#and warm and its fucking cold outside of my blankets

[babygirlvanitas]

AHHAHAHAHGAHAHA AKISHIN TAG LFGGGG

I NEEDED ONE OKAY

if im to be The Akishin Guy I NEED a tag for organizations sake

[azurine-cryptid]

i love it when i have my first week of uni and now my calves are sore from running around trying to find my classes and i got a soar throat and jaw pain

[mydear-corinthian]

trouble sleeping

synopsis: you're having a hard time sleeping and spencer helps you

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering, implied insomnia, praise kink

notes: short <w.c 1000 | ib: natt-ice's p-link | divider by lavendergalactic

main masterlist | criminal minds masterlist

Sheets ruffling. Bed moving. Annoyed groans.

The gentle rustling noises behind him woke Spencer. He was startled out of his half-slumber by the little shuffle of movement and the rustle of blankets. With a sleepy blink, he rolled over and watched you squirming around to find a comfortable position. You shifted the pillows with a groan and fidgeted under the blankets, clearly frustrated.

"Hey, why are you still awake?" Spencer murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he propped himself up on one elbow. His body was now fully facing yours, eyes tracing the silhouette of your restless form in the dim light.

You mumbled, "I can't sleep," in a frustrated tone. "God, this is so annoying!" You pushed a cushion beneath your legs in an attempt to relieve some of the pain after yanking another pillow from the head of the bed but still no avail.

Spencer didn’t immediately respond. He just watched you, his gaze lingering on the frustration playing across your features. A soft scoff slipped from his lips, barely audible.

You let out a low groan as you shifted once more, desperate for some relief. The bed felt too warm, too cold, the sheets too tight, or too loose—nothing felt right. "Fuck this," you muttered, the words a bitter release, your head sinking into the pillow in exasperation.

After a few minutes of your boyfriend watching you suffer, he spoke up. "I have an idea. Statistics shows that you can sleep immediately after you exercise."

"Exercise?" your head rise a bit, looking at him questionably with the smirk that's planted in his face. "What exercise are you exactly talking about?"

Spencer smirked, perhaps enjoying the moment, but he didn't respond. He suddenly grasped your face with his palm, his thumb gliding over your cheek, his lips pressing softly but passionately against yours. Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, a breathless "oh" escaped your lips as a wave of warmth swept through you. You immediately put your arms around his neck and drew him in, kissing him more deeply as you both got caught up in the intimacy and the outside world faded.

"Mhm—" you let out a moan as his tongue worked with yours. Your fingers made its way to his hair, curling it in pleasure and then to his topless back.

The kiss was full of love, closeness, and lust. Spencer's lips pressed against yours, a mix of urgency and tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. As he deepened the kiss, his fingers began their slow, deliberate journey from your neck, trailing down to your stomach, exploring the soft curves of your body.

"May I?" Spencer asked softly as his hand rested on your shirt. You nodded in response and Spencer didn't hesitate to remove your t-shirt, leaving your bare chest exposed. He smiled at the sight before kissing you again.

"Spence.." you whispered. "Mhm—"

"Yes, baby?" he said in between kisses but you just moaned in response. "I need you to use your words, baby."

Your eyes pleaded, thighs shaking. "Need you, please.." you cried.

Spencer chuckled, bringing his fingers down to your white-laced panties before removing them slowly. His index finger rolled down to your sensitive clit, drawing figure of eights.

"Spencer— aah," you moaned, holding his upper arm tightly as you felt pleasure slowly waving towards you.

"So wet.. and sensitive, my love," he cooed.

As he slowly inserted a finger inside of you, you let out a gasp that echoed the shock and joy that filled your body. As the world around you seemed to melt away, your head sank back, giving in to the waves of pleasure that swept over you. Even though it was only a finger, it lit a fire inside of you. You spread your legs wider as he added another digit, pumping it in and out in a slow but steady pace. He held you tightly, your head resting on his other arm as he finger fucked you.

After a few more, Spencer's pace speeded up, hitting that spongy spot that made your back arch. "Aah— Spence—Fuck! Yes, yes, yes—" you chanted his name like a damn saint as you started to see stars when you closed your eyes.

"You like that, yeah?"

"Yes, Spen— aah!"

As he pumped in deeper, his lips catched yours. You kissed him back with full force while moaning in between kisses. The pleasure was overflowing.. and so was you.

Your core ached and clenched on Spencer's slenders. A familiar feeling coiled up your lower stomach, causing you to fully shot your eyes down and moan like crazy. Your legs shaked as his pace was getting harsher.

"I'm close," you ached.

"It's alright, baby," Spencer smiled as he purposely hit his palm on your clit. "I'm here, mhm? Cum on my fingers. Can you do that for me?"

After a few more, you came. His fingers were stained with your juices. You panted like a crazy madman as your legs collapsed.

Spencer pulled his fingers out and focused his eyes on you. Smiling, he kissed you again but this time, passionately.

"Remind me how that can make me fall asleep quickly?" you asked with a tired but satisfied sigh.

"Your body releases hormones like dopamine and oxytocin. They're responsible for making you feel less stressed, more comfortable, and can actually help you sleep. There's a saying, "It's the only sleeping pill with no side effects."

Spencer pulled the comforter up and tucked you in, smiling. "Thanks, Spence," you whispered as you kissed him on his cheek.

"Anytime, princess," he replied before the two of you dozed off, hugging each other tightly.

The next few days, you started to use this excuse on Spencer to get that pleasure that you want.

[fourmoony]

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

remus lupin x f!reader

smut. p in v. creampie. unprotected sex. fingering. sex with a friend. language. 18+ content minors DNI.

3.2k - masterlist

summary - reader can't sleep. remus helps out. not with warm milk, though.

i'm supposed to be working on an assignment for college. but remus lupin is taking up space in my brain. so, enjoy :)

-

The air feels stuffy, too hot against your slick skin.

You blow a breath out in frustration, a piece of hair stuck to your forehead refusing to budge and you groan. The house is silent apart from the droning on of the electronic device between your legs that does little to abate the feeling clawing at your insides and it only makes you more frustrated. The lights in your bedroom are turned off, the world outside asleep. Everyone apart from you. You’ve spent two hours tossing and turning, and a further half hour trying to cure the ache between your legs.

It’s futile. You’ve tried everything. Every speed your overly expensive vibrator has to offer, every position, you even got out the glittery pink dildo Marlene got you for Secret Santa the previous year, leaving it out to the side after coming to the heart-breaking decision that it simply wasn’t big enough.

You feel like nothing will be big enough. Nothing feels right, nothing feels good enough, nothing is even close to tipping you over the edge. You shift, further to the left, and whine again, pressing the vibrator to a higher speed. It moves as you press the button, and the feeling of closeness is gone just like that. You growl, pushing the blankets off in a fit of rage and choose to stare at the ceiling in defeat. It’s not going to happen. You should just accept that. But you’re worked up, horny, and too fucking clammy.

The flat is quiet. Remus is asleep – the only reason you’re so nonchalant about the noise of your vibrator still buzzing against the mattress next to you, taunting you. You reach to turn it off, sitting up and putting your hair into a makeshift bun. You stare with narrowed eyes at the shadowed outline of the sparkly pink atrocity of a Secret Santa gift. It was given as a joke to make you blush. Your friends like to tease you for your innocence. It’s not something you ever would have bought for yourself. You’d blushed furiously and everyone laughed. It was addictive for the first few weeks, being able to explore your own pleasure. But now. Now, it doesn’t feel enough. Doesn’t feel as good. As big. As filling.

It’s a quick thought, a fleeting thought. A memory that makes your cheeks flush and your eyes close in embarrassment. Remus, fresh out of the shower, two seconds away from closing the towel around his waist. He hadn’t locked the door. It was an accident. You hadn’t meant to walk in on him. You’d been half asleep, bursting for a pee, and he hadn’t locked the door. Even worse, you hadn’t meant to look. But he was wide eyed and frozen, and your fight or flight had you trying to assess every part of the situation. And his nakedness was a large part of the situation.

You’re not proud of it. But you’d looked. And you liked what you saw.

And now.

Well, now, you can’t stop thinking about it. About Remus. Kind Remus who makes you tea on cold mornings, puts your pyjamas in the dryer for you when you get out of the shower, who cooks you dinner and leaves it in the oven when you work the late shift at the café down the road. He’s kind and attentive and always there to lend a helping hand. You feel silly as you clamber off your bed, knowing there’s a high likelihood that Remus will tell you you’ve taken his kindness to its boundaries.

Your feet pad quietly down the hallway of your shared flat. The under counter lights in the open plan kitchen at the end of the hall illuminate the space enough to see. Remus’ door is closed, but you twist the handle and push, wincing when it lets out an annoying squeal. Remus rouses at the sound, squinting sleepily at you as he turns. He lets out a breath, sits up on his elbow and pulls back his blanket to offer you the space beside him.

It’s not the first time you’ve climbed into bed with Remus, but you still shift nervously on your feet, biting at your lip.

“You okay, love?” Remus asks, voice deep and croaky.

It makes you flustered in your reply. Voice quiet, unsure, “Can’t sleep.”

Remus nods, reiterates pulling back the blanket to make room for you. You cross one leg over the other in front of you, fiddling with the metal daisy chain ring on your middle finger. Remus got you it when you got into university last year. It’s your favourite piece of jewellery you own, overpriced tennis bracelet from your overcompensating parents be damned. He catches your nervous tic and his eyes narrow, his head tilts, messy hair flopping sideways with the movement. There’s a slight stubble on his chin from running late this morning and skipping his daily shave and he’s sans pyjama top, having clearly also felt the heat.

He sits up fully and the blanket pools around his waist. His skin glows in the low light of the moon through the window beside his bed. He’s beautiful. This you’ve always known. Now, it’s tenfold because you’ve seen all of him. And all of him is what you want, in this moment. Your face is flames as you edge closer until you’re hovering beside his bed.

“Have you tried warm milk?” Remus asks, his voice almost teasing.

“Don’t want warm milk.” You pout.

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, trying to sus you out. He knows. He must know something. You’re hardly being subtle. Remus’ lips twitch in a smile when you squeeze your legs together in front of you, again, lip between your teeth, eyes watery.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice breathy.

He wants you to say it. But you can’t. You won’t.

“Rem, please,” You whine, “I’ve tried everything.”

His hand reaches for yours, pulls you until you’re straddling him. His lips are a centimetre from yours, hot breath fanning out over your mouth. You press down hard against him, lips pouted. He doesn’t let up, just raises his eyebrows. A question. What have you tried?

“I couldn’t get the angle right with my vibrator,” You whisper, cheeks bright red and warm to the touch, where Remus’ thumb is gently rubbing back and forth, fingers cupping your wobbling jaw, “Then the thingy Marlene got me wasn’t-“ You huff.

Remus chuckles softly, endearingly.

“It wasn’t enough.”

Remus smiles, “You want my help?”

You nod eagerly, “Please, Rem.”

He’s on you in a second. Lips and tongue and teeth, so hot and heavy it knocks the breath from you. His hands fist the thin material of your shorts, at your waist and you bend into him, hands running up his sides, over his shoulders, into the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s hard beneath the flannel of his pyjama bottoms. You can feel it against the crease of your thigh. It makes you whine into his mouth, shifting until you’re perfectly aligned over him. His grip focusses on your arse cheeks when you grind down, a bruising grip that you relish in.

His hands push you forward, you pull yourself back. His lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw, down your neck. Your head tilts back, panting for breath, lost in the pleasure. Your stomach tightens the harder his grip gets, the harder you press down, the faster you move. You feel like a seedy teenager, dry humping yourself against him. Remus’ teeth nip at your collarbone, only to soothe over it with his tongue. You whine again, making your impatience known, but Remus doesn’t speed up.

He looks up, lips mouthing at the underside of your chin until you tilt your head back up to look at him. His pupils are blown, eyes hooded, lips curved into a sinful smirk.

“So needy.” He mumbles into your lips.

You push down harder in response. Remus grabs your hips, stills you. You pout, doe eyes watery. Remus tuts, shakes his head, “You want my help, we do it my way.”

He shifts until you’re lying beneath him, legs hiked up around his waist. He doesn’t waste time in stripping you. Your shirt, then your shorts, your panties following. He throws them across the room, and they fall into the shadows of his darkened room. You’re glad they’re gone. Your body feels like it’s burning up under his touch, featherlight as he traces the goosebumps across your skin. He presses kisses in the wake of his fingertips, to your collarbones, your chest, the tops of your breasts, your stomach, navel.

His lips are warm, wet, pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs. You’re high strung, keening, and needy. He comes back to face level, and you grumble, deep in your throat. So close. He was so close to where you need him. He’s smug. You’re about to protest when he slides a finger into you. Your mouth opens, head pushing back into the pillow. His fingers are long, but slender, and it’s not long before he adds another. Your back arches, eyes closing. The minute you close your eyes, Remus stops. You look up, furious, to find him smirking something evil down at you.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” He whispers, nose bumping yours.

You comply. Remus resumes, fingers pumping steadily in and out. When he’s knuckle deep, he curls them and your body jerks in response. It’s too much and not enough, a dizzying euphoria of Remus’ casual confidence and his skilful fingers. His thumb brushes your clit gently, the bundle of nerves swollen and begging for attention. You moan his name, thighs squeezing against his hips where they’re splayed open. It urges him on, he whispers quiet encouragements – good girl, that’s it sweetheart, you’re so wet for me – and you continue to writhe beneath him.

“Rem,” You gasp, hand encircling the wrist that’s pumping in and out of you, “Need you.”

“Soon,” He promises softly, lips pressing to the swell of your breast, teeth lightly nipping at the skin there, “Want you to come on my fingers first.”

His thumb moves in tighter circles, his fingers curl deeper, move faster. He adds a third, the stretch burns but in the best way. Your jaw opens on its own accord, a string of moans emitting from your throat, and you arch into Remus. His eyes meet yours, blazing with lust.

“C’mon, baby,” He urges, voice sinfully deep, demanding. “Come for me.”

You clench around his fingers, and he groans as you gush around his hand, voice high pitched, your grip on his shoulders vice like. He’s surprised you don’t snap in two with how high your back arches. His fingers pump you through the rush in your veins, his quiet reassurances blacked out by the sound of blood rushing to your ears. Your head spins and you see white as the orgasm you’ve been chasing for what must be hours by now crashes over you. You babble nonsense, buck against Remus’ fingers, mouth open, eyes wide, back arched and head pushed violently into the pillow beneath you.

Remus hovers over you when your breathing evens, eye’s a little less clouded, and his usual concerned look on his face. You smile dopily up at him, eyes bright.

“Good?” He asks.

It’s a double ended question – you good? Was that good?

You nod.

“More.” You whine, attempting to pull him closer with your legs around his waist.

“You’re insatiable.” He laughs lightly, head bending down to peck your smiling lips gently.

You nod in agreement, head tilted as you look up at him, “I’m blaming you.”

“Of course.” Remus nods, placating you.

He shimmies his pyjamas off, kicks them off the end of the bed, and comes back to crowd your space, again. Hard, he’s much bigger than you saw from Shower-Gate. Your mouth waters as his hand wraps around his dick, pumping a few times before looking back to you. His face softens when he notices your lip trapped between your teeth.

“Baby?” He questions and you soften.

“That’s,” You sigh, embarrassed, “That’s not going to fit, Rem.”

Remus laughs, the apples of his cheeks rounding out, his teeth appearing from behind his lips. His head hangs over your shoulder and you hide in his hair, mortified. The hand that isn’t supporting his weight runs softly up and down your thigh. You groan to show your mortification, heels digging into Remus’ tail bone to try kill his laughter.

“Rem,” You protest, letting a chuckle of your own slip.

Remus looks up, eyes soft, lips pressed together to stop his laughter, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, pretty girl. I’m not laughing at you. No one’s ever said that before, you just caught me by surprise.”

You giggle, squeezing his waist with your thighs, “They’ve definitely thought it.”

Remus shakes his head, “We don’t have to.”

It’s your turn to shake your head, “I want to. I really want to.”

He smiles, leans in to kiss you. When he pulls away to pump himself again, you let out a low breath. He brushes the tip against your folds, wet and puffy, a couple times before he pushes in slowly. He groans, you moan. You’re tight, fitting around him like perfection. He goes slow until he’s buried to the hilt. You allow yourself to get used to the feeling, whimpering softly when his thumb comes to circle your clit again, working you up.

“That’s it, baby,” He speaks softly, so softly, and you moan.

He pulls back, pushes back in. Takes it slow. Allows you to adjust.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need the raw pent-up aggression you’ve seen Remus show pervs at bars when they touch you inappropriately. You need angry Remus, who threw a book at the mantle place when your parents missed another birthday. You need the Remus who tries so hard to hide the aggressive side of him but can never fully rid himself of his primal urges, of that white hot fury and determination.

“More,” You breathe, “Faster. Harder. I need more, Rem. Please.”

You’re babbling, begging. But Remus complies. He snaps his hips forward and you all but scream. He groans, breath hot and heavy against your neck. He’s attentive, hips attacking your pelvis. His wooden headboard slams against the wall, your hand reaching up to hold on and stop you from sliding further up the bed. An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you up, closer to him. He feels deeper at the new angle, hips battering into yours. He’s relentless, hitting every spot you need.

You’re babbling nonsense, but so is Remus. Words of encouragement, words that tell you how good you’re taking all of him, how tight you are, how perfect you are. You’re meeting his every thrust, hips grinding against him, the stubble creating friction that tightens the coil in your stomach.

Remus attaches his lips to your shoulder, biting down as he pounds harder against you. You say his name like a mantra, unable to think of anything other than the feeling of him, all over, everywhere, filling, stretching, pounding.

“Rem,” You whine – so close. So, so close – “Come in me.”

Remus’ head snaps up, pupils blown, mouth hung open. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t falter, “What?”

“Pill. Just,” You gasp when he hits that spot, “Come in me. Please. Wanna feel it.”

Remus moans. Dirty and deep. He fucking moans.

He’s relentless, sweat dripping from his forehead, he releases your waist, hikes your thigh up over his shoulder, you scream. He urges you, tells you sweet things, details how he’s going to fill you up, bites the skin of your calf. His other hand reaches down, draws tight circles that have you seeing stars. You scream his name, loud enough for the entire street to hear, using the leverage on his shoulder to lift your lower back off the bed.

The feeling is dizzying, all consuming. It’s feverish, frantic, a wild chase to the end.

You clench, he hits the right spot, the sting of his teeth on your calf emulates up your leg, the stomach muscles holding you up clench, and he calls you baby, all at the right time. You see white. It feels like your entire body explodes, lights on fire, crashes and burns. You convulse, twitching and screaming, broken words and moans of his names, clenched vice-like around him.

You’re begging. Begging him to follow, to finish in you, even in your pleasure.

You’re still floating, but coherent enough, when Remus grows sloppy, uncoordinated, drops your leg from his shoulder, falls forward, hands at your sides to hold himself up. He jerks, groans, his head falls into your shoulder, and you whine, happily, dopily, when you feel the white-hot spurts of his come against your walls.

He’s breathing heavily, both your bodies slicked with sweat. He drops his weight onto you, and you welcome him happily. Your legs wrap around his lower back, you both wince with the movement. You can feel the slickness between you both, the way he’s dripping out of you. But you’re comfortable, lips pressed to his damp hair. You trace shapes on his back until he comes to, pushing up to press his lips to yours.

The clock on his nightstand reads four in the morning.

He gets up to leave and you whine, “Don’t go.”

Remus chuckles, “Just going to get a warm cloth. Be back.”

You allow him that, grateful he had the idea. You hear him running the tap in the bathroom and he returns with a warm cloth. He’s gentle when he wipes you clear. You wince and flinch, blushing when Remus presses gentle kisses to your thighs as he works. He whispers softly between kisses how pretty you are, how well you did.

He discards the cloth in the wash basket by his door and returns to the bed.

He groans as he settles, holding his arm out for you to fall into him. You do so, swinging a leg over his thighs. It’s then that you realise you’re both still very naked, and your shyness returns. Remus traces shapes on your arm, tucking his head over yours, lips to the crown of your head.

“I can hear your cute little brain running laps, you know.” Remus teases.

You roll your eyes, push your face further into his neck.

“I just came to you in the middle of the night for sex,” the post coital dread sets in tenfold, despite feeling the most relaxed you’ve felt in weeks, “I’m so sorry, Remus.”

You feel Remus shrug, “Don’t fret, sweetheart. I was more than happy to oblige.”

“But-“

“Get some rest, honey. We can talk more tomorrow.” He assures you, pulling the blanket further up your naked bodies.

You concede, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the stubble tickling your lips, “Okay.”

He pulls you closer, settles in. You allow sleep to wash over you, let the relaxation in your bones pull you under. It’s a dreamless sleep, a comfortable sleep, wrapped in Remus’ arms.

[becomesylus]

5:00 pm

this is heavily inspired by the new banner trailer hehe i don’t think i’ll ever shut up about it (also this is not beta read, so i’ll check it out when i’m done with whatever the fuck i’m dealing with)

minors do not interact. re-read the warnings before reading, as after clicking “keep reading”, i am not responsible for the media you consume.

snow falls into the ground, leaving a white blanket onto the earth as early night sets in. Cool, freeze that causes pimples of goosebumps erecting out of sensitive skins, serving its reminders of the wintering season.

one way to warm up is to be within the near vicinity of your loved ones, providing with love and warmth that can calm the cold.

but he’s not calming the heart as you were red faced and heartbeats as he places his hot lips into your naked skin…

Xavier pins you up against the window, the strap of your nightgown fails to conceal your top half as it sips down your arm, leaving your soft skin pressed against the cold glass from the freezing outside.

One hand pins your wrist, the other roams between your legs, using his long middle and ring digits to languidly play with the damp fabric, leaving you gasping for more vigorous movements from him. You grind against his finger while he kisses against your neck, nipping and sucking to surely leave a mark on the empty canvas. He lets go of your wrists, placing his free hand on your jaw, turning your head. His large lustful blue eyes intensely gazes into yours and your lips, before he leans in to lock his lips into yours, breathy gasps exchange between the two of you.

While one hand holds your jaw and neck to steady your head, his other hand pushes your panties to the side as he gathered your essence before inserting his nimble fingers into your pollen. You moaned against his lips while he gasps at the warmth you’re giving him, continuing his strokes.

He slightly smirks as he hears the squelching sounds his fingers makes inside of you, if that’s how wet and delicious you sound with just his fingers, then how would it sound like with his cock?

Almost as if he can tell you were getting close just based on your pants and your legs giving out, he suddenly stops moving before he turns you around, now your back placed into the cool glass, making you instinctively arch, while he vigorously takes your soiled panties off.

He then began removing your nightgown, leaving you bare right in front of him, while the only thing immodest about him is his shirt is entirely unbuttoned. Your chest moved up and down following your rapid movement, while Xavier’s eyes intensely gazes into yours figure, eyeing you like you were a goddess fallen from the sky. He places you by the desk and grips your legs as he spreads them and places himself in between them.

“Don’t move…” he whispers with a shudder, his ears turning red in desire as he prepares himself to devour your all night.

You shouldn’t be in his room, but you were thankful that your poor planning came in your favor, as you had been unexpected wrapped in Rafayel’s lustful trap.

He had caught you as he began slamming his lips into yours in a feverish fashion, his strong arms wrapping itself onto yours as his scolding tone contradicts his actions.

“You’re in my room…” He groaned as he held you closer to gather more of your skin, nipping and kissing onto yours neck with passion and vigor. “You’re the one who walked in here…” he whispers as he went back to your lips as he twirled you and lightly pushed you onto the bed.

His tongue wrestles with yours as his hand began roaming the side of your body underneath him, pushing your dress up high to reveal your panties. As you began down to unbuckling his belt, suddenly a call interrupts the session. He pulled away, as he sees who’s the call.

As he was distracted, you took the opportunity to push him down, catching him off guard. His eyes widened as you took the phone and hung up.

“The guest of this room is unable to answer, please leave a message after the tone”

the automated telecom echoed in the room, yet the silent intensity lustful gaze between the two permeate screamed louder. The caller’s message asking about Rafayel was background noise while the sounds of kissing and Rafayel’s moans conceals it.

“Are you sure—“ His words cut off as you press your lips onto his, proceeding with the interrupted session. His hands places itself on yours hips as they grind into him, resulting in whispered whimpers and praises.

He looks up at you as you lowered yourself, your hands gripping the hem of his pants and boxer and pulling them down, releasing his leaking hard cock out of its cage. You began kissing it from the shaft up to the tip, leaving trails of teasing affection onto his sensitive skin.

He shudders as he pets your head and strokes your cheeks before you inserted his cock into his mouth, making him gasps.

“stay with me…”

You didn’t know what was in Zayne’s drink, but you were far from complaining. What once held a concerned mindset now holds a mind filled with desire and passion for the doctor that is holding and kissing you with such desperation like you were going to fade away from his arms.

He placed you in his desk, pushing away all its content without a care into the ground, as his lips on you grows heavy and fiery. His glasses on his face was later discarded when he pulled away, almost like it served itself as a wall to preventing from having him. The typical composed, calm and collected doctor that you know of was gone, what stands in front of you is a man who’s desperate and longing with such fiery desires for you.

You began giggling as the way he nibbling on the soft skin of the tops your breasts, “Zayne, you need to calm down, I’m not going anywhere…”

He pulls away, face flushed, hazel eyes brimmed with desires, still holding onto you.

"I need you... I need you so bad..." He whispers as he eyes with such desperation.

You attempt to get out of his grip to get him to cool down, but the made it all the worse. Before you get the chance to escape, he pins you against the wall, and he begins to lean even closer to you.

"You keep saying I'm drunk... must I always stay sober?"

The questions are rhetorical as he began crashing his lips into yours, whimpering to your gasping mouth. Desperation is riddled within his system, and who were you to deny that as you wrapped your thighs around his waist and allowed him to take you right up against the wall.

Sylus took such good care of you...

The way his strong arm carries you and the other carries your heel as he walks you both to his bedroom, only for the two of you to relax in. The heating tension between the two of you were imminent in the atmosphere, ready for either of you to address it and get ready to go on that ride.

Sylus drops your heels as he places you into the bed as he stands up and looks at you with such care, he gave you his signature smirk as he began to unbutton the first few buttons as he sits on the couch before you, sighing as he lays back.

You looked at him quizzingly, "You're not going to bed?"

He just chuckles and shakes his head, "I'm not that sleepy."

You were both satisfied and annoyed at his answer. You stood up from your bed and walked up to him, he mirrored you and towered you as he gripped your arms.

"C'mon, kitten, it's been a long night, you must be tir—" He gasped as you pushed him back onto the couch and crashed your lips onto his, straddling onto his lap, which he naturally held onto your hips. It was a move that was unexpected from you, normally you'd be shocked from this but right you couldn't care any less. It was a long time coming, and the time is now and you didn't know how long you would take it.

You pulled away for a breather, only for Sylus to pull you in once again, still wanting more from your lips, this time his tongue wanting more to taste you.

"You have... no... idea how much I want to do this..." Sylus whispers against your lips, his red eyes glows a color that shines brighter than a ruby on fire. He pulled you in once again to give strings of passionate kisses, his hands roaming freely across your body, large hands groping every soft skin you can expose.

He unexpectedly picked you up, mouths still latching onto each other, only to pull away for air and quickly going in the the pool of ardent love and lust, only to place you on the bed with him on top.

He pulls away, breathless and lips plump from the intense make out session. His eyes still carry that igniting flame of passion, leaving trails of flame all across your body. He gripped your thighs and pulled you closer to him, as he chuckles breathlessly before huskily whispering while his hand sneaks with your dress,

"I'm hoping yes is still your answer... because I just can't hold back anymore..."

most of the phrasing have been taken from the trailer, but everything else is inspirational.

[tofics]

Comfort Has A Name

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: For you, comfort has a name: Joel Miller.

Word count: ~1.1k words

Tags/Warnings: fluff, freezing your ass off, soft!Joel, jokes about saggy balls in hot weather

A/N: Look at that, I actually wrote something. I'm literally drowning in uni work atm so I have no idea when I'll get back to my other fics, but I'm too overwhelmed with my task list tonight so naturally I had to procrastinate and think about a comforting Joel situation. This is literally no more than a drabble, but maybe it can provide some comfort for you too 🥲

Tough and gruff as he may be, Joel Miller is still your comfort person.

Occasionally, people will ask you how the hell you deal with him on a daily basis, and you never know what to reply. Where do you get the patience?

You're not a saint, by no means. Your patience does not exceed the normal amount, but you've never found Joel testing it.

It's more the opposite, really.

Where other people complain that he grinds their gears, you think of him as the drop of oil that smoothes out the kink in your own system.

Like that day him and you got surprised by a thunderstorm and had to take shelter in an abandoned building. Nothing about the complex provided a sense of comfort; bare and crumbling walls, dust and rubble-coated floors, and more broken windows than intact ones to show for. It was a miserable night. You were freezing, drenched from the downpour the two of you had gotten caught in, and the wind wasn't helping either, howling through the cracks and holes in the ceiling and walls like a wailing ghost.

Joel and you had taken cover in one corner of the building. In the dim twilight of the early night, your two cowering figures could've easily passed as two more large pieces of rubble to the untrained eye. Your soaked clothes lay strewn around, hastily discarded and exchanged for dry clothes from your backpacks in an attempt to not lose more body heat than necessary. (Joel hadn't looked, of course, and neither had you. Both of you had turned their backs to each other as you'd quickly stripped off your clothes, as quickly as the soaked garments would allow.) Still, your teeth were chattering relentlessly, adding a rhythmic element to the white noise provided by the downpour outside.

You reached for your backpack to retrieve your sleeping bag, hoping to wrap it around you like a blanket for extra warmth, but you noticed the mishap as soon as your fingers found the side compartment of your bag. The flap hung loose, and your sleeping bag underneath it was drenched.

"Fuck." You muttered under your breath.

The flap must've had come loose sometime during your sprint through the rain, which left your sleeping bag drenched and you without a plan to warm up. With a sigh, you pulled the bunched up material from its tiny compartment and rolled it out over the floor next to your drenched clothes. You were doubtful any of it was going to be dry by morning, but the chances were still higher than if you kept it all bunched up in your backpack.

You'd slept on solid ground enough to know how cold and unwelcoming any stone surface could be, but that night, you truly understood whoever had coined the term 'stone cold'. The hard concrete against your back was drawing out more heat from your limbs than you could conjure, despite your best efforts. You had curled yourself into a ball, knees tucked tightly against your arms which were crossed over your chest. Your hands, formed into tight fists, were buried in your armpits, but it wasn't helping. Frost was settling in your every limb, slowly working its way from the tips of your extremities all the way to the core of your bones.

That's what you got for getting caught in the rain in early November.

"Hey." Joel's voice grumbled next to you, barely distinguishable over the rain splattering outside. You shifted your head and squinted at him through the dark.

He too was curled up into a human ball, but he'd extended an arm to you as if inviting you for a side-hug.

"C'mon," he said and beckoned you over with a flick of his hand.

You didn't need to be told twice. With your backpack in tow, you scooted over to him, dragging both your belongings and your butt over the dusty ice-cold floor.

"Whoa." You breathed out in surprise as you tucked yourself against Joel's side. His arm came down around you instantly, locking you in place and holding you closer to him than you might've allowed yourself. Heat radiated from his center like he secretly harbored a little white dwarf in his abdomen.

Before you could even think about what you were doing, you pushed yourself into Joel's side as much as physically possible. Your arms snaked around his waist and just barely touched on the other side, while your head came to rest below his chin on his chest, your legs all jumbled up into a big knot drawn as close to yourself as possible. It wasn't really a comfortable position, and yet it was as comfortable as you were ever gonna get.

"Are you an oven or something? How the hell are you so hot?"

Joel snorted. You could feel the low rumble of laughter vibrate in his chest that followed. "Guess that's genetics for 'ya," he retorted, and you only then realized the ambiguity of both your remarks. A lazy smile formed on your lips and you softly boxed his rib cage.

"Not what I meant," you said with half a laugh and quickly wrapped your arm back around his torso. His warmth was too delicious to give up for even a second. Already you felt ten times warmer than you'd had on your own, and that was just from a few seconds of being wrapped around Joel's middle like a jacket you had been reluctant to bring and now regretted.

"I know, sweetheart," he replied and you could hear the smile in his words. "Always been warm-blooded. S' a blessing in winter and a curse in summer. Always sweatin' my damn balls off from May to September."

"Hmm." You feigned a sound of delight. "Tell me more."

His chest vibrated once more as another round of laughter rumbled through him. This time, it was him who faintly smacked your head at your jest. "I'm serious. Ain't no fun having your balls basically stick to your knees all damn summer."

Your eyelids fluttered close as you rolled your eyes. What a charming picture he was conjuring up in your brain.

"You know, when I said tell me more? I really didn't mean that." You shook your head at the picture of a sweaty ballsack stretched out all the way to the knees. "Christ."

Joel chuckled under you. "You said I'm hot as a' oven. I didn't start this."

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[punkshort]

The Holiday in Vermont

Thank you anon for this prompt!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: A much needed escape after a brutal breakup to Woodstock, Vermont gives you much more than you ever bargained for when you meet Dave York.

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), oral f!receiving, unprotected piv sex, one little spank, mentions of infidelity, angst, food and alcohol consumption, heartbreak

WC: 8.1K

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

A/N: inspired by the movie The Holiday - if you're a fan you'll notice some very familiar lines ❤️

"Yes, okay? I slept with her."

The words still echoed loudly inside your head.

"She's in love with me, I'm sorry!"

You couldn't remember storming down the stairs and yelling in your ex-boyfriend's face in the middle of your driveway, but you did remember clocking him square across the jaw. Twice.

He tried to blame you, tried to blame your long working hours. But you refused to accept it. He was the one who encouraged his receptionist's flirty behavior. He was the one who took her to fancy hotels when you were working late. Not you. Him.

However, he had a point. You worked a lot. Probably too much, but you loved what you did. Was it so much to ask for a partner who supported and understood your dreams and goals?

Alright. Maybe you should have planned more date nights or something.

It didn't matter. Things were over. Finished. Kaput. But you couldn't stand the thought of being by yourself during Christmas in your cold, lonely penthouse apartment in Chicago. So with a quick, spur of the moment google search, you found yourself renting an Airbnb in the quaint little town of Woodstock, Vermont.

Known for its idyllic shops and gorgeous winter landscapes, you figured, why not? A week away from the chaos of your job and pain of a failed relationship. Your boss was stunned to hear you wanted to take a vacation, the first since you had started six years ago, but he was quick to approve your time off request knowing full well the company couldn't run without you.

Five days before Christmas, you sat in a sweet little cabin just a short walk from town. You were in the woods, just you and a stack of books you promised yourself to at least try to take a crack at, in front of a cozy fireplace. You must have dozed off because you jolted upright with your heart racing when you heard a key being worked rather roughly at the front door.

"Oh, shit. Oh, fuck," you whispered, tossing the fuzzy blanket off you and racing to the fireplace. With a poker in hand, you swiveled around right as the door swung open.

You heard a man's voice grumbling under his breath and your grip on the poker tightened. When he flicked the lights on, you gave him your best scowl and tried to look as fearsome as possible.

"I've already called the police, I suggest you be on your way," you lied.

But all he did was frown and close the door behind him, leaving the blustery, snowy weather outside where it belonged.

"Who are you?" he asked with a sharpness to his voice. You scoffed, offended.

"Me? I'm renting this place from the owner, Sandy. And who should I tell the cops broke in?"

The man smirked and shrugged off his coat, completely unphased by your weapon.

"I'm Dave. Sandy's brother."

You stumbled backwards as he hurried over to the fireplace to warm his hands. It was then you got a good look at him. Strong, cut jaw. Clean shaven. Dark brown hair with eyes to match, but there was a softness to them you couldn't deny. And when he leaned forward to throw another log onto the fire, you noticed the way his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his sweater.

"And what are you doing here, 'Dave, Sandy's brother'?"

He chuckled and sat back on his heels to look up at you, the reflection from the fire making his dark eyes sparkle.

"Well, on the rare occasion I find myself having too much fun at the local bar, Sandy lets me spend the night here. My place is a good half hour away and she worries about me driving. You know how sisters are," he said with a small smile. The iciness to his voice was gone as he slowly searched your face. "Want to tell me your name now?"

You wanted to stay rigid but the way he looked at you caused you to fold. You told him your name and explained you were staying through Christmas to get away from... things.

He nodded and leaned back into the couch you had fallen asleep on just a few hours earlier, stretching his arms wide across the back and spreading his legs while gazing up at you.

"So no husband, then?"

You swallowed and kept your eyes locked on his face. Why was he asking?

"No. No husband. Be a little strange to be attached to someone and not be with them during Christmas, don't you think?" you asked with an arched brow.

Dave smirked and let his eyes drop to stare at the fire.

"Imagine so."

Silence stretched on for another minute and you lowered yourself onto the couch.

"So you can't drive?" you asked. Dave pushed air through his lips and shook his head.

"But I can call an uber or something. I didn't know she rented out the place."

You glanced around the small cabin, weighing your options. If he wanted to kill you, he would have already, right?

"Or you could stay," you offered. His eyes snapped up to yours in surprise. "I mean, if you wanted. Since you're already here and all."

"You sure?"

You nodded and pressed your lips together.

"Mhm," you hummed as you looked around. "There's probably a spare pillow somewhere."

Dave's lips curled into a slow smile as he watched you fumble around for a pillow.

"Mind if I ask why you're here spending Christmas alone?"

You froze, scanning your brain for a lie until you realized it didn't really matter if this man knew your story, you would never see him again, anyway.

"I, uh, broke up with someone," you said, finally finding a pillow and thick blanket in a cabinet behind the television. "I wanted to get away from the city to distract myself and... well, so far it's not really working," you admitted with a wry chuckle. You turned to hand him the bedding, fingers brushing against his and sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes locked with Dave and you felt your heart flutter before you forced yourself to take a breath and snap out of it.

"Sorry to hear that," Dave said softly. Then the corner of his mouth twitched when he added, "Maybe I could help distract you?"

"Excuse me?" you snapped, crossing your arms. Dave set the bedding down next to him and waved his hands in surrender.

"Sorry. Not appropriate."

"No, it wasn't."

"Sorry," he said again. You swallowed tightly, anger and excitement battling it out inside you. Part of you wanted to kick him out in the snow and book the first flight out of there. But another much louder part of you wanted to consider his offer. What better way to move on from your ex than to hook up with an admittedly very attractive man who you would never see again?

It's not something you'd ever done before, but did that make it so wrong? Could you not just enjoy yourself for one night?

Dave had stood to spread out his blanket across the couch, ignoring your internal conflict behind him. Once he had everything set, he finally turned to look at you.

"Well... good night."

Your heart was already racing in your chest from your decision made seconds prior, but when he stepped forward to give you a peck on the cheek, an action no doubt fueled by the alcohol in his veins, your blood pumped even faster. At the last second, you turned your head and captured his lips with yours.

The kiss was a bit stiff. Both of you paused in surprise but lingered a few moments before he pulled away and looked down at you curiously.

"I thought-"

"I changed my mind," you said before grabbing his thick sweater in your fist and pulling him down for another kiss. That one was less than polite. His hands flew up to cup your face while his tongue pried open your mouth and licked past your teeth. You knew your bedroom was somewhere behind you, but Dave knew the layout of the cabin much better. He began to walk you backwards while your hands pawed desperately at his shoulders, and only once you both collapsed into bed did you even break away for air.

"I never do this," you panted while tearing off your shirt. Dave was working on his belt, ripping open the leather in a frenzy.

"That's okay," he responded while kicking off his pants.

"It's just - I caught my ex cheating on me with his receptionist," you continued, clothes falling off you one by one. "And the thought of hooking up with a guy I'll never see again is weirdly turning me on right now."

Dave laughed and tugged his sweater over his head, revealing his strong chest and thick arms.

"He sounds like an asshole."

"He is," you breathed right before Dave crawled on top of you for another deep kiss. You moaned into his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist, jumping a little when you felt his already hard cock press between your bodies.

"Relax," he whispered, then gave you one more quick kiss before dragging his mouth down your throat. His hands greedily squeezed at your hips and his tongue darted out to lick and bite gently at your breasts as he continued his way down, not stopping until his shoulders were wedged between your thighs and his mouth was hovering over your glistening cunt.

Dave didn't waste any time teasing you. He buried his face between your legs, lapping up your seam a few times before prodding further. His tongue swirled at your entrance with a muffled groan while you squirmed and gasped in his hold. You tried to subconsciously inch away, body already too sensitive, but his arms pinned down each of your legs, holding you flat and open so he could eat at you freely.

Curses left your lips in soft whimpers as he pushed you higher and higher with his mouth. Your fingers grabbed weakly at his disheveled hair, drawing his eyes open. He was transfixed when he watched you, chest heaving and head twisting this way and that as you struggled to find your high.

Either he wasn't the kind of guy that liked to tease women or he was too eager to fuck you because his lips latched around your clit, sending your back arching off the mattress with a broken cry. With just a few flicks of his tongue, he sent you hurtling over the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as your orgasm rolled through you, hips rocking up to meet his mouth until your legs grew shaky and your heart felt like it might beat right out of your chest.

"Oh, fuck - oh, my god," you gasped, dragging in huge gulps of air while Dave peppered kisses over your hips and up your stomach until he was pressing his body against yours.

"Need a minute?" he asked with a cocky lilt to his voice. His lips tugged into a smile against your throat and you had a feeling he noticed the tremor in your hands as they raked through his hair.

"No, I'm fine," you replied defiantly. Dave propped himself up on his forearms, smirking down at you with his lips still wet from your climax.

"Yeah? You think you're ready to take me, baby?"

His knee nudged yours aside, opening your legs even wider so he could reach down and fist his cock. You nodded but he caught the way your breath hitched when he dragged just the tip through your folds.

"Shit," you whispered, eyes already fluttered closed.

"Hey," he said with a sharp little bite to your chin. Your eyelids popped open, slightly annoyed. "Keep 'em open. Eyes on me."

"You're bossy in bed," you told him. He just chuckled and lined himself up.

"I just know what I like."

You were about to say something back, probably something snippy to try and knock his arrogance down a peg, but at that very same moment he pushed himself inside you, every thick, hard inch in one go, and whatever words you had queued up died in your throat.

Now you understood why he wanted you to look at him. He wanted to see the way your eyes changed when he entered you. He wanted to see that initial shock followed by that rush of pleasure. He wanted to see your eyes soften when you grew used to his girth and fill with need when he took too long to move. You knew all of this because it was exactly what you saw reflected in his own eyes as he stared down at you.

"Dave," you whispered with your eyebrows still pinched together. He was so fucking thick that the stretch stung a little, but in the best way possible. "Dave... fuck me. Please fu-"

You gasped and threw your head back into your pillow when he dragged himself out a few inches just so he could slam back into you.

"Oh, god, yes!" you cried out, his hips snapping against you faster. He kept one hand tangled in your hair and the other firmly planted on your hip. Each time he pounded into you, he yanked your hips upwards, driving himself as deep as possible while you fought for breath because every devastating stroke punched the air straight from your lungs.

You had never been with a man like Dave before. He had swagger but he had the goods to back it up. He was rough with the way he fucked you, but so soft when his mouth connected with yours, muffling your cries and his grunts.

His hips suddenly slowed and your eyes popped open in surprise. Your lips were still locked with his but he was fucking you slower now and then you realized he was matching pace with the way he was kissing you. Soft and deep and with purpose. You closed your eyes and felt a sigh shake loose in your chest, then your arms wrapped around his neck and you melted into his embrace. You weren't sure what caused the sudden change but it felt good. It was sweet and intimate and lo-

No. No, this was not why you came all the way to Vermont. You refused to fall for another man who would end up breaking your heart. You told Dave you just wanted a one-night stand, but the way he was pressing his body against yours and the way his tongue was mapping your mouth like he was trying to commit you to memory had you pulling away. You gave his chest a hard shove and his eyes fluttered open in confusion.

"What are you-"

"Move," you said, pushing him once again. He frowned but did as you asked, leaning back to give you space so you could pull yourself up onto your elbows. When you squirmed away, his cock slipped out of you and you swore you heard him whimper, but you pushed it from your mind.

"Did I do something?" he asked, but then you flipped onto your hands and knees and looked at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

"Want you to fuck me like this," you said, wiggling your ass in the air. His eyes darkened and his hands greedily found your waist, and all traces of that softness he had just shown you vanished. You sighed and rested the side of your head on the bed with your arms stretched out above you while you waited.

"Such a pretty sight, baby," he murmured before cracking the palm of his hand across one cheek. You gasped and jumped forward but he quickly dragged you back, impaling you on his cock once again.

Just as you had hoped, Dave began to fuck you harder. His fingers dug into your hips, pushing and pulling you in rhythm with his thrusts. Every stroke was so deep and powerful that it had tears burning the backs of your eyes. It was absolutely perfect. Your mind was blissfully blank. Every thought and memory and worry from the past week flew out of your brain while Dave fucked you like it was his last day on earth.

As if he could read your mind, he said, "This what you needed, isn't it? Needed someone to fuck you properly for once?"

Tears leaked out of your eyes and soaked into the bedding.

"Yes," you gasped. "So good - you feel so fucking good -"

"Did he used to fuck you like this?"

For the life of you, you couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Not when his cock kept splitting you open like it was. Your legs were getting shaky and you felt that crest beginning to rapidly rise with every harsh thrust of his hips against your ass.

"W-who?"

Dave chuckled and fell forward. His palms were pressed flat on either side of your head and you wailed when somehow the shift had forced his cock even deeper inside you.

"Your ex, baby. What was his name?"

You sobbed and shook your head, hands grabbing to push against the headboard he was quickly fucking you into.

"Don't remember his name?" Dave panted in your ear. "Ouch. Poor bastard. Bet you know my name, though, don't you?"

"Yes!" you screamed out when two of his fingers reached underneath and began to press fast circles against your clit. "Dave! Dave! D - ah, fuck! - I -"

It hit you all at once. Tears streamed down your face when you came, gushing all around his cock as he continued to pummel into you. He was saying something, you were sure of it, but you couldn't hear a word. The ringing in your ears was too loud. Your muscles were jumping and spasming with every wave of your orgasm, pussy squeezing and fluttering around his shaft and pulling his own release to the surface with you.

Right when you were beginning to regain your senses, you heard him groan your name repeatedly. He grabbed at your hip again, abandoning your clit when he sensed it was too much, and yanked you back so your ass was flush against him as he spilled his seed inside of you. Every burst had him softly groaning and pulling until he exhaled shakily and collapsed, slipping out of you and knocking you off your knees to lay flat on the bed with him.

"How's that for a distraction?" he murmured. You grinned and pushed the hair away from your face.

"Not bad."

Dave huffed and rolled onto his side, facing you.

"You couldn't remember your ex's damn name. I think it was a little better than that." He reached out to gently caress your cheek and you felt that softness creeping back up again, but that time you couldn't fight it. You were too exhausted, so you closed your eyes and gave in.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow you would remind him it was a one time thing and that you were not interested in anything else. But for that one night, you let him pull you close with his bare chest pressed against your back and soundly fell asleep wrapped in his strong arms.

The next morning you had dragged yourself out of bed, fighting against every cell in your body that begged you to remain warm and cozy under the covers next to Dave. As tempting as it was to examine him while he slept so peacefully, you knew yourself. If you weren't careful, you would end up developing feelings for him and you certainly couldn't afford to be put in a position where you would be disappointed by yet another man.

That was why you found yourself an hour later fiddling with the coffee maker and cursing under your breath when the damn thing wouldn't turn on.

"Morning," his deep voice rumbled from the doorway. You whipped around and gave him a polite smile. He was wearing the same clothes as the night before but his hair was still a little unkept and his gaze was drifting appreciatively over your frame, making your smile widen against your will.

"Morning. I was trying to make you some coffee but this stupid thing-"

"-needs to be plugged in," he finished for you with a smirk. You furrowed your brow and twisted back around to examine the machine when suddenly he had sidled up behind you. "Not much of a coffee drinker, I take it?" he asked, stretching an arm around you to plug in the machine and flip the switch. You could feel his exhale on the back of your neck as memories from the night before flooded your mind.

"Uh, no, not really," you admitted while stepping to the side to create a little more distance. You picked up a glass filled with a store bought smoothie, forgoing the freshly made smoothies you were used to buying every morning back in Chicago since the small town of Woodstock didn't afford many options. Dave's face twisted into a look of disgust when he saw you take a sip.

"That looks like lawn clippings in a glass."

"It's not that bad - want to try a little?"

He shook his head and turned to open a cabinet. "I'll wait for the good stuff, but thanks," he said after placing a coffee mug on the counter.

You sat at the small kitchen table, tugging your oversized sweatshirt tighter around your neck as you sipped your smoothie and watched Dave maneuver around the room, completely comfortable and in his element while he dug around for something to eat and fixed his coffee to his liking.

It felt very domestic. Too domestic. So you cleared your throat, deciding you needed to clarify your intentions before you were pulled even further under his spell, but Dave spoke first.

"Are you busy today? I had some errands to run in town. Thought you might wanna tag along. I could show you around, maybe get some lunch-"

He had turned around with his mug clutched in his hands when you cut him off.

"Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea," you said. "I'm not really looking for anything more than, you know... what we did-"

"Just using me for a quick fuck?" he asked, but when your eyes snapped up to his in surprise, you could tell he was teasing you.

"Well..."

Dave chuckled and sat down across from you.

"Don't worry, I'm not looking for anything serious, either," he assured you. You watched his tongue dart out to lick his lip, catching a drop of coffee that hung there, and your thighs squeezed together.

"Okay, good. Glad we got that out of the way."

"So, you wanna come to town with me or what? I gotta pick up my car, I can drop you off after."

You blinked and shifted in your chair. Dave watched your gaze flicker uncomfortably out the window and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to fall in love with you over a few errands," he said, tone flat. "Just thought you'd want to check out the town."

"Yeah, okay, you're right," you relented. There was no harm in killing a little time with him, right? You both were on the same page and you didn't even have a chance to explore the town yet on your own.

"Great," he said with a grin, then tipped his head back and downed the rest of his coffee. Your eyes locked onto his throat and immediately noticed the marks you had left the night before. You stood quickly and told him you were going to get ready, telling yourself the same thing over and over.

He's just a rebound, it doesn't mean anything.

Woodstock, Vermont was absolutely adorable. You could see why so many people flocked there during the holidays. Everywhere you looked you saw something straight out of a Nancy Meyers movie. Wreathes, trees, twinkle lights, and garlands covered every single house and shop along the Main Street of town. There was a dusting of snow that lingered from the night before, adding to the beauty around you. There were even covered bridges draped in garland and lights. Had you ever even seen a covered bridge in real life before? Probably not.

The further you walked into town, the more you became convinced it was a literal Christmas wonderland.

"Is this place serious? A horse drawn carriage?" you exclaimed when a wagon pulled by a massive brown and white horse with blinders on trotted on by, kicking up snow with it's hooves.

"Yeah, they do Christmas big around here," Dave chuckled.

You readjusted your scarf and wrapped your arms around yourself as you continued to walk with Dave up the sidewalk. Everyone you passed was friendly, giving you both warm smiles and murmurs of good morning. You were beginning to understand why people preferred to live in small towns. Everything moved slower and afforded you the chance to simply take a breath and enjoy the little things.

"My car's just up the street. The bar is right on the corner," Dave pointed with a gloved hand. "But you mind if we stop a couple places first? I have a Christmas present I need to pick up."

"Yeah, sure," you shrugged as you followed him into the first shop. A little bell rang above your heads when you stepped inside. As you were tapping the excess snow off your boots, you breathed in deep the scent of cinnamon and looked around. It was a boutique of some kind and looked like it was marketed primarily for women. Blouses, scarves, gloves, hair accessories, purses and makeup adorned each rack and shelf.

"I placed an order last week, just gotta pick it up at the counter," he explained, taking off his gloves and instinctually grabbing for your hand. It took you by surprise and he must have sensed it because a moment later he let your hand drop and cleared his throat.

You shook it off and shoved your hand in your coat pocket, slowly trailing after him. You lingered at a display of sunglasses and hummed softly to the Christmas carols that were playing quietly through the overhead speakers.

Dave greeted the cashier and gave his name for the order, only half listening to him as you tried on different sunglasses a few feet away.

"You got the last one, you have good taste," the older lady behind the counter told him happily as she handed over a pre-wrapped gift. "It looks like-" she glanced at the tag and smiled, "Alice will have a very lovely Christmas."

Alice? You had just assumed Dave was picking up something for Sandy. He wouldn't be taking you around town to shop for another woman, would he?

When he turned around with the bag, you noticed he avoided your eye and you couldn't help but wonder if it was out of shame.

Whatever. You both said you weren't interested in anything serious. But was that because he was already in a serious relationship? The thought hadn't occurred to you until that moment and it left you feeling unsettled.

"You ready?" he asked. You set your sunglasses down and nodded, immediately picking up on the tension radiating from him after the cashier mentioned another woman's name. And even though you were dying from curiosity, you let it go because it didn't matter. He was a rebound.

After walking another block and waiting for Dave after he popped into the post office for a quick moment, you stopped in front of a quaint looking bookshop.

"Do you mind?" you asked, pointing towards the door. Dave looked up and shrugged before stepping forward and holding open the door for you.

The smell of paper, ink, and leather hit you all at once, making you sigh and smile wide.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," you said excitedly over your shoulder. Dave grinned at the way you moved from genre to genre, picking up a book here or there and turning it over in your hands before deciding whether or not to tuck it under your arm to purchase.

"Big reader?" he asked as he watched you flip through the pages of a historical romance.

"Yeah, but I hardly have the time," you confessed. "I have a huge stack back at the cabin but I think I'm an addict, I just can't stop myself from buying more whenever I see a bookshop."

"Addict, huh? Guess there's worse things to be addicted to," he said, setting down his bag so he could look through a book of his own. He read a few paragraphs and snorted as if he wasn't impressed, but out of the corner of your eye you noticed him get drawn in and continued to read the page.

"You like that one?"

His eyes flicked up to you and he straightened his spine.

"Nah. Just caught my attention for a second..."

His eyes dropped back down to the page and you giggled, tilting the cover up so you could see the title.

"I have this book. Back at the cabin. You can have it," you told him before putting your own book back and moving on down the aisle.

"I can't take your book," he protested behind you.

"I already read it, it's fine. Besides, I like to do it. Read a book and hand it off to someone else. Books are meant to be read and enjoyed, not stared at on a shelf for all of eternity," you told him as you made your way to the counter.

"Well, at least let me buy you lunch then," he said as you cashed out three new books. You swiped your card and arched an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to take me on a date?"

"No, never," Dave replied immediately with fake disgust. You laughed and took your receipt from the cashier, offering your thanks before turning and heading back out into the cold.

"Alright, fine. Where should we have our non-date?"

Dave pointed across the street with a grin.

"How about the bar? Pick up my car right after. Two birds, one stone."

"Ah, yes. No further thought required and hyper-focused on efficiency. Exactly what every woman loves to hear from a man," you joked.

Dave laughed and threw his arm around your shoulder before leading you in the direction of the bar.

"You said this isn't a date, baby."

"And yet you just called me baby."

He laughed again and shook his head but offered no further explanation.

The inside of the, presumably, only bar in town was exactly what you would expect. Dark, the scent of stale beer, various sporting events playing on the televisions scattered above the bar itself. But just like the rest of the town, the owners still jazzed the place up with a Christmas tree in the window, garland strung along the shelves of liquor, and the bartenders all wore Santa hats.

There weren't many people when you walked in, but there were a few men bellied up to the bar with beers watching a football game, along with one or two tables dining off to the side.

"Hey, Dave. Back so soon?" a male bartender asked, then did a double take when he saw you. "Oh, you got a date."

"It isn't a date," Dave said. You immediately heard his voice change. It sounded more high pitched. Like he was nervous or jumpy. You looked at him quizzically, as did the other patrons at the bar. An older man with a long beard whistled low and the other two swiveled in their seats to give you both a once over.

"Holy shit, Dave's got a date."

"It's not-"

"Hey, Sammy! Come check this out! Dave brought a girl!" another one called out into the depths of the bar. Dave's face began to turn pink and his hand fell from your shoulders.

"Vinny, cut it out."

"She's pretty, too!" the third man yelled after Vinny.

"Oh, thank you," you said shyly.

"Jesus Christ," Dave muttered beside you before ushering you over to an empty table. But given the layout of the place, you were still only seated a short distance away from the bar itself.

"Tell us, honey. What's a nice girl like you doing with a schlub like him?" the first man with the beard asked with a lopsided grin.

"Shut up, Dick," Dave snapped over his shoulder, the embarrassment making his shoulders slump forward as if he were trying to disappear into the floor.

"Don't call him a dick," you scolded.

"I'm not. That's his name."

"Oh."

"Holy shit! Thought you were yankin' my chain!" a shorter middle aged man exclaimed when he appeared around the corner. He wiped his hands on his apron and approached your table with a shit eating grin. "Hiya, name's Sammy," he said, offering you his hand. You shook it and told him your name. One of his teeth was capped with gold and the twinkle from the Christmas lights made it sparkle.

"Where you been hidin' this one?" Sammy asked Dave. You grinned and crossed your arms on the table to lean forward, reveling in his discomfort.

"She's just staying at Sandy's cabin through Christmas. Thought I would be neighborly and show her around," Dave grumbled while scanning the menu.

"Neighborly? Ain't your place like, half an hour out?"

"Yeah, that's what he said yesterday," you told Sammy with a nod. "We met last night when he made the mistake of breaking into said cabin after having too much fun with you boys."

"I didn't break in, I have a key."

"You spent the night together, huh?" the unnamed man teased from the bar. Dave squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sounds like it, Hank," Sammy called over.

"But it ain't a date," Vinny said, poorly imitating Dave.

"You think we can eat in peace or should I take her to Cheryl's deli?" Dave snapped. The three men at the bar chuckled and finally turned around to give you some privacy.

"Sorry, honey. Just gotta razz the big guy," Sammy told you with a wink.

"Oh, by all means, I'm enjoying myself immensely," you replied, waggling your eyebrows at Dave when his eyes dragged up from the table. He sighed but you caught the smirk he was trying to hide behind his menu.

You each ordered a burger and mercifully, after Sammy dropped off your drinks, you were left with some peace and quiet.

"Come here a lot, then?" you teased over your soda.

"When I'm in town."

"Ah. Does your job require a lot of travel?" It was then you realized you hadn't ever asked him anything about his job. He seemed like a business man with his clean shaven face. Maybe a banker. But what he said next shocked you.

"Yes. I work for the C.I.A."

"What?" you exclaimed quietly. He nodded, unphased. "What do you do?"

"I'm a field agent. I go where the bad guys are. Report back in to D.C. couple times a month. Even make my way to Chicago pretty often, if you believe it. Got a field office there," he told you, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh... wow," you breathed, your mind racing a mile a minute. "But you're from here?"

"I am," he replied. He was watching you carefully now, his eyes dancing with mischief as you struggled to absorb this new information. You had a million questions and had no idea where to even start, but it didn't matter because his phone ringing on the table cut you off.

Without thinking, your eyes locked onto the screen. Molly.

"Shit," he murmured, standing and picking up his phone. "I gotta take this. Do you mind?"

"No, go right ahead," you said airily, then watched him throw his jacket over his arm and head outside. Your mouth twisted around nervously as you watched him pace back and forth through the window, smiling and laughing while he talked on the phone.

Didn't seem like a work call. So who the hell was Molly?

"Molly... Alice... popular guy," you muttered under your breath.

Didn't matter. It wasn't a date and you were not interested in seeing Dave after the day was over.

Really. You weren't.

"Sorry," he said once he breezed back inside at the exact same time your food arrived.

"Work?" you couldn't help but ask. You kept your eyes on your plate so he wouldn't see your jealousy flaring up unwillingly.

"Uh... no," he said, then quickly changed the subject. "You never told me what you do for work?"

It was a sufficient enough distraction. While you ate, you explained your job in advertising. How the long hours, endless meetings, and greasy takeout were all worth it when you pitched a perfect idea to a client and you saw that look on their face. The one where they were thrilled with your work that would then have them eagerly signing a contract. Every single one pushed you higher and higher up the corporate ladder. You already had a corner office and a penthouse downtown, but you were always looking for the next big sale. You explained to Dave that the money and promotions didn't mean much anymore. It was the thrill and the payoff that made it so rewarding.

"Uh, sorry," you cringed, "I didn't realize I had been talking for so long." Your plates were empty and Dave had been leaning forward with his hand curled in his drink, hanging on your every word.

"Don't be sorry. Sounds like you really love your job."

"I do, but I never get any time for a life," you admitted sadly. You stared down at your glass, swirling the straw around the mostly melted ice. "This was my first vacation in six years."

Dave's eyes widened in shock. "Six years? And you chose to come... here?"

"What? It's cute here!" you protested with a laugh. "I wanted the full Christmas experience."

He huffed and shook his head. "Well, you came to the right place, I guess. There's a parade tomorrow afternoon with Santa and real reindeer-"

He stopped himself short and cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing. "I mean, if you wanted to go. Everyone in town kind of goes."

"Are you asking me out on another non-date?" you teased with a grin, but Dave pressed his lips together and swallowed tightly.

"Uh, no. I can't - I - I'm busy."

"But you just said everyone in town goes," you replied, smile slipping from your face.

He sighed and bit the inside of his cheek.

"This is awkward," he began, and a heavy feeling suddenly filled your chest. "I'm going to the parade but... I'm going with someone else."

"Oh," you said softly. He's a rebound, doesn't mean anything. "That's ... fine."

It wasn't fine. It hurt, and you were doing your best to hide it.

"Listen-"

"Why don't we just get going?" you asked with a tight smile. Dave's eyes softened as he scanned your face, desperately trying to come up with the right thing to say. "Seriously, it's fine. We talked about this, remember?" you laughed, then stood up to tug your coat back on. Slowly, Dave rose from his chair to copy you.

The walk back to his car was tense. You had no idea what to say. It shouldn't matter, you made your wishes very clear, yet despite yourself, it still really fucking mattered. And in the short ride back to the cabin, you broke.

"Are you married? Tell me fast," you said completely out of the blue. His mouth fell open in shock but he kept his eyes on the road.

"No. No, I'm not married."

"Girlfriend, then? Or, girlfriends?"

"What?" he hissed, then you tossed your hands up in the air in defeat.

"Alice... Molly... how many are there?" you snapped, voice rising the angrier you got.

Dave took a deep breath and gripped the wheel tightly.

"Alice and Molly are my... daughters," he finally said, voice a little strained. You completely forgot how to breathe. You sat in a stunned silence as he drove the rest of the way down the street and pulled into the driveway of the cabin, and only once he threw the car in park did he look at you.

"Daughters?" you repeated. He nodded.

"They're ten and twelve."

"O-oh, my god," you whispered. "I'm sorry, Jesus Christ why wouldn't you tell me?"

Dave shrugged and looked through the windshield at the empty cabin. When it became apparent he wasn't going to answer, you continued.

"I told you about my ex and about my life - Dave, why wouldn't you just tell me you're divorced? I wouldn't have cared."

"I don't bring women home to them," he said suddenly. You clamped your mouth shut, falling silent and giving him a chance to speak. "And I'm not divorced. I'm... widowed," he added, choking on the last word. His gaze fell down to stare at his lap. "I just try to protect them, you know? I try to keep my private life separate unless I know it's real 'cause they've already been through too much, I can't put them through losing someone else."

He had a point. And you had repeatedly dropped hints throughout the day that you were not interested in anything further with him and nothing you did that afternoon was to be considered a date.

So why was your throat so tight and why did your heart ache so badly in your chest?

Two days passed. Forty-eight hours where you spent pacing around your rented out cabin, trying to distract yourself with books while wrestling with your feelings over Dave.

It was impossible to ignore. You liked him. You couldn't stop thinking about him; the way he held your hand, the private little smiles he reserved just for you, the way he held you close the night you spent together... your thoughts were utterly and completely absorbed with Dave. And you had a feeling he liked you, too. Why else would he have wanted to spend the day with you? You had already fucked. Most men would have hightailed it out of there at first light. And to take you to the bar where he knew his drinking buddies would see you? That must have meant something.

You almost went to the parade just to possibly catch a glimpse of him but you backed out at the last second. Dave said he didn't want to introduce his girls to any women in his life to protect them, and you had to respect that. The last thing you knew you should do was surprise him with his family at the parade. No, that certainly wouldn't have gone over well at all.

Now, it was Christmas Eve. You didn't even have his number to text him Merry Christmas. So, after too many hours overanalyzing every little thing, you came up with a plan: you would go to the bar with the book you had promised him under the guise of wanting to get it to him before you left for Chicago.

As far as plans went, it was a pretty good one. It was feasible and a realistic excuse. But wouldn't he be spending Christmas Eve with his daughters? You shook the thought from your head. You didn't even know where he lived. Short of contacting Sandy and asking, this was your only plan. It had to work. It had to.

After spending over an hour getting ready and trying to quiet your nerves, you slipped on your leather jacket and adjusted your scarf in the mirror to make it look just right. You sighed and snatched the book from the couch, marching to the front door while murmuring under your breath over and over, I can do this.

But when you swung open the door to reveal Dave standing on the other side with his fist poised to knock, all your confidence flew straight out the window.

"Oh," you breathed. He dropped his hand to the side and gave you a small smile.

"Hey."

"Hi," you whispered, still stricken with disbelief that he was standing before you out of nowhere. Then you blinked rapidly a few times and stepped back. "Want to come in?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," he said, slipping off his shoes and coat before his gaze slid down your frame, noticing your outerwear. "You're heading out, I'm sorry. This won't take long."

"No, actually, I'm-"

What? What were you supposed to say? You were very clearly about to walk out the door. You chewed your bottom lip nervously as you shrugged off your scarf and jacket, then rolled your eyes to yourself. Fuck it.

"I was going to try to find you, actually," you blurted out. Dave's eyes shot up to meet yours from his place next to the fire.

"You were?"

You nodded and took a few steps closer. When you remembered you were still holding the book, you held it out for him.

"I promised you this," you said softly. He glanced down at the book and gingerly took it from you. "I was going to see if you were at the bar but then I thought you might be with your girls tonight."

"They're with their grandparents," Dave murmured. He placed the book down gently and looked up at you once again.

"Oh. Right."

A long silence stretched between you, each waiting for the other to speak with only the sound of a crackling fire to fill the air.

You caved first.

"Why did you come here, Dave?"

He exhaled slowly and his shoulders sagged, looking like he had just been through battle.

"I came here because-"

He stopped and took a deep breath. Propping his hands on his hips, he let out a dry laugh and shook his head, like he couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"I know you were very clear about what you wanted," he began. The smile slowly melted as his nerves took over. "And I was, too. But - goddamnit."

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger while you shifted anxiously from foot to foot, hoping and praying he was trying to say what you wanted him to say.

"But you want something more?" you offered timidly. His hand dropped to his side and he nodded sheepishly.

"I can't get you out of my head," he confessed with a pained expression. Your pulse spiked and your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You wanted to run into his arms but you also desperately wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I can't stop thinking about you. I know it's crazy, believe me," Dave scoffed. "And I know you just got out of a relationship. I sure as hell know I have my own baggage. But - I don't know. Is this stupid?"

He looked so adorable, all distraught and standing there in front of your fire wearing dark jeans and an ugly blue sweatshirt with a massive snowflake on it. A smile tugged at your lips.

"Nice sweater."

He blinked and looked down.

"Alice got it for me for Christmas last year."

"Hm. Well, maybe next time I can take her shopping. We've got some nicer stores in Chicago. Find something a little more suited to you," you said playfully. His eyes lit up as he slowly connected the dots. "That is, if you're willing to visit with them sometime," you added quickly.

"Yeah," he breathed, then chuckled before he closed the distance and pulled you in for a deep kiss. You smiled against his lips, feeling elated and confused and still not entirely sure if you were dreaming or not.

"How will this work?" you gasped when he finally pulled away for air. Dave kept his hands firmly planted where they were; cupping your face while gazing down at you in wonder.

"I'm in Chicago a lot," he reminded you before peppering your face with kisses. You giggled and wrapped your arms tighter around his middle. "Maybe you can come here sometimes. It'll work. We'll figure it out."

You wiggled out of his grasp and took his hand. Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you began to slowly walk backwards towards your bedroom, pulling him along with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"What are you doing for New Year's?" you asked.

Dave smirked as his free hand found your waist. He slid his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, brushing over the soft skin of your hip when he said, "I have the girls for New Year's."

You tugged him into the bedroom, both of you laughing softly at your enthusiasm. And right before his lips found yours again, you whispered, "Sounds perfect."

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[mygnolia]

sunghoon when you’re sick

pairing: sunghoon x gn!reader headcannons!

cw: cursing, mentions of chicken noodle soup (the food not the song), married life, getting sick/colds, hoonie my bae

wc: 1k

- okay so i feel like because he’s on the ice a lot

- he’s cold

- like in en-o-clock ep 20 behind he said it had been a while since he was on the ice so he was cold but that just means whenever he’s performing he’s not cold or not that cold at least

- and he’s acclimated to ice rink temperatures right?

- (and self projecting here but i myself am very cold all the time and it takes me a long time to get warm but i never get hot-?)

- so i feel like maybe one day its raining

- or the heater is broken and you have to suffer

- and you’re both on the bed, scrolling through your phones, but you’re shivering

- but sunghoon’s used to it

- only issue? he is not a raging furnace

- he’s a block of ice

- “sunghoon i’m cold.”

- “y/n, i can’t help you.” he’s just honest w/ everything atp

- “yes you can! cuddle me.” and you’d forcibly grab his arm and tangle urself with him

- you come to the very shocking realization that sunghoon is literally colder than the temperature outside.

- you pull away IMMEDIATELY and scowl at him

- he shrugs as if to tell you “i told you so.”

- he’s not offended he just accepted that he will never be warm

- man knows you’re just trying not to become the ice cube that he is

- omg sunghoon emotional brick and ice cube look at my…shape skills go

- so you’d go back to becoming one with the blankets but it doesn’t work and you’re like “hoonie :((“

- “yes dear.” sunghoon rolls his eyes, looking over at your covered figure nonetheless abd adjusts your blankets for you

- “can we cuddle, the blankets aren’t working :((“

- sunghoon probably gets an eye workout with how many times he rolls his eyes

- but he… L words u…so “okay. come here.” and he puts his phone down on the nightstand and gives you a hug

- internally he would laugh at your antics but he knows you’re just cold and he obviously wants to help but

- mans literally -2 degrees in body heat idk what to tell u

- but after a while you warm up the blankets EVENTUALLY get hotter

- u probs fell asleep and your body heat increased so you’re warm now

- he falls asleep too

- u end up with a COLD and he’s fine btw

- through the coughs and sniffles you blame him for not being your personal fireplace

- he goes “we slept together???? and you cuddled me??? for three hours??? fyi you could have gotten more blankets”

- ‘why can’t this man just spoonfeed u chicken noodle soup like a good bf’

- “can i at least have a kiss?” you pout at him underneath your blankets, even though the heater is in perfect working condition, and sunghoon feels himself falling harder for you everyday

- you are just so DAMN!!! CUTE!!! he can only handle so much until he says fuck it and puts a ring on ur finger

- omg married life with sunghoon or wtv…. NOT blushing

- “no. i’m going to get sick if I kiss you too.”

- “I AM SO SICK OF U!” /j

- ur stupid play on words makes him laugh and he gives in w/ a small peck :>

- even though ur hating him for not being cute and cuddly he just can’t get sick

- he has a competition coming up! sunghoon can’t be under the weather when he’s already under ur spell >:

- “take your medicine goddamnit” but it’s lovingly scolding you as he pushes the weirdly cherry flavored liquid down and follows up with a cup of warm water

- always has tissues on hand

- you’re in the car? tissues. you’re in the kitchen? no babe don’t use the paper towels to blow your nose it’s too rough on your skin

- if you want to cuddle he will say no

- I MEAN EVERY OTHER TIME HE JUST SITS THERE AND LETS U DO WHATEVER U WANT

- “guess this is my life now”

- “i can’t believe you won’t cuddle with me :(“

- “i cant believe you got sick despite hugging me and still having three blankets.” NO CHILL

- sunghoon simultaneously makes fun of you but will take care of you

- if he’s not home expect a sticky note or a voicemail

- “ahh, sorry for ringing your phone so early, i hope you’re getting your sleep <33 just wanted to call and make sure you drink the water in the bottle next to you, i warmed it this morning before i left for practice, and there’s some food in the fridge that jay brought over yesterday. hope you feel better soon i love you”

- alexa play fighting bleeding losing…no matter what i do by txt

- yeah he’s so sweet he’d stop the teasing bc he knows you hate being sick and doesn’t want to make it worse for you

- sometimes you wake up and you literally can’t breathe??

- breathing through nose era when!! /j

- you’d try to get your work done, hoon alr called sick days off for u but you have nothing to do at home so you get your laptop

- “Hi honey,” Sunghoon greets from the doorway, quickly kicking off his shoes and entering your bedroom. “I brought you some tea, Heeseung said it would help you since his mom gave it to him. Do you want some right now?” You nod, coughing with the quick and unexpected movement of your head.

- Sunghoon comes back with a steaming cup of warm golden tea, and blows on the top before letting you take a sip. “Be careful, it’s hot.” And you dismiss his words before you’re hissing at your burned tongue.

- u don’t catch a break huh

- you finish the cup of tea by the end of the night and sunghoon comes to give u a little forehead kith before telling you to sleep

- tmr u wake up and you can BREATHE again

- which gods did this why do you finally feel like a functioning human being

- ANYWAYS THOUGH!! Sunghoon’s competition is in two hours you don’t have time to waste hello?

- Outfit with hoodie, giant puffer jacket, and a turtleneck, and the thickest pants known to mankind

- driving to the rink where he’s competing and watching him with a giant lovesick grin without him knowing you’re there

- you give him a hug when he’s done

- happy at first and loves to see you, but wants to make sure you’re okay

- You both go home and he’s like “half of that outfit is mine.”

- yeah. he’s not wrong. anyways.

- celebratory dinner! he kisses you many many times thanking you for coming out to see him

- happy to finally cuddle again, holding you close now they you’ve recovered

- he got sick the next day.

—

f for sunghoon. thank you.

[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 2: "The one with the purring traitor" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: You and Frankie hash out the details of your fabricated story, all while enduring the blatant betrayal of your own cat and your brother’s relentless teasing. WC: 8.4K

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm so happy to see how much you enjoyed the first chapter of TBA! Your comments mean the world to me—I absolutely love reading them, and I hope you love this part just as much <3 let me know what u think ;) Don't forget to lmk if u want to be added to the tag list, and follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications <3

Friday, August 9th. One day before the party.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sound breaking the quiet of your bedroom. You set your book down, its pages splaying open across the blanket, and rolled onto your side to grab your phone. The screen lit up.

[Unknown number]: Outside.

You exhaled sharply, a breath that sounded louder than it needed to. Your stomach twisted, a faint ripple of nerves spreading through you. 

Five minutes later, Frankie stood in the center of your living room, his hands planted firmly on his hips. His brows were drawn together, his expression impatient as he watched you move around the kitchen. The faint smell of tea leaves and honey filled the air as you poured hot water into your mug.

“You don’t seem to be in much of a rush,” he said finally, his voice carrying the faintest edge of irritation.

You glanced at him briefly, your hand stirring the tea as if to say he could wait.

“What’s the rush? The party isn’t until tomorrow.”

Frankie didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked around the room, his eyes flicking to the books stacked on the coffee table, the blanket draped haphazardly over the arm of the couch, the quiet clutter of a space lived in but not always tidy. He shifted his weight, his boots scuffing lightly against the floor, the impatience practically radiating off him.

You blew on your tea, meeting his gaze over the rim of your mug.

“You look like you’re about to explode. Sit down, you’re making me nervous pacing around like that,” you said as you walked past him, your hand cradling the warm mug. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

Frankie hesitated for a moment, then dropped into the couch across from you. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, making it stick up at odd angles.

“What do you have that isn’t hot?”

You settled into the couch, the mug resting on the coffee table in front of you. The surface was cluttered with your used stickynotes, a few receipts, coasters, and an old pen you didn’t remember leaving there.

“Water, iced tea, a couple of cans of soda.”

Frankie leaned back, only to be interrupted by Mr. Darcy, your perpetually attention-seeking cat. The tabby appeared from the side of the couch, his soft meow high-pitched and delicate as he rubbed himself against Frankie’s leg. You frowned, betrayed.

Frankie leaned down, his hand immediately stroking the cat’s fur, and Mr. Darcy responded with a loud purr.

“What kind of soda?” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t know my guest was royalty. Next time, send a list of your preferences in advance, princess.”

He lifted his head and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning closer with an expression that was almost amused. Almost.

“I just asked what fucking flavor. Relax.”

“Coke.”

“I’ll take one.”

You stood with an exaggerated sigh, letting it linger in the air, but refrained from commenting on his lack of manners. The word please seemed allergic to his vocabulary, but you didn’t feel like pointing it out. Not today.

When you returned, you set the can of Coke down on the glass coaster on the table and took your seat again. Frankie reached for the drink, his fingers brushing the cold metal as he popped it open. The hiss of carbonation filled the quiet, mingling with the soft hum of Mr. Darcy’s purring at his feet.

“Okay, tell me about them,” you said, your tone clipped and businesslike, as if the two of you were about to negotiate the terms of a merger. You folded your hands neatly on your lap and fixed your gaze on him. Frankie, meanwhile, was focused on the can of Coke he’d just opened. He tilted it to his lips, taking a long sip. The way his throat moved as he swallowed made you glance away, irritated for no good reason.

When he finally set the can down on the coaster, he looked up at you.

“My mother’s name is Helena. She’s kind, easygoing. And observant. She’ll be watching us like a hawk the entire time. She already has her doubts about... all this.” He gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the entirety of the situation. “So we can’t get sloppy.”

You leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“That’s going to be difficult, don’t you think?”

“Well, you’ll have to cooperate.”

You scoffed, an expression of mock offense crossing your face.

“I have to cooperate?”

“Yes. You.”

“Believe it or not, Francisco,” you said, leaning forward ,“I’m very nice. Easy to get along with. Mothers adore me.”

Frankie raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was suppressing a laugh.

“That may be,” he said, his tone skeptical. “But I can’t risk even one slip in this... circus. If we let our mutual... our mutual thing show, she’ll catch on immediately. Believe me.”

You mirrored his arched eyebrow, matching his energy.

“Fine. Just be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you. I promise.” You let the words hang for a moment, watching as he relaxed just slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. Then you added, sweetly, “I just want you to remember, at all times, that no matter how nice and lovely I am, it’s all a lie.”

Frankie leaned back, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Noted.”

The he exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes as if to physically expel his frustration. His hand moved to his neck, fingers brushing the skin in an absentminded gesture, like he was trying to ground himself. Mr. Darcy, ever the opportunist, leapt onto the couch beside him, his sleek tail flicking against Frankie’s arm. The cat’s head butted into him in what looked like a gentle plea for attention. You watched the scene for a moment, torn between amusement and suspicion, your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Just get a grip, okay? You can’t react to everything I say like it’s a personal attack.”

You arched an eyebrow, leaning back slightly with your cup in hand.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together like he was preparing for some kind of intervention.

“You have to behave yourself too. Sometimes, you don’t even realize how nasty you’re being. Maybe it flies under the radar for most people, but if your mom is as observant as you claim—and she’s your mother, so obviously she knows you well—she’s going to pick up on all those little micro-attitudes. Immediately.”

You delivered the last word like a verdict, your tone carrying the weight of someone speaking to a particularly stubborn child. To your surprise, Frankie didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, his expression calm, even thoughtful.  

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Good,” you replied, watching him carefully as you lifted your cup to your mouth, the faint steam curling around your face. You let the warm liquid sit on your tongue, satisfied—for now—that you might have just come to an agreement with the most impossible person you’d ever met.

Frankie began describing his family in broad strokes, filling in the blanks with enough detail that you felt as if you were piecing together a portrait of his life. You listened intently, committing everything to memory like a student preparing for a crucial exam. 

Helena, his mother, was the first to come up. She was fifty-nine, a literature teacher with a reputation for being kind but quietly persuasive. Frankie mentioned that she had a particular way of asking questions that felt more like peeling back layers than making polite conversation. She still lived in Austin, sharing a house with his youngest sister, Maia, ever since his father passed away almost two years ago. That detail hung in the air for a beat longer than the others, but he moved on quickly.

Luna, his oldest sister, was next. She was forty, an interior designer based in Boston, and from Frankie’s tone, it was clear she had a strong presence in the family. “Kind, funny, a little overbearing,” he said, his mouth twitching slightly, as if recalling an incident that perfectly illustrated her character. She was married to Henry, a wealthy architect fifteen years her senior. Frankie made a point to say that Henry was a good man—honest and big-hearted—and seemed to mean it. Together, they had a ten-year-old son named Jamie.

Sofía came next, the middle sister. She was thirty-eight and owned a flower shop. Frankie described her as friendly and warm but also hinted at a guardedness beneath her cheerful exterior. She lived in Austin with her sixteen-year-old daughter, Grace, a name that carried an air of quiet reverence when he said it. You wondered what Grace was like, if she carried more of her mother’s warmth or her uncle’s sharp edges. For the sake of her, you hoped for the first option.

Finally, there was Maia. Twenty-nine, a graphic designer, and still living at home with Helena. Frankie hesitated before speaking about her, his expression shifting slightly. “Of all of them,” he said, almost reluctantly, “she’s the most complicated.” Not because she was difficult or unpleasant—quite the opposite. Maia, he explained, was the kind of person who could see through walls, so perceptive it was almost unnerving. “She’ll figure us out if we’re not careful,” he warned, his tone heavy with certainty. 

By the time he finished, you felt like you’d been handed a dossier. Each name and detail was a thread you knew you’d need to hold tightly. You nodded as he spoke, mentally sorting the names and faces into a map of relationships you’d need to navigate. This was going to be more than a performance—it was going to be a test.

Frankie exhaled, slapping his palm against his thigh with a finality that felt rehearsed, like he was drawing a line under the conversation.

“That’s it, I think,” he said, his tone flat as his eyes lingered on you. 

But you weren’t ready to let him off the hook. Squinting slightly, you folded your arms across your chest and leaned back into the couch.

“And what about you?” you asked, tilting your head as if that might give you a different angle on him. 

He raised an eyebrow.

“You know me,” he replied with unearned confidence. 

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, letting the sound punctuate the silence before glancing away. Amusement tugged at the corners of your lips as you brought your gaze back to him.

“I don’t know anything about you. All I know is what little Santi’s told me, what I’ve overheard here and there... that’s it.”

“That’s something,” Frankie interjected, leaning back slightly as he crossed his arms, lifting his chin with a smugness that made your fingers itch to knock him down a peg. “Go on, then. Tell me what you know.”

His expression dared you, and you met it with a smirk of your own.

“Fine,” you said, sitting up straighter and pressing your lips together in mock seriousness. “You’re in your thirties, you live alone, you’re a pilot, you like beer... Oh, and apparently, you can devour a whole burger and fries in under ten minutes.”

Frankie snorted, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or call you ridiculous. He held your gaze, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to wait you out. But the smirk stayed on your face, unwavering, and eventually, he sighed. 

“I’m thirty-five,” he said finally, his voice measured and calm, as though reciting facts from a resume. “I live alone, yeah. Used to be in the CAG, but I retired a few years ago. Personal reasons. Now I’m teaching pilots-in-training over at the JPA.”

“Oh, right, I already knew that. That’s where you met Santi, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“And what were you doing there? He never told me much.”

“I’ll tell you some other time,” he said, sounding either annoyed or uncomfortable—it was hard to tell. “Do you know what CAG stands for?”

"Tell me."

“Combat Application Group,” Frankie said, his tone steady, measured. “Do you know what that is?”

You arched an eyebrow, shaking your head. 

His lips curled into a faint, humorless smile.

“Then they’re doing their job right. They change the name every so often. Some people know it as Delta Force.” He paused, his eyes searching yours, as if testing how much you could handle. “I was part of the CAG for most of my military career.”

For the first time, you found yourself leaning forward, your interest genuine, your usual quips momentarily silenced. Frankie seemed to notice, his expression softening slightly, though the seriousness never left his face. 

“Why did you retire? What happened?”

For a fleeting second, his eyebrows twitched.

“Personal issues,” he said again.

You exhaled through your nose, sitting back slightly.

“I’m supposed to be your girlfriend. Shouldn’t I know that?” 

He sighed. Shaking his head just enough to let you know he wasn’t budging, he replied:

“No one in my family is going to ask you about it.”

You studied him, your eyes narrowing slightly, searching for any crack in the armor he wore so carefully. But Frankie didn’t flinch. His shoulders remained squared, his gaze firm, the set of his mouth resolute. Whatever lay behind the personal thing was locked away, and it was clear he wasn’t going to hand you the key. 

After a few more seconds of silence, you nodded, more to yourself than to him.

"Okay, I get it,” you said with a sigh, letting your gaze fall to your hands resting in your lap. For a moment, you traced invisible patterns on your palm, your tone edging toward resignation. “What do you want me to tell you about me?” 

“Nothing. I know enough.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” 

“I’m not trying to be mean. Santi has told me what’s necessary. I know enough to get by.”

“Oh, really? Enlighten me,” you said, folding your arms across your chest, your tone daring. 

Frankie gave you a slow, confident smile, as if he’d been preparing for this moment.

“You’re twenty-nine years old. Santi’s your only brother. You studied Literature, and you’ve been running your dad’s bookshop for, what, six years now?” He paused briefly, letting the words settle before continuing. “You like cats. Movies—especially horror movies. You love the cold, which is ironic since you’re from Austin, where it’s basically summer all year. And you’re... well, I wouldn’t describe you as outdoorsy or... or adventurous.” 

He glanced at you with a faint smirk just as your expression twisted in a mixture of surprise and mild disgust. His hand dropped to pet Mr. Darcy, who had curled up beside him, purring softly. “Oh, and your cat’s name is Darcy.”

“Mr. Darcy," you corrected him. "Santi told you all that?” 

Frankie shook his head, his focus still on your pet, his hand moving in lazy strokes along Mr. Darcy’s back.

“He didn’t tell me outright. But he let it be known. You just have to listen.” 

There was something about his tone that irked you—a subtle but undeniable air of superiority, as if he’d decoded your entire existence from a handful of anecdotes. You studied him for a moment longer, debating whether to challenge him further, but Mr. Darcy’s contented purring seemed to deflate your frustration. For now. 

“Well, I… Well,” you faltered, unsure of what to say. "Okay, I was thinking, what should I wear to the party?"

“Something nice. Not too fancy. But cute. You know, approachable."

"Sure," you muttered, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as he smoothed a hand over the cat’s fur.

"You have to make a good impression. But not too good. You need to seem... normal. Forgettable, even. Be nice, but don’t go overboard."

"What’s the point, then? I thought my job was to be the awesome girlfriend. Isn’t that what you wanted?"

Frankie leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out, and gave a slow shake of his head like you’d just said something profoundly silly.

"Yes, but don’t overdo it. I don’t need my family asking me about you for weeks after. Tomorrow’s the first and only time they’ll see you, so what’s the point?"

"What a waste," you whispered to yourself, but loud enough for him to catch. “But fine, your family, your rules. So, what should I bring your mom as a gift?”

Frankie waved his hand dismissively.

"Don’t worry about it. I’ve got that covered."

“So you’ve thought of everything, huh?” you said, letting a touch of mockery creep into your voice. “I didn’t realize this was such a big deal to you.”

Frankie snorted. "If this is what it takes to stop them from setting me up with every woman they know, trust me, I’m going all in. No room for half-measures here."

He scratched his chin thoughtfully, his eyes sweeping over the room, taking in the familiar clutter of your living space, before a long yawn interrupted the silence.

“But why do they even care so much about you having a girlfriend? I mean, I get it—you’re, let’s say, not the easiest person to tolerate, and small talk probably feels like torture for you. But I didn’t have you pegged as the kind of guy who needs his mom to play matchmaker,” you said, voice dripping with just the right mix of sarcasm and curiosity as you tilted your head.

“That’s a bold comment coming from someone who had to invent a fake boyfriend because her ex, who dumped her for someone else, invited her to his wedding.”

Fair. That stung, but you couldn't bring yourself to be genuinely angry. Instead, you let out a small, wry smile, your ego only slightly bruised.

Frankie continued, unfazed by the fact that he had clearly made his point. “And I have no problem getting someone,” he said, stretching his legs out casually. “I just don’t want to. I don’t feel like dating anyone, much less getting romantically involved. But of course, they don’t get that. They think I need to settle down, find a woman, all that ‘commitment’ shit.”

For a brief moment, you let your mind wander, imagining Frankie next to someone. His type, you wondered. What would she look like? Would she resemble you in any way? Definitely not, you thought. You hoped that wouldn’t be a problem.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat, and then asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though a part of you was genuinely curious.

“And why don’t you want to date anyone? You’re not one of those guys with an eternal commitment problem, are you?”

Frankie took a moment to think about it. He leaned back, looking almost lost in thought, his eyes distant for a second. Then, in a flash, Mr. Darcy leapt onto his lap, pulling him back into the present moment with his typical disregard for anything that resembled personal space. Frankie shifted a little, adjusting the cat so it was comfortably curled on him.

“My last relationship didn’t end well,” he said suddenly, his voice unexpectedly serious. “We were together for about a year and a half. She broke up with me a little over a year ago. It wasn’t exactly my best moment, but her reason was that I wasn’t what she needed.” He paused, his gaze unfocused for a second, as if reliving the memory. “I tried to tell her I’d make the changes, that I really wanted to, but she didn’t care. So we broke up. And then, like two weeks later, I found out she’d been cheating on me with some guy from work—does that sound good enough for you?”

You blinked, processing it all, and felt a slight pang of sympathy, which you hadn’t expected.

“Well, that sucks,” you said, glancing down at the floor, feeling a bit awkward. You bit your lower lip, then looked back at him, unable to hide the trace of empathy in your voice. “But it makes sense now... I think."

Mr. Darcy, seemingly done with his intrusion, hopped off Frankie’s lap and sprawled on the floor instead, rolling onto his back in that exaggerated, dramatic way cats do when they’re probably overheating. His belly was exposed, a show of complete vulnerability.

"Yeah. Well. I guess," Frankie said, leaning forward as if the weight of his own words had just fully settled in. He rested his elbows on his knees and interlocked his fingers, his hands becoming a tight knot as if trying to physically hold everything together. Then something seemed to click in his mind. He looked up at you, the shift in his expression almost imperceptible. “Have you talked to Santi about this?”

You furrowed your brow, a little thrown off by the question.

"No, I thought you were going to tell him."

Frankie shook his head. "I didn’t tell him anything. I thought you were going to tell him."

You clicked your tongue, trying to shake the odd tension settling in your chest.

"We should tell him, don’t you think?" Your voice was sharper than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. "Although I'm sure he'll think this is a bad idea."

When you opened the door, Santi’s smile appeared instantly, like the sun breaking through clouds. He pulled you into a hug, enveloping you in that unmistakable warmth only a brother could give. It was absurd how much you’d missed him, considering you’d seen him just two days ago. But that was the thing about Santi—he had this way of making you feel like everything was fine, or at least like it could be.

When he let go, his smile lingered. But then his gaze shifted past you, toward the living room, where Frankie stood by the couch, arms awkwardly crossed, caught somewhere between waiting and retreating.

Santi’s expression changed so fast it was almost comical—his smile collapsed into confusion, his eyebrows pulling together, eyes widening like someone had yanked a curtain back too quickly.

“Frankie?” he said, his voice pitching upward in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” His gaze flicked from Frankie to you and back again, his tone laced with the unspoken demand for an explanation. “What happened?” He stepped forward, clapping a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, nudging him as if to make sure he was real.

“Hey, man,” Frankie said, managing a small smile as he accepted Santi’s hug. His voice was casual, but you could feel the tension beneath it, like a thread pulled too tight.

Your stomach knotted, the weight of the moment pressing into you. This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have agreed to Frankie’s deal, not like this, not without more thought. But it was too late to undo it now, wasn’t it? The pieces were already in motion, and there was no way to unring a bell.

Half an hour later, Santiago was sitting in the couch across from the two of you, his arms folded tightly over his chest, his expression shifting between disbelief and reluctant curiosity. He hadn’t spoken in a while, too busy digesting everything you’d just explained. When he finally did, his words cut through the silence like a whip.

“That’s fucking ridiculous. Are you crazy?” he asked, though his incredulous smile suggested he thought maybe you were joking.

You and Frankie were perched on opposite ends of the couch, as if a force field separated you, like your bodies were mutually allergic to the idea of being any closer. Frankie had his arms resting on his knees, his hands clasped together, his gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance. You sat with your elbow propped on the armrest, your cheek resting against your hand, trying to look nonchalant.

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Santiago asked, shaking his head.

“It’s going to work,” you said, the firmness in your voice at odds with the knot of uncertainty in your stomach. “It’s not that complicated. Harry’s already met Frankie, so that part’s fine. We go to the wedding, stay a little while, and then leave. Tomorrow? Same thing. We show up, I do my forgettable bit, and then we’re out. Easy.”

Santiago raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“¿Easy? Your mom knows me, man,” he said, turning to Frankie with an accusatory tilt of his head. “You don’t think it’s going to be complicated if she thinks you’re dating my sister?”

“I’m not planning on telling her she’s your sister,” Frankie said. He sat up straighter, his hands tightening into fists briefly before he relaxed them again. “This is a one-time thing. I promise you, it’s not going to lead to trouble. It’s just a favor. A transaction. Nothing more.”

“And what happens when they run into each other again?” Santiago asked, his voice rising slightly as he gestured between the two of you.

“How likely is that, Santi?” you shot back, your brow furrowing in irritation.

He clicked his tongue, leaning forward like he had you cornered.

“My wedding is in a few months, smartass. Frankie’s mom is invited. What’s your plan then?”

The room fell into a charged silence. Oh.

You hadn’t thought of that. Neither had Frankie, apparently, because when you turned your head, you found him looking at you for the first time since this entire mess had started. For one fleeting moment, your eyes met, a shared look of complicity—and, more importantly, desperation.

“Of course, you didn’t think of that,” Santi said, his voice cutting through the growing tension like a whip. He dragged a hand across his forehead, closing his eyes as if summoning the patience to deal with you both. When he looked up again, his expression was pure exasperation.

“God, you guys seriously make me desperate. Are you two ever going to be normal with each other? First, I have to put up with years of your petty, hateful attitudes, and now this?” He gestured between you and Frankie as if the very sight of you sitting there made him tired. “Do you want to kill me? Is that the plan? Seriously, I’m asking—do you both want me dead?”

The sheer absurdity of his words made you laugh, even though you tried to swallow it.

“Oh my God, Santi, you’re so dramatic,” you said, shaking your head, though you were half-smiling.

“Dramatic?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Hey, man, look,” Frankie cut in, like someone trying to defuse a bomb. He leaned forward slightly, his hands open, his tone edging toward apologetic. “I promise I’ll fix it. I’ll tell them she’s your sister—no big deal. And then I’ll come up with something to explain how we ‘broke up’ on the best possible terms. No drama, no mess, okay? I swear.”

You nodded quickly, eager to latch onto his plan.

“Exactly. This can stay simple, we’ll just say we broke up over something normal. Totally amicable, decided to stay friends. Easy.” Your tone softened as you leaned toward him, more pleading now. “Really, Santi. Please, please don’t get mad.”

Santi let out a heavy, theatrical sigh, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just tipped his head back and closed his eyes like he was praying for patience.

“I’m not mad,” he said finally, though his tone suggested he might not be entirely convinced of that. His eyes opened, and he looked at you with something between disbelief and reluctant amusement. “I’m just surprised. Out of all the people in the world, you and Frankie are the ones pretending to date?” He let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Well,” you said, rolling your eyes as the irritation bubbled up. “It’s not like we planned this. I never thought I’d run into Harry in the middle of fucking nowhere. Besides, this wouldn’t have even happened if you—” you jabbed a finger in Santi’s direction, “—had gone looking for me in Dallas instead of sending Frankie. Or, I don’t know, if you’d given me a proper warning. I could’ve found another way home.”

Santi’s eyebrows shot up, his hand flying to his chest as if you’d physically shoved him.

“Oh, now this is my fault?” he asked, his voice dripping with incredulity. He pointed to himself for emphasis, his jaw tightening like he was trying not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the accusation.

Next to you, Frankie snorted, shaking his head in that infuriatingly smug way he did when he thought he was being clever. You turned sharply toward him, glaring.

“Do you have something to say, Francisco?” 

Santiago let out a breathy, humorless laugh, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Frankie, meanwhile, scratched his chin, clearly deliberating how to phrase whatever was on his mind without making things worse. Or maybe he was just stalling, dragging out the moment for the fun of it.

“Yeah. First of all, I don’t understand what you’re trying to prove to this Harry guy. He’s marrying someone else, isn’t he? I doubt he cares whether or not you have a boyfriend.”

“Ah, right, 'cause you’re the paragon of honesty, aren’t you?” you shot back, the heat rising in your chest now threatening to spill out.

“Sure,” Frankie said with an infuriating nod, leaning back slightly as if to make room for whatever you were about to throw at him next.

You leaned toward him, unable to resist. “It’s not like you made up a girlfriend or anything, right? Tell me, Francisco, wouldn’t it have been easier to just act like a real man and tell your mom you don’t want to be with anyone? Instead of, you know, lying like a coward? Or is that too scary for you?”

Frankie laughed then, a low, sarcastic sound that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He shifted closer, leaning in until his face was just inches from yours, his dark eyes gleaming with something sharp and taunting.

“He’s with someone else. He doesn't care about you. Get over it—”

“No one loves you—"

“Okay, fuckin' stop it!” Santiago shot up from his seat, his hands landing firmly on his hips as he stared at you with an expression that teetered between disbelief and outright despair. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That’s how you’re going to convince people you’re together? What’s the plan tomorrow, huh? What are you going to do when people actually talk to you? This isn’t even remotely believable.”

“I know how to act,” you shot back, crossing your arms as you leaned into the challenge. You tilted your head, trying for a smug expression, though the heat rising to your cheeks probably undermined it.

Frankie let out a laugh beside you.

“No, you don’t.” 

“Sure I do,” you retorted, fixing him with a defiant look. “You’ll see tomorrow, Francisco. I’ll be super—”

“You almost shit yourself at the diner the other day, what are you even talking about? I saved you—”

“Oh my God, stop!” Santi cut in, throwing his hands up in a desperate plea for silence. He made a horizontal motion with his hands, like a referee calling a foul. “Stand up. Now.”

“Why?” you asked, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Just. Stand. Up.” Santi said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated, glancing at Frankie as if he might somehow explain what was going on. He was already on his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, like he didn’t particularly want to comply but knew better than to argue.

With a resigned sigh, you rose from your spot, the tension in your shoulders apparent even in the way you stood. The second you moved, Mr.Darcy wasted no time, sliding into the space you’d just vacated.

Santiago leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression unnervingly calm. He watched you both like he was observing a particularly amusing experiment, his lips twitching as if he were holding back a smirk.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, his tone almost conversational. “Kiss each other.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “What?”

Frankie, equally caught off guard, tilted his head toward Santi. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“Kiss,” Santi repeated, his voice louder this time, like he was explaining something to a particularly dense child. He gestured between the two of you. “Frankie, kiss her.”

“Absolutely not,” you said immediately.

“Are you crazy?” Frankie added, shaking his head vehemently, his face scrunching up like the very idea was offensive.

Santiago raised his eyebrows, his calm demeanor giving way to something more pointed.

“What, you didn’t think this through? How the fuck are you planning to convince anyone you’re dating if you can’t even manage a little kiss?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, your brain struggling to process the absurdity of what he was suggesting. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Frankie’s jaw tighten, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Meanwhile, Santi seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. There was an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes, his gaze darting between you and Frankie like he was watching the climax of a particularly entertaining play.

He was savoring this—your awkwardness, your obvious discomfort. To him, this wasn’t just funny; it was justice. A kind of poetic payback for the years of chaos and petty feuding you and Frankie had inflicted on him. The sheer satisfaction on his face was infuriating, but also, somehow, undeniably deserved.

“Well?” he prompted, raising his hands in mock encouragement. “Go on, lovebirds. Show me how convincing this great plan of yours is.”

You glanced at Frankie, hoping for some sign he was going to end this absurdity. But he wasn’t looking at you, or at Santiago, or even at the floor like a normal person. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his teeth dragging over his bottom lip like he was physically restraining himself from speaking. His hands rested on his hips, fingers tapping idly against his belt, while his foot shifted incessantly, a nervous rhythm you couldn’t unhear.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

“Is this fun for you?” you asked Santi, your voice sharp enough to cut through his amusement.

He barely suppressed a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he gave a little shrug.

“Of course it is. Look at you two. You can’t even conceive of the idea of a teeny, tiny, innocent little kiss.” He paused, his expression shifting into something mockingly thoughtful. “You know, Fish,” he added, turning his attention to Frankie, “your mom invited me to her birthday tomorrow.”

That got Frankie’s attention. His head snapped toward Santiago, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“It’s a shame,” Santi continued, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated regret. “But I can’t go. I’d love to see the two of you embarrass yourselves in front of an audience. That would’ve been a real treat.”

Frankie clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. “Come on, man, don’t start.”

But before Santiago could respond, you interrupted.

“Kiss me,” you said, turning to Frankie with a tone that was less a request and more a threat.

Santiago let out a breathy laugh, stifling the full force of his amusement but not entirely succeeding.

Frankie looked at you like you’d just suggested a double homicide, his brows lifting high enough to crease his forehead.

“Come on,” you repeated, stepping closer to him. You let your arms drop to your sides in what you hoped was a disarming gesture, but Frankie didn’t budge. His expression didn’t soften, either—in fact, it somehow got worse. He was looking at you like you’d offered him a plate of raw sewage.

“Come on, Fish,” Santi chimed in, his voice laced with mock encouragement. “One little kiss and that’s it. What’s the big deal?”

You stayed where you were, holding Frankie’s gaze, your jaw tightening as you willed him to just get this over with. But he remained firmly rooted in place, his face still twisted in disgust.

And then something shifted in your chest. It was small at first, but it grew quickly—an anger, sharp and undeniable. What the hell was wrong with him? Was the idea of kissing you that horrifying? It wasn’t like this was real. It wasn’t like it meant anything.

You snorted, shaking your head as determination overtook you. Without giving it another second of thought, you crossed the space between you in a single, decisive motion.

“Wait, what the fuck are you—” Frankie started, but his words cut off as your hands gripped the sides of his face and your lips crashed against his.

The kiss lasted no more than three seconds, but it felt like an eternity. His lips were softer than you’d expected, warm and surprisingly still. Your eyes stayed firmly shut, as if that could somehow make the situation less mortifying.

When you pulled back, it was abrupt, almost violent. You jerked away from him and immediately crossed your arms again, your defenses snapping back into place.

Frankie stood there, completely still, his face frozen in an expression of shock. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes were unfocused, like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“It’s not that hard, Francisco,” you said, your tone clipped as you turned away and sat back down on the couch, this time right next to Mr. Darcy. “I’m a woman, not an alien. It’s not so terrible.”

Your brother was staring at you, his expression a mixture of delight and disbelief. For a moment, he said nothing, just taking in the scene like it was the best entertainment he’d had in years. Then, with a wide grin, he walked over to Frankie and delivered a solid punch to his stomach.

Frankie clicked his tongue in annoyance, snapping out of his daze with a low groan.

"I’m already regretting this," he muttered then, his voice low but sharp, as he turned his back to you and Santi. 

“You can’t regret it now,” you called after him, your tone sharper than you meant. It was enough to stop him. He turned his head slightly, just enough for you to see his face. He didn’t look angry, not exactly. There was no sharpness, no fire. Just this quiet disappointment.

“A deal’s a deal,” you said. "You were the one who insisted. Or have you forgotten that already?”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly, his eyes flicking to the ground. “Of course not. I just—” He paused, rubbed the back of his neck. “We didn’t think it through.”

From his spot against the wall, Santi let out a low whistle, arms crossed as he watched the exchange unfold like it was a show he’d seen before.

“Yeah we did,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “The issue isn’t that. The issue is you chickening out. You were fine until Santi showed up.”

“Oh, now it’s my fault again?” Santi asked.

You shrugged, noncommittal.

“Okay, well,” Santi said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Do what you want. It’s none of my business. Just—” he gestured vaguely, like he was brushing something away, “be a grown-up about it. And don’t screw it up, yeah? Because, honestly, of the three of us, I’m the one who has to deal with your shit.”

“We won’t cause trouble,” Frankie said, his voice quieter now but clear. He glanced at you, then at his best friend. “You have my word. I’ll keep it together. I'll be respectful. No bullshit. I promise.”

Santi nodded, his mouth twitching into the faintest smile. He reached out and clapped Frankie on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Sure, man. I trust you. Just—” He laughed lightly, his smile widening. “Don’t be such a child.”

He turned to you then, something knowing in his gaze, before looking back at Frankie. His laugh came deeper this time, warm and unguarded.

“Oh, I know exactly how this is going to end,” he said, shaking his head.

He didn’t stay much longer, mentioning something about dinner plans with Yovanna and promising to call tomorrow. The air felt lighter as he left, like he’d taken the weight of the moment with him, leaving only the two of you standing in its wake.

A few moment later, Frankie was ready to go too, or at least he looked like he was. He sat across from you now, his posture relaxed in a way that felt calculated, like he was trying to project a calm he didn’t entirely feel. Your cat, utterly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room, rubbed insistently up and down his leg, purring loud enough to fill the silence. Frankie absentmindedly ran his fingers along his fur, the gesture soft, almost tender.

From where you sat on the opposite end of the couch, you shifted slightly, trying to tread carefully. Your voice, when it came out, was low, calculated even—an attempt not to poke at the fragile truce that had settled between you.

"You know Santi’s right, don’t you?" you asked, watching as Frankie’s head lifted immediately, his gaze locking onto yours. "I mean, I don’t know how you are with your actual girlfriends—if you’re, like, affectionate, or into, you know, public displays of affection or whatever. But if we’re going to do this, you’ve got to get over it."

"I don’t have anything to get over. We just need to stick to the basics."

"Aha, the basics," you echoed, leaning forward slightly. "Sure, okay. But you couldn’t even kiss me without looking like it was physically painful."

"That’s not fair. You caught me off guard, that’s all. The context was weird. Santi was watching—it threw me off." He shook his head, his discomfort practically radiating off of him.

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you let out a short laugh, the sound more exasperated than amused.

"Your whole family is going to be watching tomorrow."

You stood abruptly, the movement carrying your frustration with it, and crossed the room in a few quick steps. You didn’t look back as you walked into the open kitchen, heading straight for the sink and grabbing a glass from the counter. The sound of water filling the glass was the only noise for a moment, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

Frankie didn’t say anything right away. When you turned around, your glass now empty in your hand, he was still in the living room, his focus firmly on your cat. He scratched behind his ears like he hadn’t just been called out, like he could stay there indefinitely and avoid the conversation entirely.

But then he stood, moving toward you with an unhurried calm that didn’t quite match the unease in his eyes. He stopped a few feet from you, leaning one hip against the kitchen island as if he needed something to ground himself.

"Your mother," you said, setting the glass down on the counter with more force than you intended, "your sisters, your aunts and uncles, your mom’s friends—they’re all going to be watching."

Frankie sighed. "It’s different." 

"Different how?"

"Because Santi’s my best friend. And you’re his sister. It was weird."

"And this is all fake, Francisco," you said, gesturing vaguely with your hand, like you were pointing out something so glaringly obvious it hardly needed to be said. "How old are you again? Forty?"

"Thirty-five," he replied, deadpan.

"Right. Almost forty. And you can’t do something as simple as kiss a woman. Yes, I’m your best friend’s sister. Yes, you clearly dislike me. And yes, I clearly dislike you too. But it’s just a kiss," you said, your tone sharp, cutting. Like you were explaining basic arithmetic to a particularly slow child. "A fucking—"

The word caught in your throat mid-sentence, stolen by the sudden, startling pressure of Frankie’s hands on your face.

Before you could react—before you could even think—he was there. Close, impossibly close, his fingers firm but steady as they cupped your jaw, his palms warm against your skin. His eyes barely met yours before his mouth was on yours, and for a moment, the world narrowed to that one unexpected point of contact.

His lips moved against yours with a precision that felt calculated, like he wasn’t rushing, but he wasn’t holding back either. They parted yours gently, and his breath mingled with yours, each second stretching into something that felt far longer.

Three seconds. Four, maybe five. It was enough for you to notice, to feel how his thumb brushed against the side of your face, to register the faint scent of his cologne. Enough for it to completely throw you.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over.

He released you, stepping back without ceremony. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at you from his full height, his expression unreadable. Then he clicked his tongue, a sound so small but so maddeningly smug it made your blood simmer.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. You were rooted to the spot, your thoughts a scrambled mess as you tried to catch up with what had just happened. Your breathing was uneven now, a shallow rhythm you couldn’t quite control.

Frankie turned away, shaking his head slowly as if he were frustrated—with you, with himself, with the entire situation. His hands flexed at his sides, his gaze fixed on the floor.

When he finally looked back up at you, his scowl was sharp enough to cut. There was something accusatory in the way his eyes narrowed, as if he were blaming you for... what? Letting him kiss you? Letting him prove a point?

“I can do that, no problem,” Frankie said, his voice dripping with confidence, his expression so self-assured it almost felt rehearsed. He stood tall, chest slightly puffed, radiating an air of someone entirely too pleased with himself. “Stop being so fucking insufferable all the time, and maybe this whole thing would be easier.”

The words stung more than you cared to admit. You wanted to hit back, to say something sharp and cutting that would wipe that smug look off his face. Insult him, rattle him—anything to remind him that if this situation was unbearable, it wasn’t because of you alone.

But no words came.

Your throat tightened, and you couldn’t force yourself to speak. It wasn’t just that you were angry—though you were. It was that he was watching you now, not with his usual indifference but with something sharper, something closer to scrutiny. Like he was waiting for your reaction, ready to pounce on it, to use it against you.

Frankie leaned back against the kitchen island, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, it felt like the room itself had shrunk, like the air had turned heavy and suffocating. The silence between you was uncomfortable in a way it had never been before.

You swallowed hard, the sound loud in the stillness, and forced yourself to meet his eyes.

"Thank God you’re not my real boyfriend," you said finally, your voice breaking the tension. You tilted your head, letting a sly smile curve your lips as you arched a single eyebrow. "I’d rather kiss a toad."

The corner of Frankie’s mouth twitched, and for a second, you thought he was going to brush off your jab entirely. But then he let out a quiet laugh, one he didn’t even try to hide, his expression softening into something teasing.

"You’ve got a lot of experience with those, don’t you?" 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a soft, incredulous snort. Your gaze drifted to the empty glass of water sitting on the counter, the condensation forming a faint ring beneath it. You should’ve said something else, something sharp to cut through the tension still lingering in the air, but you didn’t.

Frankie straightened up, peeling himself away from where he’d been leaning against the kitchen island. He stretched slightly, his movements unhurried, one hand brushing absently over his stomach like he was just waking up from a nap. Then he reached into his pocket, his fingers curling around something—his keys, you realized—as if confirming they were still there.

He turned without a word and walked over to the couch, where Mr. Darcy had curled up in his usual spot. Frankie gave the cat a quick pat on the head, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary, then straightened again. When he turned back to you, there was something almost playful in his expression, a teasing glint in his eyes that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

"I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow," he said, his voice casual but firm, like it was already decided. "Don’t keep me waiting."

You blinked at him, disbelief washing over your face. From your spot leaning against the counter, you tilted your head slightly, trying to gauge if he was serious—or if he was just trying to get a rise out of you.

"Or what?" you shot back, your voice dripping with mockery. "You’re going to leave without me?"

Frankie paused at your door, his hand hovering over the handle. He turned his head, his eyes locking onto yours.

"I’ll come up and get you," he said, his tone low and almost threatening.

Before you could reply, he pulled the door open, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door with a gesture that felt vaguely theatrical.

You stood there for a moment, motionless, your eyes drifting aimlessly around the room. It was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner.

Then a sharp, high-pitched meow broke through your thoughts.

You glanced down to see Mr. Darcy padding toward you, his tail held high like a little banner, the picture of feline confidence. He stopped just short of your feet, looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes. The kind of look that demanded attention.

“Oh, so now you’re coming back to me?” you asked, crouching down to run your fingers over the soft fur on his head. He tilted his chin upward, leaning into the touch like he hadn’t just spent the last hour fawning over Frankie.

"Of course, you traitor," you muttered, scratching behind his ears. "Now that he’s gone, you’ve suddenly remembered I exist."

Mr. Darcy purred in response, his tail curling slightly as he rubbed against your hand, but you snorted softly, the sound carrying a faint edge of betrayal.

"You’re lucky I love you," you said, your voice low, almost conspiratorial. "But don’t think I’ve forgotten how easily you switched sides. I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you just yet."

He blinked at you, unbothered, and you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. Still crouched, you rested your elbow on your knee, glancing toward the closed door where Frankie had disappeared. 

Mr. Darcy meowed again, drawing your attention back, as if reminding you of where your loyalty should lie. For now, you decided, he was forgiven. Just barely.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Taglis: @paleidiot @gothcsz @everyth1ngfan @katw474 @mellymbee @pedritosgirl2000 @tsunamistorm123 @jokesonthem @sunnytuliptime @greenwitchfromthewoods @ashleyfilm @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti (some tags aren't working apparently sorry!)

[monarchberrysblog]

UNDER THE STARS ⋆⭒

⋆｡°✩ part two to: NOTHING BUT TROUBLE

credit to: @mar_marOu on Instagram & @/marmarOu on X and Tumblr!

✭ 🔞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✭

✭ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: sometimes, a hero and a vigilante need a break from the hectic city environment.

✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖𝐄�� 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃. miguel and the reader are in an established relationship, brief mentions of kleptomania, exhibitionism (both of y'all literally don't give a fuck but seriously, don’t do freaky stuff outside), cumplay (?), cum eatting (we are going there too), uncircumcised peepee 🤭, hard? dom! miguel, assertive behavior from the reader, cunnilingus (f! receiving), unprotected p-in-v (please go to your local planned parenthood to educate yourself), and heavy breeding kink. (he scrambles your eggs 😝)

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: +1.6k words 🤭

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Nothing But Trouble blew up overnight! thank you for your undying support! it means a lot to me 😭 if there are errors, i do apologize, it's been a month since I looked at this. I'm slowly getting back in the groove.

here’s to my followers! y’all live in my basement now 🐈‍⬛ 🩵

The low clouds in Nueva York cascaded onto the ground, creating a murky environment in now empty streets. It was a quiet night, even for Nueva York. Within the apartment buildings of the hustling city, many were home, sheltered away from the smog air. Some were fast asleep in bed with their blankets, and others were cooking a warm meal for the evening. But for you, you were dragged out of your soft, cozy bed past the window edge decorated with many potted plants and small trinkets. You were now climbing the fire escape, wearing your pajamas and a simple black sweater.

The cat dragged you out into the cold environment, away from your warm, cozy bed. You yawned as you climbed up, swiftly up the fire escape, feeling the now wet bars against the palm of your hand.

The memory of seeing a text message from Miguel immediately came to mind when your slipper fell off your foot, causing you to shoot a web at it to retreat.

The "I want to see you real quick" text meant nothing but trouble from him. He was always up to no good, leaving a little mess behind, like a cat playing with a ball of yawn, only for the poor creature to be tangled in its consequence with big, teary eyes.

Nonetheless, you continued your climb up, finally reaching the rooftop.

The cold air nipped at your skin, piercing its cold air needles through your sweater and pajamas. Bringing your hands close to your mouth, you exhale warmly to your freezing digits, rubbing your hands, seeking friction to warm your dead, lifeless fingers temporarily.

You stand idly, waiting for his arrival.

A puff of smoke escaped your lips while you yearned for your return to your warm bed and away from the cold weather. Then, your vision darkened. A pair of large hands shield your eyes from the skyscraper lights of Nueva York. "Miguel!" You squeaked, reached to grasp his hands, and forcefully attempted to pull them away from your face. "Seems like you're happy to see me." He croons against the shell of your ear. His voice vibrates against your eardrums, reverberating down to your core. "Tell me why you're here...!" You finally pull his hands away from your eyes and turn around to see him.

"I can't see my favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"No, no, you can't."

"Ouch, I'm hurt." He feigns pain, placing a hand against his "aching" chest cavity. You chuckle, delivering a punch against his shoulder, and sigh. "Really, why are you here?" He chuckles at the question, his palm rubbing away the aching punch that blossomed under his skin. "I have something for you-"

"Did you steal it?"

He frowns at the question. Sure, it was a given that he tended to snatch the next shiny thing in sight, but this time, it was... different.

"No...!" He hisses. "I bought it with my own money." He reaches down to his toolbelt and grabs a drawbag. He opens the tiny draw bag and retrieves a small royal blue box. "It's for you." He tosses the box to you. The little box jumps around your hands before it settles down on your palm. "I hope you like it." He huffs a bit of his cheeks while watching closely.

Your hands move independently, opening the tiny container. The velvet plush container revealed a heart-shaped necklace; the midnight blue stone glistened in the moonlight, shining independently. "Miguel...?"

"Now, don't get sappy on me." He scoffs, displaying a frown. Behind the frown, a smile waits to be displayed. He browsed at multiple boutiques, hoping to find something that was meant to be for you. Something that stood out from the rest. Simple, but it was made for you. "You got this for me?" You pout and soon retrieve the necklace from the velvet box.

"Do you like it?" The question felt boyish, even for him. But it was such a cute action coming from him.

"Yes! Oh my god! Help me put it on!" You bounced on the balls of your feet, ready to be climbing on the walls. "Put it on me, put it on me!" You repeat the phrase as a mantra, handing him the necklace to help you put it on. His frown breaks as he chuckles and assists you put the necklace on. "Do you like it-" He repeats and immediately gets jumped into an unsuspecting embrace. "Stop asking the question! Yes, I love it!" Your laughter fills the space as Miguel's hands work to get a proper hold of your bottom. Your laughter filled the space before the slowly descended to soft giggles and sighs.

His nose nudges against the tip of your nose, slowly creating a gap of silence between you. "Hi..." you whisper, nudging your nose against his. "Hey, " he croons as he nuzzles closer, planting a gentle kiss against your lips, molding your lips perfectly. You hum at the contact and enable the soft kiss. His fingers dig into the plush of your bottom as his claws sink deep into your skin.

Soft suckles and sighs fill your personal bubbles before pinning you down against the ledge. Your hands grasp Miguel's bicep before his chuckle greets your ears. "C'mere..." His hands move to hold onto your hips and drag you closer to his hips, rubbing himself against you at a slow, agonizing pace. "Even when it's cold out, you are warm."

You turn to look down, seeing the hustle and bustle of the streets, the lights looking nothing but a speck of light. "No one is gonna see us." He hums before he nuzzles his way to the crook of your neck, slowly placing soft kisses and trailing them back to your lips.

"Are you sure?" You push the question and lean closer to the soft butterfly kisses against your skin. "It's dark, no one is going to see." He rubs his straining member against your aching core, fluttering and waiting to be penetrated. His hands tug away at your sleep shorts, desperate to cease them off your body.

The thin line of arousal builds up against the gusset of your underwear, the slick, clear arousal clinging against your folds. "Let me get a taste." He pulls away the gusset, his fingers feeling the warmth and heat against his digits. "Look at that; you were already preparing for me..."

He kisses his way down to your core, almost moaning at the scent. You were his catnip, the temptation luring him to you, to roll his tongue at the liquid, sticky ecstasy, to drown in it.

His nose budgets against your clit as his tongue laps at your entrance, collecting the taste. The cold air, accompanying his warm breath, nipped at you as your walls clenched around nothing. You are opened up to him like a blooming flower, exposing more of your now sensitive clit. “You are too sweet…” His voice is muffled thanks to his tongue licking your entrance from the bottom to the top.

Your eyes shoot open when you feel his middle finger linger at your entrance, tracing the opening slowly. Your breathing catches you, also as if you were sprinting in a marathon. He pulls away from the intimate kiss from your lips, his lips coated in your mess. "C'mon… let everyone hear you." He purrs and pushes two fingers in, feeling you clench against his digits. "Easy there, quierida." He keeps at a steady pace, immediately hearing the wet slaps. "There we go, there we go..."

The small whimpers evolved into full moans, your moans only audible to him but immediately drowned out by the sound of honking cars and noises in every other corner of the gloomy city's lively life. "Let me hear you, let me hear..." He slurps the sticky discharge before he is immediately shoved into you by your hands. You wailed out, squirming about before he pinned you down. "Open your mouth, now." His demands muffled, not daring to move away from your puffy folds.

You did as he said and screamed out an orgasm, nearly waterboarding him. He pulls away from your puffy folds and is wholly doused. You croak out a noise, ready to say something, but get stopped. “Just keep your mouth open.” He pulls down the zipper of his suit before he frees the strained tent between his legs.

Not earning a warning on time, he spits into your mouth, giving you a taste of your cum. The strong tangy taste and substance stayed in your mouth as you kept your mouth shut in shock. "Swallow it." He heaves before he reaches down between the two of you and lazily pumps his aching cock. You reach down and pull back at the foreskin gently, allowing to see the mauve tip peek out from the extra skin.

You grab his cock, pulling him close to you and pushing him into you. He groans softly at the sensation as he rocks himself in and out of you.

You swallow your cum and bounce on him, following his lead and feeling the familiar pressure between his tip and G-spot. You flutter against his length, trying to create a consistent rhythm, but the rhythm comes out staggered and messy. "You've been working on your kegals? You little slut." He hisses while pushing you down on the ledge.

"You're getting there. I can feel it." Strands of hair begin to stick to his forehead, and sweat soon drips down onto you, landing on your blouse and occasionally on your face. "Together now, you can do it. Hold it, " he demands as the pace increases. You look over at him, mouth agape and eyes pleading. Your hands grasp his exposed bicep, fingernails leaving crescent indents and red streaks.

"No, I know what you're thinking. Not yet." You pull him close, feeling your lower stomach bubble like a witch's cauldron. He leans down, planting you a harsh kiss, his tongue creeping its way to yours. You eagerly oblige, still tasting yourself on his tongue. "Now, go ahead." He rasps, rubbing his thumb against your clit. With one final thrust, you splash the two of you, your mess landing on the floor beneath the two of you.

"There you go, I'm so proud of you." He leans in to kiss your temple and nuzzles close. He slowly pulls out and looks at your pully walls. Not even a moment later, his cum spills out of you, dribbling down past your swelling folds. "Hold on, nena." His fingers gather his cum and push his cum back into you slowly.

He pulls his fingers out, residue lingering on his fingers before he licks the mess off.

"Don't waste a drop."

[faithisyours]

Basement Hangout

Vi X Fem!Reader

Chapter 4 of The List

Previous chapters can be found here

Summary: you (along with your mutual friends) surprise Vi with a basement hangout. Shenanigans ensue.

cw: timebomb, melvika, and jayvik included, Caitlyn is also here, Claggor and Mylo mentioned, some other supporting cast appearances, light smut, fingering, some dirty talk, alcohol consumption, smut while slightly intoxicated, Vi’s more dominant in this one, kinda choking but not really, some fluff, I think that’s it.

Word count: 3.3k

an: Hello little gay people in my phone! I give you chapter 4, hope you enjoy it, this one fought me the entire way. Sorry for such a long wait, I just got back to college, which will probably continue to alter the pace at which I post these, but I do plan on continuing to post, although my pace may slow. I’m also predicting a couple caitvi fics in my future, so be on the lookout for those. If you want to see anything specific in this fic, or be added to the tag list, let me know! And as always, men and minors dni.

“M’ so fucking cold, is he incapable of answering his door in a timely manner?” Vi huffed. You and your girlfriend stood waiting outside on the steps of Ekko’s house. It was now full blown winter, and was, in fact, actively snowing as you stood there.

It had been over a month since you and Vi made that blanket fort in the living room of your shared apartment, the last thing you had done off the list. Between work, holidays, and overall life in general, you both hadn’t gotten to cross any more things off it, but on the bright side, Vi had finally shared the list in its entirety with you. And it was long. A lot of the things were season specific, such as camping, but many were not, like the one you were surprising Vi with tonight.

“I don't understand why we couldn't have just picked this stuff up tomorrow. We’re freezing our asses off for nothing,” Vi continued with her complaining.

“Ekko asked nicely, so we’ll just get this over with and then we can go home, alright?” you soothed. Of course, this was all a ruse to get Vi over here, and hopefully she would feel differently when the surprise was revealed. When you had read over the list, the idea of a “basement hangout” had burrowed its way into your head and would not leave. So, you decided to band all your friends together to help surprise Vi. Ekko had been the one to offer his place as the setting, considering he was the only one with a finished basement. The trickiest part was getting Vi over here without having her get suspicious. You had Ekko call you while you were in front of Vi to ask if the two of you could come over to pick some things up left over from the holiday party he had. Vi was not happy about it, but she’d do basically anything for a lifelong friend, so here you stood. And, safe to say, Vi was too cold to be suspicious, if she ever was to begin with.

At that moment, you heard the sound of a lock sliding back, and then the door swung open, revealing Ekko, who was dressed in black sweatpants and a dark olive-green sweatshirt.

“Come in, come in.” Ekko ushered you both inside. Vi hurriedly marched indoors first, giving Ekko a somewhat pointed look when passing him. “It’s just down in the basement, I’ll show you where.”

He shot you a wink while Vi wasn’t looking, then led you both down the stairs to the basement. It was warm down there, string lights hung against the walls and wrapped around the exposed beams on the ceiling, but other than that, it was completely dark.

“It’s just over here…” Ekko said, pointing vaguely around the bend of the stairs. He turned on a floor lamp, drenching the room in light, and simultaneously people jumped out from behind the couch, from the closet, from around the corner, and yelled “Surprise!” Vi turned to you, a shocked look on her face. You just gave her a smile, shoving her shoulder lightly with yours.

“Surprise,” you said, grinning at her and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“But it’s not my birthday,” Vi countered incredulously, like that was the only time surprising her was acceptable.

“I know. This is from the list, a ‘basement hangout’ if I remember correctly,” you said. She hummed in response, then, abruptly, gave you a rather salacious kiss that caught you off guard and had your friends either groaning out ew’s or whistling low. You pulled away breathless, a blush creeping up your cheeks, and Vi gave you the cheekiest grin of all time.

After recovering from that, you turned your attention to your friends, who were already getting the party started by pouring drinks and playing music through the surround-sound speakers. And it really was appropriate to say party, considering how many of your mutual friends had shown up. There was Ekko, of course, and Jinx, as well as Caitlyn, Viktor, Jayce, Mel, Sevika, Lest, Maddie, Claggor, Mylo, Scar, and Steb. Maybe you had overdone it with the invitations, and it no longer resembled a chill hangout with friends, but everyone seemed to be having a good time, so you supposed it didn’t really matter.

You and Vi, stripped of your coats, took your time saying hello to everyone, but only after you got drinks in your hands. You got a malibu cranberry, while Vi got a vodka redbull. Settling down on one of the couches, Vi wrapped her arm around you and leaned back. It was almost comical the way your position mirrored the other couples in attendance: Mel and Sevika were sitting on the adjacent couch, Mel basically in Sev’s lap, while Jayce and Viktor were occupying an armchair, Jayce in the chair while Viktor propped himself on the arm. And then there was Ekko and Jinx, who were sitting on the same couch as you and Vi, but where Ekko sat normally, Jinx sat perched on the back of the couch behind him. Your uncoupled friends dotted the rest of the room, either sitting or standing in semi-circles talking with one another.

“Beer pong, anyone?” Jayce asked, pointing to the empty table near the hallway.

“I’ll play,” Viktor answered.

“So will I,” Jinx volunteered.

“Either of you want to play?” Viktor asked when no one else said anything, pointing towards you and Vi.

“I’ll just watch this first round,” you said, giving Viktor a smile.

“And I’m gonna stay with my girl a while longer,” Vi answered, subconsciously pulling you closer to her. You blushed slightly, always going a little red when Vi called you her girl. It didn’t matter that you had been together for years, you were still going to blush. But what you were also going to do was blame it on the alcohol.

“Alright, I’ll play,” Ekko said, shooting you both an exasperated look.

The two couples rose from their seats and made their way towards the table. Jayce and Ekko occupied one end, while Jinx and Viktor stood at the other. And soon enough, ping pong balls began bouncing back and forth. The table was at a good angle and distance away to where you could watch them play and still contribute to the conversation, but could also tune it out or have a separate conversation with Vi and the others sitting down around you.

You sipped on your drink, already half downed, and did your best to pay attention to your friends playing, but your girlfriend was making it increasingly difficult to focus. The hand that was not holding her drink was around your waist, drawing lazy patterns there and working together with the alcohol to heat your skin. You fidgeted, squirming slightly in Vi’s grip, which only made her grasp on you tighter.

“So I heard about this list…” Mel said, pulling your attention away from the beer pong and towards where she and Sev sat on the couch next to yours. “What is it exactly?”

“Oh, well, um…” you tried to find a decent explanation without having to explain the ‘why’ part of it, but Vi beat you to it.

“It’s a list of things we both have never done and want to do,” she said simply.

“So, like a bucket list?” Sevika interjected.

“Kinda, but more to the tune of stupid teenager shit,” you said.

“I see, alright, that makes sense. Maybe we should start one, huh Sev?” Mel said, nudging her partner.

“Anything you want, my love,” Sevika replied, smiling at her girlfriend. Mel just shook her head, amused at Sev’s response, a smile curving her mouth.

“That makes sense, considering what we're doing. Very teenager-esque, I must say. But I feel like something’s missing, like we need to be playing spin-the-bottle or explicit truth or dare,” Mel said.

“Ekko has drunk jenga,” you said, pointing to a pile of games stacked high in the corner.

“That's perfect. Alright, who wants to play drunk jenga?” Mel asked the room, and a chorus of ‘I will’s followed. So while Mel and Sevika grabbed the game and began setting it up, you went to grab yourself another drink, Vi following behind you.

“Do you want another one, babe?” you ask Vi, who was in the process of snaking her hands around your front to hug you from behind.

“I’m alright, thank you though,” she said from just over your shoulder. So you fixed your drink, a Dirty Shirley this time, all while having a rather clingy Vi attached to your back, then joined your friends.

While Jinx, Ekko, Jayce, and Viktor played beer pong, you, Vi, Mel, Sev, Lest, Scar, Maddie, Caitlyn, and Setb (in that order) huddled around the coffee table to play drunk jenga. Since it was Mel and Sev’s idea, they went first. Mel pulled one from right in the middle, sliding it out and reading it aloud.

“Take a shot with the person to your right,” she said, then looked towards Sevika, who was already getting up to go get shot glasses and vodka. Sev came back, poured the shots, cheered with Mel and downed it, barely making a face at its taste. Mel, on the other hand, made a twisted face at the taste. And since they had pulled a block semi-together, it was now Lest’s turn. She pulled one from the edge close to the bottom, its removal slightly more difficult than the block Mel pulled, then read it aloud.

“Kiss the person to your right,” she said, and a small blush appeared on her cheeks. She turned to her right to face Scar, Ekko’s long-time friend, who looked a little shocked and flushed, but played it off well. Hesitantly they kissed, a quick and gentle peck, but it was cute enough to bring a smile to your face.

It went on like that, your friends pulling blockers that made the structure more precarious each turn, reading them aloud and quickly getting more intoxicated. And then it was your turn. You surveyed the tower, looking for a block to pull that wouldn’t tip the entire structure over, and went with the bottom middle block. As you poked and prodded, the tower shifted, but you were able to pull the block free without losing the game.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” you read out, and as soon as the words left your lips, Vi, with a wicked grin on her face, was pulling you away and down the hall. She stopped at the hall closet, flung the door open, then pushed you inside, closing the door behind her.

The slats in the door allowed enough light in for you to get the gist of shapes, but it was still pretty dark. Your heart was pounding, probably due to the combination of alcohol and adrenaline in your blood. Vi had hauled you off rather quickly, you barely had time to set your almost empty cup down, and now you were standing very close to your girlfriend in a very confined space. Good thing you weren't claustrophobic.

“I haven't been in one of these in years,” you joked, looking around the small space and attempting to diffuse the growing tension. Vi had been exceptionally touchy this evening, and being in a confined space alone with her was only making you more soaked.

“I think we should play a game,” Vi whispered, leaning in close.

“Besides seven minutes in heaven?” you asked.

“I think we should play the game where whoever makes the other come first wins.” Vi leaned back slightly, surveying your face with a small grin on hers. She knew you were two drinks down, and even though you weren't completely drunk yet, you were still pretty tipsy. Her surveying you was your chance to say no. But you didn’t want to. That grin on her face let you know she knew you were tipsy, and because of that would be at a disadvantage when it came to the game. And you wanted nothing more than to prove her wrong.

Instead of answering her with words, you launched yourself at her, pulling her into a hard and frantic kiss. You threw your arms around her neck, pressing your body against hers, and tangled one of your hands in her hair, pulling slightly at the strands. Vi moaned low, and the sound went straight to your clit. You pulled back from the kiss only to have your hands shoot straight to the front of her pants, working the button loose. Vi, catching on, did the same to your pants. Soon enough you were dragging your hand through her happy trail and into her boxers, her hand not far behind in yours.

Vi’s fingers pushed into you, only to find you completely soaked. “All this already? If you were so needy you could have just said something,” she taunted.

“Shut up,” you retorted, but there was no bite behind the words. While she dragged her fingers through your folds, spreading your slick and lazily circling your clit, you pushed two fingers into her and slowly ground the palm of your hand against her clit. Her walls clenched around the intrusion, but the new wave of slick, along with her surprised moan, let you know you were welcome.

Both of you seemed to have differing strategies: where Vi was more lazy and teasing with her movements, you were precise and strategic. Or at least you were trying to be. As soon as Vi sunk two fingers into you and started curling them, your movements faltered. You tried to keep up, tried to play it off by stifling your moans and rubbing her clit harder, and while, yes, Vi was moaning and whimpering slightly, your ministrations were nothing compared to hers. She knew your body like the back of her hand, knew all the right buttons to press, when to press them, and how to make you fall apart in her hands.

“What's the matter, babe? Can’t keep up?” she taunted. You kissed her to shut her up, but also to hopefully regain some control. You knew she loved when you were loud, and you knew she loved when you played with her tits. So you did both. You moaned, excessively, into the kiss, syncing it up with her thrusts, and worked your free hand inside her shirt and under her bra. You grazed your fingers over her nipple, which elicited a gasp from her, breaking the kiss for only a second before she pulled you back into it. You knew she knew what you were doing, so you tried to be as unpredictable as possible. You pinched her nipple, which earned you a guttural moan, the sound making you smile against the kiss. Now you are in control.

But it didn’t last long. Vi broke the kiss and instead pressed her forehead against yours, her heavy breathing mixing with yours. And then the next thing you knew there was a hand on your throat and you were being pushed back against the wall, her fingers still circling tightly around your clit. Your back hit the wall, and you wanted to complain that this position wasn’t fair, but then Vi started kissing you again, and the hand on your throat was squeezing just so, and her fingers were working you closer and closer to the edge. You were dizzy, hazy from the alcohol, breathless, still kissing her, and you tried your hardest to keep up, circling her clit and adding a third finger, but it was a lost cause. You were losing your footing, your hand was stopping and starting, your jerky movements doing little to bring Vi much pleasure.

You pulled away from the kiss, panting, and rested your forehead on Vi’s shoulder. You just needed to focus.

“Not very good at this game, are you?” she whispered into your ear, her voice dripping with mock-condicention. You tried to speak, tried to come up with a retort, but all you could manage was a weak moan. “Why don’t you come for me, baby. It’s okay, you can do it,” she said, her breath ghosting your ear. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, she was kissing your neck, your jaw, that spot behind your ear that always made you squirm, and it was your undoing.

You came with a strangled cry of her name, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into you as Vi kept up her movements, and you would have collapsed if it hadn’t been for Vi snaking the hand that was previously on your throat around your back to keep you upright. She soothed and cooed at you, bringing you slowly but surely back to reality.

Foreheads pressed together and hands still in each other's pants, there was a small nock on the closet door. “What?” Vi said, while her breath still mingled with your.

“Um, I’m supposed to tell you that the seven minutes is up,” you heard Jayce say from beyond the door.

“Got it,” Vi responded, and you couldn't help but laugh, Vi joining you in your giggles. You removed your hand, Vi mirroring your movements, and when Vi slipped her come-covered fingers into her mouth to clean them off, you did the same.

“I may have lost,” you said, “but did I really lose?” You gave Vi a cocky look as you buttoned your pants.

She hummed. “I guess we both won, in different ways.” You gave her another quick kiss before readjusting your clothes and smoothing your hair, making sure everything was as it should be. Vi did the same, and soon enough you were opening the closet door and stepping out to join the party once more.

As you made your way back, hand-in-hand with Vi, a handful of your friends gave you knowing looks, and some of them even whistled, but most didn’t react. You knew you should have tried to be quiet, and you had for the most part, but you had assumed the distance plus the music would have drowned out most of the moaning. Maybe you had miscalculated. But it didn’t matter now.

You and Vi rejoined the party, chatted with friends and played a couple more games, but stuck to water for the rest of your time there. And after a couple more hours, you were yawning, curled up against Vi, about ready to fall asleep. Vi had been talking with Ekko, a conversation you were too tired to follow, but noticed your yawning and decided it was time to go.

She got you into your coat, pulling your hat onto your head and zipping you up, then put her own on. She thanked Ekko profusely, as well as your remaining friends, which you also did, albeit more groggily, then guided you up the stairs and out the door towards the car. It had stopped snowing, and the car didn’t need much scraping off before it was able to be driven. Vi guided you into the passenger seat, making sure your seat belt was clicked in before closing your door and making her way around to settle into the driver's seat.

“Thank you for tonight, it was wonderful,” she said. Though you were on the verge of falling asleep, you heard her through the haze.

“You’re welcome, baby. Anything for you,” you mumbled, then proceeded to fall asleep.

Tag list: @usuck @saqqarasdissent

[maybankxw]

MOONLIGHT

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings: mature content ahead! [ unprotected sex; fingering; ] minors dni!!!

summary: spending some nice time together on the beach at night, while everyone else is back at the house

word count: 1.1k

a/n: okay hello its me, i know its been a year since i came here last time, but i hope y'all enjoy it! love you tons and miss you too! <3

links: masterlist / taglist / ask box

any feedback (comments, reblogs, anon asks) would be appreciated!

I was sitting outside the chateau listening to the waves splashing as my fingers fiddled with a tiny stick that I dug out of the sand. The skies were navy blue, stars shimmering in the dark pattern, soft cool wind shuttering foliage above my head and ruffling my hair. Behind me the sounds of a party echoed back in the house, followed with the steps that grew louder. My head swivelled back just to see her walking in my direction.

“J?” her tiny frame settled down beside me, her knees levelled the soft sand as she brushed my bare shoulders with her warm fingers, “Are you coming back in?”

My eyes shut close at her presence, her touch, the sweet scent of her perfume and her body pressed close to mine, “Yeah, in a bit.”

“Okay,” her lips, soft, landed on my shoulder feathery kissing my cold skin, veering to my neck as her hands rubbed my arms up and down, “I’ll see you there then.”

I grabbed her wrist as she was about to stand up, “No,” I demanded, pulling her to me, “Stay.”

“Are you alright?” she asked concerned, crawling over to face me, her features lit up by a dim light casted by a garland hung outside.

“Yeah,” a smile tugged on my lips, “Come here,” I stretched my hand out, grasping her by the nape of her neck, colliding my lips with hers. She tasted like vanilla, a faint flavour of alcohol too, “Even better now,” I mumbled in between the kisses smiling against her mouth, helping her straddle me, feeling her smiling too.

My hands explored her body, pulling the dress up, squeezing her thighs, her waist as my kisses reached her jaw and lowered further until I nibbled her neck, listening to the pattern of her breathing change. It grew heavier, her nails dug into my shoulder blades as her head fell back, giving me more space to explore.

“Is that so?” she breathed out, clutching my forearms, biting back tiny moans, “Oh—“

I groaned, feeling my cock twitch as she bucked her hips, my fingers fiddled with her dress, pushing it over her head, “Mhm,” I stopped, my eyes roamed her body, savouring the moment, “I will never get tired of looking at you,” I rasped, searching for her eyes, “Naked or not,” we both heaved, impatient, but taking time to taking each other in, “Always beautiful. The most beautiful girl,” for a quick moment silence followed, “My girl.” 

It came out as a whisper, something snapped in her, she turned so eager, ripping my shirt off and undoing the zipper on my shorts, getting me undressed. That made my whole body tingle. Heat crept up my neck, she was so beckoning, reckless even, we were hidden in the dark, but the thought of someone finding us like that made me smirk.

My hands wrapped around her body and I flipped us over, making her spine meet the tiny blanket I had sprawled on the sand. Fingers hooked in her panties and just in moments she was absolutely naked beneath me, staring right into my eyes, “Oh I need to be inside you, now,” I choked out, getting rid of my own boxers, throwing them in the pile of our clothes, that made her chuckle. “Mmm,” her eyelashes batted, eyes closed, mouth slightly opened as I flexed my hips and sank in her in one persistent push, “J—“ 

My nose dove into her neck as I rocked back and forth, nuzzling her skin, planting open mouthed kisses. The scent of her perfume made me dizzy, I wanted to drown myself in her and never leave. “Fuck, you feel so good,” my eyes met hers again and I kissed her eagerly, pinning her by the throat, swallowing her moans, quickening the pace of my thrusts, “Such a perfect pussy, made for me.”

Her fingers grasped and pulled my hair, her breaths turned rapid as she helplessly clung to me and bit my shoulder to prevent from screaming, “Please don’t stop.” 

The tension was getting unbearable, air hot, our bodies sweaty.

“Come for me, love,” I gasped, holding her wrists above her head, fucking her relentlessly as she pushed her hips up to meet my movements, her nails digging into my ass, making me hiss.

Her moans grew louder, thighs shook uncontrollably, I pressed her clit with my thumb and she let out a final loudest moan, biting my arm in no time. Tears sprung out of her eyes, but I kept on moving, fucking her. through her high and chasing my own.

“J, cum inside of me,” she heaved, unhurriedly coming back to her senses, melting into the sand. Gently, she touched my cheek and I kissed the inside of her palm, holding her gaze as a few droplets of sweat scattered down my forehead and my hair, “Fuck—“

My cock twitched, I felt her walls tighten, I bet she did that on purpose. Cum rushed out, warm and sticky, filling her in, our moans merged into one.

“That was—” she smiled, stroking my chest, my abdomen, brushing my wet hair off my forehead.

“What?” I frowned, concerned, only to make her chuckle again.

“That was perfect. I mean, I didn’t think I’d fuck you tonight at all, you looked so busy back there. Why’d you come here anyways?”

“For you to find me, so I could fuck you senseless,” I grinned, giving her another lustful kiss on the lips, sucking in her upper lip, not wanting to release her from the captivity of my body, “I was hoping you’d find me here,” my mouth explored her body, my tongue found her nipples, hard, and I licked them, one at a time, meanwhile pinching another, making her squirm under me and moan. I fucking loved having her like that, at my mercy, whining for me. I slid lower, giving her stomach a few pecks and two wet drags of my tongue. My head was in between her legs now, I held them apart, licking a stripe up her folds, kissing her clit, fucking teasing her with my tongue, “JJ, please.”

“Yeah?” I sucked her clit in my mouth again, feeling her clenching her thighs around my head, “Tell me.”

“I need you inside.”

“Already?” a smile stretched on my lips, I pushed two of my fingers inside her perfect hole, feeling the warmth, leisurely moving in and out, still working my mouth on her.

She seized my wrist, helping me fuck my fingers in her, faster, rougher, her free hand tugging at my hair, forcing me to groan into her skin. When I felt her clench and shake for the second time, I eased my fingers out, wiping them down her hip, nuzzling her stomach and dropping down next to her afterwards, “You’re my guilty pleasure, you know? Wanna stay like this with you forever.”

[moriitis]

This is my first time doing this, but—

A snow day Toby x reader scenario? Been thinking of my favorite hatchet-wielding proxy in snowy weather <3

Or alternatively a mission/outing during snowy weather, whether or not it’d affect his movement and sight (not to mention the temperature insensitivity from his CIPA likely playing a role).

so sorry this took me awhile. started off well, went sloppy. hope its okay nevertheless.

Toby Rogers x Reader. SHORT.

Word; 3.4k.

Content/Warnings; mild language, mentions of sex, mentions of kissing, mentions of suicide.

The heat blowing from the vents within the car didn't do much to ease the cold from your fingertips as you hastily rubbed your hands together in a desperate attempt to warm them, cupping your hands together and blowing some air between your thumbs. 'It was cold as fucking balls' Toby had said once and shit, he was sure right. It had to be below freezing at this point, the cold so bitter and sharp that you felt it stir the bones beneath your very flesh. Toby's truck, which felt more like a pile of junk, did little to preserve the heat within its' skeleton as you sat shivering in the passenger seat. The hood of the truck was up and blocking your vision as Toby meddled around with the trucks insides, trying to stir it to life but it seemed even the truck refused to budge from the cold itself. You huffed impatiently, your muscles ached and the lull of a campfire whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You wanted so desperately to get back to the cabin with the fire, some blankets and a good ass book. Only you were stuck with this brunette who claimed he 'knew how to work trucks' and the same brunette mumbling and cursing to himself outside. He was lucky he couldn't feel the cold though and a part of you couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern at how long he'd stood outside for. Craning your head, your forehead pressed against the pane of the window as you tried to catch a glance of Toby as your legs bounced restlessly.

Being stuck in the middle of these woods didn't help. It was getting dark and you knew you were both still quite far away from the cabin itself. Before you began to find yourself lost in thought, the hood of the truck slammed shut suddenly which honestly, made you jump. You could tell from the way it slammed shut that Toby was getting impatient, frustrated even as he came trudging back over to the drivers seat. The door swung open and he collapsed into the seat with a huff. His presence made the air feel thick with tension as you pursed your lips. His fingers, which were red from the cold, curled around and gripped the fabric of his trousers. The silence lingered for a beat until he spoke;

"Well, it's ff-fucked-" he shrugged, avoiding your gaze. You could tell a part of him couldn't bare to look at you because you knew deep down, he had no idea how to fix cars - let alone trucks. It was hard for you to conceal your smirk as he finally turned to gaze at you and you could only sigh. It was so cold, your breath was visible in the air and it lingered for a moment.

"What do we do?" you finally asked, brows knitting in concern. Toby couldn't help it, but being the man here in this situation, he knew he had to care for you and look after you somehow - it would be gentlemanly of him. Only, he wasn't particularly sure what to do and he glanced out the window for a moment to ponder. His heart knew that really the two of you should get to walking but his pride didn't want him to leave this truck behind. He sighed, moving a hand up to push the cap off his head and tussle his hair in irritation. His eyes squeezed shut as his fingers gingerly moved to his brows, rubbing his temple as he tried to think of a solution that could both benefit you and him.

"We'll have to walk," he practically groaned. As if this could get worse, you were freezing, cold, hungry and your muscles craved the soft touch of mattress beneath them. You sighed, mimicking his moments as you rubbed your face.

"Right," you croaked softly, reluctantly moving from the seat to open the passenger door. The cold was like a punch to the face as you stepped out. There was a gust here and there which really made the cold so bitter. Toby switched the car off, pulling the keys out the ignition and stuffing them into his pocket before following your lead.

The snow was thick off the road, at least knee deep as you took big steps off into the clearing of the forest. Toby lingered by the truck and as you turned to glance over your shoulder, you could see the annoyance on his face. Honestly, a part of you couldn't gather as to why he had such an attachment to this truck. It was rusting, it sounded like crap and seemed as if every bump he took it were about to fall apart. It must just be a Toby thing. Finally, he stepped away from the vehicle and jogged up beside you, motioning his head that all was good and the two of you could depart. With your hands stuffed as deep as they could into your pocket, you tucked your nose deep into your coat. The cold was unforgiving, unwelcoming as it attacked every exposed part of your body. Honestly, you wished you couldn't feel the cold either and as you glanced at Toby every now and again, you envied how comfortable and relaxed he seemed to be as he walked quietly beside you. It was obvious that he was annoyed or irritated, mostly because he would be chatting your ear off with utter bullshit. His silence always suggested something and you understood his emotions completely. It it weren't for the damned truck, you'd be home by now!

You could hear Toby fiddling with the keys in his pocket, an occasional jingle here and there as he toyed with the keychain. The forest was unwelcoming as you glanced up to take in your surroundings. As much as you hated to admit it, you knew every rock, tree and lake in these damned woods and you knew for certain that this walk was going to be a long one. Snow fell softly above the two of you. It wasn't rapid nor treacherous, just small, gentle flakes that would decorate the tops of your heads. The snow was deep however and each step was a battle you were both trying to tackle, taking big steps or having to face the cold and just walk straight through it. The problem was, the snow began to soak through the fabric of your clothing and now your legs were cold, wet and numb. A horrible combination. Then, from just the corner of your eye, you saw Toby stop and quickly you paused in your tracks too, glancing over your shoulder toward him.

He had a hand outstretched toward you and as soon as you made eye contact with him, his hand motioned you over. "C'mere." Was all he uttered and with a questioning look, you reluctantly stepped over toward him. Before you could question what his intentions were, he doubled over slightly with his back facing you. "I'll carry you." The sudden act surprised you and you remained motionless for a moment as you blinked away the confusion. Why on earth would you want to be carried? Well, it was a nice offer but you were more than capable of walking for yourself. You glanced down at your soaked through pants and a shiver ran up your spine. Well, the cold was starting to numb your legs and Toby was taller than you, which meant his strides would quicken the walk within minutes. Though, a part of you couldn't help but feel bad, like he had somehow tuned in on your shitty mood and had somehow noticed how unpleasant the cold was for you.

You couldn't help but scoff out a little laugh in disbelief, shaking your head softly. He looked so dumb too and your little chuckle alerted him, causing him to snap his head around to shoot you a little glare. "Hah.. no, no. It's okay. I'm okay," you persisted, throwing your hands up in the air to wave them dismissively. Now you just felt plain rude. It seemed he wasn't taking no for an answer and groaned softly under his breath.

"Just get on my b-bback before I ff-fforce you." You had to stifle your laughter for a moment, admitting defeat and trudging over behind him. You were unsure how to go about this admittedly, you didn't want to jump on him and then make him land face forward into a pile of cold snow. Shit, the idea made you want to kill yourself.

Slowly, you reached over and ran the palm of your hands over the roundness of his shoulders and it was there you slowly, and rather awkwardly, lifted your leg for him to grab it. It was painfully embarrassing and you were thankful his back was turned as you quickly hopped onto his back as softly as you could, wrapping your arms securely around his neck. With both of his hands secured around the plump of your thighs, he pulled your knees up to his hips and secured you with a little jump before turning back and continuing into the depth of the forest.

Being this close to Toby, feeling his brown hair tickle your nose and his scent linger so strongly was enough to make your heart pound softly. Honestly, a part of you was nervous. Nervous that you were too heavy, that you might fart or that you were just being a nuisance altogether but it seemed Toby was unfazed as he kept a secure grip on you.

"Thank you," you uttered sheepishly into his ear, feeling your cheeks grow hot despite the cold and beneath you, you could just feel Toby shrug.

"Kein Problem, schatz." It was there a silence loomed over the two of you again and softly, you rested your cheek against his back. The gentle sway, the touch on your thighs, it was nice and oddly enough, you felt comfortable. Your relationship with Toby always had moments like this, the soft moments that had you questioning what the hell the two of you were? Friends with benefits? Unlikely, you two hadn't fucked before - despite the lingering urges that was evident in the air sometimes. Sure, you had exchanged a kiss here or there and it was sloppy and unexperienced but you never saw that as anything more than friends just.. kissing? Were you friend-zoning Toby and you were just oblivious to it? Perhaps and now you couldn't help but take into consideration the amount of things he did for you, the times where he would step up for you, look out for you, protect you in more ways than one and the times his hand would linger atop of yours and then he would laugh anxiously and explain he had 'forgotten.' Oh, you were such a hopeless romantic and yet you couldn't see his advances or intentions because you were just, well, plain stupid. Your brows furrowed in frustration and you huffed softly.

"Sorry about your car," you finally uttered, apologising for something that wasn't your fault and yet you felt you took a part in it somehow.

"I'll get it in the mm-morning," he replied, voice gruff as he quickly took a moment to clear his throat. With a simple nod of acknowledgement, you took a moment to glance up at the sky above you. The unforgiving winter season meant that darkness was fast approaching and it was already beginning to loom over you in a dangerous sheet of black. Pursing your lips, you rested your head back down.

"It's getting dark, shouldn't we just call Tim or Brian?" It wasn't a bad idea in the long run but Toby suddenly scoffed which said otherwise. Clearly, he didn't want his pride getting hurt more than it already had today.

"Fuck no!" His reaction earned an honest laugh out of you as you shook your head softly, admitting defeat in that subject alone. Then that familiar silence again. Despite his kind gesture, the cold nipped at you even harder and you couldn't help but want to walk just to generate some heat. You shuffled once and then again in some attempt to warm up and Toby, feeling your shuffling, glanced over his shoulder questioningly toward you. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm just getting cold back here."

"You wanna get down?" he questioned, stopping and standing still. You nodded slowly, a part of you feeling guilty, though it seemed to not bother him as he slowly crouched down to let you slide off his back. Your feet reconnected with the floor, the snow crunching beneath your feet - ankles feeling soggy and wet.

"Thanks."

Then the two of you set off again, your hands stuffed back into the depths of your pockets as you nestled your chin closer to the collar of your coat. With each step, you knew that you were getting closer to the cabin and it brought reassurance knowing that soon you'd be nestled up close by the fire draped in nothing but blankets. Maybe if you closed your eyes for a moment and just thought about a nice, warm, crackling fire, it may just warm you up. Only, closing your eyes while walking in the forest didn't seem the brightest idea and as your foot connected with the ground, your shoe got caught around a branch and sent you falling face forward. With your hands nestled deep into your pockets, you had no time to react and catch yourself and as your face connected with the snow, it seemed Toby didn't have good reflexes either as he practically watched you face plant into the snow. Shit, you were thankful the snow was there to begin with because any ordinary fall like that could've resulted in you breaking a nose or losing a tooth! The sudden cold that attacked your face made you gasp, thus inhaling lumps of snow as you tried and failed to scurry to your feet.

All the while, Toby stood over you watching in amazement that somebody as stupid as you could be even more.. stupider and you could tell by his facial expressions that it was becoming harder to conceal his laughter that he ever so wanted to let out. As your attempts to jump up failed, you admitted defeat and simply rolled over in the snow, allowing you to look up at Toby with a face of displeasure. His lips pursed, a first sign of trying to not laugh and then quickly he adverted his gaze. You were glaring at him because you knew, just knew, that he wanted nothing more than to bark a heap of laughter at you and your luck. This wouldn't have happened if his junk ass truck didn't break down!

"Don't fucking laugh," you warned sternly and it was there he retrieved a hand from within his pocket, bawling it into a fist to cover his mouth as he tried to swallow away his chuckles that were already beginning to seep out. "Help me up, don't laugh!" You practically whined and it was there it sent Toby spiralling, you just knew he was replaying your fall on repeat inside his head right now and he had to double over for a moment to catch his breath. It was rare to hear him laugh so hard and begrudgingly, you tried to hide your own smile in the process.

"Okay, fuck, fuck!" he threw his hands up in the air, letting another fit of laugher escape from him as he tried to wave it away. His head shook and he had to hold his stomach, another hand on his knee as he doubled over. There was no point asking for anymore help, might as well let him laugh and get it over with.

"You done?" you asked after a moment, his laughter simmering down finally as he turned back around to face you. It seemed that seeing your face and seeing you on the floor only set him off again and as his laugher run out into an echo in the forest, which frankly mocked you more, you endured for a little while longer with a disapproving huff.

"Alright, alright-" he sucked a breath and wiped a tear from his eye before turning his attention back to you again. It seemed he got what needed to come out as a hand outstretched toward you. "I'm done, s-ssorry, that was just too funny." He was still chuckling a dry chuckle here and there.

"Glad that was so funny for you, Toby-"

"Oh god, here we go, ss-shut up and take my hand."

"No, no, I'm serious, you really enjoyed that, huh?" Toby only rolled his eyes and shook his head, motioning his hand out toward you.

"Stop having a hissy fit and take my hand, for fucks sake," he chuckled.

Too petty to take his hand, you made a motion to help yourself up, hands pushing you up off the floor and to your feet. Of course, as you helped yourself up, you scooped up some snow in your hand and as soon as you were to your feet, you quickly hurled the ball of snow at Toby. The aim was sloppy and the snow hadn't formed into a proper ball yet, so just lightly smacked him on his neck. Fearing for your life, you began running off in a fit of giggles, practically bunny hopping over the snow in a desperate attempt to flee him. Toby always took things too far, he'd either accidentally hurt you or not know when to stop and you knew you were in deep shit now as you heard his slew of Germanic cuss words behind you. Turning your head over your shoulder to catch wind on how close he was, a snowball unexpectedly came crashing into your face and quickly you threw a hand up to wipe away the snow, another snowball soon came hurling toward you. Thankfully, you reacted quickly and darted to the side, letting the snowball whizz past you and land on the wood of a tree nearby.

"This is your karma!" you called out in between laughs, quickly scooping up some more snow in your hands and bawling up into a proper ball. You took shelter behind a tree for a moment, to catch your breath and await for the brunette. Despite his outburst, you could hear his chuckles approaching and quickly you pounced, aiming the snowball and landing it on his torso. Then, you darted off into another sprint. You were unsure if you were even going the right way anymore but a part of you couldn't care as you weaved from each snowball and tree that both equally came toward you at lightning speed. Then just as you bent over to scoop up more snow, a hit on your ass promptly made you jump up and snap your head around to Toby.

Quickly, the brunette bit his lip and bit back a chuckle, throwing his hands up defensively. "That was an accident, I s-s-sswear!" You narrowed your gaze. "I'm serious!" Though he were chuckling, almost as if he had done it on purpose and quickly you threw the half-assed snowball in your hand toward him. He quickly turned, letting the snow hit him on the side of his torso as he chuckled.

"You asshole," you jested, a disapproving smirk flashing across your features as you shook your head. Toby shrugged, turning back to face you.

"You started it." You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Fuck, you hated him at times. After catching your breath, you attention turned back into the forest. It seemed the running had quickened your pace as you could see the smoke bellowing from the chimney in the distance. It was a sigh of relief, it seems maybe Tim or even Brian may have got the fire going. Turning back to Toby, you noticed him trudging over to your side. "Hey, not my fault your ass is so big," he sneered, which caused you to quickly scoff and push him softly. He laughed, an honest laugh which warmed your heart and it was there you couldn't help but chuckle alongside him.

"Looks like we're nearly there, that's a relief," you huffed softly. "I can't feel my toes.. or fingers," you uttered, glancing down at your hands before flexing your fingers out and in again. They were numb and red and you were certain your toes had to be the same. Toby peered down at your hands before glancing back up at you.

"Well, let's go then," he mumbled softly before heading off again, two strides ahead of you as you hurried to follow behind.

This whole evening wasn't really how you expected it to play out. It was obvious that his truck would up and die sooner than later, but it sucked that it happened when you were in the passenger seat!

Regardless, you didn't mind spending more time with Toby, even if it meant freezing your ass off.

[messyhairedhazeleyeddude]

Ache // Yandere! Ticci Toby x

Fem! Reader {SMUT}

[Hello, this will be the first fic that I post. What I'm going to give you guys beforehand is some trigger warnings before we get on to it. Other than that, I hope you enjoy it and give me some feedback whenever you're done if you feel in the mood.]

TW // Violence, r@pe, and a whole lotta mention of murder as always.

𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ - First P.O.V

Every day, it started like this. Planted in my bed, tangled in my grey sheets, waiting for that one sliver of motivation to get out of my blankets. My room was a mess. Pieces of clothing scattered across the floor, piling up around my dresser, and hanging off of places I tossed them.

I stared over the rest of what I could see while trying to get rid of the bitter taste of soda left on my tongue from last night. The posters I've collected of my favorite bands clung onto the wall for dear life, fading away from how long they had been there. An empty Sprite can stood on my nightstand, left there after my body decided to have its third caffeine crash this week.

It was getting so warm where I was lying that I was starting to overheat, making me shuffle around to stay cold. That wasn't too hard because of how freezing my room was.

When I looked at my window, I noticed it was cracked open. If I didn't shut it soon, it would get worse. But minutes were melting into each other and I didn't want to get up. Why did I love to procrastinate so much? It shouldn't be this hard to move on with my day.

Silence filled every corner of my apartment, leaving me to peacefully rot. Was it selfish of me to be like this? That's what it felt like they were trying to say when I talked to relatives. But that's the reason why I prefer to be shut-in. I never had to hear that about myself. The world outside would remain indifferent. And hopefully, by the time I had to move, I was swallowed into the Earth below.

A sudden vibration of my phone startled me. I mumbled a barrage of curses and reached for it slowly, furrowing my brows and groaning. I could only pray that it wasn't him trying to contact me.

The last time he visited, I no longer felt safe outside. I would check behind me constantly, feeling as if his light brown eyes were glued to my back, and at any moment, he could come back and chop off my limbs until I was a headless torso. Remembering that he existed caused that horrible anxiety to spread goosebumps across my skin. I was shaking as I tried to unlock my phone.

Hundreds of notifications popped up that I had been ignoring, some of them messages from my mom, and the rest were emails. I almost accidentally clicked on one before I found the most recent. "Return library books today," it read. Fuck, I forgot today was the due date for those. Despite not wanting to, I had to get up. I did promise that if I had a reason to, I would.

I peeled myself from the comfort of my bed. My sheets clung to me like glue, trying to pull me back as if it were a bad idea. Fighting against it, I shivered at the sudden change in temperature and pulled down the bottoms of my shorts so they weren't wedged in between my ass.

After not walking for what felt like forever, I took my first steps, a soreness on my left thigh making me place a hand on my dresser for support. I looked down at a bruise from that encounter, biting my lip to distract myself from thinking about it. I need to take my pills or I'll get suicidal. So many things to do. So overwhelmed.

Encouraging myself in my head, I found the strength to go for the door. I opened it and turned down my hallway, going for the bathroom with quick and light steps.

Many pictures of family and portraits were loosely decorated on the wall, a pit in my stomach opened when I stared at them. I lingered on my dad and had to tear myself away from the picture before I felt the need to cry.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I flicked on the harsh yellow light and stood before the mirror, running a hand through my disheveled hair. I reached for the medicine cabinet, the hinges squeaking as I rummaged through it. I grabbed my medication and popped the bottle open, tossing out a tiny pill into my palm. I swallowed the bitter capsule and cringed as it slowly went down.

Turning my attention to the sink, I turned on the cold water and brought my mouth to the tap to take a sip. Then I splashed it on my face after I was done, relieved that the pill was no longer there. On the counter, I focused on the facewash I hadn't used in god knows how long. I missed the feeling of my face being clean. At least, I can't forget about it now.

I poured the runny liquid into my hands and rubbed them together, slapping it on my face and rubbing it in circles to get deep in my pores. It foamed up a bit and burned. If I'm going to be honest, I don't know if I'm supposed to be using this, but it works.

As I was splashing the water on my face again to clean it off, I opened my eyes to a man staring at me in the mirror, causing me to freeze. I could see the glisten of his goggles from here, that blue hood covering his messy hair, but it didn't contain enough around the edges. It was him. The man who attacked me and my dad a couple of days ago.

A scream clawed its way up my throat, but before the sound could escape, I reached for something. Grab anything to protect myself, that's all I needed to do. But before I could, the room blurred as I twisted, my hand grasping a razor for a split second.

I was torn away from it. I felt a hard impact on my back as I was slammed against the wall, the air forcing out of my lungs in a sharp gasp. I struggled to breathe, my hands grabbing onto his wrists while they dug into my neck.

He had me pinned against it and struggling to get any sort of noise out. Slowly, I was dragged up upward and lifted off of the ground. I choked, my vision was fading as his glare burned into mine. He's going to kill me. Just like he did to Dad. He's going to get away with it. I pulled my head back against the wall before lunging it forward to collide it with the serial killer's, his hands faltering their hold and dropping me from the force of it.

I collapsed to the floor and sputtered out several coughs, hunched up in a ball and desperately trying to regain the oxygen he took from me. My neck felt numb, the indents of his fingers bruising and stung like a bitch.

He crouched down to me. I closed my eyes and thought he would finish it right there. But when I suddenly felt his lips press against mine, they shot back open. Breathing heavily through my nose, I stared at his shut eyelids. I glanced down at his lashes, feeling his breath as he sighed. He relaxed into me for a split second before pulling away, lowering his voice to a rough whisper to introduce himself, "It's nice to meet you finally, {F/N}. The name's Tobias."

Struggling to get myself sitting up, I made it by resting on the wall and using my hands to keep me there. My chest rapidly went up and down as I watched his every move. He backed away a bit, but not enough to give me leverage. I repeated, "Tobias?" And his eyebrow quirked up like he was questioning my reaction.

"I can also go by Toby. Whatever you prefer. But I gave you my full name because I really like you, [F/N]," he added. I knitted my brows and shook my head, unable to understand what he was saying. He liked me? He just kissed me? What the fuck?

I pushed myself away from him and got back up, running for it and successfully escaping the bathroom. The front door was right in front of me, I barely got to reach for it before I felt a hand grab a fistful of my hair. No, I almost had it!

Strands of my hair were ripped out as I was yanked backward and thrown onto the couch, falling onto it and yelping in pain. Tears fell from my eyes and I clutched my head, grabbing the part that hurt the most. A headache was coming on and I couldn't help but rock myself to soothe it. I sobbed, "Leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone..." I twisted myself to let out the rest in the cushions, hearing him approach behind me.

After crying for a bit and nothing was happening to me, I hesitantly lifted myself to take a peek. Toby was sitting next to me, almost as if he was waiting patiently for me to finish. When he saw that I was staring at him, he patted his lap and said, "Here. Rest your pretty head and we can get to talking about this, sweetheart."

I was too scared of him to tell him no. It was the first time I felt pure terror from somebody. Like I would never be able to fight back with him. And I was right. I couldn't. The sad truth was that if my dad had fallen to this man, I'm sure I would live the same fate if I didn't listen. Dragging myself, I cringed while laying my head onto his leg, feeling his hand rest on my head and causing me to flinch. "Sh, sh, I'm not going to hurt you anymore. I told you, I really adore you, [F/N]," he reassured me. A part of me wanted to bite his leg to pieces, but if I went along with this until he fell asleep or left, then I could escape and possibly go to the police.

Deciding to go with it, I pretended to enjoy the warmth and snuggled into him. I wouldn't call it pretending actually, he was pretty warm. Toby hummed and it stayed like this for some time. He kept petting me, brushing my hair out of the way, soothing me from the chase earlier.

Eventually, he got bored of it and nudged me to sit back up. I tilted my head and asked, "What?" His hand went to rest on my lower back, applying pressure around it, pushing me forward until I was easing into sitting on him. A smile crossed his face at the compliance. He seemed intrigued by it.

"I didn't think you would give up this quick. I thought I was going to have to give you a couple more marks for memories," he sounded pleased as both of his arms wrapped around my waist. They were much bigger than mine, with a couple of veins etched up around them like vines, and faded scars littering everywhere on his skin. He had been doing this for years by the looks of it. There was no way in hell I was going to escape, huh?

Placing another kiss on my cheek, soft and gentle, his eyelashes brushed against me before he pulled away to speak again, "Do you know what I've been picturing every night to the thought of you, [F/N]?" His hands dropped lower to skim over my ass, lightly gripping, and dragging me toward him. My breath hitched. I didn't say a word.

Toby answered for me, "I've been picturing taking these off..." His fingers gripped around the waistband of my shorts and teased me about taking them off by pushing them down lightly. Continuing that, he said, "Have you to myself for a couple of hours..."

There were so many reasons why I should say no to him and why I shouldn't allow him to touch me like this. For one, he killed my father. He broke into my house and he was physically violent to me. I felt disgusting that he had gotten to this level too. But, I didn't stop him. I didn't say no and I didn't deny it. I looked into this killer's eyes and I leaned onto his chest, giving into what he wanted

When we kissed for the second time, I noticed how chapped his lips were, and opened my mouth a little to swipe my tongue across his bottom one. Toby tensed up. And without warning, I felt his tongue use the opportunity to have an exchange with mine. I gasped through my nose, the escalation getting worse and worse. A blush began to spread across my face.

He lifted me off of his lap to flip me onto the couch, putting both of his palms by either side of my head. I was back to being pinned underneath him. I don't know what was happening to me. Something was wrong with me, I was sick for this. I was sick... because I enjoyed this.

His sweater and shirt fell to the floor as we fought each other with kisses. His teeth bit into my lower lip and pulled it back while I moved to unbuckle his belt. I was giving in to this. I was really fucking the guy that took away everybody I loved in my life.

Barely in any clothes, we both took a moment to stare at each other, oddly feeling like he was admiring me from how he looked up and down my body. Toby took his time, pressing small pecks across my chest up to my neck, snaking his arms around to my back. He unclipped my bra and slipped it off of me. I wanted to cover myself, but I no longer wanted to move. I didn't have any motivation. There was nothing left to fight for.

The gloves and bandages around his fingers felt weird against my skin especially when he played with my chest. He squeezed one, bit the other, and once he heard a moan slip out of me, he stopped to let me process. He complimented me, his voice a bit raspy like he was fighting the urge to do something to me already, "You look even better so close like this, with how foggy those windows would get. It would make me want to break them and threaten you then and there."

I bit the inside of my cheek and he got closer, hooking onto my panties and pulling them down as a smirk spread on his face. My lack of response didn't concern him. He kept going despite that, throwing the thin fabric somewhere in the room before he looked up at me. His hair was in his face and the eyebags around his eyes told me he was more than dangerous. How many times has he done this?

Toby muttered seriously, breaking me out of the moment, "Who do you belong to?" I blankly gazed at him, watching as he stood up and slowly inched his boxers down. I can't speak. I can't tell him that. More scars appeared, his v-line making my eyes linger, and I got distracted. His dick was let out before I could respond.

My eyes widened and I tried to squeeze my legs shut, but he kept them apart as soon as they moved, holding both of my knees up to my shoulders. I was breathing super fast, my heart raced, and I was feeling the ache in between both of my legs. It was nothing compared to when he positioned himself and pushed the tip inside.

Digging my nails into his arms, I cried out in pain and threw my head back, looking up at his satisfied face. Toby groaned, a laugh following behind it, "You don't have to answer. I'll do it for you." He rammed most of what he could, grabbing both of my thighs so tightly that it was guaranteed to be bruised. I screamed out. He was too rough and too much for me to take like this. It hurt. It fucking ached. I was being drilled into the cushions.

Trying to handle it was impossible. He made it impossible for me. His hips connected as he went deeper, loud slaps coming from it, bouncing off and echoing. I didn't want to think about the neighbors hearing me lose my dignity like this. I didn't want to think about the fact my dad could be witnessing this. But it was starting to feel good. Really fucking good. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and after that, I didn't care anymore.

I wrapped my legs and arms around him, pulling him closer and savoring his dick carving into the parts I didn't know were there. Moaning, swearing, and muttering filled the room. We were getting lost in the bliss and saying whatever was on the mind. Or I was. His name left me a couple of times and so did encouragement, "More.. More, please, Toby!"

Flipping around again when he got a little tired, I gyrated my hips and sat on his lap so I could bounce, sliding up and down until I could feel my walls beginning to squeeze. I was close and this position wasn't helping. I held my breath and Toby took notice, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Let it out for me, baby. Don't be shy," he cooed, sweat dripping down his forehead like he was holding back his own. I bit the inside of my cheek and a desperate moan came out, "Fuuuuuck, cummm with! Please!"

He didn't listen to me and lifted me off of the couch with him, holding me up in the air while guiding me down onto his shaft. I went limp and drool fell down the side of my chin as I buried myself into the crook of his neck, biting it a little to vent out the overwhelming pleasure. Toby didn't let up until a couple of more minutes of fucking me passed and I was fucked out enough that my legs were shaking.

When he was about to cum himself, he set me back down, rushing up to my face to give me a facial. My mouth was open from panting and I caught a bit on my tongue, swallowing it when we were back to locking eyes. The rest landed on my nose, cheeks, and lips. He let out a loud groan as he unwinded, pulling away to see the display once he was done.

I lay there. Used. I lay there for him to stare at. Until he walked away for cleaning supplies. To think about what I was doing. To come back down and face the new reality I was in. I was his now and he was mine. And there was nothing I could do about it.

[luna0713hunter]

I just saw you opened your fall prompts and I had to request you something!! Could I request prompts 3 and 15 for Zoro? Maybe the straw hats all decide to go for a night out and dress up and the reader and Zoro have a cute moment outside? Maybe some little teasing from the other crew members? Thank you so much!

Author's note : welcome to my Autumn prompt!!! you're the first request and I'm so excited to write this!!!i hope you enjoy it!!! Kick back,and wrap a warm blanket around yourself! Get cozy ^^

"I'm cold," "come here,let me warm you up."

"making you wear their jacket when you're too stubborn to dress properly."

Based on this prompt

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Warnings : none! Super fluffy,pet names,you being stubborn and Zoro being too lovesick to get tired with your shit,cute couple (you), annoying crewmates,reader is said to wear a dress but is gender neutral otherwise

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"you're seriously going out like that?"

"yes!its not too cold and I'm not changing."

"you do realize if it gets any colder, we'll have snow."

"well I'm not cold!and i love this dress,so no changing!"

Zoro grumbles something under his breath,and you grin when he finally relents. When you skip over to where he's leaning against your doorframe and cheekily wrap your arms against his (muscular) bicep,he sighs when you flutter your eyes up at him.

"why are you being so stubborn?you know it's cold outside."

"because we never have the opportunity to dress up so nicely!!and now that the guys have decided to celebrate somewhere nice,who am i to turn such a great opportunity to dress nicely, down?"

Zoro merely mutters a 'whatever' and starts walking. Even upset with you,he reaches back and wraps his bigger hand around your smaller one,and when you finally step outside,you swallow thickly;its fucking freezing.

You unconsciously press yourself closer to Zoro's warm side;feeling his leather jacket on your bare arms. The dress you've chosen has no sleeves,and the top of your chest is particularly exposed to the cold weather. You mentally curse yourself for not listening to Zoro,but you'll be damned if you admit it to his face. So instead,you swallow down the nervousness you feel for staying in such weather for the rest of the night in that dress,and wave at your crewmates who're waiting for the two of you.

"damn y/n,you look nice." You laugh at Usopp's comment and when Nami gives you a meaningful wink and looks at Zoro's direction,you feel slightly warmer.

But not enough to stop your teeth from clattering together as you start walking with your crewmates in the freezer streets. After few minutes of walking ,however,your mind starts to wonder off to how cozy and warm everyone's clothes seem to be. You only nod and hum at your friends' questions or jokes,and try to particularly melt yourself into Zoro's side. So when that's not enough and the cold becomes too unbearable,you let out a small sneeze that has everybody falling silence and turning their attention to you.

You rub your reddened nose with your numb fingers and then let out your warm breath on them. You clench and unclench them a few times so you could return some feeling to them and look up at them sheepishly.

"you alright there,dear?"

You nod kindly at Sanji's question,and then Luffy puts a comforting hand on your bare shoulder.

"we can go back if you're too cold."

"Thanks Cap," you grin, "but i can handle it."

Just as Luffy opens his mouth to respond,a sudden warmth engulfs your form.

And your hands immediately raise up to cling to the source.

When you look down,you see a familiar jacket around shoulders. Strong hands pull the front closer to one another and gentle fingers close the zipper.

The sweet scent of your boyfriend adds up to the cozy warmth and you let out small content noise.

You turn around and smile shyly up at the swordsman, watching as he raises a brow and when he sees some color returning to your cheeks,he sighs.

"warmer?"

"very." You raise on your tiptoes and presse a gentle kiss to his slightly cold nose, "thank you,babe."

When you feel his fingers interlock with yours ,you frown slightly upon feeling his cold fingers; lending you his jacket,Zoro was particularly standing there only in a thin shirt. So you tug at his hand to get his attention and when you have it,you smile again.

"I'm still cold."

Zoro only huff and with a hand on your waist,pulls you to his chest.

"come here,let me warm you up."

You're so happy to be in his embrace and bury your face in his chest to relish his natural warmth,that you completely forget about your surroundings. And then Zoro wraps his protective arms around your waist to press his lips to yours. His lips are so warm and when they move against yours,you feel warmth spreading across your core and all over your body.

And you would've continued kissing him right there,in the middle of the street,if it wasn't for the loud wolf whistling suddenly coming from behind you.

"dude,if we're interrupting just tell us!"

"get a room you two!"

"and just as i thought the mooshead had no human emotions in him."

"I'm hungry,can you continue this in the restaurant?"

When you hear Zoro scowl above you to his crewmates,you laugh happily and squeeze his waist.

"let's go."

And as Zoro drops a loving kiss to your forehead and wraps his arm around your shoulder to lead you behind the others,you feel even warmer ; Zoro wont ever let you feel cold. Not ever again

[im-just-a-simp-le-whore]

The Beginning Of The End - an Arcane fix it??

so. I just busted this out. its not edited at all. have no idea if I'll even continue it after i post this first chapter. had this idea floating around for while, since season 2 ended tbh. if Jayce and Viktor are ooc yall, pls bare with me I'm still very new to writing characters that aren't mine. (that's all I wrote previously)

for context, reader is an empath and whatever they feel is reflected on their hair via colors. the color/emotion used this chapter is anxiety=orange based on this image. if I continue this, the color wheel below will always be referred back to

also, i am open to constructive criticism!! if I've misspelled something pls pls pls tell me!! or if i could've worder something better or used a different word!!

SPOILERS FOR ARCANE SEASONS 1 AND 2 RIGHT OFF THE BAT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

ALSO TW: ANXIETY, SPIRALLING AND SKIN PICKING, MEDICATION AND ALCOHOL

An explosion

A white light 

Bright

Blinding

crashing

falling 

A decent that feels like eternity 

A buzzing

Ringing

Echoes of voices 

It's everywhere 

All around me

All at once 

A whirlwind of emotions

Blurs of colors 

Dizzying sights of people

And suddenly, I am awake

“(name), Dear? (name)?”

I feel a gloved hand shake my shoulder. I gasp as my eyes come back into focus onto Cassandra Kiramman. 

It feels as though I’ve fallen into my own body

“Mrs.Kiramman..? Wha-what? Where am… I? How did I..?” I whisper, confused, as i rub my temples with my right hand, my left swinging back to grab my pole staff only to realize 

Its not fucking there

Cassandra scoffs, and shakes her head, eyeing my left hand placement, She takes a sip of champagne and tutts

“My my dear, it seems you've had too much wine, hmm?” she asks, her tone almost playful. 

Looking around I see that I'm at hextech’s first celebration. 

This…. This isn't right! Mere minutes ago i was watching viktor and jayce get sucked into.. A vortex..? A portal? How am I back? 

Letting out a nervous giggle, and nod

“Ye-yeah! Must've been too much wine… on that note I'm gonna step outside, take a walk in the garden and sober up.” 

If Mrs.Kiramman notices my anxiety, she makes no comment and nods, walking away towards Shoola. 

Without waiting a second more, I made a swift move towards the garden. Blurting quick “Pardon me!’s” and “excuse me’s” along the way, narrowly avoiding people and their gaze. After what feels like forever, I make it to the garden doors, quickly shoving them open and running outside into the cold winter air of the night. 

A blanket of snow covers most of the garden, except for the stone path that weaves through it. Proof of the first snowfall in piltover, the cement is still too warm from autumn for the snow to remain. 

I briefly turn around to make sure no one has followed me, and from what i can tell, they haven't. With that, I turn back towards the garden and begin to quickly walk the path, following it deeper in, where I'll be obscured by trees and bushes that have yet to die.

Traversing further in, I come across a stone bench and sit down. Holding my face in my hands i sigh loudly into my palms

How the fuck did I end up almost an entire decade back in time! Why here of all places?? Did everything that happened before… Was it a strange dream??? A warning of what's to come?? 

Standing up, I begin pacing back in force in front of the bench, softly muttering “one, two, three, four… one, two, three, four” in repetition, a vain attempt to calm myself down. As I begin to pick at my left arm, glancing down I realize that the anomaly is gone, no longer is there a scar with a kaleidoscope of colored webs that make up parts of my skin. But instead in its place is the tattoo of words that were there before the anomaly. 

I sigh again, and look away from my arm, looking ahead at the trees infront of as i continue to pace 

No.. not a warning, nor a dream. But memories, my memories. They're too real, too… tangible. With far too many emotions attached to them for them to be oddly elaborate dreams. and If I think about them hard enough, I can still smell and taste them. Still physically feel the emotions tied to them.  

In my anxiety induced pacing I fail to hear two sets of footsteps. One quick, with heavy steps, another with softer, slower steps with the soft, in sync tap! tap! tap! Of a cane. 

Pacing faster, my breath comes out in short, ragged puffs. As the Anxiety consumed me whole. 

as the tips of my (h/c) hair begin to turn orange. Anxiety is starting to consume me. I begin roughly tugging at my hair, another failed attempt at self soothing. As my thoughts begin to spiral

How how how!? How the hell did I end up back here? Does that mean I have to lose them again? That I have to watch as they turn into people they would have never dreamt of becoming? I cant lose them again, i cant deal with the isolation again. The pain, the chasing, the begging, the crying. I cant. I cant i cant icant icant icant-

“(name)? Are you alright? We saw you fly out of the party like a bat out of hell after talking to Mrs.Kiramman. Did something happen?”

And for a split second, a flash. I see them as their future selves. Viktor in a purple robe with Long brown hair with blonde at the ends, a body made almost entirely of metal and magic. Swirls of black and purple, almost like the magic itself is breathing. 

Jayce, a mess of black hair that's gotten long enough to be in his eyes, a smaller, no, a skinnier body. Covered in dirt, grime, and maybe blood? A brace on his left leg, still dressed in his counselor attire. 

Blinking away those images, as I shake my head and let go of my hair. “Yeah, I'm.. I'm fine, just had a little too much to drink tonight. Or maybe, an interaction with my new meds. Anyones best guest at this point." I say with an awkward chuckle, trying to feign indifference as if I wasn't just seconds away from pulling my hair out in panic. 

Jayce and Viktor share a brief, confused glance.

They're not buying it. At all. 

Viktor nods with a small tilt of his head, and hums. 

“Fine is not tugging at our hair and pacing back and forth, both of which only happen when you are spiraling or about to spiral. So, let's try this again. What's wrong, little lasko?” 

Looking back and forth between the two men, I sigh for what feels like the upteenth time tonight, and opt to give a half truth. “I.. it's just.. These weird dreams I've been having. They just feel… a little too real. More so than usual, and it's just been a lot.. Been overwhelmed with having to present my research soon and starting a new medication on top of it all. Sorry for the worry.” 

I barely finish speaking, and Jayce wraps me up in a tight hug. I let out a breath of relief and relax into the hug, as Jayce says

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner? You know we’re here-” Viktor cuts in, 

“And you know better than to isolate and spiral. We’ve talked about this little lasko, you know it hurts you more in the long run to handle things this way. You should have said something when this started.” 

Jayce gently pulling back from the hug cuts back in,  “speaking of which, how long ago did this start?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, I stare blankly for a moment, swallowing the small lump in my throat, I softly say “A few weeks ago.. I think..?” out of the corner of my eye, I can see the tips become more orange, my anxiety showing itself more than it did previously 

As Viktor and Jayce begin to lecture me, we hear a twig snap a bit behind them. As they turn to locate the sound, I see it. A figure in a black cloak surrounded by mist. I feel a mixed bag of emotions, few of my own, mostly the strangers’ . Rage, resentment, fear, murderous, and ... excitement? 

I squint my eyes to getter look at him in the dark, as they begin to walk closer, I suddenly realize who it is, and come to terms with the fact that despite being almost a decade in the past, I've still yet to outrun him, and this is truly in fact, The Beginning Of The End,