse at his confused expression before turning entirely on your side to face him. “Yeah,” you exhale. “I found him kissing another girl in his dorm.”

Jason thinks for a moment. “Want me to kick his ass for you?” He asks, his sincerity evident in the tone of his voice.

You grin. “Nah. He’ll get his karma.”

“I still don’t see what you saw in him,” Jason remarked after a moment, tilting his head to gaze at the sky.

"Honestly, me neither," you chuckle, closing your eyes as your laughter drifts on, lingering for quite a while.

Jason lets out a chuckle in response to your extended laughter.

You double over, still gasping with laughter. “You know he was jealous of you?”

Jason playfully rolls his eyes, a broad smile still lighting up his face from your contagious laughter.

“Yeah, right,” he responds with a teasing tone.

"He really was," you affirm, the laughter finally subsiding as your hand softly lands on his forearm.

You’re so high that you can’t even feel your touch on him or even recognize the effect you have on him.

"He always used to say that I had a crush on you," you reply.

“Did he now?” he inquires, doing his best to ignore the way your hand lightly brushes against his forearm.

“Oh my God, yes!” you exclaim, your fingers gliding gently over his skin.

Jason ponders a moment, swallowing hard before he speaks.

"Well...did you?" he asks, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Your gaze shifts to his, a look of confusion on your face. “Did I what?”

“Christ. You’re so high,” he says with a grin.

"How is it that I’m higher than you when you’ve taken more hits?" You inquire, puzzled.

“You’re just not used to it,” he responds, his voice wavering a bit as your fingertips glide along his arm.

“Made a habit of smoking, have you?” you tease, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“Something like that, I guess,” he says with a grin.

“What were you asking me earlier?” You glance up at him, your eyes feeling a bit heavy.

Jason’s gaze meets yours. “Oh, um—nothing.”

Your fingers trail down to his, playing with them.

“Tell me,” you whisper softly.

“I—I can’t remember,” he stammers.

“Shut up! Yes, you do,” you say, a wide grin stretching across your face. “Just tell me,” you press again.

Jason’s eyes drift to your lips for a second before coming back to your bright eyes on him.

“I just—did you ever, you know, have a crush on me?” Jason asks, clearly feeling a bit awkward.

You chuckled softly, causing Jason to shift noticeably in discomfort.

Your focus shifts back to him, and his discomfort is evident. "Sorry. I just thought it was so obvious," you say, your fingers still gently toying with his.

“I had no idea,” he says, letting out a quiet sigh of relief inside.

“Really?” You inquire, casually leaning in closer to him without even realizing it.

“Yeah. Had no idea,” he exhales. “Wait, why?”

Your face breaks into a playful grin. “What do you mean ‘why’ you’re ridiculously hot?” You exclaim, a hint of laughter in your voice.

“Am I now?” He murmurs, his gaze fixated on your lips.

“Mhm. And you’ve got a nice smile,” you say, unaware that you’ve slipped into the present tense, completely oblivious to his gaze fixated on your lips.

"Yeah?" He prodes, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.

“And pretty eyes,” you tack on, fingers coming up to drag up his arms.

“Mhm,” he murmurs, his eyelids drooping lazily to halfway cover his eyes at your gentle touch.

Your gaze trails your fingers as they glide up his arms, pausing at his bicep. "And big arms."

Jason leans in before you can say another word, and his lips softly meet yours.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as your hand caresses his cheek, deepening the kiss.

His hand gently rests on your waist as your lips move in perfect sync, but you pull back slightly.

“Your lips are so soft,” you whisper against his, a smile playing on your face. “Knew they would be.”

Jason can’t shake the stupid smile that spreads across his face before he leans in and presses his lips gently against yours.

You and Jason linger in your kiss for a bit longer until he spots familiar headlights making their way down the road toward your house.

Jason pulls back abruptly, swearing under his breath. “Shit,” he mutters, rubbing his hand across his face. “Fuck.”

“Wha—what?” You ask in surprise.

“Roy’s gonna kill me,” Jason mutters.

That has you flicking your attention to the street seeing the same headlights Jason saw.

It was your brother driving up.

And you and Jason were up on the roof.

Alone.

Kissing.

“Oh no,” you groan, sitting up too abruptly before easing yourself back down again.

“You okay?” Jason asks, his tone filled with concern as he slowly rises to his feet.

“He—he can’t find out,” you say franticallly.

Jason leans in slightly, his hand brushing gently against your cheek. “Hey—hey. It’s alright. He won’t, I promise,” he assures.

"Come on, I’ll help you through the window," he says, gently lifting you up and guiding you as you slip through the opening.

“Jason,” you say, as he helps you settle down onto your bed.

“Yeah?” He asks, his gaze fixed intently on yours.

“Are we, like, dating now?” Your tone is earnest as you lay entirely on your bed.

He chuckles softly, his breath catching for a moment. "You're too high to be making those kinds of decisions, Sweetheart."

“You're high too, Jason,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I really like you.”

“We’ll talk when we’re both sober. Okay?” He suggests gently. “I’ll swing by to check on you later, alright?” He adds reassuringly, planting a soft kiss on your head.

You give a reluctant nod before he quietly slips out of your room. With your eyes closed, you eventually drift off to sleep.

Jason held true to his promise and quietly slipped away to check on you, even laying a soft blanket over you.

Perhaps he lingered for a moment to share his feelings, but you would have no way of knowing since you were sound asleep.

Or were you?

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[brunchable]

It's not a Meet-𝑪𝒖𝒕𝒆, it's a Meet-𝗨𝗴𝗹𝘆. 《Chapter 3: Kibble Thief. 》

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: It's not a meet-cute, it's a meet ugly, Grumpy Meets ✨️Sunshine✨️, Opposites Attract, Sassy Pet Matchmaker, Enemies-to-Lovers (Lite), Destined to meet again, Bucky is a hidden softie. Summary: Who gets the last Kibble in the grocery store? Rock-Paper-Scissors should settle that. A/N: This story will be OUTSIDE of MCU but Bucky's traits will be mixed comics/mcu. Also this will be updated every FRIDAY(AEST). I hope I tagged everyone? Credits to me for the Banner lmfao. credits to @ khaer for the divider.

The Emporium NYC bustled with the usual morning energy—customers browsing, displays perfectly set up, and staff ensuring everything was running smoothly. You strolled through, heels clicking softly against the polished floor as Lincoln, Maddie, and Rachel trailed behind, taking notes and addressing finer details, from updating store layouts to planning promotional events for the upcoming season. Officially the new CEO, you’d be overseeing each component, ensuring the customer experience was flawless, from aesthetics to the efficiency of operations.

As you rounded a corner, you came to an abrupt stop, causing your small entourage to halt behind you. There, by one of the benches near a fountain, was Bucky. He was crouched down, helping an elderly woman with her shopping bags, his eyes crinkling as he laughed at something she’d said. The sight of him, relaxed and genuinely grinning, made you pause, head tilting in mild fascination.

Bucky was… peculiar. You couldn’t quite pin down why; there was something about the way he carried himself that seemed at odds with the man you’d met—reserved and gruff, yet here he was, all warmth and easy charm. He looked completely at ease, like he belonged in this gentle moment, laughing softly with an elderly stranger.

You stood there, watching him as if trying to solve a puzzle. How could someone be so closed off one moment and so approachable the next?

A hand suddenly waved in front of your face, snapping you back to reality.

“Hey, you okay?” Lincoln asked, raising an eyebrow with a curious look.

“Oh!” You blinked, catching yourself. “Yeah, just… observing,” you replied with a small smile, glancing back at Bucky, who was still chuckling with the elderly woman, completely unaware of his unexpected audience.

After a moment, Bucky stood up, giving the elderly woman a warm smile as he handed her bags back. She patted his arm gratefully, and he gave a small nod before turning around, his gaze sweeping over the bustling mall.

Just as he glanced in your direction, he caught sight of your back as you continued walking, your little group following closely behind. From his angle, all he could see was the silhouette of a well-dressed woman in heels, surrounded by assistants, her focus already directed ahead, purposefully striding through the mall. He raised an eyebrow, thinking for a moment that the figure seemed familiar, but brushed it off.

Bucky continued his stroll, unaware that he’d just missed you by a few paces, each of you none the wiser to the other’s presence.

× × × × 

Back in your office—a space designed with clean lines, muted tones, and an impeccable sense of style—you sat at your desk, but your mind was elsewhere. The memory of Bucky by the fountain lingered, refusing to fade. You twirled a pen between your fingers, the rhythmic motion doing little to refocus your thoughts.

Through the glass wall, you caught sight of Lincoln, busy at his desk just outside. His head was bent over paperwork, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up as he worked. With a small sigh, you picked up the telephone on your desk, dialing his extension. A moment later, Lincoln’s phone buzzed, and he glanced your way before answering.

“Yeah, boss?” he asked, voice carrying just the slightest edge of curiosity.

“Can you come in here for a sec?” you replied, keeping your tone casual.

“Sure,” he said, hanging up before making his way into your office. He closed the door behind him with a quiet click, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the back of the chair opposite your desk. “Something the matter?”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before speaking. “You mentioned before that you’re into the Avengers, right?”

Lincoln blinked, looking slightly taken aback by the unexpected question. “Uh… yeah, I guess you could say that. Why?”

You leaned back in your chair, tapping the pen lightly against the armrest. “Is there a guy named Bucky? Perhaps?”

Lincoln’s expression shifted, a look of recognition crossing his features. 

“Yeah, there’s definitely a Bucky,” he replied, nodding slowly. “Bucky Barnes—also known as the Winter Soldier. Kind of a big deal, depending on how much of a fan you are.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden enthusiasm. “Go on.”

“He’s Steve Rogers’ best friend and has, uh… kind of a complicated past. He has a bionic arm too—I heard they had to use the mind stone to remove the brainwashing a long time ago so yeah, that’s him—definitely has that ‘badass with a heart of gold’ type.”

Lincoln looked at you, curiosity clearly growing. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing,” you replied, shrugging as casually as possible. “Just curious.”

Lincoln narrowed his eyes suspiciously, crossing his arms as he gave you a skeptical once-over. After a moment, he leaned forward, clearly not about to let it go entirely. 

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

You cleared your throat, attempting to change the topic. “So… who do you like better? Bucky or, you know… Captain America?”

Lincoln didn’t hesitate. “Bucky, hands down. He’s cool.” He grinned, adding, “I mean, come on. Vibranium arm—but I don’t think he’s actively working anymore, probably laying low.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “I see… well, thanks for the info.”

With a smirk, Lincoln shrugged, giving you one last curious glance before heading for the door. As he left, you spun your pen between your fingers, lingering in thought for a moment. Finally, with a small sigh, you turned your attention to the computer and typed in Bucky Barnes into the search bar, curiosity getting the better of you.

× × × × 

After a long day at work, you decided to stop by Rhys’ office unannounced. Frustration lingered in your chest; he’d been dodging your calls and texts all day, and the unanswered questions had built a subtle tension you were eager to resolve. As much as you tried to brush it off, a part of you felt that familiar pang of disappointment, wondering if he’d really be there for you this time or if the gala would end up as another solo appearance.

Dressed in a high-waisted pencil skirt and a relaxed-fit blouse tucked neatly in, you’d opted for professional yet effortlessly striking. As you stepped into his office, Rhys’ gaze flickered up, eyebrows lifting as his eyes ran from your heels to the curve of your shoulders, lingering slightly longer than necessary before he met your gaze.

“Hey,” he greeted, leaning back in his chair, a hint of surprise coloring his voice. “Didn’t know you’d be stopping by.”

You gave him a small, tired smile, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. 

“Thought I’d save myself another text,” you replied lightly. “So, will you be coming to the gala next week?”

He sighed, glancing at his computer screen. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. I’ll try my best, but you know how it is. Busy, busy.”

Before you could reply, you noticed a figure off to the side, stacking a pile of files on a desk across the room. A young woman you didn’t recognize, dressed in a polished but slightly over-eager way. There was something oddly familiar about her—the way she held herself, the slight flicker of recognition as she glanced over at you before quickly averting her eyes.

Turning back to Rhys, you tilted your head, gesturing subtly toward her. “New assistant?” you asked, your tone light but curious.

Rhys glanced over, nodding. “Yeah, that’s Carly. She just started. Great addition to the team, very… efficient.”

Carly offered a polite smile, though her gaze didn’t quite meet yours. The vague familiarity nagged at you, but you pushed it aside, refocusing on Rhys.

“Don’t you think going to the gala with me is a good way to make it up to me?” you asked, keeping your tone light but with an edge.

Rhys sighed, leaning back in his chair, looking almost exasperated. “Baby, we went to dinner, I bought you flowers… I thought we were over that already.”

A flash of irritation sparked within you, but with his employees nearby, you bit your tongue, choosing to keep things civil. Instead, you offered a tight smile. 

“Alright. Then just cancel our weekend together,” you said, tone even as you reached for your phone, texting Lincoln to prepare the car. Without waiting for a response, you turned to walk toward the door.

Rhys, visibly frustrated, hurried after you, catching your arm gently but firmly, turning you around to face him. 

“Are you seriously going to act like this?” he demanded, his voice low but laced with annoyance.

“Act like what?” you replied, voice steady, but the tension between you was palpable. “Do you not like your own medicine?”

Rhys’ jaw tightened as he released your arm, his gaze hardening. He looked like he wanted to argue but held back, glancing briefly over his shoulder at his employees before forcing a smile.

Rhys let out a frustrated huff, his expression twisting as he tried to maintain his composure. “This is being petty. I have a few deadlines, alright?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “So do I, and yet I’m going,” you replied, your tone sharp but controlled.

He let out a mirthless chuckle, rubbing a hand over his jaw as if trying to rein in his frustration. 

“Look, it’s not the same,” he muttered. “You don’t understand the pressure I’m under right now.”

You shook your head, the familiar sting of disappointment returning. 

“No, Rhys. I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand,” you said quietly. “Just—just keep your bare minimum away from me. I want someone who shows up with passion, not just a shrug.”

He opened his mouth, as if to argue, but you were done. Turning on your heel, you strode toward the elevator, leaving him standing in the hallway, his employees glancing away awkwardly, pretending not to notice the heated exchange.

As the elevator doors closed in front of you, you took a steadying breath, focusing on the feeling of moving forward.

× × × ×

The grocery store was surprisingly packed for a weekday evening, but you only had one item left on your list: Figaro’s favorite premium kibble. He definitely knows his social ranks for a feline. After a few minutes of searching, you finally spotted the last bag on the top shelf, wedged annoyingly out of reach. Standing on tiptoe, you stretched your arm, fingers just barely grazing the edge of the bag. No luck.

With a sigh, you jumped a little, just enough to brush the bottom of the bag but not quite enough to grab it. Just as you were about to give it one last try, an arm reached out beside you, snatching the bag with ease.

“Oh, thank you—” You turned, half-expecting to see a store employee, but froze when you realized it was Bucky, he looked at you, an eyebrow raised, holding the bag as if he were contemplating your gratitude.

“Thanks,” you said with a polite smile, reaching for it. But he didn’t hand it over.

“What?” he asked, looking down at the bag, then back at you. “Did you think I got this for you?”

“Obviously?” you replied, exasperated. “I was reaching for it!”

Bucky tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Yeah, I saw. Looked like quite a struggle.”

You huffed, hands on your hips. “So you just saw a lady struggling and thought, ‘Nah, I’ll just grab my own and let her suffer?’”

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you with mock seriousness. 

“In my defense, I was here to buy cat food too. And besides,” he said, holding the bag up a little higher, “I’m the one who actually got it off the shelf.”

Your jaw dropped as you let out a disbelieving scoff. “So, what? You think you can just keep it?”

Bucky shrugged, giving the bag a little shake. “I don’t know… I think Alpine would be pretty disappointed if I came home empty-handed.”

“Oh, really? Well, Figaro’s basically feline royalty, so he deserves the best. And I was here first, thank you very much.” You narrowed your eyes, refusing to back down.

“Sure, you were here first. But I was the one who reached it.” He leaned back a bit, arms crossed, clearly enjoying this. 

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, reaching up again, trying to snag it from his grip.

He pulled it just out of reach with a faint teasing smirk. “You know, if you tried a little jump, you might actually get it.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you call me a Trash Panda?! You’re the one robbing me in public.”

He shrugged, looking you over with a mockingly thoughtful expression. “Well, if you could use those same Trash Panda skills you talked about, maybe you’d actually reach it.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying I should just climb the shelves?” You bit back a laugh, folding your arms with a challenging look.

“Hey, if the trash panda mask fits…” he replied, smirking.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, shaking your head. “Well, guess what, I’m not giving up. Figaro needs this kibble, so… how about we make a deal?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“Rock, paper, scissors. Best two out of three. Winner takes the kibble.”

He chuckled, clearly amused. “You serious?”

“As a heart attack,” you replied, holding out your hand, already set on rock.

He sighed dramatically but held out his fist. “Alright.”

You both counted off—“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”—and threw your choices. First round: you threw rock, he threw scissors.

“Ha! One for Figaro,” you said, grinning triumphantly as Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Beginner’s luck,” he muttered, shifting his stance.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” you both chanted again. This time, you threw paper, but he threw scissors, a sly smirk pulling at his lips.

“Looks like Alpine’s back in the game,” he said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

You narrowed your eyes. “Fine. One to one. This is for all the kibble, Barnes.”

You both held your fists out one last time, tension building as you chanted together, “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

You threw scissors… and his hand did some weird, twisty thing that didn’t look like a fist or open palm. It seemed to morph into rock at the last second.

You stared at his hand, utterly perplexed. “Hold on. What… what was that?”

He cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face as he straightened his hand into a proper rock. “Uh, rock.”

You squinted at him, highly suspicious. “That didn’t look like rock. That looked like some sort of… ninja move.”

“Rock. Fair and square.” He shrugged, deadpan. 

“Fair and square?” you repeated, scandalized. “You hesitated! I saw it. There was… like, a split-second where it was maybe paper or… or spaghetti hand. You can’t just—”

“Ha!—” he laughed suddenly, clutching the bag triumphantly. “Looks like Alpine’s getting her dinner after all.” Realizing he’d let his competitive amusement slip, he quickly cleared his throat and returned to his usual deadpan expression. “Uh, like I said. Rock.”

You gasped, pointing a dramatic finger at him. “Cheater! This is an outrage. Figaro and I will be filing an official complaint.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, barely hiding a grin as he clutched the kibble bag like a prize. “Good luck with that, Trash Panda. You know where to find me.”

“W-what?! This is unacceptable!”

He gave you a mock salute, turning to leave with the bag held victoriously at his side. “See you around. Better luck next time.”

× × × ×

You finally made it back home, juggling grocery bags as you stepped through the door. After Bucky’s so-called “victory” over the last bag of Figaro’s kibble, you’d stubbornly marched to a different grocery store just to get the brand he liked. And now, as you set down the bags, you couldn’t help but grumble, still ‘annoyed’ by the whole ordeal.

“Can you believe that guy, Figaro?” you muttered, pulling out the new bag of kibble and placing it on the counter. “Rock, paper, scissors? And don’t get me started on his weird ‘ninja rock’ move.”

Figaro, who’d been lounging on the windowsill, perked up at the mention of his name, giving you a lazy blink. He trotted over, sniffing at the bag with casual curiosity, clearly more interested in the kibble than your grocery drama.

“Yeah, I know, buddy,” you sighed, scratching his ears. “I went through all that trouble just to get this for you. Because some self-proclaimed ‘cat dad’ thought it was funny to mess with me.”

Figaro blinked at you slowly, his usual regal, unbothered expression intact.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” you continued, almost indignant. “He was laughing at me—like, actually laughing! And then he tried to pretend he didn’t. I swear, the nerve…”

You opened the bag, pouring a small amount into Figaro’s dish. He immediately sauntered over, sniffing it appreciatively before settling down to eat, clearly oblivious to your rant.

You huffed, pacing around the kitchen as you continued your one-sided conversation. “And then, he had the audacity to call me a Trash Panda. A Trash Panda, Figaro! Just because I had to take the recycling out one time. If anything, he’s the one acting like a sneaky raccoon, hoarding all the kibble.”

Figaro paused mid-chew, glancing up at you with a flick of his tail, as if he were considering whether to care about your grievances. Ultimately, though, he resumed eating, clearly finding the kibble well worth your extra trip.

“Glad you’re satisfied, at least,” you muttered, watching him with an exasperated smile. “But just so you know, if I run into him again, there’s no way he’s winning round two. Trash Panda, my foot.”

You sighed, finally plopping down on the couch. As you closed your eyes, Figaro leapt up, curling onto your lap, purring as if to say, You did well. Now, keep that kibble coming.

With a chuckle, you scratched behind his ears. “Yeah, yeah. All for you, buddy.”

× × × ×

Bucky unlocked his apartment door, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The memory of his grocery store “win” replayed in his mind, and he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he thought of you muttering something about a “trash panda” rebellion. But as he stepped inside, his good mood was interrupted by a startling sight.

There, sitting casually on his couch, was Nick Fury, his signature eyepatch and stoic expression in place as he stroked Alpine, who lounged contentedly on his lap, purring like she’d known him her whole life.

“Fury?” Bucky’s voice was laced with a mixture of irritation and surprise as he closed the door, eyeing the uninvited guest warily. “Breaking into people’s apartments now, are we?”

Fury didn’t look up, still scratching Alpine’s ears. “Didn’t break in. Used the spare key you left at the front desk. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Bucky sighed, leaning back against the door. “Something tells me you didn’t swing by just to bond with my cat.”

Finally, Fury looked up, his expression as unreadable as ever. 

“Got a job for you,” he said, straight to the point. “Nothing big. Need someone with your… skill set. It’s important.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “So, you need me for a mission?”

Fury gave a curt nod, placing a slim folder on the coffee table in front of him. “Consider it a favor. Low profile, nothing flashy. Think of it as keeping yourself sharp.”

Bucky looked at the file, then back at Fury, giving a single, firm nod, his expression resolute. 

“Alright.”

A flicker of satisfaction passed over Fury’s face. “Good. Figured you’d see it that way,” he said, standing up and straightening his coat. “Call it… preventative maintenance.”

Bucky gave him a sarcastic smile. “Good to know you’re looking out for me.”

Fury adjusted his collar, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t get used to it.”

With that, Fury headed for the door, but he paused, glancing back as if he’d forgotten something. 

“Nice cat,” he added, nodding to Alpine. “She’s got good taste.”

Before Bucky could respond, Fury slipped out the door, leaving the room silent except for Alpine, who looked up at Bucky with wide, innocent eyes, as if nothing unusual had happened.

He let out a breath, shaking his head as he picked up the file Fury had left. 

“Guess I’m not the only one with ‘friends’ stopping by,” he muttered, scratching Alpine under the chin. She purred, looking thoroughly unbothered, as if welcoming mysterious guests was just part of her day.

As Bucky settled into his apartment, he opened the slim file Fury had left behind. The first page was blank, but as he flipped it open, a small stack of documents fell out, including a photo. He picked it up, his gaze settling on a familiar face.

There you were, captured in a candid shot, your expression focused and composed, a faint smile touching your lips. Bucky felt a slight twist in his chest; he knew you looked good, but seeing you in an official document made it all seem… different.

He sighed, setting the photo aside as he turned to the profiles. The first file, marked with your family’s name, laid out the details of their empire. The Emporium, he read, the flagship shopping mall brand that had grown into a national luxury name, renowned for its upscale stores and sleek, modern architecture. A leader in the retail market, The Emporium was a prestigious name, built on elegance, exclusivity, and exceptional customer experience.

Finally, he found your profile. There was your name, the one he hadn’t known until now. Bucky murmured it to himself, testing the sound on his tongue. It suited you.

As he read, he found his initial hunch confirmed—your involvement in any of the suspected activities was highly unlikely. The profile outlined your recent appointment as CEO, noting your reputation for commitment and vision, as well as your focus on a flawless customer experience and dedication to preserving the company’s high standards. The report even highlighted your relative lack of experience with the inner financial workings of the empire, making it clear you hadn’t been involved with the questionable transactions.

Still, Bucky’s stomach clenched as he flipped to the next page. A profile on your older brother, marked with multiple instances of substantial, unusual transactions. The transactions were linked to shell companies 'known' to have Hydra connections. He sat back, fingers brushing over the file, his mind whirring with the implications.

He couldn’t deny the odd twist in his gut. The more he read, the more he realized he was being drawn into something that would involve you deeply. And the idea of you eventually finding out about his involvement gnawed at him. But for now, he told himself, he was only gathering information.

As he leaned back, closing the file, his gaze drifted back to your photo, a faint sigh escaping him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that when you eventually learned the truth, this mission might cost him more than he wanted to admit.

 tags: @winchestert101 @lomlbuckybarnes @lveegsoi @itsshellzy @almosttoopizza

@aami98 @hextech-bros @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @infqnitysblog

@ayayaeyato @blackbirdwitch22 @mostlymarvelgirl @bohoooitsme @crdgn

@yiiiikesmish @jae0515 @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @nikey-no-likey @aami98

@almosttoopizza @hextech-bros @wisteriaandwafers @yiiiikesmish @marvelavengerspovs1

@ppbhquinn

[heavenbarnes]

Can we please get a blurb of big dick Hotch (who knows it’s big) making it fit? Reader thinks they can’t take it but Hotch just knoooows they can. Hehe thank you!

You say it’s big but you take it

Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Warnings/contains: reader is gender neutral with no mentions of genitals, oral sex, edging, penetrative sex, no protection, finger sucking, swearing, dirty talk, light face slapping, probably a size kink

I’m so grateful for this ask because I only explored this a little in my last Hotch fic and it deserved more

He’d had his mouth between your legs for the better part of an hour, his tongue working over your entrance as his fingers gently worked their way in.

That, that was already doing your head in. His thick fingers stretched you enough to have your toes curling, fingers threading into his hair.

You’d been on the precipice of an orgasm from the beginning too, every time you’d get close enough he’d slow you right back down to work you up again.

Pathetic. You looked truly pathetic, utterly debauched and completely fucked out- already.

Stripped naked, Hotch had pulled every last article of clothing off you before he’d pushed you back on the bed. Of course, he’d only shed his suit jacket and loosened his tie. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt but he was still nearly entirely covered.

That was another way he commanded total power over you. Leaving you so exposed to him whilst you had to fight for a glimpse at him.

Drove you fucking crazy.

You couldn’t help the whimpering as you felt him move away from you, hands stretching out to catch him but he quieted you quickly.

“Stop it- you’re being greedy.”

Lip jutting out, pouting like a child- he was completely correct but you made no effort to stop. “I need you.”

Kneeling back, you watched his big hands start to loosen his belt, pulling down his pants and briefs just enough to free himself.

“You’ll get me, when have I ever let you down?”

He had a point, you couldn’t imagine a world where Hotch didn’t leave you satisfied. But he was right, you were greedy and your patience was wearing thin.

You watched through hooded eyes as he reached into his boxers, pulling out his cock before giving it a languid stroke. It nearly made your eyes roll back, not even his large palm dwarfing the size of it.

He placed that same palm in front of you, giving you a quick nod that you understood immediately. Tilting your head, you spat into his hand before he wrapped it back around himself.

As he slowly jerked himself off before you, his other hand came back to keep rubbing the wetness from his mouth around your entrance.

His eyes flickered to yours, knowing he was being watched. He knew you well enough to know what you’d say next.

“It’s so big.”

It wasn’t even to stroke his ego, and the way you whined when you said it painted it more as a protest. Aaron Hotchner was hung, there was no denying it.

Every time with him felt like the first.

That’s why the prep went for so long, that’s why there was very seldom a quickie, that’s why you always woke with a burn between your legs.

“I know it’s big, sweetheart,” He cooed, rubbing his hand over the tip. “But you always take it so well, yeah?”

Your mouth dropped open with a cry, bucking your hips into the touch of his fingers. This was how it went, he’d work it into you with a lot of patience and a heap of praise.

The blunt tip was nudging against you, breaching the tight grasp of you as he slowly slid himself in. Your eyes screwed up tight until you felt Hotch grasping your chin, four fingers and thumb on either side as your lips puckered.

“Watch me,” His breath was clipped as he continued to ease his hips. “Watch it go in.”

His grip tightened slightly as he tilted your head down, eyes falling on the sight before you. His thick cock, stretching you around him as another inch of him disappeared.

“Fuck- s’too big-“

His grip loosened enough to lay a quick and gentle slap to your cheek, shutting you up in an instant.

“I don’t want to hear you unless you’re telling me to fuck you harder.”

Your stomach tightened up, a surge of pleasure hitting your straight on as he spoke. The burn was beginning to ease the closer he got to being hip deep.

Once he’s fully sunk in, he stilled enough for you to get fully adjusted. The moment he heard a deep moan from the pit of your chest, he knew that was his sign to start moving.

“That’s it, so good for me,” His fingers slipped across your lip before he dipped his thumb in your mouth. “We’ll always make it fit.”

[urdreamydoodles]

DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You hurt yourself doing home renovations

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara & Wally West

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- Bruce notices the injury immediately; his sharp, calculating eyes miss nothing. “You’re hurt,” he says, his tone low but with an edge of worry that only someone close to him might detect. He takes your hand gently but firmly, examining the bandage with the practiced ease of someone who’s patched himself up countless times. “What happened?” he asks, his voice even, though his jaw tightens. You explain it was a minor accident during your renovation project, but he doesn’t look convinced.

- Without a word, Bruce retrieves a medical kit and kneels in front of you. His movements are efficient, his touch steady but surprisingly gentle. “This could’ve been worse,” he says as he rewraps the bandage, his voice tinged with a seriousness that makes your heart ache. “You need to be more careful.” It’s not just a suggestion—it’s a command born of a deep fear he rarely voices.

- “I’m helping you finish this,” he declares, standing and rolling up his sleeves. His presence is commanding, as always, and there’s no room for argument. Watching Bruce work is like watching a master strategist; every movement is calculated, every decision deliberate. Despite his seriousness, he pauses occasionally to ask if you’re okay, his concern manifesting in small but meaningful ways.

- As you work together, Bruce’s reserved demeanor softens slightly. He shares stories from his own mishaps at Wayne Manor, a rare glimpse into the man behind the mask. “Alfred still teases me about the time I tried to fix a chandelier,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It’s in these moments that you see the man behind the Bat—the man who loves you fiercely, even if he struggles to show it.

- That evening, as you sit in the newly completed space, Bruce wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You mean everything to me,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a rare vulnerability. “I can’t lose you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and firm against your skin. Bruce’s love is steadfast, protective, and unyielding—a shield against the darkness that surrounds him.

Kal-El (Clark Kent) aka. Superman

- Clark’s face falls the moment he notices your injury. “What happened?” he asks, his voice filled with concern. His large, gentle hands take yours, his thumb brushing softly against the bandage. When you explain it was just a small accident during your renovation, his brow furrows in worry. “You should’ve called me,” he says, his voice warm but firm. “I would’ve been here in seconds.”

- He insists on checking your hand, his touch impossibly gentle. “I know it’s not serious, but even small injuries can hurt,” he says, his blue eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. As he examines the wound, his movements are deliberate, careful—a reflection of the restraint he always practices to keep his immense strength in check.

- “I’m not letting you finish this alone,” Clark declares, his easy smile returning. Watching him work is a sight to behold—his strength and speed make quick work of the tasks, but he’s careful to include you in the process. “You know, you’re pretty amazing for taking this on yourself,” he says, his admiration clear. “But maybe next time, let me do the heavy lifting.”

- Clark fills the room with his presence, his laughter ringing out as he shares stories of his childhood on the farm. “Pa used to say I could fix anything, but I don’t think he meant it literally,” he jokes, his grin infectious. His positivity is contagious, turning the task into a joyful experience rather than a chore.

- As the day winds down, Clark pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice soft. “You’re my world, and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.” His love is vast and unwavering, a force of nature as steady and comforting as the sun.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry is at your side before you even realize he’s noticed your injury. “Hey, what’s this?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern as he gently lifts your hand. His blue eyes dart to the bandage, then back to your face. “You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?” he teases, but his worry is evident. “How’d this happen?”

- In a blur, he’s retrieved the first aid kit, his hands moving at super-speed to clean and rewrap your wound. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” he says with a wink, though his focus is absolute. Barry’s always been quick—literally and emotionally—but when it comes to you, he takes his time, ensuring every detail is perfect. “You’ve got to let me know when you need help,” he says, his tone soft but sincere.

- “Alright, you’re officially benched,” Barry announces with a grin. “I’m finishing this for you.” He’s a whirlwind of energy as he tackles the project, moving so fast that you can barely keep track. But he makes sure to slow down just enough to include you, cracking jokes and asking your opinion at every step.

- Barry’s lighthearted nature turns the renovation into a fun adventure. “You know, if this whole superhero thing doesn’t work out, I might have a future in carpentry,” he says, laughing as he perfectly aligns a frame in a fraction of a second. His joy is infectious, and you find yourself smiling despite the day’s earlier chaos.

- At the end of the day, Barry pulls you into his arms, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re my lightning rod,” he says softly, his words carrying the weight of his feelings. “I need you safe, always.” His love is fast and electrifying, but it’s also deeply grounding—a steady current that ties him to you, no matter how quickly the world moves around him.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- Diana’s gaze sharpens the moment she sees your bandaged hand. “What happened?” she asks, her voice steady but filled with concern. She moves closer, taking your hand in hers with a warrior’s precision and a lover’s tenderness. When you explain the accident, she frowns, her lips pressing into a determined line. “You should have called for me,” she says, her voice soft but firm.

- She kneels before you, her hands strong yet gentle as she examines your injury. “Even the smallest wounds must be treated with care,” she says, her tone carrying the wisdom of centuries. As she cleans and rewraps the bandage, her movements are deliberate, each one filled with a quiet reverence for your well-being. “Your safety matters to me,” she adds, her eyes meeting yours with unwavering sincerity.

- “Come,” Diana says, rising gracefully to her feet. “We will finish this together.” She takes the lead with effortless strength and grace, her presence commanding yet reassuring. Watching her work is mesmerizing; every movement is precise, every decision thoughtful. “This is good work you’ve started,” she says, her voice warm with pride. “But let me ease your burden.”

- Diana shares stories of Themyscira as you work, her voice rich with history and passion. “On my island, we build with our hands and our hearts,” she says, her smile radiant. “Each task is an opportunity to honor the strength within us.” Her words inspire you, her belief in your capabilities unwavering.

- That evening, Diana draws you into a gentle embrace, her arms strong and protective. “You are precious to me,” she says, her voice a soft melody. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering as if to seal her vow. Diana’s love is fierce and enduring, a flame that burns brightly and warmly, illuminating every corner of your heart.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- Arthur notices the bandage on your hand the moment he walks through the door, his sharp, sea-green eyes narrowing in concern. “What happened, love?” he asks, his deep voice steady but tinged with worry. When you explain the accident, he shakes his head with a low chuckle. “You’re as stubborn as the tides, you know that?” he says, though his expression softens as he takes your hand in his rough but gentle grip.

- “Let me see,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He inspects your injury carefully, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin. “It’s not bad, but you’ve got to be more careful,” he mutters, his voice filled with a protective edge. Arthur’s care is practical, but there’s an underlying tenderness that speaks volumes about how deeply he feels for you.

- “Alright, you’re done for the day,” he declares, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I’ll handle the rest.” Despite your protests, Arthur’s determination is unyielding. Watching him work is a marvel; his strength makes heavy tasks look effortless, but he’s surprisingly meticulous, his movements precise and deliberate. “This is easy compared to wrangling sea monsters,” he teases, flashing you a grin.

- As he works, Arthur regales you with tales of Atlantis, his deep voice resonating like the waves. “Did I ever tell you about the time Mera and I rebuilt the coral spires after a storm?” he asks, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder. His stories are vivid and captivating, his love for his home—and for you—evident in every word.

- That evening, Arthur pulls you into his arms, his embrace as warm and encompassing as the ocean itself. “You scared me,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “You’re my anchor, and I can’t bear to see you hurt.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if to soothe away all your worries. Arthur’s love is as vast and enduring as the sea, a force of nature that surrounds and protects you.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- Hal’s easygoing demeanor shifts the moment he notices the bandage on your hand. “What’s this?” he asks, his voice filled with concern as he takes your hand gently. His green eyes scan the wound, his expression a mix of worry and amusement. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with sharp objects?” he teases, though his grip tightens protectively.

- “Alright, let me play doctor,” he says with a wink, summoning a glowing green construct of a first aid kit. Hal’s touch is careful as he rewraps your bandage, his usual bravado giving way to surprising precision. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says softly, his tone carrying a weight that shows how much he cares.

- “Looks like I’m your personal handyman today,” Hal declares, conjuring a glowing hammer with a flourish. He tackles the project with his trademark confidence, his constructs turning the mundane task into something almost magical. “See? Easy,” he says, flashing you a cocky grin. “You’ve got the best in the business on your side.”

- As he works, Hal keeps you entertained with his endless banter and larger-than-life stories. “There was this one time on Oa…” he begins, spinning a tale that’s equal parts unbelievable and hilarious. His humor lightens the atmosphere, and his laughter is infectious, making even the simplest moments feel special.

- Later, as you sit together under the soft glow of his ring, Hal wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “You know, you’re my reason to keep coming back to Earth,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t want anything happening to you.” His love is like his willpower—unshakable, glowing brightly and guiding you through even the darkest times.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- “Whoa, hold up—what happened to your hand?” Oliver asks, his sharp gaze landing on your bandaged injury. Before you can brush it off, he’s already by your side, gently taking your hand in his. “You didn’t think to call me?” he teases, though his voice carries a hint of genuine worry. “I could’ve handled this in no time.”

- He grabs the first aid kit, his hands surprisingly deft as he unwraps and rebandages your wound. “You’ve got to be more careful, beautiful,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I can’t have you sidelined—you’re my best partner, after all.” His touch is light, but the protective edge in his tone makes it clear how much he cares.

- “Alright, step aside. The Green Arrow is on the job,” Oliver says, flashing you a trademark smirk. Watching him work is an experience in itself—he’s efficient and surprisingly skilled, despite his playful demeanor. “Bet you didn’t know I was handy with a hammer, huh?” he jokes, his grin lighting up the room.

- Oliver keeps the mood light with his constant humor and quick wit. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bowstring and ended up snapping three more,” he says, laughing at the memory. His charm is irresistible, and he has a way of making even the most tedious tasks feel fun and exciting.

- As the evening winds down, Oliver pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “I’ve lost enough people in my life—I’m not losing you too.” He kisses your forehead, his lips warm and lingering. Oliver’s love is bold, passionate, and unwavering, a constant in your life that leaves you feeling cherished and protected.

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- John notices the injury immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “What’s this, then?” he asks, his voice a mix of concern and irritation. He steps closer, taking your hand in his surprisingly gentle grip. “Bloody hell, love, you’ve got to take better care of yourself,” he mutters, his usual sarcasm tempered by genuine worry.

- He doesn’t bother with a first aid kit—instead, he mutters a few words in Latin, and a faint glow surrounds your hand. “There, good as new,” he says with a smirk, though his eyes linger on you with a rare softness. “Don’t make me have to fix you up like this again, yeah?” he adds, his tone light but edged with seriousness.

- “Right, let’s see what mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” John says, surveying the unfinished renovation. He rolls up his sleeves and gets to work, grumbling under his breath but surprisingly competent. “Don’t look so shocked—I’m full of surprises,” he says with a wink.

- As he works, John keeps up a steady stream of sardonic commentary and darkly humorous anecdotes. “This reminds me of the time I tried to patch up a hole in my flat’s wall. Ended up summoning a demon instead,” he quips, his dry humor making you laugh despite yourself. His presence, though chaotic, is oddly reassuring.

- Later, as you both sit in the dim light, John lights another cigarette, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “You’ve got to be more careful, love,” he says quietly. “I’ve got enough demons to fight—I don’t need to be worrying about losing you too.” His love is raw, messy, and laced with his own brand of charm, but it’s as real and unshakable as the man himself.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- Roy notices your bandaged hand the moment he steps in. “What the hell happened?” he asks, his voice laced with concern, though his trademark smirk softens the words. He takes your hand gently, his calloused fingers brushing against yours. “You didn’t think to call me? I’m literally a pro at making bad decisions—and patching them up after.”

- “Alright, sit tight,” he says, pulling out a first aid kit with a flourish. His movements are surprisingly precise, honed from years of taking care of himself and others. “This isn’t bad, but next time, maybe call me before you go all DIY warrior,” he jokes, though the worry in his eyes betrays his casual tone.

- Roy insists on helping you finish the project, despite your protests. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you do this alone?” he says, grabbing a hammer with an exaggerated show of confidence. His work is a mix of skill and chaos—he’s good at what he does, but his playful energy keeps things unpredictable.

- As you work together, Roy’s humor keeps you laughing. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bow. Ended up breaking three more,” he says, grinning at the memory. He’s full of stories, each one more absurd than the last, but they’re all delivered with a charm that makes you forget about the mess around you.

- Later, as you both sit back to admire the (somewhat chaotic) results, Roy pulls you close, his arm slung around your shoulders. “You mean the world to me, you know that?” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Don’t scare me like that again, alright?” His love is messy but wholehearted, a constant reminder that you’re his anchor in a turbulent world.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- Kori’s luminous green eyes widen in concern when she sees your bandaged hand. “Oh no, my love, what has happened?” she asks, taking your hand delicately in hers. Her warmth radiates through her touch as she examines the wound. “Does it pain you? Please, tell me how I can help.”

- She gently kisses your hand, her lips soft and glowing faintly. “On Tamaran, we believe healing begins with love,” she says, her voice filled with sincerity. She insists on tending to the injury herself, her movements careful and deliberate. Her concern is almost palpable, her love for you evident in every action.

- Kori is eager to assist with your project, her strength and enthusiasm turning what could have been a chore into an exciting adventure. “Let us work together,” she says, her smile bright enough to light up the room. Watching her lift heavy beams effortlessly and handle tools with childlike curiosity is both impressive and endearing.

- As you work side by side, Kori shares stories of her home planet. “On Tamaran, we build homes with our families, singing songs of unity and joy,” she says, her voice rich with nostalgia. Her passion for her culture and her desire to share it with you make the task feel meaningful and connected.

- At the end of the day, Kori pulls you into her embrace, her warmth enveloping you like sunlight. “You are my heart,” she says softly, her glowing eyes meeting yours. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She kisses your forehead tenderly, her love as radiant and boundless as the stars she comes from.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara’s superhuman senses catch your injury before you even try to hide it. “Wait—what happened to your hand?” she asks, her tone a mix of concern and mild panic. She’s by your side in an instant, her blue eyes scanning your bandage with laser-like focus. “You didn’t think to call me? I could’ve been here in a second!”

- She insists on checking your injury, her touch gentle despite her immense strength. “It’s not too bad, but I’m still worried,” she admits, biting her lip as she adjusts the bandage. “Next time, promise me you’ll let me help, okay?” Her voice is firm but filled with a tenderness that makes your heart melt.

- Kara takes over the renovation project with her usual enthusiasm, zipping around at super-speed to get things done. “This is so much easier than stopping meteors,” she jokes, flashing you a bright smile. Despite her incredible abilities, she makes sure to include you, asking for your input and slowing down to let you participate.

- As you work, Kara shares stories of Krypton, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and pride. “Back home, we had machines to do most of this,” she says, a wistful smile crossing her face. “But I think there’s something special about doing it with your own hands—especially when it’s for someone you love.”

- Later, Kara wraps you in a warm hug, her strength carefully restrained but her affection boundless. “You’re my connection to this world,” she says softly, resting her forehead against yours. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Her love is like sunlight—pure, strong, and life-giving, a constant source of warmth and light in your life.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- Slade notices your injury immediately, his single eye narrowing as he steps closer. “What happened?” he asks, his voice low and commanding. He takes your hand in his gloved one, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examines the bandage. “You’ve been careless,” he says, though his tone carries more concern than reprimand.

- Without a word, Slade pulls out a compact medical kit, his movements precise and efficient. “You should have called me,” he mutters, his focus entirely on your wound. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” His care is methodical, almost clinical, but the way his fingers linger just slightly on your skin betrays his deeper feelings.

- Slade insists on taking over the renovation, his natural leadership coming through as he assesses the task. “Stand back,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. Watching him work is like watching a soldier in action—every movement calculated, every decision deliberate. “This isn’t my first time fixing something broken,” he quips, his dry humor catching you off guard.

- As he works, Slade shares fragments of his past, his gravelly voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. “This reminds me of when I used to build things with my son,” he says, his expression briefly softening. The glimpses of his humanity remind you of the man beneath the hardened exterior, the man who loves you in his own quiet, fierce way.

- Later, Slade pulls you close, his arm heavy and protective around your shoulders. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says, his voice a low growl. “I’ve lost too much already—I’m not losing you.” He kisses your forehead briefly but firmly, his love intense and unyielding, like the man himself—a force that shields you from the world’s dangers, even as he battles his own demons.

Kent Nelson aka. Doctor Fate

- Kent’s piercing eyes behind the shimmering Helmet of Fate immediately fixate on your injured hand. “What have you done, my love?” he asks, his voice a blend of the mystical and the concerned. Without hesitation, he removes the helmet, his human side taking precedence. His hands, warm and steady, gently cradle yours as he inspects the wound.

- “This is a simple injury,” he murmurs, his voice calm but resolute. “But even the smallest wounds can lead to chaos if left untended.” A golden light surrounds his hand as he softly incants an ancient spell. The pain fades, replaced by a soothing warmth, though Kent remains watchful. “You must remember, you are precious to me beyond measure.”

- When he sees the half-finished renovation, Kent sighs softly. “It seems I have another task to tend to,” he says with a faint smile. With a wave of his hand, the room begins to shift and transform, guided by his mystical prowess. “Though I prefer to use magic sparingly, I believe this situation calls for a touch of Fate,” he teases lightly.

- As the room repairs itself under his guidance, Kent tells you stories of the endless mystic realms he has traversed. “In the realm of Amathur, they build their homes from living crystal, attuned to their souls,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of eons. His stories are mesmerizing, painting a picture of a universe far beyond your imagination.

- That evening, as the golden glow of his magic fades, Kent pulls you close, his mortal and immortal selves blending seamlessly in his affection for you. “You ground me, even amidst the chaos of the cosmos,” he whispers. “Do not let harm come to you, for you are my anchor to this world.” His love is profound and eternal, like the ancient forces he commands.

Rachel Roth aka. Raven

- Rachel notices the bandage immediately, her dark, violet eyes narrowing. “What happened?” she asks, her voice calm but laced with quiet concern. She steps closer, her fingers brushing against yours lightly. “You didn’t think to tell me?” she adds, her tone carrying just a hint of exasperation masked by worry.

- A soft, dark aura emanates from her hands as she murmurs a healing spell. “Let me take away the pain,” she says softly, her magic soothing the injury. “But next time, be more careful.” Her words are firm, but the tenderness in her actions speaks volumes about her love for you.

- Rachel insists on helping with the renovation, though her approach is unconventional. Using her magic, she levitates tools and materials, fixing everything with an eerie precision. “Why struggle when there’s an easier way?” she quips, a rare hint of humor gracing her usually serious demeanor.

- As she works, Rachel shares pieces of her past, her voice quiet but steady. “I used to dream of having a home like this—something stable, something real,” she admits. Her vulnerability in those moments is a reminder of the strength it takes for her to let you in, to allow herself to love and be loved.

- Later, as the room takes on a serene, almost otherworldly perfection, Rachel sits with you in the quiet. “I’m not used to caring this much,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “But you… you’ve shown me that it’s okay to let someone in.” Her love is deep and shadowed, like the magic she wields—powerful, transformative, and utterly consuming.

Zatanna Zatara aka. Zatanna

- “What’s this?” Zatanna asks, her sharp blue eyes immediately noticing your bandaged hand. She sets down her wand and takes your hand in hers, her touch warm and gentle. “You’ve been playing with tools without supervision, haven’t you?” she teases, though her concern is clear.

- “Let me fix this,” she says with a wink. She waves her hand, her words spoken backward as a soft, golden light surrounds your injury. “Esael ruoy niaP,” she says, and the pain dissipates. “Much better,” she adds with a playful smile. “But seriously, call me next time.”

- Zatanna insists on finishing the renovation with you, though her methods are far from ordinary. “Why use a hammer when you have magic?” she says, summoning tools and materials with a flick of her wrist. The room transforms under her guidance, every detail touched with a bit of theatrical flair.

- As she works, Zatanna keeps you entertained with stories of her performances and her magical adventures. “There was this one time in Paris where my spell accidentally turned an entire café into a circus,” she says, laughing. Her humor and charisma make even the mundane feel magical, her presence a constant source of joy.

- That night, as the newly restored room glows with a faint magical shimmer, Zatanna pulls you into her arms. “You’re my favorite audience,” she says softly, her voice filled with affection. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?” Her love is vibrant and enchanting, a spell that binds you to her in the most wonderful way.

Wally West aka. Flash

- Wally zips into the room and immediately notices your hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—what happened here?” he asks, his words coming almost as fast as he moves. He’s by your side in an instant, gently taking your injured hand in his. “Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve been here in seconds!”

- He rushes to grab a first aid kit, moving so quickly you barely see him leave. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says as he carefully rewraps your bandage. Despite his speed, his touch is gentle, his eyes full of concern. “Promise me you’ll let me help next time, okay?”

- Wally insists on finishing the renovation, his super-speed turning the task into a blur of activity. “This is easy,” he says with a grin, fixing things faster than you can even follow. “But hey, don’t blink—you might miss my best work!” His enthusiasm is infectious, making the entire process feel like a game.

- As he works, Wally keeps you laughing with his endless jokes and stories. “Did I ever tell you about the time I outran a black hole?” he says, his grin widening. His energy is boundless, his humor a constant source of lightness and joy in your life.

- Later, as the room stands perfectly completed, Wally pulls you close, his usual hyperactivity giving way to a rare moment of stillness. “You’re my world,” he says softly, his voice steady and sincere. “I can’t imagine life without you.” His love is like his speed—unstoppable, all-encompassing, and always rushing to your side.

[punkassfrance]

Focal Point - Joel Miller / Fem!Reader

NSFW, 18+ ONLY. Movie night has never been Joel's favorite Jackson community event- tonight, he's actually enjoying himself. You deserve to enjoy yourself too, right? This work contains smut, grinding, assisted masturbation, worship, hand and finger kink, mentions of spanking, feminine/afab reader, public sex, bratting/brat taming, and an established relationship.

Usually, movie night in Jackson is delightful. Fresh popcorn, good movies, a community to share something with. You try not to miss them. Joel’s not a fan of any event that involves people and leaving the house- but movie nights are one of the few things he can tolerate. Nobody looks at him, it’s dark, nobody talks to him if he gets out of the community center fast enough. Most of all, it satisfies you and Ellie’s desire to make sure he socializes. Joel drags his heels about it, but he’ll do anything for his girls.

For once, he actually seems interested in the movie. It’s a shitty action flick, one he somehow hasn’t seen yet. He usually eats these up, leans forward like the terrible special effects are just riveting. Maybe it is to him. For you, this is the blandest movie night since Maria found a box of silent movies.

You squirm beside him, watching his profile. He seems calm at least, distracted from the stressors of social interaction. Once the lights come up, the stressed lines in his forehead will reappear, but for now, he’s almost smiling. His smile is so comforting, especially considering how rare it is. They’re really only reserved for Ellie, you, or the animals hanging around the settlement. Dogs run up to him, sheep let him approach. He’s not completely heartless. You’ve learned that much at the least.

When he smiles, you know all is well. It means he’s at ease, not too concerned to crack a grin at Ellie’s dumb jokes. Something’s always concerning him. The weight of the world sits on his shoulders, and all you want is soothe the pain. Whatever it takes.

His hand rests on your thigh. It’s a comforting motion for him, you think—something to remind him you’re there, remind him you’re warm and breathing. Late at night, in your bedroom, he’ll worship your thighs like there’s nothing else on earth worth his attention—they’re one of his favorite parts of you. Here, it’s just the easiest way to show affection. He’s not too high up your leg, never enough to stir gossip, just enough to let any onlookers know you’re spoken for. It’s usually the most PDA he’ll allow.

Christ, his curls look good tonight. He hasn’t trimmed his hair since you moved to Jackson, too busy helping Ellie adjust and building a life for the three of you. It’s a full-time job, on top of the responsibilities he’s taken up around Jackson. No time for vanity among all that. He’s settling into the role of family man, even if he won’t admit it.

You sit up to whisper in his ear. “This movie sucks.”

He leans down to you. “That’s the best part.”

Relaxing into his chair, he squeezes your thigh and sighs peacefully.

The movie lost your interest a good forty minutes ago—unfortunately, you still have half an hour to go. It might not be exactly rude to go home now, you’re both in the back of the room, but you don’t want to make Joel leave when he’s finally enjoying a community event. This is a rare occasion for him—one you’re not willing to sacrifice, no matter how bored you are. It’s either this or take Joel on walks around the neighborhood to socialize like a dog, and while you might be able to get him into the collar, it’ll be harder to get him outside.

He takes his hand off your thigh to roll his sleeves up, and your mind wanders.

He’s so impressive—you watch him work all the time, admiring the body that cares for you and your community. Even his forearms draw your eye, ropy and strong. When he clenches his fists at his sides, you fight back the urge to trace the tendons and veins in his arm. It’s just one part of him, of course. Everything about him is worthy of worship, every inch of tanned skin, every bit of muscle and softness you spend your nights rediscovering.

You wrap your hand over his when he replaces it on your thigh, pulling it higher up. He doesn’t seem to notice, just settles back into his chair and rubs his thumb over the denim. The motion isn’t helping the sudden burst of energy, the heat brewing in your lower stomach. It’s more than a cerebral desire, more than knowledge that you’re the luckiest woman in Jackson. Once you get to admiring him, you’re starkly reminded that you are a human animal. A human animal that is deeply, deeply attracted to your man.

As your eyes linger on his rough, calloused hand, you feel the fever mounting.

You pull his hand again. He glances over at you, raising an eyebrow before flicking his eyes back to the screen. The final heist of the movie is beginning on screen, something Joel wouldn’t dare to miss—but his fingers twitch on your thigh. He’s onto you.

Higher and higher, his fingertips drag and catch on the texture of your jeans until his hand is so close to where you need it. It’s so warm on your upper thigh, right where it creases into your hip. Another inch or two…

You hear him exhale in the seat beside you, hand squeezing your thigh as he leans in. “Can I help you?” He glowers out of the corner of his eye, crossing his legs.

“Only if you want to.”

You’re the only two at the back of the room—nobody’s looking at you, all focused on the last tense act of the movie. There’s nothing stopping you from messing around. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“You’re on your own.”

You huff and look up at him. He seems to be pointedly ignoring you now, eyes fixed on the screen. He picks up his beer with his free hand and tips it back. His hand looks so big around the bottle, tensing as he sets it back down on the table beside him.

Glancing down at his hand again, your fingers trail over his bones and scars. As he releases his grip, you tenderly trace the callouses, then the lines where his palm creases.

You tug his hand upward again, nudging him between your legs. He’s so warm pressed into your damp panties, firm and perfect to rock against. His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t move to help you. No, he’s still enjoying the goddamned movie. As though his horny girlfriend isn’t grinding on his hand, practically begging for his attention. Heartless bastard.

Your legs spread slightly, giving yourself a bit more room to work with. As you rub your clit on the heel of his hand, you whimper softly into his ear, anything to tempt him into action. It’s a little tricky through your jeans, but you manage to get pressure on just the right spot.

He huffs beside you and takes another drink, glancing around the community center. The movie is nearing an end, but nobody seems to notice or care about your distraction. Thank god for it, too—his hand is too addicting to stop now. His hands embody so much of him in your mind. They work so hard on the things he loves, hold you so tight, wipe your tears, caress you when you curl up next to him in bed. Even when he chokes you out, your hands come up to hold his as your vision blurs.

“You’re a fucking brat,” he grumbles in your ear, but he makes no move to take his hand away. Your grip isn’t firm, he certainly could if he wanted to. “Better finish up quick, mi amor. Movie’s almost over.”

Struggling to hold back a moan, you turn your face to press into his shoulder. You’re not going to last nearly as long as you thought you would, too busy rutting and grinding against his hand. Probably for the best—it sounds like the villain is dying on screen. It’s about time to wrap this up.

Driven by your own stubborn defiance, you grind his knuckle right into your sensitive clit and squeak into his shoulder. Every second you feel yourself pulse, each shudder slowly working you through the rapture you’ve brought yourself.

He finally gives in, just barely, rubbing at the inseam of your jeans as you come down from the dizzying high. As solid as his will is, he loves guiding you through your orgasms- he could never resist teasing at the edge of overstimulation.

As you push his hand away, the lights come up, applause thundering through the room as the credits roll. If someone were to look at you now, all they’d see is your flushed cheeks, lips parted to catch your breath. If they watch close, they might catch the little damp spot between your legs—but if anyone tries to get a good look, Joel won’t hesitate to knock their lights out. The protective violence shouldn’t turn you on.

Shouldn’t.

He leans in, kissing your cheek and gazing at you with a calm smile before he whispers in your ear.

“When we get home, I’m going to bend you over the arm of the couch and tan your fuckin’ hide. Then I’m gonna stuff my fingers in your greedy cunt and fuck you ’til you cry.” His voice gets huskier as he finishes the thought—you chew on your lip and glance down, stifling a giggle. He’s going to have a rough time hiding the firm bulge of his cock as you walk home together.

“Bring it, old man.”

Hope you enjoyed! Find this work on AO3 or check out my about me, feel free to say hi or leave an ask/request! Thank you to @jennaispunk for taking a look at this for me before posting :3 comments are always appreciated!

[thef1diary]

Keep Going | C. Sainz

Requested on wattpad: “hey could you write a chapter about Carlos making you finish over and over again on his tongue and fingers?”

Warnings: 18+ smut, no plot just straight up filthy smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, slight degradation, praise, slight humiliation (barely)

Pairing: carlos x fem!reader

wc: 1.1k+

Note: this is probably the filthiest shit I wrote, loved every second of it.

Your legs were shaking now, still resting over Carlos' shoulders as he continued to tease your pussy with his fingers.

He was still fully clothed, only having his sleeves rolled up while you were completely stripped naked. Your gaze couldn't waver away from him, but you couldn't help but feel humiliated based on the vast difference of your attires—or well, your lack of clothing.

"C'mon mi amor, this is just the beginning," he looked at you with a sultry smile for a brief moment before slipping his finger back in your cunt.

Your hands grabbed the sheets around you, trying to ground yourself as you thought about how the rest of the night would go. This was only your second orgasm, and Carlos wasn't in the mood to stop.

Without a warning, he quickened his movements, slipping in a second and even a third finger right away. Your thighs threatened to snap shut together as the pleasure radiated through you but Carlos didn't let that happen.

Still maintaining his brutal pace, he used his free hand to lift one of your legs off his shoulder before pushing it up towards your chest. "Hold it there," he instructed, telling you to hold both your legs so he was given more freedom to do as he pleased.

His fingers curled at the same time as his lips reached your clit. Sticking out the tip of his tongue, he brushed the nerve with minimal, barely there touches.

You whined in response, wanting more. "Carlos, more please," you didn't mind resorting to begging knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist your pleads.

He quickly retracted his mouth, but before you could protest, his other palm made contact with your swollen clit. You bucked your hips up in response, a low moan leaving your lips.

"You're going to take what I give you." He brought his palm down once more, this time a little harder than the last. He kept his fingers resting on your clit, dragging down before pinching it between his fingers.

The fingers inside your pussy easily slip in and out, your wetness dripping down to the bedsheet underneath. You struggled to keep a strong grip on your thighs, sweat building up threatening your hands to slip away.

But the thought of presenting yourself to him, showing him your cunt so he could tease it endlessly before making you finish over and over again was just the motivation you needed.

He continued his brutal pace until you were writhing as another orgasm washed over you. The grip on your thighs eased away as your hands found their way into Carlos' hair.

Resting your feet flat on the bed, you had unintentionally closed them together as the pleasure consumed you. Carlos had lapped up your cum while his fingers slowed down but never stopped moving.

Catching your movement, he removed his mouth away letting you close your legs tighter. But he didn't move his fingers away, letting them reach deeper in your pussy, making you moan louder.

He let you bask in post orgasmic relief but it was very brief as you realized Carlos wasn't going to stop moving his fingers. That breath of relief turned into a cry of frustration as tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

"Spread your legs, puta, I'm not done with you yet," he instructed as he pressed his thumb against your clit while he removed his fingers from you.

"Carlos," you cried as a tear slipped down your cheek, his other hand was quick to brush it away as he looked at you with a smirk. You didn’t register his command until he slapped the back of your thigh, forcing your legs to spread.

"What happened, love? Too sensitive?" He teased as he pressed harder, slowly rubbing your clit in small circles.

He slid his thumb down, gathering your wetness before teasingly pressing in your hole but not inserting his finger in yet. Using his other hand, he separated your folds before swiping his tongue across your cunt.

Placing loud, wet, filthy kisses on your cunt, you squirmed under his touch. You didn’t know whether to pull away from his touch or press against it. But you did know one thing, you loved this more than you thought you would.

Your eyes rolled back as the waves of pleasure took you under, your mouth hanging open but the sounds leaving it were deaf to your own ears. You didn’t think you could cum this fast right after your last orgasm but you enjoyed riding the high until it became too unbearable.

Carlos loved every second of watching you lose your mind in the depths of pleasure, and he loved it even more knowing that he was the cause of it.

He watched as your eyes closed, but he was quick to comment on it, “eyes on me, cariño”

You were glad you listened, because the sight in front of you would’ve made you cum alone. Carlos was already looking at you, but his fingers had spread your cunt out again. What he did next made you arch your hips up, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.

You watched the bead of saliva drip down from his lips onto your slit, and he watched as you felt it sliding down.

His fingers made his way back inside your used cunt, spreading his spit. He pulled you closer with his other hand as you attempted to squirm away, “I thought you didn’t want me to stop, don’t try to move away now,” he spoke, reminding you of your pleads for him to keep going when he teased you but left you hanging.

He held you in such a position where you were unable to move further, but as he continued his finger movements, you began grinding against his palm.

"That's it baby, you're doing so well, just a little more,” Carlos praised you, noticing how his words affected you.

"I don't think I can,” you grasped onto his arm but you didn’t exactly want him to pull away, you just held it to ground yourself.

"I know you can, I won't stop until you can't think,” he stated in a tone of finality.

He pulled out a few more orgasms out of you, however you don’t even remember exactly how many more Carlos convinced you for since he kept saying “one more.”

He left your cunt bruised in all the right ways, making you feel like putty as you quite literally melted in between the bedsheets. Carlos joined you after he cleaned you up, moving you higher up on the bed to avoid touching the wet spot.

“You did so well for me, mi amor,” Carlos muttered in your ear but lightly chuckled as he realized you had already dozed off.

[mochie85]

Never Enough

One-Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki tests your limits as he tries one last time to make you scream. Word Count: 1.9K Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: Explicit. Smut. It's mostly filth with a fluff ending. Pleasure Dom! Loki, bondage, rough oral, use of toys, edging. P in V. Aftercare.

The air was hot and humid from hours of heavy panting. The once cool satin sheets were sweltering against your skin. They no longer held the cold comforts to ease the fire crawling through you.

Loki sat on the settee, facing you as you writhed on his bed. He sat with his legs crossed, an ankle above his other knee. One hand settled on the back of the chaise. The other nursed a hundred-year-old scotch. You could hear the ice-sphere clink with the glass whenever he held it up to his lips for a sip. He looked like an emperor watching a match, a favorite pastime of entertainment, as you battled with your wits to survive his night of debauchery.  

How many climaxes has it been? Three? Five? You lost count after Loki decided to suspend your arms above you and tie them to the posts of his bed.

“You look so lovely like this. Do you think you can give me one more, pet?” he growled as he turned the vibrator up using the remote control he had.

With each orgasm, your sensitivity rose. But so did the intensity of his toy. A sweet torture that you agreed to. One that you are now questioning. “I- I don’t…unnhh…” you moaned, arching your back and pulling on the restraints.

“Oh, but I love to see you unravel. Every. Time. You sing so beautifully for me.” Loki said taking another sip of his scotch. His eyes roamed your body. You could feel his stare caressing every inch of your skin. But it wasn’t enough.

“I…I need you, please,” you begged. You needed him to touch you. You needed his firm grip on your body to keep you tethered to this world. Otherwise, you would lose yourself in the haze of lust he was designing. Soft prayers escaped your lips to the god you hoped would hear them. You needed to feel something. Anything other than the soaked sheets beneath you and the unrelenting vibration of his device in between you.

Loki waved his hands and the bindings around your wrist disappeared. The slight rope burn stinging on your wrists. The vibration in between your legs stopped and soon you felt its absence as you pressed your legs together for release.

“I just don’t know what to do with you, bunny,” he admonished you. He stood up slowly, making his way over to the edge of the bed. He placed his hands inside his pockets as the light from the lone lamp behind him outlined his silhouette in rich gold. His hair fell across his face. His tongue roamed over his teeth and lips as he appraised your body. As if you were a morsel of decadence ready to be devoured.

Your eyes raked over him. From his hungry stare to his broad shoulders, down to the growing bulge tightening his pants. You were glad to know that you had affected him somehow.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling sheepish at the unknown slight you seemed to have caused. You arched your back off the bed, moaning, tempting him for a closer look. Touch me please, you thought as you conveyed your cravings in silence.

“Here I am giving you exactly what you wanted. Exactly what you asked for,” he cooed, crawling over your spent body on the bed. “And yet you still ask for more…you greedy girl.” He caged your head in between his arms. Your eyes followed the veins that flowed from his wrists up to where they hid underneath his rolled sleeves. But he did not stop crawling over you till your head was nestled in between his thighs.

You felt the heat and warmth in between his legs. Your hands involuntarily ran over his steel thighs, feeling the rough texture of his dark jeans. The quick intake of his breath betrayed the cool demeanor he was trying to portray. His hooded eyes and his sharp jaw looked down at you from up above, savoring the view of you underneath and in between him.

“You little minx. Did I say you can touch me?” His thighs closed in on your head below. You placed your hands to your side as you donned your best cherubic look for him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you apologized biting your lip. Loki pinched his thumb onto your chin and pulled your lip from your bite. He ran his thumb gently over your swollen lips as he unbuttoned his jeans. Your eyes watched his fingers pull his zipper down and your mouth went slack as he stroked himself in front of you. Drool escaped the side of your mouth as your tongue darted forward trying to catch the precum beading off his tip.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Loki smiled. He sat on his knees, dominating over your wrecked body, not wanting to crush you underneath his godly thighs. You wouldn’t mind though.  

“You are so desperate. So hungry and greedy for more. Hence, I’m going to use that eager little mouth of yours…” Loki tilted his head to the side. The view of his neck straining to keep control, the tightness in his jaw, made you ball your fist and clench your thighs.

“My greedy little girl.” His voice was low and smooth like the scotch he was drinking. It resonated deep within you, holding you as a captive listener. “I always take care of you. Don’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” you moaned impatiently.

“I spoil you too much. But don’t worry, darling. I’ll feed your greed- inch by inch. You’re going to take me and you’re going to show me how much you want me. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” You said meekly, grabbing the sides of the sheets.

“Open.” He commanded and you obliged. He sank himself inside your hot mouth. Slowly at first, savoring the heat and tightness of your lips around him. You twirled your tongue around the best you could given his girth and the restrictions of your head.

“That’s my good little whore,” he praised. His words made you suck harder. It made you want to please him even more. Loki started to dive deeper and deeper towards the back of your throat. The gasping, choking sounds you made only spurred him to go faster.

You squeezed your legs together and held on to the bed beneath you. You were at the mercy of the god who could easily crush you- and it thrilled you. You grabbed a hold of the back of his hips and pushed him further into your throat. Loki whimpered your name and you held onto him tighter, your nails leaving red welts upon his silken skin. Your mouth pulled on his cock harder and he couldn’t stop moaning.

He grabbed the headboard, leaning down for support. His knees had gone weak and his whole body shook with desire. Loki continued to thrust down onto your face, pinning you in between his sharp hips and the firm mattress below. He balled his fists and screamed out your name.

Loki couldn’t take it any longer. His hips thrusted into your tight wet lips. With each pull, with each drag, he would lose a small piece of his sanity- almost bringing him to the brink of his powerful release.

“Stop,” he panted. “Stop!” he commanded himself. He willed himself to stay still. His breath was heavy. His lungs burned. His thick cock was still inside your mouth as he looked down at you.

You had tears running down your red eyes. Sweat plastered tendrils of your hair onto your slick skin. Loki pulled out cautiously and rested his heavy cock on your neck. You took a gasp of air which stung your throat. “You look ruined,” he smiled grabbing your chin and shaking your head left and right.

Loki began crawling backward, dragging his length down your deprived body. Your saliva coating his dick smeared a trail in between your heaving breast and past your navel.

“Still wet, bunny?” He asked as he swiped his fingers in between your pussy. He maneuvered himself in between your legs “I’m going to have fun ruining the rest of your body too.”

“Loki, please…” you continued to beg.

“Awe don’t worry, darling. I know…shh…I know…” he tutted gently. He placed his tip inside your wet folds, stretching you further than his toy did earlier. “Beautiful…” he grunted as he sunk deeper inside of you. Loki watched as you moaned and arched your back. Your beautiful face contorted into a sinful orgasm.

He was close as well. He was edging himself to get there but waiting for you to come again. You felt his thick cock penetrate you completely. “I…don’t know if I can…” you whined in pleasure. You were drained. You didn’t know if you had it in you to give your love another climax.

“Yes, you can. I know you can, pet,” he encouraged. He started drilling faster. Trying to keep his climax on the verge of release. He leaned over you again, trapping your head in between his arms. “I worked this pussy too well. Your next orgasm is mine. Do you understand me?” he grabbed your face to look straight at him. He pushed himself deep into you, “mineee…” he growled onto your quivering lips.

You squeezed around him. Pushing him further and deeper into the haze of bliss. “B-bunny…give it to…fuck…give it to me…” You wrapped your arms around him. Scratches and claw marks littered his back. He reciprocated your passion with bruises from his fingertips and lips.  

You looked down to where you both collided and screamed your release. “…Loki…” The sight of his godly cock entering your tight folds… repeatedly… rhythmically… made you give in to his claim. Your body exploded. You felt weightless and heavy at the same time as you yelled his name with the last breath in your lungs.

Loki soon followed. You could feel his thighs shaking in between your legs. He cried your name in a litany, along with Asgardian phrases and degrading curses.

“Oh, fuck,” he repeated as he continued thrusting inside your slick walls eventually slowing down.  His teeth grazed against your cheek, whispering sordid words and promises you couldn’t understand.

Panting and drained, Loki dismounted and laid next to you in bed. He watched you breathe deeply and lose yourself in post-coital ecstasy. “Love,” he called out to you.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move.

“Love, can you hear me?” he asked amused. You could only nod your head as you closed your eyes and let weariness take you. You felt a warm towel caress your face and wipe the tears from your eyes. He continued in between your legs massaging life back into your muscles. With a snap of his fingers, you felt the sheets beneath you change into cool Egyptian cotton.

“I think I may have driven you too hard tonight, bunny,” he said with chagrin. You shook your head to try and protest, catching his lips in the process.

“More,” you grumbled. “Never enough…” you nuzzled into his neck, letting his steady heartbeat guide you into slumber.

“My greedy girl. How blessed I am to have an insatiable woman,” he laughed.

“I’ll always want you,” you whispered. Loki smiled at your confession as he pulled you closer and wrapped both of you in a plush duvet.

“Rest then, my love. And when you wake, we can talk about more.”

One-Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief

[pretentious-blonde]

yours

pairing: remus x reader

summary: after inviting remus's oldest friends to dinner to introduce his new girlfriend, a secret slips that could alter their entire relationship

warning: alcohol

a/n: it is my second fic as the first one seemed to go over well. also this was supposed to be just a happy dinner but I got carried away :)

The kitchen filled with the smell of sauteed garlic and onions, the sound of pots gently simmering on the stove as Remus bustled about, trying to prepare for the evening ahead. The soft, golden light of the afternoon sun was pouring in from the window as it helped illuminate the room. He was dressed the same way he always was, casual but put together, a simple beige jumper and his well-worn jeans. He rolled up his sleeves once more as they kept falling down his long arms, and pushed his glasses back into place so he could get a better look at the task at hand. 

Despite his outward appearance, there was a certain stress that was palpable radiating off him. His eyes kept flicking to the watch on his wrist whenever he had to stir the pot on the stove, awaiting the arrival of his childhood friends. 

You entered the kitchen behind him, now changed out of your pyjamas from that morning, you joined your boyfriend as he moved around the kitchen with practised ease. He flicked his hair back from his face with a sharp movement and you could feel the nerves he was trying to ignore, feeling the flutter of your own heart at the excitement of meeting his two closest friends. 

“Rem, you need to sit down for a moment?” You ask with a chuckle as you place your hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to wear yourself out before they even get here.”

He glanced up from the stove, relaxing slightly as he took you in.

“You look beautiful, darling,” he said with a small smile. He gently kissed the side of your face before turning his attention back to dinner. “Just want everything to be perfect. Like you.”

You playfully tap his shoulder with a grin. “It will be,” you reassure him, squeezing the top of his arms. “I’m sure I’ll love them.”

The brown-haired boy let out a soft smile and shook his head. “They can be quite…boisterous,” he tells you after a little thought. “Don’t take anything that comes out of their mouths too seriously.”

You raise an eyebrow and lean against the counter, crossing your arms with a teasing smile. “Boisterous huh?” You smile at his wording as he frowns, cheeks spattering with red. “I’m sure I can handle that. Besides, if they’re anything like you, I might even enjoy it.”

He laughed at your confidence but he still had a hint of concern, he knew the two well. Very well. Their personalities were huge, and to the wrong person, it could really rub them the wrong way. “Well, I warned you. James is going to start with something juvenile about settling down, and Sirius—“

“—will probably give me all of the details about how you used to be a notorious prankster in your youth?” You completed his sentence with a smirk on your lips. “I can handle that easily, I’ve dealt with worse. Remember the time I accidentally stood on Flitch’s cat in front of him? I survived that…sort of.”

He laughed, a deep warm sound that flooded into the room, it never failed to make your chest feel warm. “Alright, alright. I guess you can survive anything then, dove.”

You gave him a playful wink. “Precisely. Now, why don’t you sit down and let me finish up in here. I swear I will not burn anything.”

He reluctantly strode over to the chair, pulling it back as he relaxed into it, watching you work in his absence. “You have my full trust. Just one thing ok?”

“What is it?” You ask, your eyes sparkling in the dim light, he can’t help but admire the sight of you. All dressed up pretty for this evening. All this effort for his sake. 

“If they get too much, tell them to piss off. They can handle it.” He tells you are he rests his chin on his hand, his lovesick expression completely covering his previous stressed one. 

You shake your head at him. “Stop worrying, I’ve got it covered,” you grin at him. “Just enjoy the fact you have having dinner with your best friends, please?”

The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door that echoed through the flat, followed by muffled chatter. Remus leapt up and gave you a quick kiss to your temple before he made his way down the stairs to let them up. You smiled as you heard your boyfriend’s voice greeting your guests, the conversation was muted but grew louder as they made their way inside. 

“Domestic life certainly suits you,” a voice called out, filled with playful disbelief. 

“Gonna need the secret,” another chimed in, the tone equally light and teasing as the first. “Is it a charm? Potion perhaps? Is that how you got her to say yes?”

You hear a thunk and suppress a giggle, Remus had probably tapped one of them to shut them up. “It’s called ‘being patient’, you heard of it?” He asks sarcastically. “Behave, otherwise you are being kicked out the way you came.”

Only a few moments later, two men appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, their eyes glowing as they took in the sight of you and smiles growing even wider. The one with glasses, James you presume from the conversations you have had previously, was the first to speak. 

“Well, well, well,” He began, entering the space. “Looks like Remus is a lucky guy. I’m James.”

He holds out a hand for you to shake, which you do with pleasure. “Lovely to meet you.”

The darker-haired man followed, his expression playful. “I agree with James here, you sure you didn’t use any spells here Moony?”

You lock eyes with Remus and look at him puzzled, he had never mentioned that nickname before and looked flushed. Oh, you were so going to enjoy finding out more of what your sweet boyfriend had kept from you, and you were going to love every second of it. 

You shook Sirius’s hand and matched both boy’s expressions with a confident smile. “I’m afraid there was no magic involved,” you told them with a small chuckle. “Pure luck and fate.”

Remus rolled his eyes but his heart swelled with your admission. “Okay, okay, enough,” he placed a hand on each boy’s shoulder, ushering them to the dining table. “Darling, why don’t you go sit at the table? I can handle the rest.”

You nodded at him, not noticing James and Sirius sharing the same look as the pet name fell from their friend’s lips. You sit down at the table, which is still in the kitchen thank god, you were happy that Remus was still in the room and hadn’t left you to fend for yourself. 

James and Sirius took their seats opposite you, glancing at your boyfriend with overdramatic smiles. “Settle down,” he said, his parental attitude had you stifling a laugh. “I hope you’re both hungry.”

“Starved,” James said dramatically whilst placing his hand on his stomach. “You have outdone yourself here Moony. Where have you been hiding your culinary skills all this time.”

It was Sirius’s turn to speak. “Yeah, I always thought you were more of a ‘charred toast’ kind of guy.”

You rolled your eyes at their antics. “It was a joint effort,” you pipe up. “I like to think of Remus as my trusted sous-chef.”

“Sous-chef?” James’s expression feigned surprise. “I didn’t know you had culinary ambitions, Remus.”

The man hovering over dinner scoffed. “I shall have you know I am very skilled with a spatula,” he waved it in front of him to emphasise his words. “Just don’t ask me to make a soufflé any time soon.”

Sirius laughed and leaned back in his chair, clearly feeling well at home. “So, what’s on the menu tonight, chef?”

“Ratatouille and herb potatoes,” you tell them. “Remus’s choice, he has been asking for it all week.”

“Sounds French so it must be fancy,” Sirius says with a more serious tone, making you giggle. “I shall see if it lives up to your praise.”

Remus made his way over from the kitchen counter, oven mits on as he delivered the steaming hot food to the table. He removes the gloves from his hands and throws them absentmindedly on the table next to him as he takes his seat next to you. He gave you a reassuring nod as he tugged his chair in, brushing his leg against your own, perhaps an accident but still the action made your heart soar.

“It looks lovely sweetheart,” he tells you softly, his eyes shining with nothing but adoration, looking proud, finally able to show you off to his friends. They both shared another glance as they witnessed the interaction. 

“Well, Moony,” James said with a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Never would have pegged you for such a sap. It’s…nice.”

Sirius chimes in next. “You’re practically glowing mate, all loved up.”

His cheeks reddened slightly but his expression never faltered. “You are just jealous because you are the last bachelor,” he smugly replies. 

You playfully nudge his shoulder before turning your attention back to the boys. “So, I’ve only heard bits and pieces from your time at Hogwarts. Care to share any stories Remus may have been keeping from me?”

A spark appeared behind James’s eyes, clearly ready to divulge precious information. “Oh, where do we even begin? What about the food fight in The Great Hall? Or the time we charmed the sorting hat to only speak Swahili during the sorting ceremony?”

Sirius barked out a laugh as the memories came flooding back to him. “And don’t forget the time we made everyone's hair turn red for the Quidditch house cup! That left everyone pissed for weeks!”

The boy next to you couldn’t hide the embarrassment on his face as he shifted in his seat. “Yeah, well…I didn’t really have a say in these schemes. I was just dragged along for the ride.”

You laughed gently, leaning into his side as to reassure him, trying to ease his mortification. “Oh, I bet you had a lot of fun, though. Sounds like you relished making mischief.”

He blew a large puff of air out of his lungs, amusement gracing his features. “I do admit, it was fun. But only because I was with these idiots.” He gave the two boys sitting opposite an affectionate, albeit exasperated look. “It got me out of my shell, that’s for sure.”

James lifts his glass as if making a toast. “To our precious Moony, then. For not only surviving our escapades but apparently, also surviving us.”

Sirius nodded along before raising his own glass. “And to his lovely girlfriend, for entertaining him in our absence. We are eternally grateful for your sacrifice.”

You laughed wholeheartedly at their words before looking over at Remus. He was entirely fixated on you, his eyes filled with the familiar warmth they always have when directed at you. “I’m flattered,” you say teasingly. “Glad to see my sacrifice has been acknowledged.”

You felt a gentle hand rest on your leg under the table, Remus’s gaze never leaving yours. “Thank you, darling.”

It was now your turn to blush, feeling a wave of fondness rush through you. The dinner flowed smoothly, with the boys speaking over one another in their attempts to relive their past misadventures. Remus’s hand never left your thigh, even when he waved an accusatory finger at Sirius trying to blame him for some previous mishap in a prank long ago. You rested your palm over his own, intertwining with his, letting him know you were right there with him, even among the raucous that was ensuing at the table. 

Sirius, clearly merry on one too many glasses of wine, leaned back in the chair with a tipsy grin. “You know,” he began, his body now turned to face your own. “It’s really something the way you handle our Remus. Not everyone can manage his…unique schedule.”

You paused just before you were about to take another bite, the words hanging in the air, fork hovering above your plate. You turned your attention to Remus next to you and his expression made your nerves spike. His face was pale. Too pale. Like all of the blood had been drained from him. His eyes were locked on Sirius, who seemed oblivious to your boyfriend’s clear horror.

You placed your utensils down and frowned, confusion swirled around in your head. “Unique schedule?” You echoed his words, trying to make sense of Sirius’s previous comment. “What do you mean?”

Remus’s knuckles were turning a shade of white as he gripped the table, trying to keep his composure before clearing his throat awkwardly. “Sirius,” he said, but the strain in his voice was noticeable.

James picked up on what was happening and kicked the man next to him under the table. “Mate, I think you’ve had enough,” his laugh is fake as he taps the side of Sirius’s now empty glass. The action does nothing to lessen your clear confusion. You glance up at Remus as if to ask for an explanation. 

“It’s nothing, dove,” he said, clearly trying to regain his composure. “Just an inside joke.”

Sirius and Remus share a quick glance, the darker-haired boy holds his hands up in mock surrender and begins to speak again. “Alright, new topic. Did we tell you about the time the Lily finally pranked James for the first time? If you thought he was head over heels before, nothing would have prepared you for how he acted after that.”

You shook your head and urged him to carry on, but you couldn’t help the seed of doubt that had just been planted in your mind. Questions buzzed around in your head and the fact that your boyfriend’s leg would not stop bouncing next to yours did little to calm you down. He was silent as Sirius dove into his story, not even smiling at the jokes he was sneaking into the tale. He just felt…frozen. As if all the joy had been sucked out of him in that moment. You weren’t sure if you even wanted to bring this up later. 

The rest of the evening proceeded with a renewed focus on lighter topics, but the shadow of Sirius’s comment lingered in the air, adding a layer of tension to the otherwise warm and affectionate atmosphere. 

After the plates had been cleared away, James and Sirius insisted on doing the washing up for the two of you. What would have been a thoughtful gesture was clouded as Remus refused to look in your direction for more than a few seconds. It was clear that whatever was brought up this evening had rattled him. He was scared. 

The evening came to an end with James and Sirius gathering their things, still cracking light jokes about Remus and his new girlfriend, though the air was notably tenser than it had been earlier. Remus’s smile was tight as you both walked them downstairs and to the door.

Sirius lingered slightly behind, now looking a little bit more subdued, his earlier drunken state had mellowed out as he pulled Remus in for a quiet apology, one only he could hear. “I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t mean to—I thought—”

Remus just nodded solemnly, already dreading what might occur once the two of you were left alone. His jaw was clenched as he reached over to open the door, avoiding his friend’s eyes. “Get home safe, Pads,” he said with defeat, voice hoarse with emotion. 

James offered you a warm smile as he passed you by, his face softer as he spoke to you seriously for the first time that evening. “It was great meeting you, I have to introduce you to Lily sometime,” he glanced over at Remus, his posture still stiff. “Take care of him for us, yeah?”

“Of course,” you replied earnestly, but when you looked over at the tall man next to you, he seemed completely detached from what was transpiring around him. 

When the door clicked shut, the silence that followed was unbearable. He was the first one to move, climbing up the stairs back to your flat, waiting for you to follow. You both stood frozen in the kitchen, waiting for the inevitable conversation to start. He was rigid, his mind going a hundred miles an hour. 

This is what he had been dreading, you finding out. There was no doubt in his mind. If he told you the truth, you would leave. You would shove all of your things in a bag and just leave. The only reminder that you were once here would be the toothbrush left in the bathroom which he would stare at in the morning when he inevitably got up. Taunting him about what he could have had. 

You could feel the pressure in the room increase, and as much as you didn’t want to bring it up, you knew that there was no other choice if you wanted to get answers. You couldn’t live with the doubt you felt after seeing his reaction. Not when it seemed this important. 

“Rem, what was Sirius talking about?” You ask cautiously, not wanting to scare him more than he already was. 

His back stiffened even more at the question, he turned slowly to face you, his expression failing to mask the panic underneath it. 

“It’s nothing,” he spoke too fast, too quickly, his words sharp and defensive. “He was just… drunk. You misheard.”

You frowned, trying hard not to feel hurt by the clear lie and dismissive tone. “No, I didn’t. What did he mean by ‘unique schedule’? Please, do not lie to me.”

“I’m not,” he said sharply, harsh tone making it hard not to flinch away. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his knuckles changing colour as he tried to keep his emotions from leaking out. “Just drop it.”

“Why are you being like this?” You pressed, your question valid. He had never acted this way before. Ever. He was always so open with you, even down to the most mundane things. This was the same boy who answered your every question, every query. Were all those answers just lies as well? “I just want to understand.”

But the poor boy couldn’t even look at you, couldn’t meet your gaze as he knew the expression you would be wearing. The one that would break him completely, especially with the knowledge that he made you feel that way. The fear inside him began bubbling over, his ribs tightened and his breath quickened, chest rising and falling rapidly as the facade he wore so well started to unravel. He shook his head and began to pace, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I can’t—“ his voice cracked painfully. “You don’t understand—I can’t lose you.”

The words caught you off guard, they were not the ones you expected. “Lose me? Remus, you are not going to lose me.”

“You don’t get it!” He suddenly burst out, voice ragged and raw. His breathing was erratic now, on the verge of hyperventilating and it took everything in your power not to reach out and touch him. Hold him. Tell him everything is going to be okay. “If you knew—if you knew what I am—you’d leave. You’d be gone, just like everyone else. And the worst part is I wouldn’t even blame you.”

You watched as the man you love completely shattered in front of you. His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he ran them over his face, a weak attempt to hide the tears that were already forming in his eyes. His breathing was shallow as if he was fighting against an invisible force trying to suffocate him. 

“Remus,” you whispered gently, taking a step towards him, but he jerked backwards, scared of you touching him. He spoke, his voice was filled with anguish. 

“I’m a monster,” he choked out, his words tumbling over one another as they exited him, rushing to get out. “W—werewolf.”

Pained, he managed to get the last word out, but there was no relief when it was finally uttered it. “Every month I turn into something dangerous, something that could—will hurt you, and I—I didn’t tell you because I was terrified. Terrified you would leave. Terrified that if you knew the truth, you’d see me for what I am. I know it’s selfish but—”

His voice broke completely and his legs gave out beneath him as he collapsed on the couch, his face now buried in his hands as his body vibrated with adrenaline. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, his body shaking more with every ragged breath that left him. “I should have told you, but I’m selfish. I wanted to keep you, even if that meant lying to you. Sweetheart I’m—I’m so sorry.”

Your heart shattered for the man in front of you, watching him fall apart, consumed with nothing but fear and guilt. You had never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so catastrophically broken. The sight made your own eyes sting with tears as you wanted nothing more than to reach out for him. 

Without saying a word, you moved towards him, kneeling down slowly and gently prying his hands away from his tear-streaked face. “Remus,” you say shakily, cradling his face in your hands with all of the softness you could muster, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Remus, look at me. Please.”

His watery eyes met yours, filled with so much pain and self-loathing, it nearly took your breath away. He gazed at his sweet girl, too sweet for him. She didn’t deserve this burden. She didn’t deserve any of it. If he could take it all back and never have met her he would, the look on her face was almost too much to bear. He wanted to run away. Far away from here. But he had to listen, you deserved that. He would hear what you had to say. He would do anything you asked of him. 

“I don’t care,” you tell him firmly, trying to keep the tears from spilling and your voice steady. He needed this right now. Needed you to tell him it was all going to be okay. “I don’t care what you are. You could never be a monster to me. You’re my Remus. You’re the man I love. The man who is kind to me, who is gentle. The man who treats me like I am the most precious thing in the world. That is all I care about.”

He stared at you with utter disbelief, not fathoming the words you just spoke to him. The words were spoken softly, as if they were the simplest of truths. “But—but I could hurt you. I could—“

“You won’t.” You interrupted him, brushing a fallen tear from his cheek with your thumb. “You would never hurt me. I trust you, Remus. I trust you with everything.”

His lip quivered again and more tears followed. “I don’t deserve you, you know that? Not in a million years do I—”

You lean in before he can continue his sentence, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to his lips. Your hand cupping his face gently as you try to pour everything you felt into him, you feel his hesitancy as he doesn’t reciprocate. “Yes, you do,” you murmur against his lips, pulling back just enough to meet those amber eyes you have grown to love so much. “You deserve love, Remus. You deserve to be happy. I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a broken sob, lurching forward and burying his face in your shoulder as he clung to you like a lifeline. Holding you close as if you would disappear from him. “I love you,” he whispered in your ear over and over again like a mantra, words slightly muffled against your now tear-soaked skin. “I love you so much.”

You run gentle fingers through his brown hair, shushing him and pressing soft kisses to the top of his head. “I love you too,” you whisper as you hold him close. You would tell him as many times as he needed to hear it, letting him cry until the storm inside him finally began to calm. 

After a long moment, not that you minded one bit, you pulled back slightly. You brushed the tears from his cheeks with a tenderness he had long forgotten. “You know,” you said with a wet smile, trying to lighten the mood between you both. “For a self-confessed ‘monster’, you really are just a big softie.”

A watery chuckle escaped him and he shook his head at your audacity, his grip still holding onto you firmly. “Only for you, dove,” he murmured, his voice still thick with emotion, but at least there was a small smile playing on his mouth, tugging at the corners. 

You grinned and pressed another firm kiss to his lips, this one he allowed himself to feel and he melted into you, arms tightening around you once more as if he was afraid to let you go. “I’m yours,” you tell him. “No matter what.”

Remus pulls back just slightly, gazing at your face with a mix of shock and adoration, his brown eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them and full of emotion. His lips twitched into a playful smile as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Mine huh?” He asked, his voice quiet but teasing. “Sweetheart, I have to warn you—it’s a terrible deal. Comes with occasional transformations and an excessive collection of books, overwhelming amounts of tea too.”

You laugh softly, seeing your Remus return with the same playfulness you were unaware you missed so much. He leaned in closer, his lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. “But I’ve got a pretty decent return policy. You’ll get a lifetime of love, some awful jokes and me being hopelessly, utterly devoted to you, sweetheart."

Your heart swelled at his words, but before you could respond, he pressed his lips to yours once again, this time slower, softer, and full of all the love he had just confessed. When he reluctantly pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, still keeping you in his arms. “I’m yours, darling,” he said with raw honesty. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

[st4rlvr]

thinking about how effortlessly changbin could lift you and now i need to scream

The warm glow of fairy lights illuminated the living room, casting a soft, golden hue over the apartment as holiday music played faintly in the background. You stood on your tiptoes, trying to hang an ornament on one of the taller branches of the Christmas tree. No matter how much you stretched, the star-shaped decoration remained just out of reach.

“Need some help?” Changbin’s deep voice came from behind you, laced with amusement.

Before you could answer, you felt his strong hands wrap securely around your waist. In one smooth motion, he lifted you off the ground as though you weighed nothing more than a feather. There was no grunt, no strain—just pure, effortless strength.

“Whoa!” you gasped, your arms flailing for balance before you placed a hand on his shoulder for support.

“Relax,” he chuckled, his voice steady as ever. “I’ve got you.”

You glanced down at him, wide-eyed, but he looked completely unbothered. His dark eyes were calm, his expression as casual as if he were holding a shopping bag instead of his entire girlfriend. His biceps flexed slightly under the loose sleeves of his hoodie, but not enough to suggest he was putting in any real effort.

“Changbin, are you sure—”

“Am I sure I can lift you? Babe,” he interrupted, smirking up at you, “I could do this all day.”

Your cheeks burned as you looked away, focusing instead on hanging the ornament on the high branch. “Well, okay, Mr. Muscles. Don’t drop me, though.”

“Drop you?” he teased, feigning offense. “I’d never.”

He shifted his grip slightly to make sure you were comfortable, his hands firm but gentle. Once you hung the star in the perfect spot, you looked down at him, still slightly in awe of how easily he was holding you up.

“Done,” you said softly, unsure if your face was red from the height or the way he was looking at you with that affectionate glint in his eyes.

“Perfect,” he said, his lips curling into a proud smile. “Now for the hard part.”

“What’s the hard part?”

“Putting you down without you getting embarrassed again,” he teased, earning a playful swat on his shoulder.

Gently, he lowered you back to the ground, his hands lingering for a moment to make sure you were steady before stepping back. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You crossed your arms, trying to appear unaffected. “You didn’t have to lift me like that, you know.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the couch. “What was I supposed to do? Watch you struggle and let you climb on the furniture?”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re cute,” he replied without hesitation, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

The two of you continued decorating the tree, but every now and then, you’d catch Changbin stealing glances at you, a proud, almost smug smile on his face. It wasn’t just his strength that made moments like this special—it was the way he made you feel so safe, so cared for, and so effortlessly loved.

As you finished hanging the last ornament, he suddenly pulled you into his arms, spinning you around before setting you down with the same ease as before.

“Changbin!” you laughed, swatting at him again, but he just grinned.

“Can’t help it,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “You’re my favorite decoration.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, admiring your handiwork as the tree sparkled in the corner of the room. With him by your side, even the simplest traditions felt magical.

[mockerycrow]

ON MY MIND (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist

summary; you wear kyle’s hoodie and he’s forced to confront some suppressed emotions.

[WARNINGS; gaz is a smoker & is emotionally weary, fluff!]

“Kyle!”

His head tilts a bit from the call of his name, muffled and frustrated. His eyes focused on the glass plate in his hand, his other hand scrubbing the thing with an overly-used sponge. “Yeah?” He calls back, only turning his head by his left shoulder a tad bit so you can hear him better as he’s assuming you’re not near the kitchen.

Kyle hears you shuffling around, your shoes scuffing against the floorboards. You don’t respond for a second, but Kyle knows you’re focused on.. Whatever you were doing. He puts the soapy plate in the other side of the sink in the next tub, reaching for the next dish. However, his sleeve slips down his arm a bit, getting wet and soapy. “Ah..” He cringes out loud, his lips pulling uncomfortably as he uses two fingers to tug the now wet sleeve back into place.

Kyle hears your footsteps approach from the next room, causing him to tilt his body so he can keep his wet hands over the sink whilst also looking at you. You enter the room with a frustrated look upon your face, your eyebrows furrowed and your lip curled ever so slightly curled. Kyle chuckles, unable to help himself at how pathetic you look at the moment and he knows it’s not over anything important. “What’s wrong?” He murmurs, already amused.

You’re holding up one of Kyle’s hoodies, one the ones that has his last name sprawled across the back. He blinks for a moment before you begin to speak. “I gotta run to the corner store real quick and all of my hoodies are still damp in the dryer,” You exclaim, putting the hoodie down a bit so you can look at him. “Do you mind if I wear your hoodie to walk down there?” 

Kyle’s lips purse for a moment, a weird sensation manifesting in his chest cavity as he thinks about wearing his hoodie. “Go ahead, don’t need you getting sick, yeah?” Kyle utters as he turns back to the sink, pinching the front of his shirt and pulling it from his chest as if it’ll ease the sensation. “Sick! Thanks, Kyle. You want anything?” You ask, quickly pulling the hoodie on, adjusting the sleeves.

Kyle’s back is to you as he grabs another dish, mindlessly cleaning it. “‘Course, sweetness. Grab me some crisps, won’t you?” He says, putting the.. clean(?) dish into the other side of the sink on top of the soapy plate. “Yep, I got it. Bye, Ky!”

The door shuts.

Kyle blinks, staring at the soapy water with the tightness in his chest remaining, even after your exit. He sighs slowly, pushing his thumbs into the corners of his eyes—then he shouts, because now soap is in his eyes. “Shitshit—” He hisses, quickly turning on the faucet to wash his eyes out.

Kyle never asked for his hoodie back—a part of him expected for it to appear folded on his bed, washed and taken care of and the other part wished he never saw it again except for you wearing it. You always seemed to lose your hoodies after that, or you went through your collection much faster than you previously had. Neither of you pointed it out, especially Kyle. He was quite alright with a couple of his hoodies disappearing conveniently right at the times you were planning on leaving for a store, or just an outing in general.

Something sickly sweet twists in Kyle’s gut when he sees you wearing his hoodie. It’s something clawing at his insides, gnawing at his bones—energy that makes him want to bash his head into the wall and he isn’t completely understanding why. The second he sees you wearing one of his hoodies, especially the ones with his name on it.. It’s like a little feral squirrel in his body goes wild. 

Kyle turns in his bed, groaning softly as he rubs his hand over his face, trying to focus on the coolness of his sheets as he rolls over. He thinks about Soap and Price, thinking about the night where you embarrassed him in front of his mates. Kyle stares into the darkness of his room as he thinks about how proud you seemed to be after making them laugh—how you seemed to beam at him after sharing a reassuring look.

“Bloody hell.” Kyle mumbles, his words muffled as he turns his face against the warm of his pillow, his breathing harsh for a moment. A pleasant warmth trickles into his chest as he thinks about his missing hoodies. How he isn’t able to help the giddy smile on his face when he sees you walk through the door, coming home wearing something with his name on it. His. His. His.

Kyle lifts himself from his bed, grunting as his feet hit the cold floor. He patters across the floor, quietly exiting his bedroom. Kyle’s heart thumps harshly against his chest. He shakes his head and gently slaps his cheeks as he walks down the hall towards the living room and kitchen, trying to rid himself of these thoughts—of thinking of you like that. He pauses for a moment when he hears the television on, playing at a low volume. Kyle slows his footsteps as he makes his way past the hall, coming into the living room.

The television is gently illuminating the room and he hears you before he sees you. You’re sleeping on the couch, your favorite blanket sprawled across your lap, your back and head supported by the stupid throw pillows Kyle insisted that you two needed for the couch. Your head is tilted down in a position that looks slightly uncomfortable, your lips parted—wearing his hoodie.

Kyle stares for a minute, his eyes softening as he leans forward, his fingers gentle as he takes your head in his hands and slowly but surely, adjusts the positioning of your head. Kyle watches the way your eyebrows furrow for a moment, your lips pressing back together closed. His lips twitch into a soft smile as he watches you shift in your sleep, your face leaning more into his palm.

Kyle’s heart stops for just a second before he brushes the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, your skin hot under his touch. So warm and full of life.

His chest tightens again and Kyle carefully pulls his hand away from you, his feet quick as he grabs his cigarettes and lighter from the counter near the backdoor, escaping out the back to forget about what his feelings truly mean.

🏷️; @kivino @mlmxreader @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @ornateorchid @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @lieutenantlashfaz @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch @abigatorchomp @s8nsbride @talooolalolla @sstormyskyess @spicyspicyliving @nyushkawritesstuff

this is from my overall taglist which you can find here. if you would like there to be a roommate!gaz taglist, comment below! mistakenly tagged/wrongly tagged? let me know, no hard feelings.

[ialreadymadeyouapromise]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏.

PAIRING: evan buckley x fem!reader WARNINGS: misunderstandings, no use of y/n GENRE: angst, fluff, idiots to lovers SONG INSPIRATION: waiting all night - ella eyre WORD COUNT: 4.4k

navigation | inbox | evan buckley masterlist

“come on, you’ll love him!” evan said, leaning forward over the table. his eyes were wide, earnest, and a little too excited for your comfort.

you shot him a skeptical look over the rim of your coffee cup, raising an eyebrow as you sipped slowly. “that’s what you said about the last guy, and he thought supernatural was a documentary.”

evan groaned, dropping his head back dramatically like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

“uh huh.” you put your mug down and crossed your arms. “i’m starting to think you’re intentionally sabotaging my social life.”

“first of all, rude.” evan leaned back, his hand running through his already tousled hair. “second, this guy is different. he’s smart. funny. likes dogs–”

“everyone likes dogs, buck,” you cut in, unimpressed.

he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table and giving you that lopsided grin that always seemed to get him out of trouble. “fair point. but he’s also a firefighter. you already have that in common. and he’s got a great sense of humor, i swear. you’re gonna hit it off. i can feel it.”

“mhm” you said, your voice flat. “because your matchmaking track record is so stellar.”

evan winced, but his grin didn’t falter. “hey, third time’s the charm, right?”

you sighed, tapping your fingers against your coffee cup as you studied his expression. he looked so hopeful, like he genuinely believed this would work. it was hard to stay mad at someone who cared so much, even if his previous attempts had been disasters. 

still, you weren’t convinced.

“why are you so determined to set me up, anyway?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. “i didn’t ask for your help, you know.”

evan hesitated, and for a moment, his usual carefree demeanor slipped. his grin faltered, and something flickered in his eyes. a vulnerability you weren’t used to seeing. it was there and gone in an instant, so quick you almost missed it, but it left you with an uneasy feeling.

“because…” he paused, looking down at his hands as he fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. then, he met your gaze again, his expression softer than before. “i just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

the sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, tugging at something in your chest you didn’t want to acknowledge. you opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. instead, you just stared at him, the weight of his words settling between you.

when the silence stretched too long, you rolled your eyes and muttered, “fine. but if this goes south, you owe me.”

evan’s face lit up, his grin returning. “deal.” he leaned back, looking far too pleased with himself. “you won’t regret this, i promise.”

“mm-hmm,” you said, picking up your coffee again. “we’ll see about that.”

the date was set for friday night at a new restaurant that everyone had been raving about. it was one of those places with dim lighting, sleek decor, and a menu filled with dishes that sounded just fancy enough to justify their price. 

you weren’t sure if it was the kind of spot you’d choose for yourself, but evan insisted it was perfect.

after a last minute call to a friend for a second opinion. you decided on a black dress that made you feel confident. it was simple yet elegant, the kind of outfit that walked the line between effort and ease. you paired it with your favorite heels, the ones that made you a little taller but didn’t leave you regretting your life choices after an hour.

a swipe of your favourite lipstick completed the look. you weren’t expecting to fall head over heels for some random guy, but you figured it couldn’t hurt to look your best.

when you arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, the air smelled like garlic, rosemary, and sizzling butter. the hostess greeted you with a polished smile and guided you to a small table near the window. you had the perfect view of the bustling street outside, where couples strolled hand in hand and taxis honked impatiently.

you glanced at your phone one last time to confirm the details. his name was alex, and according to evan, he was tall, dark haired, and charming in a low key, unpretentious way. you imagined a guy with an easy laugh, someone who could carry a conversation but didn’t dominate it. the thought calmed your nerves, at least a little.

as the minutes ticked by, you alternated between checking the door and pretending to be engrossed in the menu. you ordered a glass of wine to keep your hands busy and your mind distracted. when ten minutes passed, you told yourself he was probably stuck in traffic. fifteen minutes? maybe parking was a nightmare.

by the time twenty minutes had gone by, your confidence started to waver. you tried not to let it show, smoothing your dress and keeping your posture upright, but the excuses in your head began to sound hollow. you resisted the urge to pull out your phone, not wanting to look like someone who had been stood up.

at the thirty minute mark, the reality of the situation was impossible to ignore. your stomach twisted as the truth set in, he wasn’t coming. you stared at the candle flickering in the middle of the table, wishing it would burn down faster so you had an excuse to blow it out and leave.

heat crept up the back of your neck, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. the restaurant suddenly felt too crowded, the noise of laughter and clinking glasses grating on your nerves. you wanted to crawl under the table and never come out, or better yet, disappear entirely.

you took a sip of your wine, willing it to soothe the knot of disappointment in your chest. so much for first impressions, you thought bitterly.

you pulled out your phone, your thumb hovering over the screen as you debated what to say. frustration and embarrassment warred inside you, but ultimately, you decided there was only one person who needed to hear about this disaster.

you: your friend stood me up. this is officially the worst date of my life.

you stared at the message for a moment before hitting send, feeling both annoyed and vindicated. evan had been so insistent, so sure this guy was perfect, and now you were sitting here like an idiot with a full glass of wine and no date.

the reply came almost instantly.

buck: what??? no way.

buck: stay put. i’ll be there in 15.

you blinked at your phone, rereading the message twice to make sure you hadn’t imagined it. a mix of disbelief and relief settled over you. typical buck, always jumping in like he had to save the day. it was infuriating sometimes, but at this moment, you were just grateful you didn’t have to endure the rest of the evening alone.

the waiter arrived with your wine as you tucked your phone away, and you nodded your thanks, taking a slow sip to calm your nerves. the wine was smooth and rich, but it did little to soothe the knot of frustration in your chest. 

you glanced around the restaurant, feeling more self conscious than ever. it wasn’t like anyone here knew you’d been stood up, but the knowledge gnawed at you anyway.

exactly fifteen minutes later, the sound of the restaurant door opening pulled your attention. you looked up to see evan  walking in. he wasn’t dressed for a night out, just his usual jeans, leather jacket and a fitted shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, but somehow, his casual confidence made him stand out among the suits and dresses in the room.

he spotted you immediately, his face lighting up. with an easy stride, he wove through the tables, his hand brushing the back of a chair or two as he navigated the crowded space. when he reached your table, he slid into the seat across from you, his expression softening into one of genuine concern.

“i’m so sorry,” he said, his blue eyes searching yours. “i swear, if i see that guy again, i’m gonna–”

“buck,” you interrupted, holding up a hand to stop his rant. his protective streak was endearing, but you weren’t in the mood for it. “it’s fine. these things happen.”

his frown deepened, clearly not convinced. “no, it’s not fine. you didn’t deserve that. you deserve someone who’ll show up and actually appreciate you.”

the sincerity in his voice made your stomach flutter, the warmth of his words catching you off guard. you looked away, fiddling with the stem of your wineglass as you tried to brush off the sudden rush of feelings.

“well,” you said after a moment, glancing back at him with a small smile, “you’re here now. so, technically, you’re my date.”

his lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. “guess i am. you cool with that?”

you laughed, the sound easing some of the tension lingering in your chest. “honestly? yeah. you’re already better company than that alex.”

that earned you a smile. the kind that lit up his whole face, made his eyes crinkle at the corners, and had an annoyingly infectious effect on your mood. the warmth in your chest spread further, making you feel unexpectedly… at ease.

“well, then,” he said, picking up the menu you’d been pretending to study earlier. “let’s make the most of it. i hear the steak here is incredible. you in?”

you tilted your head, watching him for a moment as he scanned the menu with genuine interest. he was so easygoing, so quick to step in and turn a bad situation into something bearable.

“yeah,” you said softly, a real smile tugging at your lips. “i’m in.”

for the first time that evening, you felt like the night might not be a total loss after all.

after finishing your meal, which had been filled with laughter and the kind of effortless banter that always seemed to flow between you and evan, the idea of sitting through dessert felt unnecessary. instead, you both decided on a walk, letting the crisp night air clear your heads after the warmth and hum of the restaurant.

the streets glowed under the soft light of streetlamps, their golden halos reflecting off the damp pavement, remnants of a brief rain earlier in the evening. the world felt quieter now, the chatter of passing strangers and the occasional honk of a car fading into the background as you and evan strolled side by side.

“sorry again about tonight,” evan said after a while, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. his tone was sincere, tinged with the kind of guilt you knew he couldn’t help but shoulder.

you glanced over at him, your heart softening despite your initial irritation. “don’t be,” you replied, your voice lighter than you felt. “i ended up with the better date anyway.”

the corners of his mouth twitched upward, a chuckle slipping from his lips. “well, you’re not wrong. i’m way more fun than alex.” his teasing tone was paired with a grin so mischievous it pulled a laugh out of you despite yourself.

“low bar,” you said, bumping his shoulder with yours as you walked.

“true,” he admitted, still smiling. but when he glanced at you, his expression softened. his gaze lingered just a moment too long, something unreadable flickering in his blue eyes before he quickly looked ahead.

you continued walking, the easy flow of conversation gradually giving way to a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but rather companionable, steeped in the kind of understanding that only came with knowing someone as deeply as you knew evan.

the city noise faded into the background, leaving just the sound of your footsteps echoing off the empty streets and the occasional rustle of a breeze weaving through the trees above. for once, neither of you seemed in a hurry to fill the quiet, content to simply exist in each other’s presence.

a sudden gust of wind swept through, carrying a sharp chill that had you instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself. the brisk air bit at your skin, you shivered despite your efforts to ward it off.

evan noticed immediately. he always noticed. without missing a beat, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders in one fluid motion, the fabric still warm from his body.

“buck, i’m fine–" you started to protest, reaching up as if to push it off.

“nope,” he interrupted, his tone firm but light. his hands stayed on your shoulders for a beat longer than necessary, steadying the jacket as if daring you to argue. “you’re cold. take the jacket. end of discussion.”

the corners of your lips tugged upward, a small, soft smile breaking through. you pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, the scent of his cologne. a mix of something woodsy and clean, enveloping you. “thanks,” you said quietly, the word holding more weight than usual.

evan gave a little shrug, as if it were nothing, but his lips curved into a smile that reached his eyes. “anytime,” he replied, his voice gentle.

for a moment, you both slowed, your steps falling into sync as the night wrapped around you. the warmth of his jacket against the cool air, the steadiness of his presence beside you, it all felt oddly intimate, like you were sharing something neither of you dared to name.

“you’re too good sometimes, you know that?” you said, breaking the silence after a while. your voice was teasing, but there was an edge of sincerity to your words.

evan glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “too good? is that a bad thing?”

“not bad,” you admitted, smiling. “just… unfair to everyone else who has to live up to it.”

he laughed at that, the sound rich and easy. “well, i wouldn’t want to disappoint,” he said, his tone light, but the way his eyes lingered on you as he spoke sent a faint flutter through your chest.

you fell into another quiet moment, your steps taking you closer to home. the city seemed to fade away entirely, leaving just the two of you walking together under the glow of streetlights, the rest of the world forgotten.

when you reached your apartment, you both slowed to a stop at your door. for a moment, neither of you spoke. the street was quiet, the soft glow of a nearby lamppost casting long shadows on the pavement. you turned to face evan, the night air carrying a weight you couldn’t quite name.

“thanks for tonight,” you said softly, fiddling with the edge of his jacket. “i really mean it. you didn’t have to come rescue me.”

he shrugged, but there was a vulnerability in his expression you didn’t see often. “of course i did. i wasn’t about to let you sit there alone, thinking you weren’t worth showing up for.”

your heart stuttered at his words, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard. you opened your mouth to respond, but the way he was looking at you, his eyes searching yours, like he was seeing parts of you even you didn’t understand, stole the words from your tongue.

the silence stretched, filled with a charged tension that made your skin prickle. you could feel your heartbeat quicken, a warmth blooming in your chest that you didn’t want to name. the space between you felt impossibly small, and yet, you found yourself wanting to close it.

“evan,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?” his voice was soft, tentative, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear what you were about to say.

you hesitated, your breath hitching as you tried to find the right words. but there were none. not for this. so, instead of speaking, you acted. your heart was hammering so hard you were sure he could hear it as you leaned forward.

time seemed to slow as you closed the gap, the world around you fading until all you could see, all you could feel, was him. your lips were a whisper away from his, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

but just as you were about to close the distance, he took a step back, his eyes widening in surprise.

“oh,” you breathed, the weight of what you’d just done crashing down on you. “oh my god. i–i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean–”

“wait–” evan started, his voice filled with panic, but the rush of humiliation already had you moving. your hands fumbled with his jacket, your fingers trembling as you shrugged it off and thrust it toward him.

“here,” you said, your words tumbling out in a rush. you couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t stand to see whatever emotion was written on his face. “thanks for… for everything. i–i’ll see you at work.”

“hang on, just let me–” he tried again, his tone urgent, but you were already turning away. your shaking hands found your keys, and you all but bolted inside, the door clicking shut behind you before he could get another word out.

the second you were safely inside, you leaned against the door, your chest heaving as you tried to calm the wave of mortification threatening to drown you. the silence of your apartment only made the memory of the last few minutes louder, every detail replaying in excruciating detail.

“what were you thinking?” you whispered to yourself, pressing the heels of your hands against your burning face. the warmth of his breath, the way he’d looked at you, the moment he’d pulled away. it all swirled in your mind, a chaotic mess of embarrassment and regret.

you slid down to the floor, wrapping your arms around your knees as the weight of it all pressed down on you. you’d ruined it. whatever you and evan had, it was over now. there was no coming back from this.

and yet, as you sat there in the quiet of your apartment, part of you couldn’t help but wonder. if he’d pulled away… why had he leaned in so close in the first place?

the next morning, you woke up with a pit in your stomach, the memory of last night replaying in excruciating detail. every glance, every word, every fleeting touch seemed magnified in your mind, and no amount of tossing and turning had been able to shake the heat rising to your cheeks.

you could barely bring yourself to look in the mirror as you got ready for work.

by the time you pulled into the firehouse parking lot, you’d come up with a plan. a simple, effective strategy to survive the day. avoid evan at all costs. it wasn’t exactly foolproof, but you figured if you kept your head down and stayed busy, you could process everything later without risking further humiliation.

but as soon as you stepped inside, your plan crumbled.

evan was waiting for you.

he was leaning casually against the wall near the entrance, his arms crossed, but the second he saw you, he straightened up, stepping directly into your path before you had a chance to slip by unnoticed.

“hey,” he greeted, his tone neutral but his eyes searching your face like he was looking for answers.

your breath hitched, your carefully rehearsed avoidance strategy vanishing in an instant. “hey,” you replied, keeping your voice light and cautious, deliberately avoiding his gaze as you tried to sidestep him.

“can we talk?” evan asked, his tone softer now, almost hesitant.

the question sent a fresh wave of panic through you. you shook your head quickly, brushing past him as if escaping the conversation would erase it altogether. “there’s nothing to talk about,” you said, your words tumbling out in a rush. “let’s just forget it happened, okay?”

evan’s brow furrowed, and you could feel his presence close behind you as you hurried toward the lockers. “no,” he said firmly, his voice low but unyielding. “i don’t want to forget it.”

his words stopped you in your tracks, the weight of them sinking in before you could take another step. your heart raced as you slowly turned to face him, your eyes wide and guarded. “what are you talking about?” you questioned him.

evan’s jaw tightened as if he were struggling to find the right words, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. “last night,” he began, his voice softer now. “it wasn’t–it didn’t mean nothing to me. and i don’t think it did to you either.”

your chest tightened, a thousand thoughts swirling in your head, each one more chaotic than the last. but before you could respond, a voice cut through the tension.

“buck! we need you up here, now!”

bobby's voice rang out from across the room.

evan’s head snapped toward the sound, his expression flickering with frustration as he glanced back at you. he looked torn, his eyes darting between you and the source of bobby’s call.

for a second, it seemed like he might ignore the summons entirely, but the urgency in bobby’s tone made the decision for him.

“don’t go anywhere,” evan said, pointing at you with a look so pleading it made your stomach flip. “we’re finishing this conversation.”

you didn’t answer, your throat too tight to speak as you watched him jog up the stairs. the air seemed to settle heavily around you in his absence.

this wasn’t over. not by a long shot. and judging by the look in evan’s eyes, it wasn’t something you’d be able to run from, no matter how much you tried.

you managed to avoid him for most of the day, staying busy with your own tasks and sticking close to others whenever you were in common spaces. but you couldn’t dodge him forever.

later that evening, as the firehouse settled into its quieter rhythm, evan cornered you in the kitchen while you were refilling your water bottle.

“seriously?” he said, blocking your exit with an exasperated look. “you’ve been dodging me all day.”

“i’ve been working,” you said defensively, avoiding his gaze.

“you know that’s not what i mean,” he said, his tone softening. “we need to talk about last night.”

“no, we don’t,” you said quickly, gripping the edge of the counter. “it was a mistake, buck. let’s just move on.”

his brows furrowed, and he stepped closer. “it wasn’t a mistake. not for me, at least.”

your breath caught in your throat as his words hung in the air.

“look,” he continued, his voice low and earnest. “i know i messed up last night. i didn’t mean to make you feel… embarrassed or rejected. i was just surprised, okay? i wasn’t expecting you to–” he stopped, running a hand through his hair. “i wasn’t expecting you to feel that way about me.”

you stared at him, your pulse pounding in your ears. “well, i don’t,” you said weakly, even though the lie sounded hollow to your own ears.

evan gave you a look. a knowing, disbelieving look that made you embarrassed. “you’re a terrible liar,” he said softly, stepping closer.

“buck, don’t–” you started, but your voice faltered when he reached out, his hand brushing yours where it rested on the counter.

“i’m not trying to make this harder,” he said, his tone gentle. “i just… i need you to know that last night wasn’t one sided. i didn’t pull away because i didn’t want to kiss you. i pulled away because i panicked. you caught me off guard.”

you blinked at him, your mind racing as you tried to process his words. “you… panicked?”

“yeah,” he said, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “i’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you how i feel for weeks, and then you just… did it. you were brave, and i froze.” he hesitated, his voice dropping lower. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. that’s the last thing i wanted.”

the honesty in his voice left you momentarily speechless.

“you really hurt me, buck,” you finally admitted, your voice shaking slightly. “you pulled away like... like i was wrong to even try.”

his face fell, and he stepped closer, “i know,” he said quietly. “i’m so sorry. you didn’t deserve that. you didn’t deserve to feel like you were wrong, because you weren’t.”

his hand finally brushed against yours, tentative but warm, and your resolve faltered.

“i don’t know if i can...” you trailed off, the words tangled in your throat.

“hey,” he said softly, dipping his head slightly to catch your gaze. “i’m not asking you to forgive me all at once. i just... i need you to know that i feel the same way. i’ve felt this way for a long time.”

the weight of his confession left you momentarily speechless. he took another small step closer.

“i should’ve told you sooner,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper now. “i should’ve been braver.”

you let out a shaky breath, your walls crumbling under the warmth in his gaze. “i want to believe you,” you said softly.

“then let me show you,” he said, his tone tender but sure. his fingers curled lightly around yours, his touch slow and careful, like he was giving you every chance to pull away. “if you’ll let me.”

your heart pounded as he leaned in slightly, his movements deliberate and unhurried. you hesitated for a moment, the echo of last night’s hurt still fresh.

“buck...” you started, your voice barely a whisper.

“tell me to stop,” he said, his lips only inches from yours now. “if you don’t want this, tell me to stop, and i will.”

you didn’t tell him to stop.

instead, you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was tentative at first, testing the waters. evan let out a quiet, relieved sound, his hand sliding to your waist as he deepened the kiss, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was savouring every moment.

when you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, you were both breathing hard, the air between you charged with unspoken promises.

“i’m still mad at you,” you murmured, though there was no heat in your voice.

“i know,” he said, his lips curving into a small, lopsided smile. “i’ll make it up to you. i promise.”

you let out a soft laugh despite yourself, 

the warmth of his presence melting the last traces of doubt.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᯓ★

© ialreadymadeyouapromise 2024.

[navybrat817]

Hollow

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky touches on memories from the past and wants to start a new tradition with you.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal fingering, dirty talk, slight use of knife, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Fic #7 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Newlywed Mob!Bucky won the poll.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A different side of Bucky came out when the leaves began to change. Subtle, but different. It wasn't noticeable to most since he showed people what he wanted them to see. It was a skill he perfected over the years, almost as if he wore a mask to hide his true self. What you saw, however, was ice in his eyes, the same that no doubt ran through his veins. Something weighed on his heart and mind.

You were determined to get to the bottom of it.

As his partner, it wasn't just your job to chase his demons away, but a need to protect him from whatever haunted or hunted him. You wanted to soothe him and let him know he wasn't alone. You knew if the roles were reversed that he'd eliminate anything or anyone that removed the light from your eyes. To have someone that loved you that much was still a bit of a dream.

How thin is the line between love and obsession?

“I can hear you thinking from here, Printsessa,” Bucky said. He knew you were watching him as he sat in his study, even as he focused on something else in front of him. He didn’t turn his back to anyone, except for you. He knew you would never put a knife in it. That was how much faith and trust he had in you. “Don’t want to join me?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” you replied, walking further into the room so you could get a better look at him. He had the sleeves of his button up shirt rolled up, giving you a moment to admire his metal left arm and the tattoos on the right. He commanded the room without standing.

“It's never an interruption if it's you,” he reminded you.

He twirled one of his signature knives between his fingers before he went back to work. The love of your life was an expert in many weapons, but had an affinity for knives. While it didn’t surprise you to find the head of the Bratva with a weapon in hand, you hadn’t expected to see a pumpkin in front of him. “Pumpkin carving? You’re just full of surprises.”

He snorted a little. “I like that I can surprise you.”

Watching him start to carve a pattern in the pumpkin with ease, his eyes narrowed in concentration and hand moving with care, was like a dance. He led with confidence and control. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

“Do you know why some people carve pumpkins?”

You finally took a seat beside him on the sofa, resting a hand on his thigh. His muscles relaxed and you wondered what had him so tense. “I think most do it today to decorate, but some do it to ward off evil spirits,” you said, moving your hand in slow, circular motions as he hummed in acknowledgement. “Is someone haunting you? Do I need to scare them away?”

He tilted his head, a glimmer of pride flickering in his blue eyes as he smiled. “You’d scare them away? You don't think I can handle them myself?”

“I have no doubt you could handle them on your own,” you said with complete certainty. He more than earned his Winter Soldier nickname. “But if something or someone is after you, I want to help.”

He studied you as he lowered his knife and covered your hand with his, holding it like a lifeline. Some protected and fought for him because it was their sense of duty. Others did so out of loyalty to his bloodline. You did it out of love.

Because you did love him.

“No one is after me. At least not today,” he assured you, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “But thank you.”

“Then why are you holding my hand like you can't let go?”

The look he gave you melted your heart a bit. “Because I don't want to let you go.”

It was almost as if he was worried you'd bolt if he released you. The only time you'd run would be when you wanted him to chase you. Or maybe he imagined someone would try to take you away from him. He'd never let anyone get you. “What's on your mind then?”

And how do I help?

“My family,” he admitted, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “My mom used to carve pumpkins. I haven't done it in years.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. His family wasn’t a topic he discussed much, so you didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “Did she teach you how?”

A faint smile appeared and fell just as quickly. “She did,” he said, admiring his handiwork. “I thought it was strange at first, you know? Encouraging me to pull out the insides and leave it hollow. And to carve a face? It almost seemed like a form of torture. Probably why dad demanded I use a decent knife.”

He didn’t hide the hint of anger when he mentioned his dad. You turned your hand over so your palm connected with his, letting him squeeze it to ground him. “But that’s not why your mom did it. She was teaching you to do something beautiful instead of harmful.”

“That's exactly what she did,” he agreed, leaning forward to pick up the knife. “It also encouraged my critical thinking skills. You can’t just dive in without a plan. You have to think it through.”

Bucky sometimes teased that his best friend, Steve, was the man with a plan. The truth was, they both were. Each brilliant in their own way, there was a reason they stayed in power and why so many feared them.

“And I felt proud when she displayed them. Valued,” he continued, his voice a little choked up before he cleared his throat. “It was a tradition I didn't realize I missed.”

Maybe the nostalgia was the reason his eyes looked a bit colder in the fall. “Sounds like a beautiful memory,” you said.

“I hadn’t formed beautiful memories in years until you came along,” he said, his lips skimming your temple. “But you're my family now.”

Tears didn't fill your eyes, but you felt them in your throat. The man was ruthless when the occasion called for it. Terrifying in his rage. You were the lucky one who would never be on the receiving end of it. Only his love. His need. But you could take his rage if you had to.

Like his old memories, you could make it something beautiful.

“You're my family, too,” you told him. You hadn't expected that of Bucky when you met and part of you wanted to stay away from the dangerous world he helped rule, but how could you not want a life with him?

His gaze softened, which warmed your heart. “And I would feel very proud if you helped me finish this,” he said, moving further back against the cushion and opening his legs for you to sit between them. “Maybe it can be the start of our own tradition.”

Your heart raced as you stood up and took a seat on the edge of the cushion, exhaling as he pressed himself against you. “I’m not good at this,” you said, closing your hand around the handle as he placed the knife in it. You didn’t want to ruin the intricate design he already worked so hard on.

His warm breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “We’ll do it together.”

“Guide me?” You asked.

“Of course, Printsessa.”

At the root of everything, Bucky was a man who didn’t want to walk this earth alone. Power and money meant nothing if he didn’t have someone to share himself with. It would’ve left him as hollow as the pumpkins he worried about carving as a child. And if helping him finish this one would make him happy, you’d do just that.

Time passed as he helped you cut into the pumpkin and urged you to follow the stencil, the smell from the pumpkin seeds off to the side bringing a pleasant layer to Bucky's woodsy cologne. There was something intimate about him having you close, his hand directing where yours should go. Like when he taught you how to properly shoot a gun. He said you didn't need his help, but he gave it to you all the same.

Your hold almost slipped when his metal hand snaked between your thighs, softly rubbing your pussy through your underwear. It barely covered your mound, just like your flimsy nightgown. “How am I supposed to concentrate?” you asked, arching as he firmly pressed his palm against you.

“You asked me to guide you. I will,” he said, the light scratch from his scruff making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“You're distracting me,” you whispered, trying to keep your breathing nice and steady.

“Would distracting you be so bad?” he whispered back close to your ear. “We're almost done.”

His fingers gently played with your clit through the fabric, drawing a breathy sigh from you as you squirmed. His almost feathery touch made you all the more determined to finish up, especially since he refused to let you close your thighs to get any friction. You were on the edge of release and he was relentless in loving you.

But he didn't let you come.

“Good girl,” he praised once you finished carving, stopping his fingers as you set the knife down. You bit back a whimper as the rising pleasure faded. “It's beautiful.”

“It is,” you breathed. Instead of a smiling face you saw on so many pumpkins around Halloween, he designed a merged sun and moon. “It's us, isn't it?”

“It is,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before he gestured for you to hand him another knife. “You're my sun.”

“That makes you my moon,” you said, stiffening when you felt the blade at your shoulder. “What are you-”

Bucky sliced through your strap and kissed your bare skin. “I'm starting a new tradition,” he said, doing the same to the other side before he slid your nightgown down. He dragged the knife across your exposed breasts, taking great care not to cut you. “Carve a pumpkin. Cut your clothes off. Make you come.”

“You mean tease my pussy without getting me off,” you said without much bite.

He chuckled, a deep rumble as he set the knife aside. “I always get you off. I’m going to make you feel so good, Solynshko.”

With gentle kisses along your jaw and neck, his large hand slid up to fondle your breasts. The rough pads of his fingers teased your nipples as you gasped and reached back to grasp his hair. He moaned as you twisted your fingers in the strands, his hand sliding down to your wet heat again. Thankfully, he didn't tease you through the fabric this time. His fingers dipped into your underwear and you knew he was eager to feel your arousal.

Everything in your core tightened when he caressed your folds. You met his gaze as you tilted your head back, wanting him to see your desperation as his gaze darkened. “Make me come, please.”

“People beg me for money. Power. Mercy,” he said in a low voice, nuzzling your cheek as he sank a finger in, your walls contracting around him. “Not you. It's only pleasure you ask for.”

“It's you I'm begging for,” you admitted in a whisper. Even when you pushed or questioned why he wanted you of all people, you gave him your love. You yielded only to him and you would never bend your will for anyone else. To deny him would be to deny yourself.

He brushed his lips along your jaw and dipped another finger in as you shuddered. “You begging for me to fuck your pretty pussy with my fingers? Make you ruin this couch before I give you my cock?”

Your head fell back against his shoulder as you bit your lip. “Yes, I am. Ruin me. Love me,” you moaned.

“I love you more than anything,” he promised as your eyes slipped shut, dots of white dancing behind your eyelids.

He gripped your jaw to turn your head back to him, seeking out your lips with his. There was nothing tentative in the kiss, his ice meeting your fire and creating an explosion of need within both of you. Your body hummed as you felt the peak of your impending climax, ready for him to tear you apart.

“Come for me, Printsessa,” he demanded against your lips.

Your pussy clamped around his fingers as you lost yourself to the daze of your orgasm, shamelessly crying out his name. Your juices dripped down his fingers as he helped you ride it out, praising you in your ear and guiding you the way he did with the carving. He was telling the truth before: He always got you off.

“Are you okay?” you asked once you caught your breath, the question you meant to ask the moment you entered his study. He seemed more at ease, though lust now clouded his eyes.

“I'm okay,” he said in a rough voice, slowly pulling his fingers out as you sagged against him. He pulled you closer, enveloping you in his strong arms. It was safe. It was home. “But I think you need my cock.”

“I think I need it, too,” you smiled once you caught your breath, knowing his cock likely twitched in his pants as he tasted you on his fingers. “And you owe me a new nightgown.”

“I ordered you a new one before you came in here,” he said, his expression smug as you turned your head to stare at him. “Now sit on my cock. We have a long night ahead of us.”

“Bossy Pakhan,” you teased.

But if giving you orgasms, ruining your clothes, and making new memories brought the light back in his eyes, you wouldn't complain.

Oh, to belong to him. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

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