#could FEEL myself being embarrassing about it oh my god

[bestfluteninja]

the mortifying ordeal of maybe, possibly, slightly, having a tiny little crush

[screampied]

squirting for the first time with jjk men?? 😫

❛ SLIPPERY WHEN WET! ❜

sukuna, toji, getō, gojo, namami, choso. jjk men and their reaction to making you squirt for the first time

total wc. 3.6k

warnings. fem!reader, degradation, squirting, overstim, praise, fingering, unprotected sex, p*ssydrunk men, dumbification, pussyspanking, toy usage, edging. MDNI

FUSHIGURO ☆ TOJI

“hm? ain’t no guy ever make ya squirt before?” he grunts. and you’re just absentmindedly being stuffed, both of your wrists gripped back with toji holding onto them, his strokes were mean and demanding. your head continued to thump and bounce against the soft silk pillow that rested underneath your head. all you could make out was a sweet pathetic ‘nuh-uh’ and toji raises his thin eyebrows in amusement. “no baby…? not even once?”

“no- don’t think i can, i tried myself but…”

he snickers. “silly girl. trust me, you can squirt,” you bit your lip, eyes nearly rolling back from his jagged thrusts, its so good you nearly feel drool start to run down the corners of your mouth, how embarrassing it was—yet you remained stupid from his dick, feeling the warmth of your pussy clench tight against him. “want me to test it out?”

“yeah,” you whine, your voice was a mere soft mewl, an almost mumble practically, and toji gifts your ass with a spank, eliciting a moan from your mouth. he grows cocky the minute a huh? leaves his mouth. so you correct yourself with a “y-yes.”

“….‘yeah’ what girl,” he groans, skimming his dark green eyes down to see how your body jerks underneath him. his weight lightly hovers against you, and he’s still got a firm grip with your wrists, having you pitifully tongue-tied. “taught you how to speak to me. so let’s try that again.”

arrogant bastard, what your thoughts originally said—making you purposely repeat yourself, but his cock always always made up for it.

“please,” you choke out, moaning from the way he deepens his thrusts just a tad bit, your mouth starts to water from the way your pussy twitches in content. “make me squirt toji. please. i wanna be messy for you.”

“aw that’s my girl,” he purrs, releasing his grip from your wrists, yet it remains still against your bare back, his thrusts snap against you to where a cute gasp leaves your lips. “but oh, you’ve been messy though, but there’s nothing wrong with that, princess,” he teases, such mockery escaping from his tone. “relax for me, yeah? you’ll feel it when it comes.”

“okay,” you moaned, your left cheek pressed up against the white sheets of the mattress. it was cute, your face being up against the bed as you’re being absolutely stuffed and pounded. you felt yourself tightening from the inside—a coil desperately awaiting to be snapped, a feeling you never knew you could feel, and you probably looked so dumb. “okay okay o-okay.”

you cutely kept sputtering, repeating and bracing yourself. toji brings a rough hand towards the back of your neck as he’s ramming his fat length from behind you, such thrusts has your body spasming and crying out for more, it feels like a orgasm being snatched away from you.

“give it to me, girl.” he grunts, giving your ass another mean spank. the immense build up. your legs judder continuously to where your mind goes blank like an empty canvas, empty..

“a-ah t-toji—!” you squeaked, and he’s so ruthless whenever it came to you, each time you try to sit up to turn around he shoved your head lightly back down, it’s so cute. “fuck, fuck. f-fuck, ‘s about to-” and a gasp interrupts your words the minute you squirt all down his shaft to his base, your sweet juices sheath and sheath all the way down and it’s so warm and hot.

the minute you end up squirting, your legs felt so weak, it just quavered and shook. “oh my g-god,” you sobbed, and he slows his sloppy thrusts against your cunt down—leaning up close to you, direct and personal. “there we go mama, my messy fuckin’ squirter,” he whispers, he’s pressed against your ass and wraps a few fingers around your neck. planting a kiss underneath your chin he murmurs. “you made such a mess. how’s it feel?”

“good. but feels w-wet toji.”

“eheh, well yeah girl, that’s kinda the point.” he snickers, playfully sinking his teeth into your neck, giving it a teasing nibble.

SUKUNA ☆ RYŌMEN

“hm? make you squirt huh? so greedy.. my fingering isn’t enough for you?” sukuna teases and you’re laid flat on your back with your legs lazily lifted up, more like he’s holding them up for you.

you moaned, feeling him slide a single digit in and out. he sneaks a wet kiss against your thigh before leaning in to press his lips against your pussy, tasting how sweet you were. “...kuna ‘m not greedy, just wanna see what it feels like, please..”

“you are greedy,” he grunts, giving your cunt a swift spank to make your legs twitch, “but sure thing.” he mutters, warm minty breath going against your clit. your head goes back and your mouth slightly opens and parts from the way he’s fingering you and eating you out. his lips latch and lock against your folds to make your eyes roll back. he was so filthy with his tongue let alone his fingers.

you sucked your teeth—feeling his two fingers push deep in and out, going past against that spot each time, instead of your eyes rolling you were practically crossed eyed.

“f-fuck, fuck, ‘s good ‘kuna...”

“i know. you keep saying that, dumb girl. quit talkin’ and start squirting.” and you lose count of how many mean slaps he gives your pussy. he’s so mean, yet found every few seconds to praise you and let you know how good you’re doing.

“h-hurry up and make me then.”

“little girl, watch it.” he grunts, gifting you a glare, his eyes pierce against yours before he sits up, spitting right on your pussy with a rough spat, he runs a single middle finger down your slit to snatch the tiny brat left in you. you meet eye contact and your slick was very much glistening his chin, being soaked with your sweetness.

your legs were so close, just the epitome of the word jittery with how it just shook, never once staying still. the stimulation he created with his tongue let alone his fingers, it had your mind boggled. “think ‘m getting close, f-fuck.”

“uh huh. fuckin’ bet you are.” he whistles in response—grabbing ahold of his dick and you let off a cute gasp at the way he swipes his throbbing leaky pre-swollen tip against your wetness. “look at that, princess.

so eager to jus’ swallow me up.” and he slowly makes his way inside your cunt, immediately your walls hug him as a response and you’re just at the very limit. “come on, let go for me. you dont gotta be shy around me, neither does this wet pussy.”

the minute you squirt…it’s embarrassing, sukuna only smacks about five deep thrusts against your cunt and you’re already making a mess all over his base. “s-so good.” you’d cry out, and he’s staring at you.

a grunt departs his lips before he leans in to kiss you, pulling out only to ghost his fingers against your clit.

“you’re such a nasty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, you moan—tasting your own slick that ran down his chin, the sharp edges of his teeth playfully nibbling down on your lip. his body heat against yours made you feel tingly and even more in such heat. “tell me you’re my nasty girl, baby.”

“i-i’m a nasty girl, ‘kuna.” you moaned.

he gives you a dead stare—and you whine once he slips two fingers inside your throbbing pussy.

“i’m your nasty girl, ‘kuna.” you rephrased, and a cocky grin forms on his lips.

“what a good obident girl. think i like you.”

NANAMI ☆ KENTO

“you sure sweetheart?” he asks in a soft mumble, he has a wand in hand. the ringing of the toy rings against your ears as your legs were sprawled apart for him. “you want me to make you…squirt?”

“yes p-please, kento.” you nod, the cuteness bestowed upon your lips was beyond words to describe. the way your lip quivered, it was barely up a few notches yet you throbbed and throbbed. despite it only being a good ten minutes. you’re just a whimpering mess.

eager to touch yourself, you reach down to play with your pussy before he grabs it, kissing the back of your hand.

he chuckles. “oh baby…baby, gotta keep those hands to yourself if you want me to make you messy. okay? no touching.”

“s-sorry kento.”

“aw, don’t be sorry. squirt, princess.” he teases, a hum underneath his tone he was so gentle with you, with his touch yet your legs felt like they were pretty much about to give out.

the stimulation made your teeth nearly chatter, toes clench and your back nearly arching. he finds you to be so pretty like this. flat on your chest, drool running down your mouth against the pillow with your mind empty.

you hold in a moan, teeth lightly piercing down on your lip to help silence yourself from the immense pleasure, the overstim from just releasing had your chin just hovering over your arm.

“o-one more level kento.”

“more? it’s gonna be on four, dunno if my cute whiney princess can handle that.”

“p-please, need it. i wanna-”

you moan at the swift sound of nanami swiping a thumb across the vibrating toy feeling the impulses throb against your sweet cunt, indeed it now being a level higher from three and it’s so good you can just taste the urge to let yourself go.

the sudden feeling of his sneaking fingers to brush and slither against your puffy folds was just enough to send you to burst—your mouth slightly went agape, and you’re just stupid. “n-nanami.”

“so dumbstruck you said nanami instead of kento, such a sweet thing,” and you end up squirting the minute he rubs the toy in a circular motion—maneuvering it against you along with fingers to ghost and run alongside your achy pussy. “easy, ‘s okay. lie down on your chest. jus’ let go for me baby, yeah.”

“such a gorgeous girl,” he whispers in awe, leaning down to kiss your clit which turns to countless smooches, mwah after mwah and your legs were practically mush by now. “let me clean you all up with my tongue, ‘m your husband, least i could do. so relax for me, my love.”

SUGURU ☆ GETO

“oh? i’ve made you squirt before, no?” he cackles, leaning back against the headrest of the couch.

“no,” you whined, still getting over your post-orgasm, his cock stood firm inside of you, such inches of his kept you warm with your hands pressed against his chest. geto stares at you with intrigued darkened eyes. having you sat on his lap, legs still barely recovered a few minutes ago. “don’t think you ever did...”

geto grips your waist, sliding a tongue across his lips before muttering in a sly coy tone. “mhm hmm,” and he’s so sassy, even having the audacity to roll his eyes at you. black specks of hair trickle down and paint the lower half of his body. geto’s happy trail was always appetizing to look at.

“this your little way of asking me to make you soak yourself on me, angel? how cute.” he grins.

“…sugu—” and you gasp at the way he grunts the minute the pads of his thumbs lightly press and pierce into your skin. he starts making you bounce against him and your mouth opens, such lewd whines exit your lips before you throw your arms around his neck.

“wanna squirt, do it yourself. fuck me baby. show me how bad you want it,” and he groans how he’s so stuffed. so full of cum still, hefty base pounding and thwacking back against your pussy. “you’re a big girl. do it y-yourself, mhm…shit.”

he was so teasingly sly, making you rut yourself against him, in the end you always had to do pretty much everything yourself whenever it came to geto.

“…okay,” you choked out, and he playfully leans back — tiny beads of sweat running down the side of his forehead as well as the very middle part of his chiseled v-line.”

it felt so good, you’re dumbly grating your teeth together, still so sensitive, the only cacophony that left your lips was cute whimpers of, “s-sugu,” “…want you s’bad,” and even, “you’re so mean.”

he chuckles at how dumb you grew out to be simply from being stuffed full of thick inches of his dick. “gotta be mean to deal with a pussy this wet.”

his girth had you running for your money, toes clinching as you started to rollick and jerk your hips against him, reaching a hand down to play with yourself before you whine. “f-feel it, suguru.”

“yeah? what are you waitin’ for then?” he purrs.

he chuckled at the sudden moments where you’d grow quiet — he knows how good he’s getting underneath your skin with his vexatious teasing.

his cock expanded in and out the more you moved your hips against him, your soft breaths getting caught in your throat before it comes, you squirt at the same time geto came and he’s caught off guard by the sticky messy feeling, he’s the one who slips off a whine. “s-shit..”

it came out a lot…

let alone with him soaking your cunt full of his own, you really felt stuffed and full to the very depths of it, it felt like a sharp coil within you snapped. geto starts panting, and he takes a moment to blink before grunting, staring away with a flustered face. “don’t look at me. finish fucking me, hmph.”

SATORU ☆ GOJO

“pretty please, ‘toru,” you’d whine out, and he was just straight up cocky and mean, teasing you with having you on all fours, impatient and desperately desperate. “i wanna…wanna squirt.”

“i know you do,” he laughs, playfulness ran all over his tone before he gives your ass a squeeze. that earned a needy moan out of you and you but down on your lip while staring at the fat sheets of the mattress underneath you. “are you asking me to make you squirt or are ya tellin’ me, pretty girl?”

he was so infuriating. even while being plugged in with so much of his thick inches, even just barely with the way he kept swiping his fat tip against your slit, awaiting you.

“….‘m asking, s-satoru.”

he whirrs a playful tone before flipping you over on your back to face him, and then he smiles. “okay. if that’s what you want,” and his voice was so low—a tad bit raspy with pompous smugness all over his sentences. “since i know how impatient ‘n horny you are all the damn time, i’ll make ya squirt in about one minute.”

a minute?

was that even possible—you always heard about how it would take at least longer than that but then you remembered who you were dealing with. gojo satoru and his long pretty fingers that never failed to stretch your pussy out. he was forever proud of that fact, he’d make you soaking wet from not only his dick, his mouth, but especially his fingers.

“it’s gonna get messy, ‘m warning you,” he teases, pulling you up a bit to place a towel down underneath your back. he leans in to pepper kisses underneath your chin before seconds later, he moves his length aside with a grip — before slowly stuffing a single long finger inside, which after a few milliseconds, turns into another. “now, i’m gonna need you to be a good wet girl and jus’ relax for me.”

his words were soothing. you could hardly comprehend anything so his sentences went straight towards your clit, throbbing and throbbing you wanted more. he finds it cute how you grip onto his wrist, babbling about how you don’t want him to stop. “o-okay, satoru. okay.”

you shudder at the feeling of him grazing a thumb down your slit and he moves his head down between your legs to blow softly against your pussy and you moan, feeling him create a good amount of pressure to where you bare down against his fingers easily as if it came natural.

“sweet girl,” he groans, giving your pussy a kittenish suck. your eyes went back in pleasure and you whined at the feeling of his two fingers just smacking in and out of you now. the noises, they were so loud you could hardly even believe it was coming out of you. “hear how wet this sloppy pussy is? yeah girl, that’s you.”

his words that went through your ear and out the other and it got you so wet. his degradation had you pulsing, you felt the inside of your tummy tighten, muscles clenching with you lying down on your back, bracing yourself. gojo was patient with you, occasionally bringing soft kisses towards your clit. you whined before he started to grow more feral, sucking and latching his tongue against your folds while still having two fingers stuffed inside your pussy.

your brain doesn’t even process you’re squirting before gojo lets off a, “oopsie,” the minute you squirt out on his fingers, the front tips of his fingers massage and toy and prod against that spot you always grew to know—and you moan at the way he easily stole a orgasm from you like that, within a single span of a minute.

“aw. you look like you just saw your life flash before your eyes, baby,” then he sits up to face you. both arms pressed around you before muttering in a teasing tone, “want a taste? open your mouth.”

and he gives you the most sloppiest kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat before grunting, you moan in his mouth. your legs wrapped around his slim waist before he squeezes a hand down on your pussy only to spank it roughly, breaking away for a bit before whispering, “good girl. now gimme one more. wanna see if i can do it within thirty seconds.”

CHOSO ☆ KAMO

“b-baby…you wanna do that?” choso mumbles, staring in awe as the both of you watched some random eight minute compilation of women squirting. he was staring intently, and then he only grew more flustered at picturing you like that. legs all spread, eyes rolled back and maybe your tongue stupidly lolled out. “um.. squirt?”

“yes…” you nodded, sitting on his lap. he throbbed behind you, still a bit tingly from his recent orgasm of fucking you.

you pressed against his back and his chin cutely rests against your shoulder. choso’s always been a bit inexperienced whenever it came to well, women. he’s had sex sure….but he doesn’t think he’s ever made a girl do this, this thing called squirting. not until you brought it up.

the more he watched it, the more he moaned to himself at imagining you being all messy like that.

“okay baby, i can do it,” he murmurs in a soft voice.

he brings a hand between your legs and pries it open just a bit, “lie back,” he moans, seeing your legs sprawl open slowly for him made him lick his lips, he was so hungry for you. you had the phone in your hand so he could watch, imitate the exact ways to make a woman squirt with ease and it was so cute how attentive he was. “s-stimulate the um…g-spot a little like this,” he mumbles to himself, and you moan once he slowly inserts two slender long fingers inside your pussy, you were so wet he lets off a cute, “o-oh….”

his eyes multitasked, turning its focus towards you and the screen that played the lewd video at the same time. “like that c-choso, please.”

“i’m doing a good job?” he says, and it’s almost into a form of a whine. all because he’s so desperate to hear your praise and approval, he feels his stomach flip in a good way at feeling you nod against his chest, affirming him to not stop. “okay, okay,” he mutters. “add a little um…p-pressure, consistent pressure until you feel a spongey like texture deep towards the clit.”

you moaned, his words matched his fingers, you tried to squeeze your thighs together but remembered you couldn’t because they were open.

your head rested back against his chest and with a right hand squeezing down onto his thigh, you felt your leg start to bounce. “m-more.”

“don’t wanna rush this baby,” he kisses the back of your forehead. a small pout going across your lips before he continues, pausing to hear the voice on the video that’s instructing speak.

he leans against your ear, strands of his hair poking against you before he murmurs. “bare against my fingers princess. squeeze down a little ‘n relax. can you do that?”

you choke out a moan once you obey his words, doing exactly what he says before you feel a sudden rush reaching out, you never felt this feeling before such a high you craved and chased you felt dizzy, a good kind of a dizzy.

“c-choso, ‘s coming, ‘s coming,” you moaned, your legs not able to hold themselves still. he has a perfect bowling ball grip with his fingers, stroking gently against you to where your mouth salivates with your own saliva.

“…fuck,” you sobbed, the warmth of him massaging his long fingers inside of you made you taste every number of tastebuds that resided on your tongue.

the moment you gush out and squirt, coating his fingers clean of your sheeny pretty slick, you flop back against his chest and you can ever hear a tiny gasp leave his lips. “w-wow,” he whispers in shock — with how much you squirted, he was so fascinated, growing more and more curious and it was adorable. “can you…can we do that again? please?”

[hurtspideyparker]

In a timeline where Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lives in the compound:

Steve, walking into the living room: Don't worry Buck I think you'll really fit in around here. Everyone is super nice

Peter: Oh my god you're living here too?! Can I please look at your arm? Please please please please please-

Bucky: *turns around and leaves*

-

Clint: So... wanna test if your spider-sense defeats my perfect aim?

Peter: Oh my god do I ever

Tony & Steve: NO.

-

Peter: Hi. Big fan. Y'know we're like a spider duo. Crime fighting spiders. Arachnid pals

Natasha, staring blankly:

Peter: Web friends? SPY-ders?

Natasha:

Peter: Spinneret associates?

Natasha: Leave.

Peter: Yes okay sorry ma'am

-

During a meal:

Bucky: *glaring at Sam*

Sam: Ay Rogers come get your dog

Steve: Bucky, leave it

Bucky: *glares down at soup instead*

-

Peter: Mr. Rogers could you help me with my homework?

Tony: What the hell kid, I'm right here

Bruce: I have... so many degrees

Steve: Hey I know a thing or two myself. Sure Queens, what do you got?

Peter: Great! I'm just gonna ask some questions for my essay. What would you say the role of war propaganda was in your decision to enroll in the military? Was being poor a factor? Actually, how was the Great Depression for you?

Steve: Less depressing than this conversation.

-

Steve: Take a jacket, it's chilly

Wanda: Okay thanks dad

Steve:

Wanda:

Peter: Ha! That's so embarrassing, it's like calling your teacher dad

Wanda: Shut up Peter, you call Tony dad all the time

Peter: Yeah but I do it on purpose so it's not embarrassing. I'm very open about my daddy issues

-

Tony: I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth

Steve:

Tony: Looking at me with your angelic blue eyes, like a freak

Steve:

Tony: Stupid Dorito ass build. Making me wanna take a bite

Steve: I feel harassed but I'm not sure what kind

-

Natasha: Hey bird brain!

Clint and Sam both turn:

Natasha: Hm, that's a problem. You have thirty seconds to decide who gets bird brain. The other will be feather head

Clint and Sam: *start arguing*

Tony: I can't believe they're fighting to be called an insult

Steve: She has that effect on people

Peter: Aw man, I wish the Black Widow gave me a nickname :(

-

Peter: Hey old man

Bucky:

Peter: I'M SO SORRY SIR MR. WILSON MADE ME DO IT PLEASE DONT KILL ME

Sam: *cackling in the background*

Bucky: *stands up and turns to Sam*

Sam: Oh shit- kid you're not getting the money if you're gonna snitch!

Peter: That's okay, I'd like to think my life is worth more than twenty bucks

-

Bucky: I need your... help

Tony: Sure, what's up?

Bucky: *glances back at Steve who stands in the doorway and nods approvingly*

Bucky: Arm.

Tony: Ok... this conversation is killing you isn't it?

Bucky:

Tony: Say please

Bucky: Nope can't do it-

Steve: Do I need to get out the get-along shirt?

*Bucky and Tony share a look of alarm*

Bucky: Please fix my arm

Tony: Yep of course no problem buddy

-

Read Part 2 and Part 3

[rememberwren]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Easy breezy beautiful premature ejaculation. Hypersexual!Simon/fem!reader. Discussion of edging. Cumming untouched.

-

“If we do this,” he says around his cigarette, “then we do it my way.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you admit cautiously, turning your hands palm up as if to show you have no weapons, no tricks up your sleeve. I’m innocuous, your posture says. His own says: I’m still deciding, with his tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. “This weird, femdom thing. So I appreciate your guidance. Because I know fuck all—“

“You’re no femdom—Jesus, fuck, I can’t talk about it anymore,” he grits out. He takes a step back and away, creating distance, exhaling a plume of smoke that makes him look strangely ethereal in the evening light. Against your will, your eyes flicker down to just below his belt buckle and oh god. He’s hard. 

“Just from talking about it?”

The look he gives you could melt ice. It could sublimate it. You cringe, knowing you were in the wrong, wishing you could reach out and snatch the words right out of the air. He’s trusting you with this. The last thing he needs is to feel like a joke. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have—you’re not a, a science experiment or something—“

“Wouldn’t mind that so much. Might figure out what the fuck’s wrong with me. Less interested in being treated like I’m part of a circus troupe,” he grumbles. He drops the cigarette and grinds it to ash beneath his boot. He asks: “Inside?” 

-

Gingerly, so gingerly, he undoes the button of his jeans and unzips them. He holds his breath as he works the denim down his thick thighs. God, is he built: muscles made for more than just show. His history is inscribed on his body in its strength and in its scars, scars of white and pale pinks that darken to purple in the lamplight. He’s wearing boxer briefs, straining at the front from his erection, and they are soaked. You’re surprised that he hasn’t soaked straight through to his jeans. 

“Don’t look,” he grits out through his teeth. You look away, unsure where to cast your eyes to, and settle for shutting them. He explains: “Can’t take the way you’re looking at me.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling your face flush hot. 

“Just—let me—” you hear the sound of fabric rustling. He kicks off his jeans—you can tell by the soft sound of them landing against the floor off the side of the bed. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck.” 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, eyes squeezed shut, hands clenching in your lap. 

“Nothing just—fuck. No way I’m going to last.” He sounds bitterly disappointed. 

“That’s the point of this, right? To get better at lasting?” 

He sighs, a long-suffering sound, like this discussion is well worn and frustrating to him. Something in you shrivels, and it takes your body with it as best as it can, sending your shoulders hunching inwards, your head ducking down. You pick at one of your nails by feel alone, eyes still closed, and nearly jump when his fingers brush your knee. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. “You’re right. That’s what this is for. Might as well get used to embarrassing myself.” 

“That’s the spirit." 

He snorts. More fabric rustles, and at length he says: “Alright. You can look. Just…you can look.” 

You open your eyes hesitantly. His cock is right there—and Jesus. It makes sense, proportionally, but it is frightening in a very real sense. You’re already doing the math, measuring in your head and comparing to your past precedents. Ghost would have them all beat, quite comfortably, in length and girth. He’s cut, which surprises you, but isn’t a turnoff. He keeps himself landscaped nicely, which you appreciate, even if it isn’t necessary. 

He is flushed a ruddy pink, the head darker than the rest. As you stare, it jerks, a bead of precum welling at the tip. Suddenly one of his large, scarred hands reaches down and grips the base of his cock in a painful hold, hissing in a breath through his teeth. 

“Can’t look at me like that,” he admonishes again. 

“Like what?” you ask, a little defensive. You’re just looking! You have to look, right? 

“Like you want it,” he mutters. 

God, does he really have no idea? No inkling of how badly you want to sit on that monster in his hands? No notion of how wet you’ve been since your conversation in the parking lot? Sure you aren't like him, not about to spring off if the breeze was just right, but you are anything but unaffected. Still, it seems like the wrong moment to educate him on your attraction to him and his cock, so you do your best to morph your expression into one of unimpressed ambivalence and hoped it helps. 

“I’m ready when you are,” you say, interrupting his deep breathing exercises. He nods but doesn’t give you the go-ahead, not for another minute or two, until his chest stops heaving and he can remove his hand from the vice grip he has around his balls. His cock has a near purple tinge, and you wonder if maybe he should have rubbed one out in the bathroom beforehand just to take the edge off. Oh well, it’s a thought for next time. 

“Go ahead,” he says, like he’s giving you permission to pull the trigger on him during a game of Russian Roulette. 

You reach out—his cock twitches, a nice warm welcome if you’ve ever seen one, but you hesitate. Your hand is dry. Should you ask for lube? How does he usually jerk off? Dry? You have a feeling he doesn’t mind the discomfort; he seems like he has a self-destructive streak a mile wide. His eyes are fixed at a point on the ceiling, his chest unmoving as he holds his breath. You decide that some sort of lubrication is better than none—so you lick a broad stripe up your palm. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, a little punched-out sound. Sometime between opening your mouth and licking your palm, his eyes had transferred from the ceiling to your face, to the flash of your tongue and your wet palm. His eyes widen, irises swallowed up by the pupils, and he says again, more urgently: “Oh fuck.” 

He reaches down to grip the base of his cock again, but it is too late: he cums. His abs are thrown into sharp relief as he tenses with each pulse, cock jerking against his brutal grip. He doesn’t even jerk himself off—just ruins it as you stare with your mouth open and your hand wet, watching him splatter seed against the coarse line of hair that runs from his belly button to his cock all because he watched you lick your hand. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, throwing one arm across his eyes, breathing heavily. His mouth is flushed a pretty red, like he has been kissing. His hand clenches into a fist as he says: “I’m sorry. I tried not to.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, your nearly brain blue-screening from how turned on you are. You lower your hand and wipe it dry on your leggings. “That’s what this practice is for—so you don’t do it when it really counts. We can try again tomorrow or something.” 

He snorts. “Tomorrow? Give me five fucking minutes.” 

[astrolynnworld]

cramps

pairing: matt x reader

summary: you’re on your period and matt does anything and everything to soothe the pain away

warnings: fluff! period cramps, romance, care, reassurance, wholesome, pet names (sweet/pretty girl)

word count: 717

i toss and turn as i feel my pre period cramps start to form

my period is not suppose to come for another 5 days but my cramps always come first, as a warning

i check raise my head to check the clock and see what time it is

“4:15 am” i see on the tv’s cable box

i lay my head back down and continue to shuffle around the bed to find a comfortable position for my cramps to relax in

“baby what’s wrong?” matt asks me with his raspy morning voice

“my period is coming soon, i feel the cramps start to overTAKE me” i say in soft annoyed tone

“is there anything i could do to help baby?” he concerns

“can you actually go get me my heating pad please?” i ask nicely

he hops out the bed and uses the flashlight off his phone to roam around the room and look for my heating pad

once he pulls it in comes back to bed, i hear him gasp

“what?” i jump in shock at his gasp

“your period.. came”

i sit up to see what he’s talking about and see a whole bloody mess stained into our bedsheets

“oh my god” i put my head in my hands out of annoyance and embarrassment

“it’s okay baby. i just need you to stand up for me okay?”

i get off the bed and start to feel the water works fall out

“don’t cry baby” matt says as he comes over to me and wraps his arms around me

“hey it’s not your fault baby” he tries to reassure

“you can’t help it.. you didn’t know, it’s completely fine. you don’t have to cry, sweet girl” he continues as he starts to play with my hair in the hug

i pull back and start to wipe my eyes as i start to sense that im being dramatic

“here baby, i need you to go wash up while i clean the bed”

i nod my head and make my way to the bathroom

“and hand me your clothes before you go in the shower please”

i do as i’m told then i head to the shower

i continue to wash up as i hear matt enter the bathroom

“hey pretty girl, everything still okay?” he asks

“yeah, i’m just finishing up” i sluggishly say

“okay baby. i changed our sheets and im washing the other ones now” he reassures

i stay silent out of acknowledgment but he doesn’t leave

“is there anything else you want princess?” he asks

“no thank you” i say while shaking my head as if he could see me

“alright..” he says before closing the door

i could tell he feels bad but i just really can’t be bothered rn. my stomach hurts, i embarrassed myself, im so annoyed, and i feel bad that he feels bad.. there’s just too much going on

i finish up my shower and put my towel on before heading back to the bedroom

when i get back i see matt had turned on the led lights, switched the tv to netflix, and had my tylenol bottle set up next to some water

“matt what is this?”

“nothing much. just me trying to distract you from your period” he giggles

“that’s not how it works sadly” i pout as i pop the tylenol in my mouth and swallow some water

“well, im gonna try” he comes in for a kiss

i start to get dressed, not forgetting the pad, as matt searches for a good movie to watch.

“do you want some to eat pretty?”

“is anything even open right now?” i genuinely ask

“only mcdonald’s..” he replies

“then yes please” i smile at him

“your usual?”

“yeah” i reply as i get in bed to snuggle next to him

“it’ll be here in 30 minutes” he says

“if we’re still up” i chuckle

“don’t worry. i’ll grab it for you so you can enjoy it when you wake up and not kill me for letting you fall asleep” he chuckles back

“thank you baby. i appreciate you so much, definitely a core memory” i turn over to face him

he smiles and places a kiss on my forehead, “i love you, sweet girl. don’t forget it”

——————————————————————-

taglist: @cutiepatootie36273 @secret-sturniolo @sturns-blog @sturniolo-2003 @mayaaatok @sturnswrites @mattsleftnipple03 @mattybswife @tropicasturn @princessbetsy123-blog <333

[froggiewrites]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You spend the night crying into your drinks about how much you want Sanji, and how much it hurts he's in love with someone else. Sanji spends the night crying about much the same. Your friends get sick of it, and decide to help the idiots realize what everyone else already knows. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Misunderstandings, Sanji and Reader both being idiots Word Count: 4.1k

You are going to get drunk tonight. Plastered, even.

Another day, another victory, another adventure spent staring longingly at Sanji when you were sure he wasn’t looking. You could usually handle the embarrassment of acting like a lovesick puppy for a man you knew didn’t feel the same, but something about today really set you off. Maybe it was the way he so sweetly called Nami’s name when you all reunited, or the way he so carefully prepared Robin her favorite drinks, or some other transgression you can’t quite remember. You don’t know exactly what it was, but you know you’re irritated and hurt and a little heartbroken, and there’s about a half a dozen drinks with your name on them behind the bar.

The tavern is lively and loud, and the rest of the crew is clearly having a good time. Your eyes briefly linger on Sanji at the bar, but you try to force your eyes away. No point in lingering here, yearning for something you can’t have. You instead make your way to the back of the room, wedging yourself between Zoro and Robin, who seem to be drinking in silence together.

You had intended on sharing in the peaceful silence, broken only by some quiet comments and gentle chuckles, but three drinks in you can see them side-eyeing you, brows furrowed.

“What?” Your voice comes out harsher than you meant it to, but you’re a bit too drunk to care.

“Just surprised you’re drinking so much, is all. You normally pace yourself more than this.” Robin’s voice is quiet and controlled, as though she’s just making a passive observation, but you know your friends and you know she is deeply worried about you.

“I had a bad day.”

“Really? You seemed fine earlier.” Zoro sounds genuinely surprised. Robin shoots him a look you can’t read, and he quickly shuts his mouth.

“Does this have anything to do with a certain someone?” Her voice is kind, so kind, but it makes you clench your jaw anyway.

“No.”

Silence.

“Maybe.”

Zoro mutters, “Oh, god damnit,” before taking another stiff pull of his drink.

“What happened, exactly? You both seemed perfectly friendly this morning.”

“I don’t…know. Everything was fine until it wasn’t, and now I’m all twisted into knots and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well maybe you can start by telling us how you feel, and we can try to help you unravel all of this.”

“We?”

You both ignore Zoro’s confusion and indignation. “Maybe…if you think it will help.” You close your eyes, grounding yourself, and focusing wholly inward. “I just think I’m…tired of wanting things I can’t have. It’s really hard to be on a ship full of people living their dreams, fighting for everything they desire, and I’m here, feeling like I have to constantly hold so tight I feel like my fingers will break or else it’ll all slip through my fingers.”

“And do you feel like you’re holding onto Sanji?”

“Not just him, I guess. To everything. To all of you. But I’m trying to let myself believe that all of this is what I want, and that it’s going to be forever, and then I see him smile at someone else and the illusion just…shatters. I’m not happy. And I know damn well it won’t last forever. I feel like I’m stuck waiting for an inevitable ending that I’ll never be satisfied with. Right now, I’m in limbo, and I can keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt, but every time I think about how hopeless I feel with him it kind of reminds me of how hopeless it all is.”

You put your head in your hands for a moment, taking a deep breath. “And it’s not only about him, right? It’s just kind of a general dissatisfaction with where I am compared to you guys. But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t more about Sanji than it isn’t. He’s both, like, a symbol of it and the source of it. He’s the thing I want most, and he’s the thing I know I’m never going to have.”

“Why do you think you’ll never have him?”

“Because he’s in love with Nami.” You say it like it’s obvious.

Zoro is glaring at his drink, still wondering how he got roped into this conversation and praying you stop, while Robin gives you a gentle look resembling sympathy. There's something behind her eyes though, something you can't read, that makes you feel a bit uneasy.

"It's one thing, to have your love unrequited. For the man you're in love with to be hopelessly smitten with someone else. But god, it's another for him to be right."

"Right?" Robin's voice doesn't betray anything as she keeps her tone to a careful academic neutrality.

"It's just...she is that wonderful. I can't be upset about it because I can't blame either of them. She's beautiful and kind and capable and he's...well. He's everything. It just makes sense. It's somehow harder not to be bitter because I really don't have anything to be bitter about, if that makes sense."

"It would make sense if anything you said was true." Zoro's voice is gruff,  and you look to him in surprise, only to find his expression mirroring your own, as though he can't believe he opened his mouth. "He sucks, and she's great and all but she's no angel. And they aren't in love anyway so I don't understand what the problem even is." You think he's trying to help. Sweet, if ineffective.

"He's in love with her. He has been since the day they met. You know that, you were there."

"That isn't love. He's just a horny idiot."

"He's not an idiot." You hate how defensive your tone gets, how pathetic it makes you feel. You hate even more that Zoro and Robin both look at you with undisguised pity.

"I think what Zoro is trying to say is that you seem to think his feelings for Nami go a lot deeper than they do. They're just friends. He just speaks to all women like that."

"Not me."

You all hate the silence that follows.

"He hits on you too." Zoro's voice is a little weaker than before, knowing his argument isn't exactly rock solid. He's kind to you, complimentary, but he's never rushed into battle alone to save you. He's never ridden in on a blazing white steed for you, not like he has Robin or Nami. And sure, you've never been kidnapped like them, but it's hard not to feel the difference when Mr Prince himself has never played his part with you. He's kind to you, so very kind, but he's kind to everyone. That's just who he is.

“You know it isn’t the same, Zoro. It’s always Nami first. It always has been. He talks to me the same way he would any woman. Less than that, even.” You start tearing up despite yourself, and you hope your friends will blame your fragility on your drink and not your tender heart. “He just…he doesn’t look at me like that. He doesn’t fall at my feet, and it’s not like I want him to but…” You break into a quiet sob, and Robin’s hand comes to your shoulder, rubbing calming circles there.

Zoro leans in a bit, clearly a little uncomfortable but worried and kind nonetheless. “That stupid cook cares about you a lot more than any stranger on the street, and I think you know that. He’s just an idiot.” You look up at him, confused, and Zoro tries not to let out an annoyed sigh at your obliviousness. It isn’t entirely your fault. Who could blame you for thinking what you did? It’s not like Sanji helped with that. He didn’t give you the dramatic love confessions he did Nami or Robin. Nami had asked him once why he sang your praises differently than he did theirs, and he had insisted that he would give you only the grandest speeches, once he had prepared words worthy of you. The rest of the crew quickly figured out what he really meant: he was too nervous to say such a thing when he really meant it.  He would instead tuck his love into the food and drinks he served you, into the jacket he placed over your shoulders when you were cold, into the gentle smiles he gave you when you weren’t looking. Everyone had agreed not to push him before he was ready, to let you both find your way to each other naturally, but it was becoming apparent this was the wrong move.

You keep crying into your glass, and Zoro sighs. You’re both ridiculous. What a pair.

Across the bar, Usopp lets out his fiftieth sigh of the night. He has no idea how he got roped into this. Sanji is somewhere between sorrow and rage, buried in a pile of empty glasses that reek of beer. He's been going on for at least fifteen minutes now, and if Usopp had even slightly less of a conscience he'd leave him here to wallow, considering his problem is entirely self-inflicted. But unfortunately, Usopp is a great friend, so instead he bravely sits on this barstool, a listening ear to make sure Sanji's drowning his troubles doesn't end in Sanji himself drowning after he stumbles his way home alone.

"It's not right." Sanji's voice is shaky with emotion, even with his words slurred.

Usopp sighs, pretending he hasn't heard this exact line of conversation three times tonight. "What's not right, buddy?"

"He doesn't...he doesn't deserve her. He isn't good enough for her. That stupid swordsman...what does she see in him?" He takes another swig of his drink, letting out a deep sigh and dropping his shoulders. "He's just...he's not even nice to her. Not like he should be."

"He's being nice to her right now." Usopp motions over to where you're having your own pity party, one Zoro seems to have become an unwilling guest of. Robin is patting your shoulder in sympathy, while Zoro leans closer to say something to you, care and concern obvious on his face to those who knew him.

"But he should worship her. Everyone should. She's...she's..." Sanji drunkenly trails off.

"An angel?"

"A goddess." Despite the glaze over his eyes, his conviction shines though, granting him a focus he hasn't had all night as he gazes at her. "Someone to be cherished, protected, adored. He doesn't adore her. He should be on his knees right now begging for her attention, and he's just...talking to her. Like he would anybody."

"Probably because they're friends."

"But look at her. She clearly wants more than that. She should get whatever she wants. On a silver platter." Sanji really emphasizes that last part, lips pouting and brow tightening. Usopp looks over again to see you about to cry into your drink, leaning further into Robin. You aren't even looking at Zoro right now, but Sanji is still burning with envy. Usopp would love to set him straight, tell him that anyone with eyes could see who's attention you really wanted, but he knows you'd kill him, and he quite likes being alive. Sanji's so filled with malice and self loathing right now that he probably wouldn't even believe him, anyway. For a man so delusional about love, he somehow can’t see it when it’s right in front of him.

“I think you’re a little lost here, Sanji. She’s not in love with Zoro. She’s just drunk and sad. Reminds me of someone else I know.” He keeps that last part under his breath, and Sanji is drunk enough not to have heard it. Instead he frowns, taking another swig of his drink before trying to stand and falling directly into the counter. Your head pops up across the room, eyes wide and concerned, ready to leap to Sanji’s rescue. It’s amazing how blind that man must be to not see how obsessed with him you are. Usopp waves you off before hooking his hands under Sanji’s armpits and hauling him up. “Time to go, loverboy. You’ve had enough.”

“But she needs me!” Sanji struggles, but he’s so drunk he can’t properly utilize his strength. Lucky, or he’d already be halfway across the room to make an ass of himself. Usopp notices a small trickle of blood on his forehead from where he made contact with the bar.

“She’s fine, I promise. But you need to take a trip to see Chopper.”

“I need to help her! I can’t leave a lady in distress!”

“The lady will be in a lot more distress if she sees you’re hurt, Sanji! So get moving!” Usopp starts dragging him unceremoniously from the tavern, praying Franky will still be awake when he gets back to the ship to help him maneuver Sanji into his cot. Sanji passes out about halfway back to the Sunny, mercifully. Usopp hopes Robin and Zoro are having a better time with their other drunken crewmate.

You wake up with a pounding headache and the worst case of dry-mouth you’ve ever experienced. Your eyes just barely crack open, letting in a blinding ray of light, and you let out a small groan of pain. There’s a large glass of water by your bedside and some pills, as well as a small note from Chopper telling you to meet him in the infirmary once you feel up to walking. You chug the water and take your medicine gladly, touched by the sweet gesture. Your crew takes such good care of you.

It takes a while for the medicine to kick in enough for the light to stop hurting, but eventually you’re able to stand. You can’t remember the latter half of last night, your last memory being Sanji slamming his head into the counter while Robin and Zoro held you back from running to him. Zoro had supplied you with another drink then, and Robin had asked you more probing questions, but you could not for the life of you remember any other specifics. You make your way to Chopper’s infirmary so lost in thought you didn’t notice the mischievous looks in the eyes of your crewmates, the way their gazes subtly followed you as you walked.

“Chopper?” Your voice is still a little hoarse from having cried your heart out last night. You slip through the door, expecting to find your dear doctor ready to fuss over you and scold you for overdoing it last night. Instead you find Sanji face first in a bed, a small bandage wrapped around his head. Before you can ask if he’s alright, or if he knows where Chopper is, you hear it.

Click.

Your eyes widen. Your hand reaches for the doorknob, ready to turn it, and you find it doesn’t budge.

“What the fuck?”

Sanji groans again, slowly and carefully sitting up, before looking over at you. “What are you doing here, darling?” He looks at your hand, up at your expression, then back down to the doorknob. “Why…why is the doorknob backwards?”

Instead of the lock being where it should be, you find the keyhole on the inside of the door. There’s slight scratches around the nails holding it and place, and you realize someone has turned it around. There’s a quiet murmur of voices on the other side of the door, which turns to a yelp when you punch the wood. “What the hell is this?”

“We’re helping!” Nami’s voice rings out confidently from the other side, and you hear a few noises of agreement.

“With what, exactly?” You have a horrible sinking feeling you know exactly what they’re going to say, but you try to push it out of your mind, channeling the relentless optimism of your captain.

“We’re tired of you two being idiots!” Zoro’s voice is annoyed and unfriendly, but after a moment it slightly softens. “Just…talk to each other. Like people. For once in your lives.”

You don’t know why, but something about that makes Sanji’s brow twitch in annoyance. “Let us out, mosshead! I knew you were awful but I can’t believe you’d trap a lady!”

“It wasn’t my goddamn idea! Blame Nami!”

Sanji pauses in his yelling at that, but shockingly enough, he still seems upset instead of instantly kowtowing. He frowns, forehead wrinkling, but doesn’t say anything else.

“We aren’t letting you out until you’ve talked. We’re gonna go so you have privacy, but if you break out we’re putting you right back in, so don’t even think about just kicking down the door!” Nami’s voice is firm and commanding, and you find your shoulders slumping, knowing there’s no real point in fighting her. You’re both hungover, exhausted, and not in any state to continue the conflict. You sigh, making your way to a cot next to Sanji’s. You throw yourself down, the slight bounce you make on landing making you far more nauseous than it had any right to.

“Do you know what they want us to talk about?” Sanji sounds almost nervous, which surprises you. Does he know?

“I…have an idea. Do you?”

“I might.”

You both shift awkwardly in the silence that follows. You fidget with your hands, curling in tighter, anxiety eating at you. This is it. This is the rejection you’ve been waiting for. The final blow to shatter your fragile hopes, to crush your remaining optimism and the wonderful future you’ve allowed yourself to keep dreaming of.

“What do you see in him?” Sanji’s voice is quiet and seeping with vulnerability. His eyes are closed, as though he’s scared to even look at you and get your answer.

“What do I see in who?”

“In that stupid swordsman. Why do you care about him?”

“What?” You blink owlishly.

He finally looks up at you. He blinks back. “What do you mean, what?”

“Why are you talking to me like I’m dating Zoro?”

“Are you…not? Trying to do that?”

“No! God no! I’m–” You barely hold yourself back from saying trying to date you. “I’m not into Zoro like that. Did you think I was?”

“I–um. No?” His dour look turns sheepish, a small bit of red painting his cheeks. Adorable.

“God, Sanji. Zoro is not my type.” You both sit for a moment, before you realize something. “Were you upset because you thought I was into him?”

“He isn’t good enough for you.” He says it so matter-of-fact, like it’s an obvious truth. “No one is, but especially not him. You deserve the best, and nothing less.”

Your heart flutters a little, that little thing with feathers worming its way back into you, but you suddenly see Nami’s face in your mind and you crush it. To dream and watch it die is far worse than never dreaming at all. “That’s sweet, Sanji. But you shouldn’t say things like that. You might give someone the wrong idea.”

His head cocks to the side. “What do you mean, wrong idea? You do deserve the best. No one in the world deserves it more than you.”

“What about Nami?”

“What about Nami?”

“Does she not deserve the best? More than I do? More than anyone? Your sweet Nami-swan?” You fail to keep the bitterness out of your tone in that. Not bitterness towards her, of course, or even towards Sanji, really, just a sour taste in your mouth you can’t quite shake.

His brow furrows, lips downturned. “Well she deserves the best too, of course, but why would she deserve it more? Why wouldn’t you deserve everything you want?”

You let out a frustrated growl. “That’s what I want to know! Why not me?” You slam your hand over your mouth. God, he knows, and now he’s going to reject you, so sweetly and kindly, like he does everything, and it’s going to shatter you into a million pieces. You squeeze your eyes shut like blocking out the sight of him will undo what you’ve just done.

You don’t hear him reject you. You don’t even hear him move. You only feel warm hands on your cheeks, and you open your eyes to see Sanji right in front of you, nose to nose, and you can see reflected in his eyes something you might dare to call hope.

“Do you want it to be you?” You hear a longing in his words, see it in his eyes. You have never known Sanji as a man to want, to desire more than what he’s freely given, but in this moment it truly almost seems like he wants you.

You slowly take your hand off of your mouth. Your voice is meek, mouselike, but you force it out anyway. “Would that be okay? If I did?”

“Oh angel, it would be more than okay.” He slides impossibly closer, thighs on either side of yours, torsos pressed together, surrounding you wholly. “It is you. It has always been you. It will always be you. Is that okay?”

You want to answer him in words, something articulate that would move his heart, but instead you let out a soft squeak of surprise before grabbing his cheeks and pulling his lips to yours. They’re chapped, the dehydration from the hangover still plaguing him. He has morning breath. His movements are uncoordinated, unsteady. His goatee scratches your chin. When he opens his mouth, welcoming you further, he tastes like cigarettes and a hint of shitty beer. 

It’s the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You end up on your back, Sanji’s weight holding you down, comforting and all-consuming. His hands rest on your hips as yours tangle in his hair. You only pull back when the demand for air is too much, and even then you consider ignoring the scream of your lungs. You both pull back, chests heaving, and Sanji buries his face in your neck.

“I never thought I’d actually get to do this.” He buries his nose further into your neck, his arms sliding underneath you to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Neither did I. I kept telling myself to stop dreaming about things I couldn’t have.”

“You’ve had me from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“You’ve had me for just as long.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

You take a strained breath. “I was…I don’t deserve you. And I thought you knew that. And that you were in love with Nami. That didn’t help.”

He pulls back to look you in the eyes, his gaze boring into you. “You thought you didn’t deserve me?” He sounds absolutely baffled at the idea.

“You’re kind, talented, strong, handsome…you’re everything, Sanji. You deserve everything you want. And I didn’t think you wanted me.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before a small chuckle forces its way out of him. “That’s…that’s so ridiculous I genuinely don’t even know where to start.”

He kisses your forehead. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and everything I’m ever going to want.”

He kisses your cheeks. “I have wanted you from the moment we met, and I will want you until the day I die.”

He kisses the tip of your nose. “I have never met anyone more deserving of the world than you. And I’m not going to let anyone say otherwise. Even you. So there.”

You lean up to kiss his forehead in turn. “Well there’s nothing in this world I want more than you. Can I really have you?”

He takes one of your hands and places it over his rapidly beating heart. “You feel that? It’s all yours.” He lifts your other hand and kisses it in a deeply princely gesture that fits him perfectly.

Before you can reciprocate, the door slams open, and you hear Zoro’s disgruntled voice call out. “They’re making out! Can we be done with this now?”

Sanji whips around with even more vitriol than he usually reserves for the swordsman. “Piss off, mosshead. Can’t you see we’re busy?” The quick movement makes him sway slightly, and you’re forced to remember how horribly you’re both doing physically. If he picks a fight with Zoro right now he might end up puking all over his shoes.

“Ignore him, Sanji. We need to get some rest anyway.” You pull his face into your chest, which he gladly collapses fully into. When you run your fingers through his hair, he’s practically purring.

“Anything you say, my love.” His content smile grows wider when he hears your heart quicken at the words. Neither of you say anything else as your friends crowd the room, with their finallys and about times. Nothing in the world matters more than this right now: the feeling of each other’s warmth, the softness of each other’s skin, and the feeling of relief in both of your chests that your hopes were finally allowed to thrive.

[pearlymel]

Random troupes — genshin men

꒰ including ꒱: Diluc, Neuvillette, Kaveh, and Wriothesley.

꒰ warnings ꒱: fem! Reader, suggestiveness, fluff, a bit of angst, slight spoiler with Neuvillette and his origin.

꒰ notes ꒱: this one is pretty long, hope you still enjoy it <3

✰ Diluc—fake dating.

“… Say that again?” It takes Diluc a minute before he could register what you were saying. God, he was sweating so much, despite his hands being gloved, he still tried wiping them along the fabric of his pants.

“I want you to play as my fake boyfriend, just for today!” You repeat the words that were ringing in his head earlier. He swallows thickly, fingers adjusting his collar. It suddenly feels harder to breathe for him, he’s had feelings for you for so long that he already gave up about the idea of confessing to you, he thinks you deserve way better than him.

But now he gets to taste the feeling of being your partner, even just for today, being your fake boyfriend just to put a show in front of your friend who’s inviting you on a double date. Bringing your own date, of course.

“Please?” Oh the way you ask so eagerly, hand clutching his arm firmly without even realizing has him melting. He would never say no to you.

You see the way Diluc looks down at your hand,slowly following the line from your arm to your face. You also see how hesitant he looks, like he’s about to reject your offer when he gently removed your arm and takes your hand in his instead.

You’re prepared for him to say no, so you sigh in defeat, “no pressure, though. I can always ask Kaeya inst—“

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll agree to be your fake boyfriend.” He cuts you off with a firm tone, and his expression falls at the mention of Kaeya’s name slipping from your mouth. But he composes himself anyway.

“In one condition,” he says gruffly, and you nod with keen eyes, “If I’m doing this, then you cannot see anyone until this charade is finished. You won’t be allowed to… flirt with anyone else, or look at another person’s way...” He trails off, his grip on your hands tightening around yours. He just now thinks that his condition might seem a little too much that he feels a tiny bead of sweat fall from the back of his neck.

But when he tries to change his words again, you laugh in response, “deal.”

His eyes widen slightly when you easily agree, “you’re not even going to question it?”

He’s suddenly in front of you, backing you into the wall, his hands on either sides of your head, boxing you in. You’re confused, backing up accordingly until your back hits the cold concrete of the wall. He leans closer, his gaze intense, “you’re just going to accept what i said without protesting?”

“Yeah?” You answer with a confused shrug, his eyes narrow at your answer. “You’re too trusting.” He sighs, face almost as red as his hair that’s falling on the sides of his cheeks that you badly want to tuck in behind his ear.

“If i was a more self-reserving person, I could keep you like this forever, you know? I could keep you to myself, only to myself.” 

“But you’re not that type of guy.” 

Diluc looks at you steadily for a moment before sighing deeply, his head dropping forward, and his forehead gently bumps against yours.

“No, I’m not that type of guy.” Slowly, he lifts his head back up, one of his hands trailing a path from your shoulder to the crook of your elbow. The pads of his fingers just barely brush against your skin, making you shiver.

You try to smile despite the slightest touch that were doing an effect on you, “you’re the sweetest, you know?” His face turns even redder at your words, this is just getting embarrassing.

His hand then starts moving towards your neck, using the pad of his thumb to massage slow, deliberate circles there, and to his surprise, you lean more into his touch. His other hand find it’s way to your waist, pausing for a moment before wrapping his arm fully around your waist.

“You trust me that much?” He mutters lowly as his cheek rests on top of your head, his breath stirring your hair. 

“I’ve known you long enough.” You hum back, “even now, when I could do anything to you?” He asks firmly, now moving his face to your neck, his nose just barely grazing along your skin, “I know you wouldn’t, Diluc.” Your breath is caught in your throat.

“oh, sweetheart…” without warning, he placed both of his hands on your hips, lifting you up easily and pinning you against the wall with his body. His chest is flush against yours, his knee suddenly wedging between your legs which made you gasp, “Diluc—!” You tried balancing yourself on him, shifting uncomfortably around his knee while gripping his his shoulders and strands of his hair.

Diluc groans at the feeling of your hands on his hair, his own hands now slowly sliding up your body, starting at your hips then slowly up under your shirt, his touch leaving tingles in it’s wake.

“Is… this some sort of practice for being my fake boyfriend.” You ask quietly, this time your cheeks were the one brightening as you look down at him, his face resting in your neck while you gently stroke his crimson hair through your fingers.

He hates the word ‘fake’ boyfriend. Because everything he does feels real, this is real. He would never be this affectionate around anyone else.

“You can call it whatever you want…” all he can is just accept this until you seriously notice all his efforts towards you.

✰ Neuvillette—Arranged marriage.

You almost miss the way the clouds were significantly getting darker as your fingertips brush against the hard cover of your book. The book in your hands no longer entertaining you, so you make the move to close it and put it back where it belonged inside your bag.

When you step out of the café you were spending your afternoon at, a droplet of rain falls down to your cheek, followed by another then another, until it started pouring endlessly.

You frown at the change of weather, but not because the rain ruined your mood, but because you knew exactly the reason it started, and really, it breaks your heart.

You take note of the people who started taking shelter, some cursing at the inconvenience of the weather.

But a kid’s voice is what catches your attention, “hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry!” He repeats as he runs over a puddle of water. It was your turn to leave, making your way to the Palais Mermonia.

You don’t bother to knock when your main concern was Neuvillette, your head peeking in his office to see him standing by the window, his face somber, as if he had a lot on his mind.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon,” your soft voice snaps him out of his trance, turning around to see you making your way towards him, and he’s so stiff in his place. “Don’t cry…” you continue, repeating the little kid’s words.

When you stand in front of him, you offer him the solace of an embrace, immediately rushing to take him in your arms. Albeit it being awkward at first, Neuvillette starts getting used to the feeling, and eventually sinks in your arms.

“Forgive me,” he whispered ever so softly against your shoulder, “You are too kind. I am not deserving of your care and affection.” He sighs, trying to control the emotions raging in him. “Yet, here you are, tending to me once again.”

“You don’t have to always apologize to me, your feelings are valid.”

“I simply wish to express how grateful i am for you. I am aware as to how taxing my emotional outbursts are to you. You bear with them, and that is more than I could ever ask for.” Every word that leaves him feels like poetry in your ears. If you could just tell him how everything is going to be okay, how you are always there for him.

Then he sighs, “sometimes I question why you even stay.”

"I..." You pause, thinking of the answer as well. You've spent enough time with Neuvillette to observe how he acts, and he rarely shows vulnerability to anyone. Rarely displays any affection.

But soon he started opening to you, that's all it took for you to open your arms for him. "I'd rather stay than leave you alone and upset."

Neuvillette lifts his head to look at you, “But what about yourself?”

He brushes away a strand of hair from your face—something that is usually more common the other way around. “You put so much energy into comforting me. In the process, you lose a little of yourself. Please, do not neglect yourself in order to accommodate me.”

"Ah, not to worry." You brush his concern off and instead offer him a gentle smile.

"You opening up to me... Warms my heart even more.” When he observes your smile, Neuvillette’s expression softens, his shoulders relaxing from the weight he’s been carrying.

“You make me feel more at ease with your kind words. Even my emotions dare not oppose you.”

He sighs again, “Perhaps I should be thanking you once again, no?”

Your smile brightens, "You're my husband. I'm only doing my role as your wife."

At the mention of that, Neuvillette seems almost shocked. He blushes slightly, his cheeks tinted pink. “I—of course. That is, you are correct.”

He clears his throat, recollecting himself. “I simply… sometimes forget that fact. Forgive me.”

Looking at your face, he pauses for a moment, as if in deep thought. “… i might melt if you keep looking at me like that, Neuvi.” 

“What are you talking about—”

Neuvillette pauses, before his eyes widen. “—Oh.”

His cheeks grow red now in embarrassment. “I did not mean to stare. My thoughts got the better of me, I suppose I was just—”

He looks away from you, avoiding eye contact. “Forgive me once again. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable by… ogling you like that.”

You just laugh it off, your soft laughter ringing in his ears and he chuckles deeply in return. 

It’s only at that moment that you notice, the sun is starting to make it appearance again.

✰ Kaveh—exes to lovers.

It's almost pitiful, really. The sight of him like a lost puppy on your front door, all drunk, not even able to stand straight, was making your heart clench. He seemed even more miserable than you were.

"Where's Alhaitham? Wasn't he supposed to pick you up?" You ask in concern, looking around if he was accompanied with someone else.

Kaveh rolled his eyes at the mention of Alhaitham.

“Ugh, don’t talk about him,” he scoffed. “He refused to pick me up. How ridiculous. He said that my personal business is none of his!” he huffed, Placing his hands on the wall and attempted to get up. However, to no one’s surprise, he was not successful. "Kaveh," you grumble under your breath, now offering your arms for him steady himself on.

Kaveh seemed pleasantly surprised that you even offered your help. He grabbed your arms and immediately pulled himself up, wrapping his arms around you.

“Why are you even helping the man who dumped you?” He muttered, his head resting against your shoulder.

As far as you knew, it was Alhaitham’s “brilliant” idea to make you and Kaveh separate. He thought it would be better for you two for some reason you will never understand.

"Because you're drunk and I don't want you hurting yourself."

Kaveh hummed.

“How kind..” he murmured.

He then closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly and resting his face onto your neck. He breathed in, and let out a tired sigh.

It was clear that he was completely exhausted.

"..." You're silent for a while, torn between wanting to push him away and leave him out in the cold streets of sumeru, or simply take him in your house for the night.

"Are you overworking again? Or your debt is piling up...?"

Kaveh froze at the mention of either of those things. He didn’t even need to answer you, his demeanor was more than enough. 

He inhaled sharply and held his breath for a moment. He slowly pulled away from you, glancing off to the side.

“Why do you even want to know?” He scowled bitterly. It was clear that even when he’s drunk, Kaveh still has his attitude.

"Because i care, unless you want me to throw you out." You reply back dryly.

“…That’s just so very cruel of you,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Kaveh has never been one to express his feelings very well. However, it was quite obvious that he did still have strong feelings for you.

“..I suppose I did overwork myself. With these stupid deadlines, I had to pull an all-nighter yesterday,” he answered bitterly. 

He leaned against one of your walls, trying his best to stare anywhere that wasn’t you.

"And you decided to drink your sorrows away again? How many times do i have to remind you not to do that..." you trail off, it now just seems like you're scolding him for his behaviour, not even realising the sharp tone coming from you. "Who would drink until they get drunk then show up to their ex's house at midnight?” You ask with your arms crossed.

Now he really didn’t have any answers for that.

There was clearly no reasonable way to argue such statement. Instead, he simply turned his head to the side and pouted like a child that was angry about something.

“Ugh, whatever,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“Don’t read into this,” he said. However, his actions were anything but convincing.

"you were my boyfriend, for god's sake. And i still love you."

He had heard you say those words to him several times in the past. However, hearing you say them to him now just hit different. It was almost hurtful to hear to him.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair yet again, refusing to look directly at you. “Now you choose to say that?” He muttered.

"Kaveh, you know what i mean. Stop being stubborn." You smile, stepping closer to take him in your arms again. Embracing him tightly and giving him that comfort once again. He immediately tensed when he felt you take him in your arms again.

he sighed and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to, or simply didn’t know how to.

"Do you want me back?"

“Why on earth would you ask a question so absurd?” He sighed and pulled away from you.

“Even if I did want that, it wouldn’t be good for you. You’re better off without me.” and that pout just makes your want to roll your eyes so bad.

"Shut it, i only want you." You playfully hit his shoulder, dragging him inside your house now.

"We'll talk tomorrow when you're sober, alright?"

✰ Wriothesley—Bodyguard x employer.

"Pretty please?" You bat your eyelashes at him to try and persuade him for you to attend this party you were so eager to go to.

"no can do." when he refused again, your shoulders slump.

The thing is, Wriothesley never annoyed you, but when he did, such as restrict you from even taking a walk outside, it made you want to pull your hair out.

"But—"

"No buts, princess." He cut you off with a huff, slowly starting to get irritated by your stubbornness. But you were even more frustrated.

"fine. Just take a walk with me around the garden then."

"that... I can let you." He said lazily, letting out a loud sigh before taking off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before opening the door. "Don't stray from my sight, and be careful. I won't be held responsible if you fall and hit your head on the cobblestones."

You try hiding your grin at his words, looking around the dark sky while wearing his soft and warm jacket. He watched as your eyes moved around the dark surroundings. His expression softened slightly when he saw you, but he didn't want to show it.

"You're quite stubborn, you know that? I wonder how many bodyguards your parents went through before they hired me?" he commented, trying to hide his light smile as he carefully observed you.

"Just a few, why? you jealous?" You ask teasingly, knowing the question was too silly. But you hope he plays along.

Despite him being serious all the time about his job, he knew when to be playful.

"Jealous? Why would a simple security guard be jealous of your extravagant lifestyle?" he smirked, walking alongside you. His footsteps synchronized with yours, "It's not like your previous bodyguards were of any relevance to me. They were clearly incompetent, and it's a wonder they even allowed you to wander around freely."

"Atleast they all went easy on me."

His smirk widened as he heard your remark, and he leaned towards you slightly.

"Now you're talking like a spoiled brat." he said, "You should thank me for looking after you. I am much more attentive and meticulous than any of your previous bodyguards."

You weren't a spoiled brat, were you? "I like to be treated like a princess, thank you very much." You snap back, hands resting on your hips.

And his let soft laugh surprised you, turning your attention to him as he rolled his eyes.

"Treated like a princess?" he repeated, amused by your request. "I'm here for your safety, not to pamper you. Don't push your luck, your highness. We're just here to go for a walk. You're lucky I'm allowing it."

"Oh wow, thank you for the crumbs of freedom." You say dramatically, the back of your hand over your forehead.

Wriothesley couldn't help but chuckle as he observed your theatrical gesture. He leaned closer to you, his smirk returning.

"Don't get too carried away, Princess. There are boundaries, and they're there for your own protection." he said, shaking his head in mock annoyance.

You roll your eyes at his words, but you hope he misses the way your cheeks tint a shade lighter with the familiar pet name.

"The weather is getting colder." You clear your throat.

"Yes, it should start snowing soon. The season is changing." he observes, noticing the light breeze in the air. "you're shivering. We should head back inside. You might catch a cold."

He walks closer to you, gently placing a hand on your back to guide you back to the estate. "But i still wanted to walk more with you."

His lips formed a small smile as he heard your response.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" he muttered, the corners of his mouth curved slightly upward. "But we should head back. You need to warm up. Your health is more important than a simple walk."

"Will you atleast kiss me goodnight?" You huff as you walk upstairs to your rooms, your pout evident on your face, his eyes widen at your request, and he brushes it off with a breathy laugh.

"Nice try, Princess, but no."

You ignore his words, laying flat on your soft mattress and covering yourself like a burrito with your blanket before waving him off so he can leave your room.

"Stop being so dramatic. You'll see me again." he said, sighing when you turn your back on him.

His heavy boots echo against the marbled floor as he steps closer to see your eyes closed, his corner of his lips curling slightly.

You almost flinch when you feel soft lips press against your forehead, but you keep your eyes shut tightly when he leans closer to your ear this time.

"goodnight, my lady." He whispers before taking his leave.

[0omillo0]

Hyunjin x reader

comfort ♡ the reader is exhausted but keeps telling hyunjin that she is fine, until she faints.

warnings: nothing, hyunjin being a drama queen

for @hannamoon143

You were running on fumes. Lately, it felt like the world was spinning a little too fast, the weight of everything pressing down hard. But you kept it hidden, pasting on a smile and giving Hyunjin a reassuring nod whenever he asked if you were okay. He could be a little too intuitive sometimes, and you didn’t want him to worry about you. After all, he had his own busy schedule, his own pressures.

Tonight, though, you felt especially drained. It was as if the air around you was too thick to breathe, and no matter how hard you tried, the tightness in your chest wouldn’t let up.

Hyunjin appeared in the doorway, tilting his head as he watched you with that curious, concerned look he’d been wearing so often lately. “Are you… sure you’re okay, Y/N?” His voice was soft, but you could hear the edge of worry underneath.

“Of course,” you said quickly, flashing him a smile you hoped looked convincing. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long day.”

He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. “You’ve said that every day this week.”

“I know. I just… I’ll be fine,” you said, waving a hand as if to brush it all away. But the wave of dizziness that hit you just then made you grip the edge of the table for balance.

Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?” He took a step closer. “Because I know when you’re not telling me something. What’s going on?”

You let out a shaky breath, giving a small, helpless shrug. “I just… I don’t want you to worry.”

His gaze softened, but his tone was firm. “Too late for that, babe. I’m already worried.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the world around you started to blur, the edges of your vision going dark. Before you could stop it, everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself lying on the couch, with Hyunjin’s face hovering above you, wide-eyed with panic.

“Oh my God, you’re awake! Are you okay? Are you breathing? Do I need to call an ambulance?” he exclaimed, his voice high with worry as he waved his hands dramatically.

“Hyunjin…” you murmured, struggling to sit up, but he immediately held you down.

“No, stay down! You fainted! Like, actually fainted!” His voice was a mix of alarm and pure distress. “Do you know how terrifying that was? One second you were standing, and the next, you were just… gone!” He clutched his chest, taking in a deep breath as if he’d barely survived the ordeal.

You managed a weak smile. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. “You think fainting right in front of me doesn’t scare me? You could’ve hit your head! Or… or… worse!” His eyes widened even further. “Do you want some water? Or a blanket? Or an entire medical team?!”

“Hyunjin,” you laughed softly, though you could feel your heart racing a bit from the embarrassment. “I just… I think I just pushed myself a little too hard.”

“A little?” he echoed, sounding incredulous. “Babe, this isn’t just ‘a little too hard.’” His voice softened, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he held it tightly. “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” you admitted, looking down. “You’re already so busy, and I thought I could handle it.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, lifting your chin so you’d meet his eyes. “Listen, I don’t care how busy I am. If you need me, I’m here. Always.”

You looked away, feeling the emotions rising up, but he cupped your face, pulling your gaze back to him. “Hey,” he said gently. “I mean it. You’re my person, okay? You don’t have to do this alone. I wish you’d tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

You bit your lip, finally letting the tears slip down your cheeks. “I just… I feel like I’m failing, Hyunjin. I’m exhausted all the time, and it feels like I’m always one step behind. No matter how much I do, it’s never enough.”

He listened, his expression softening as he leaned closer, brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “Oh, Y/N… why didn’t you tell me you felt this way?” His voice was a gentle whisper. “You’re not failing. You’re doing so much, and you’re amazing at everything you do. Don’t let yourself forget that.”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping despite your tears. “You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”

He shook his head emphatically. “No, I’m saying that because it’s true! I see you work so hard, and I see how much you care about everything you do. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“I just feel like it’s not enough. Like… if I don’t keep pushing myself, I’ll fall behind,” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you as he rested his chin on your head. “Then lean on me. You don’t have to do everything on your own. Just… let me be here for you.”

You stayed like that for a while, Hyunjin holding you as the weight of your worries seemed to melt away. His hand stroked gently down your back, and he hummed a quiet tune, one you recognized from his playlist.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Alright, new plan: tonight, you’re doing absolutely nothing. I’ll take care of everything, and you’re going to relax.”

“But—”

“Nope. No ‘buts.’” He raised a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay quiet. “Doctor’s orders,” he said, puffing out his chest and winking.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics, even as he threw a dramatic hand to his forehead. “In fact, I’m not sure I can leave you alone. What if you faint again? I’d never recover!”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Fine. I’ll rest… if it’ll make you feel better.”

He nodded, looking relieved. “Good. But I’m not leaving you alone tonight. You’re stuck with me.” He gave you a playful nudge and then got up, grabbing his phone. “Let’s see… I’m thinking snacks, movies, and maybe an emergency blanket fort. You’ll thank me later.”

With a sigh, you gave in, feeling lighter already. As he bustled around, grabbing pillows and snacks, you watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude. He might be a bit of a drama queen, but he cared for you in ways that made every worry seem smaller.

Hyunjin returned, arms full of snacks, a mischievous smile on his face. “Now, the real question is: cheesy romance movie or hilarious rom-com?”

You laughed, feeling a genuine smile spread across your face. “You pick.”

He settled beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Rom-com it is. And hey, if you start feeling overwhelmed again… you come to me, alright?”

You nodded, leaning into his side as the movie began. “Thank you, Hyunjin. For everything.”

He squeezed your hand, resting his head against yours. “Always, Y/N. I’ll always be here.”

In that moment, you felt lighter than you had in weeks, wrapped in the warmth of Hyunjin’s presence and knowing that, no matter what, he was by your side. And as the night wore on, filled with his laughter and comforting touch, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to face the world alone.

[mellowsaturns]

all to myself

CEO!BUCKY BARNES X READER

summary: after bucky finds out why you've been acting up ever since his company's party, he teaches you a lesson and remind you that you're the only one for him

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, f!reader, soft!mean!bucky, slight bratty!reader, jealousy on reader's side, possessiveness, teasing, begging, oral (f receiving), fingering, basically fighting then making up

wc: 1.9k

“Don’t leave when I’m talking to you.”

Bucky’s words should have sent shivers down your spine—should have made you stop dead in your tracks. But you were so angry that you just dismissed him and walked away.

He called out your name, in warning this time, and you chose to ignore him once again.

It only took him three steps to catch up to you. He grabbed one of your wrists and spun you around in seconds. 

“Did you not hear what I said? Don’t leave when I’m talking to you,” he fumed. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” you countered, trying to pull your arm from his grasp. But he was too strong.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been acting like this all night.”

Your boyfriend’s company had just hit the next milestone and of course, it was only appropriate to celebrate. But ever since the two of you left the party, you’ve been giving him the silent treatment.

You made sure you were always steps ahead of him when walking out the building. You ignored the farewells and even went as far as slamming the door to his three-million dollar Bugatti that he loves so much without even a second thought. You refused to look at him the whole ride home and when he tried to talk to you, you completely ignored him, focusing on the street lamps instead.

Once the two of you got back to his place, he started confronting you on your poor behaviour and all that other bullshit. As if he wasn’t the one to cause it. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you’re done, I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight,” you said bitterly, finally yanking your arm away. 

“Why are you being so fucking difficult?”

You scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry for being difficult,” you said, voice laced with sarcasm. “Maybe you should go be with those ladies you were talking to the whole night. Maybe they aren’t so fucking difficult.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “Is that what this is all about? You’re jealous I was talking to other girls?”

You bit down hard on your lip. “You were flirting with them!” 

“I was not flirting with them.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because letting them touch and throw themselves at you is not flirting.”

Because while Bucky was enjoying himself, you were left to socialize with his stuck-up business partners and had to down your cocktails all by yourself. You got ignored by your own fucking boyfriend. To make matters worse, the two of you haven’t seen each other for a whole week because he was on a business trip. You even wore his favourite dress and did your hair and makeup all pretty for him but he didn’t even pay any attention to you. 

So excuse you for being emotional, but you think your anger is justifiable.

He sighed. “You’re overthinking it.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, “I’m going to bed.” 

“We’re not done here,” he demanded. 

“Mmm, I think we are.” 

He pulled you back, this time with so much force that you’re practically pressed up against his chest. 

“You were embarrassing me in front of all my friends, you know that?” 

You scoffed. “If that’s your only concern maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore,” you spat.

His eyes darken, “Say that again.”

You swallowed your breath and could feel yourself heating up at his words. And you didn’t know where all this bravery was coming from because a minute later, you said, “Break up with me then. Go find one of those girls from tonight and fuck them instead. I’m sure they won’t embarrass you.”

He tightened his grip when you tried to writhe out of his hold. 

“Stop fighting me,” he said. 

God—you were even more angry now. Because he’s so sexy when he’s boring his deep eyes into yours in that authoritative and dominating way of his. It was unfair. 

“You’re not leaving,” he continued, “you’re not stepping a foot outside this room unless I say so.”

That intense warmth building between your legs was getting worse and worse by the minute.

“What are you going to do to stop me?” you mocked, knowing it would irritate him to endless lengths. You lifted your hand towards your neck, where the diamond studded necklace Bucky gave you when he officially asked you to become his was delicately located.

His jaw ticked and you ripped the necklace off. 

Before you had a chance to think about what you’ve done, he grabbed you and smashed his lips against yours, knocking all the air out of your lungs.

You whimpered at the force but slowly, you melted into him as his hands made its way to cup your face.

He moaned into your mouth and for a second you forgot why you were angry in the first place.

Fuck Bucky Barnes and his plush lips.

“You’re such a brat, you know that?” He growled into your ear before pushing you against the wall and caging you in between him. Your knees almost buckled at the huskiness of his voice.

He trailed his hand down to your thighs before dipping it into your dress, hiking it up slightly. He smirked. “Look at you,” he taunted, “so wet.”

Your breath hitched as his finger made its way to your panties, rubbing gentle circles on the now damp fabric. He hooked his finger along its band and ripped the lace off—like how he ripped all your other ones. 

“B–Bucky!” you gasped as he cupped your mound, finger brushing your clit and teasing you at your entrance.

His lips latched onto your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin.

You leaned into him. “Bucky,” you whined while rocking against his hand.

“So needy,” he teased. 

“Bucky,” you desperately begged, “—please.”

“Please what, baby? Use your words.”

“Want… need to feel you,” you murmured.

“Mmm, I don’t think you deserve it,” he said. 

“Fuck—” you gasped as he pressed his palm harder against your sensitive sex. “Please, Bucky,” you begged, “I didn’t mean to be bratty. Just wanted all your attention, that's all.”

He hummed. “My girl that desperate for me?”

You nodded. “Y–yes,” you stammered. “Want you all to myself.”

At that, he plunged two of his fingers into your wet core. You gasped at the fullness—at how good it felt.

“Look at you,” he whispered, pumping his fingers in and out. “A mess for me. What happened to all that defiance? Hm?”

You couldn’t even say any snarky remarks back. The only noise coming out of your mouth were your pathetic whimpers and desperate pleas as Bucky fucked you knuckles deep.

“You want to come, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, gripping onto his shoulders. “I want to hear you say sorry.”

“I’m sor—ah!” you gasped when he curled his finger at that spot he knows so well. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for acting like that tonight.”

“And?”

“And for slamming the door to your car.”

“No, not that. I don’t care about the car.” 

His hand clasped around your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m sorry for ripping your necklace off. I’m so sorry,” you cried. You leaned into him, just below his ears. “I’m yours, Bucky. Only yours.” 

“Good girl,” he rasped. 

And at that, you come crashing down, an eutrophic wave washing over you. 

He held you as you collected yourself. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you tonight,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s just I really did miss you. I even wore that dress you liked so much. Put on your favourite shade of lipstick.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, stroking your hair. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

You burrowed yourself deeper into him. “Thought you got bored of me or something,” you mumbled more to yourself than him, but he managed to pick it up and he took it to heart.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he said angrily. He pulled you away and held your face. “I will never get bored of you. You’re the only one I want, you got it?” 

You pouted as if you didn’t quite believe him and if there was one thing Bucky couldn’t handle, it was those sad doe-eyes of yours underneath your pretty lashes. 

His mouth latched onto yours once again, deepening the kiss within seconds. He led you to the couch, never once breaking the kiss. 

You fell onto the black leather as he hovered above you. “What do you want me to do to prove it to you? You want me to kneel? Because I’ll go on my fucking knees for you,” he said, before lowering himself in front of you. And that was enough for you to come undone for the second time tonight.

He grabbed your legs, carefully stroking it before littering kisses all over your calves and thighs. You took a deep breath when he rolled up your dress again, exposing your stomach and cunt. Then he was in between your legs in seconds.

“Wait—” you panted. “Bucky,” you said, tugging onto his hair. “The windows.” 

The blinds to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of his New York City penthouse were still open.

“Fuck the windows. Let the world see. That’s what you wanted right? Me on my knees for you,” he said, licking a stripe up your folds. “Let everyone know you’re the only person I would go on my knees for.”

You clenched at his words which caused Bucky to chuckle, his hot breaths hitting your already overheated core. 

The flickering of his tongue combined with the sucking was too much. He was going down on you like a starved man and you pulled on his hair harder when his tongue hit that spot that made you see stars.

“Stop moving,” he grunted, gripping your legs even tighter. “You taste so damn sweet.”

You were trembling by now and he brought one of his hands to your chest to stabilize your body—grabbing and kneading the flesh while he was at it.

Everytime his nose rubbed at your clit, you could feel your orgasm come closer and closer. And when you finally release, Bucky made sure to clean you up with his tongue, not letting a single drop of you go to waste. When he came up, the scruff on his jaw was wet with your arousal. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to come down from both your high and at the sight of him.

“I love you,” he murmured. 

At that moment, you realized one thing. The entirety of New York might want a piece of him—the handsome self-made CEO whose eyes were enough to bring both women and men to their knees—but the only person he’ll ever go on his knees for was you. You’re the one he comes home to. He was yours. Completely, wholly, yours.

Before you got a chance to repeat those words back to him, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulders.

“Ah!” you squealed, “Bucky! What are you doing!”

He gave you a smack on the ass before carrying you towards the bedroom. “We’re not done here,” he said. “I’ll give you all the attention you want, baby. We have all night.”

[doqt33th]

SINGULARITY

MIRAGE/READER

SUMMARY: You and Mirage have been pining for each other for a while now. A nasty summer storm drives you straight into his arms. Shenanigans ensue.

WORD COUNT: 18k. Sorry I’m insane

WARNINGS: 18+ and I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! Explicit PWP, fingering + oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, mild spit kink. Reader is fem and uses she/her pronouns but is written fairly androgynous. No descriptors of appearance beyond the basics and no (y/n) used.

Familiar streets flashed by at increasing speeds, traffic and pedestrians flickering by and blurring together into a smorgasbord of color, all gilded by the setting sun. Unconsciously, you dug your fingers into the seams of the leather seat beneath you, worrying the stitches. Out of the corner of your eye, the radio blazed to life with color and that oh-so-familiar symbol.

“Hey, hey, easy on the merchandise, hot stuff,” Mirage crackled out of the speakers lightheartedly, and you immediately yanked your hands into yourself like they’d been burned. In your worrying, you’d seemingly forgotten about what — or rather, who — exactly was your ride.

“Oh— my bad, I wasn’t thinking,” you said, sinking your weight back and down, instead picking at your nails to give your hands something to do. God, you were so nervous, and for what? Mirage knew all these people— these bots, and knew them well. They were all friends! Or amiable towards each other, at the very least. And they were the good guys. Saved the world and all that.

So why were you so anxious?

“You’re good, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He slowed to a stop at a red light. Your leg started to bounce. “Sooo… you wanna tell me what’s on your mind? Save me a trip to Noah’s repair shop? I’d hate for you to start taking your emotions out on me, y’know.”

You scoffed, eyes sliding to the radio. The grin that pulled at the corners of your mouth was one you were helpless to stop. He just had that effect on you, where around him you became a slave to your laughter and, additionally, also became one half of a terrible joke machine that Mirage happily completed.

Leather creaked as you nudged the inside of the door with your boot to chastise him. “You love when I take my emotions out on you, dick. Don’t lie.”

“Only the good ones,” he shot back, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “You nervous about meeting the others?”

His probe was successful; you fought the urge to shrink at your feelings being read so accurately and so immediately. “I— yeah. I am, and I don’t even know why. I’m sure they’re all great, I’m just working myself up over nothing.”

Red faded to green. Carried on the tide of forward-moving traffic, Mirage rolled ahead, eventually slipping over to make a turn. You watched him twist his mirrors to check his blind spot.

“Ah, c’mon. Nobody could blame you, you’re meeting a bunch of aliens for the first time. Pretty trippy for anyone. ‘specially if those aliens are, like, double your size. And robots.” A short chuckle topped off his words.

“Right. I just don’t wanna fuck it up or embarrass myself, you know how it is. I don’t wanna embarrass you, either.”

“Oh, Primus, trust me. You’re not gonna embarrass me. I don’t even think that’s possible. Prime’s seen me in a lot worse shape than bringing you in to meet him.” The world continued to roll by. Brick buildings blotted out the sunshine in intermittent flashes. “You got good marks from your favorite bot, you’ll be fine.” The dismissive tone of his voice was working, in a weird way, to assuage your fears.

“Excuse me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest pointedly. “My favorite bot?”

“What, am I not?” A downright theatrical gasp hissed out of the speaker. “Have you been cheating on me?”

Cheeks hot with a flush at even the joking insinuation of being together, you glanced away from the impassive Autobot symbol on the radio and out the window. Still, the laugh barked out of you was sudden and sharp, and quickly dissolved into giggles. “Yes. Mirage. I’m sorry. There’s another ten foot tall alien robot in Brooklyn that’s been vying for my attention. We’re done.”

“I should throw you out on the street right now,” Mirage fussed playfully, his evident pout tinging his voice. “For breakin’ my spark. Also I’m taller than that.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m fragile.”

“I dunno. Noah gets his ass kicked around pretty good and he’s still kickin’ it.”

“I am not Noah,” came your tongue-in-cheek rebuttal. “And Noah just refuses to give up even when it’s good for him.”

“Thought qualities like determination were supposed to be big things with you guys.”

“In moderation.”

Mirage barked a laugh. “Ha! Should tell that to Prime. He’ll blow a gasket.” You opened your mouth to reply, only to be cut off. “No, seriously, tell it to Prime, we’re here.”

The easy confidence that your playful back-and-forth had teased out instantly chilled into a dense mass in your stomach; Mirage was rolling slowly up to a nondescript warehouse buried deep within the old industrial part of Brooklyn, and the way the worn brick loomed over you even in the car made your heart rate pick up.

Now or never.

Familiar alien whirs and clicks of shifting and setting metal filled your ears as Mirage rose into his bipedal mode, the driver’s seat gently ejecting you onto your own two legs on the pavement. Following the motion, you took a few steps forward, but still balked a little at the half open door. Inside, you heard voices of varying timbre, and you fought the urge to turn tail.

Now. Or. Never. Gritted teeth accompanied the repetition of your thought.

The displacement of air behind you — and the soft, constant mechanical noises emanating from his body — signaled Mirage’s presence before his voice.

He said your name with surprising care, using a tone that only came out when he was really being sincere. You couldn’t help the way your face warmed at it as you turned, craning your neck up to meet his gaze. “Hey, you, uh, you want me to go in ahead of ya? Normally I’d be like ‘ladies first’ and all that, but you said you weren’t feeling too jazzed about going in—“

“Yeah, actually, if you could, that would be… great. That would be great.”

“Gotcha. Let you psych yourself up a little more before you go in, I see how it is. Let me do the talking,” he affirmed with an easy grin and a nod, bouncing on the balls of his pedes a few times before striding forward. His long legs folded easily under him as he ducked under the lowered garage door, and you traipsed after, smoothing your thumb over your knuckles repeatedly.

The warehouse yawned beyond you, orange shafts of light cutting gashes into otherwise brownish darkness. Old graffiti sprayed across the walls told you that Ramona had been there once, then Nick, then Darnell, and a million others. And you were there now, feeling impossibly small, yes, but a little more resilient with the fading sunlight at your back and Mirage, like always, at your side.

He’d become a permanent fixture in your life from the day you’d met him — when you’d strong-armed Noah into giving up his secret about his Porsche, and the mysterious car had ended up being a twelve-foot-tall robot with a literal motormouth that made a playful pass at you within the first hour of your first conversation. You’d been flustered out of your mind, but had just kept coming back out of unfettered curiosity and outright fascination. Aliens were real, and Noah was friends with one, and it— he could turn into a Porsche.

Mind-shattering observations on the surface, yes. Mirage tended to deflate the grandeur, though, because he never acted like aliens did in the movies or in books. There was no ‘We come in peace!’ bullshit. He was so easy. Everything with him was so easy. He was loudmouthed and extroverted and genuinely hilarious; you spent hours in Noah’s garage trading terrible jokes — mostly bad sexual innuendos — or buckled to Mirage’s driver’s seat as he flew down Central Avenue on the wrong side of the limit and blasted Haddaway so loud it nearly busted your eardrums.

Weird to say an alien robot was your friend, but he was. He gave you rides to work, to your lectures, to your labs, wherever; in fact, he got petulant when you dared to take the bus one day to give him a break, and made it a point to pry your routine out of you so that he could take you wherever you wanted, no fares needed. 

So infuriating. You loved it.

You loved… maybe more than just the back-and-forth. Maybe more than the bad jokes. Maybe more than the late-night drives. You were starting to think— starting to realize you loved big blue optics, and the rumble of a 260 horsepower engine when you made just the right innuendo, and broad, incredibly intricate servos that dwarfed yours in size but were so, so careful…

Man. You tried not to think about it too much. It as a concept made you laugh with its own absurdity. Poor human chick fell in love with the giant alien robot that made her laugh. It wasn’t… debilitating. You still functioned like a normal adult. Mostly. Except for that one night like two weeks ago where you’d been arguing with him about some stupid shit and he’d scooped you up, right off the ground, in both servos and held you there, digits interlaced against your back and thumbs on your front.

It wasn’t the first time he’d ever held you like that — he’d done it a few times — but something was different that night… even if he’d only done it to gain an upper hand in your bickering. The air crackled with latent electricity, made your skin buzz in all the right places, especially when Mirage had gone quiet for once in his life as he stared at you in his grasp. When you’d prompted him with his name, he’d only responded by gently stroking a thumb over the swell of your chest, which had made you gasp air in so sharply that it burned in your throat. The metal left a tingling path on your skin under your shirt in its wake and immediately sent your heart rate skyrocketing past whatever the fuck was a normal BPM.

He’d snapped back to reality at the sudden expansion of your lungs and had attempted to play it all off as a joke. You remembered how you’d still stumbled when your shoes touched the ground, an absolutely insane feeling of genuine heat rocking you as your brain seized the feeling of his touch while it still sparked against your nerve endings and helpfully replayed it over and over and over again. Sure, the rhythm of banter came back after a stuttering beat, but you never really cooled the warmth on your face for the rest of that night — and when Mirage had dropped you off at your apartment, your door was shut and locked for about five minutes before your shaking hand was frantically worked beneath the waistband of your pants.

…Whew. Definitely something a little more than friendly there. Maybe even more than pure love, something a little slicker and deeper that buzzed against your bones and coiled low in your stomach. It made you feel a little weird — just objectively, because of what Mirage was — but damn if it didn’t feel good to indulge.

God, fuck, why were you thinking about that now, of all times? Escapist fantasies be damned, you were going to meet Mirage’s comrades-friends-coworkers and leave a good impression. Not drool over the worn-out memory replaying in your head for the thousandth time this week.

Out of the darkness and around corners, they emerged. The stealth wasn’t on purpose; you didn’t even think they could be stealthy. Oh, one was coming right for you now — tall was the only word your brain could muster. Tall and red and square were added to the list of adjectives as the stately bot approached, servos collected into fists at his sides and shoulders thrown back.

“Priiiime,” Mirage greeted warmly, throwing his arms out at his sides in his favorite pose. “Look, hey, I know what you said about bringing more people around, but I swear— Hey!”

Completely ignoring your friend’s (status pending) greeting, the bot— Prime, holy shit, this is THE Prime, was kneeling down, leaning forward, and he was right in your face. You fought the very biological urge to flinch. Blue optics considered you for a moment before narrowing and flicking to your right from his lowered position.

“Mirage,” Optimus started with a gravelly tone  from behind his faceguard that communicated exasperation above all else. “I explicitly stated that for our safety — and yours — that we were to come in contact with no more humans.”

“Sir, I gotta be honest with you. Kinda hard on a planet that’s got, what, five billion of ‘em? Six?” Mirage glanced at you for backup. You stared back flatly, refusing to say anything that might put you on the business end of a laser cannon.

“You were told to remain incognito so you could recover.” Optimus continued, his gaze returning to you. With a shunk of shifting metal, his faceplate slid away. His faceplates were weathered; the chipped metal around his optics gave the illusion of wrinkles and eyebags. Tired. He seemed tired. “This is not incognito. What is your name?”

You gave it after taking a beat to steady yourself. He repeated it back to you. “How did you come in contact with Mirage?”

“I, uh— Noah, Noah Diaz, he’s my friend. I basically pried it out of him,” you said with a nervous laugh. “So it’s not Mirage’s fault. I’m just nosy.”

At the mention of Noah, Optimus seemed to visibly relax; he moved back slightly, though he remained kneeling, and the narrowed, suspicious squint of his optics rounded out into something much softer.

“…I see. Then I assume you understand the… precarious nature of our existence on your planet.” he said, his tone grave and his optics searching your face.

You nodded, pressing the flesh of the inside of your cheek between your teeth for a moment as you came up with a suitably diplomatic response that still conveyed your friendliness. “I do, yeah. Noah told me most of it. What he could, anyway. I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not— I’m not a threat here. Like I don’t work with the, uh, the government or anything. Whatever you guys need help with, I’m available, even if that just means keeping my mouth shut.”

Christ, you were glad this wasn’t your day job. You’d be such a shit ambassador. I’m available. What the hell did that even mean? Fuck yes, you were available, your brain guffawed, thinking of broad metal thumbs brushing over your chest.

You blinked hard, squeezing your eyelids together until the world came back in a photo negative, to scold yourself.

Although you’d stumbled through your reply, Optimus seemed to approve. He rose with a great creak of metal off of his knee and backed up to give you space, though he still regarded you with those sharp blue optics that felt as though they pinned you to the concrete below. “I see Noah chooses his company well. I should have assumed his sentiments would extend to his companions.” He shut his optics for a moment and dipped his head, as if considering deeply what to say next. “I am not sure how much Mirage — or Noah — divulged to you.”

“A fair amount— well. Any amount that won’t get them in trouble,” you called up, taking in deeper breaths to project your voice up the two stories of height to his head. To your side, Mirage snorted. “I know your name— Optimus, I know that, and I know about the Autobots. A little bit about the— fuck, what were they called—“

“Terrorcons?” Mirage supplied, and you were impressed at how quiet he’d been otherwise.

“Terrorcons, thank you. Other than that, not much. How much should I know?”

“Your knowledge is sufficient. All we fear — and all we risk—“ Optimus added with a pointed look at Mirage, who looked incredibly sheepish. “—at the moment is discovery. So long as you maintain secrecy, no harm shall come to us… or you, for that matter.”

It almost sounded like a threat, but Prime worded it very much like a warning. You decided it was best to heed his word — not that you really had another option.

“Right. Okay. Well— I mean, it was nice to meet you. People — humanity, I guess — aren’t bad. Most of us aren’t, anyway. Just, uh, let me know if there’s something Noah and I can get or do for you.”

Prime’s gaze shifted away from you. In fact, it seemed to shift away from the warehouse in general, looking somewhere far beyond the now-shut garage door. “Your generosity is admirable, but it is not humans primarily that we are concerned with.”

Brows furrowed at his vague answer, you thought it over for a second — and then decided not to push it. He probably knew best when it came to whatever foreboding nebulous space threat loomed over your collective heads; you would leave it up to the experts.

“Oh, well, golden rule and all that,” you still offered in terms of a response. That got his attention. His massive head tilted downwards to look at you once more with curiosity. “If I crash landed on someone else’s planet, I’d want them to be hospitable, y’know? Just trying to make the best of a shitty situation.”

Like he couldn’t handle the terrible punishment of silence anymore, Mirage butted in. “See, Prime? I told you she was cool.”

A short jolt shook the broad, boxy line of his shoulders, and at first you had thought he’d coughed, and then you realized he laughed. It was barely anything, a huff of a chuckle, but you glowed with the indirect affirmation. Just made Optimus Prime laugh. Maybe you weren’t such a terrible diplomat.

He wasn’t looking at you, though, rather at Mirage, and you swore from your low vantage point you could see a barely-there smile on Prime’s faceplates communicating…was that smug amusement? As the tall bot carefully made his way past you, he stopped in front of your companion, and let a heavy servo land on the headlight adorning his shoulder.

“No matter what you may feel, you chose well, Mirage.” Optimus rumbled out, before removing his servo and traipsing off into a darker section of the sprawling warehouse, ducking through a much-too-small cutout and speaking to Arcee about something indistinguishable. However, you couldn’t care less about whatever her and Prime were discussing — what the hell did he mean by Mirage choosing well?

You turned your head towards said bot, mouth open for inquiry and one brow raised. Mirage looked mortified, in every sense of the word; he stood shell-shocked, lips slightly parted and servos up and open as if to defend himself. His head was whipped around to follow Prime’s departure from the room. A whir started, bouncing off the walls — Mirage’s fans came on and off intermittently to keep his ambient internal temperature at safe levels, but the steady hum of this fan let you infer that he was flushing something fierce.

“Mirage? What—“

Interrupting you by breaking, nearly jumping, out of his trance, he clapped his servos together and started talking at a million miles a minute. “Well, damn, look at that, haha, it’s late, ain’t it? You got work in the morning, right? C’mon, hop in, I’ll drive you home—“

“No, Mirage, hold on, what was he talking about—“

“Seriously, c’mon, he was just messing around—“

“You’re telling me Optimus Prime was joking? Is he even capable of that?”

He said your name with a finality that nearly made you flinch. “Look, I can’t really— Just drop it, please?” It wasn’t angry, nor was it even commanding; in fact, his eyes were wide and pleading with you out of embarrassment. You knew the feeling all too well, and in the interest of sparing his feelings, decided to let it go, despite your intense curiosity.

You put your hands up in surrender. “Okay. Dropped.” A few beats of silence passed while Mirage was still tamping down his fluster. “You wanna take me home now or are we waiting for Prime to come embarrass you more?”

“Please, let’s get outta here,” he affirmed, dropping into his alt-mode and popping the driver door for you. As you slid in, you couldn’t help the little mischievous smile that grew on your face as your brain cooked up some other joke to take the edge off.

The garage door opened on its own. Mirage rolled into the noticeably darker alleyway. The burnt umber glow of the sunset-stained sky was only visible overhead; otherwise you were boxed in on the sides by blacked-out buildings.

Stifling silence was broken by a joke. Your joke, actually. “…Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me.”

The noise Mirage made was only comparable to a squawk. But obviously much more masculine, clearly. Still, his tires jerked on the road, betraying his surprise. “Hey— Prime is not my sire— or dad, or whatever you wanna call ‘em. He wishes.”

“I dunno,” you mused, arms crossed over your chest and back sunk deep into the seat. Brooklyn in transition blurred by in messy constellations of lit windows. “He got you pretty good there. Pretty standard dad behavior.”

“Hey, I don’t know what suddenly inspired him to go for comedy, but I do not appreciate it. That’s my thing. He’s stealin’ my thunder!”

“Maybe you’re just rubbing off on him.”

Silence.

The radio crackled. “Ew.”

Accompanied by the loudest eyeroll you could muster, you whacked the dashboard with an open palm, though you couldn’t stop your bubbling laughter. “Oh my god, you are so gross, Mirage! I hate you!”

“Ahh, don’t say that, c’mon! You love it here!”

“You wish.”

The rest of the ride home was spent that way, bickering like normal, and although you couldn’t let go of what Prime had said, nor his knowing look while he said it, you appreciated the return to baseline. When you got home, Mirage parked directly in front of your apartment building, and you lingered on the sidewalk for several minutes after you got out of the car. With the passenger door opened so it looked like you were talking to the ‘driver’ and not completely insane, you leaned on the doorframe and traded jabs with your ride until the humidity of the night air got a little too persistent to ignore. Damn you, Brooklyn. 

“See you tomorrow?” Mirage never said goodnight. He only ever asked when he could see you again, corny bastard.

“Tomorrow. My roommate’ll take me to work, don’t worry about it. I’ll just stick my head in the garage when I get home.”

“I thought we had a thing goin’, man!” His faux petulance returned. “You movin’ on already? You just met my folks!”

Your jaw dropped for a second at the fact he’d turned the damn bit around on you. “I met one folk, and you literally said he wasn’t your dad.”

“Maybe I was warmin’ up to the idea!”

Another lethal eyeroll. Your smile still remained locked on your face. “Whatever. Get the hell out of here, asshole,” you said, playfully shutting the door just a little harder than you needed to and slapping the roof like a horse you were trying to send off into the desert.

Even as you turned to walk into your building, you could hear the way his window shot down, far faster than a normal roll. “Ay! Merchandise!”

You stuck a middle finger over your shoulder, thumb out and all, to give him an idea of what he could do with his merchandise. Tires peeled against pavement as he screeched out of his spot and down the otherwise quiet street, letting you know in return how he felt about that.

Smiling like an idiot as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, you felt… airy. You were always smiling after hanging around Mirage, you couldn’t help it — especially as of late. But still, you were dying to know what Prime was talking about when he was messing with Mirage earlier. You chose well. Chose what? Your brain briefly entertained the thought of Mirage returning what you felt, and it made blood rush to your face.

It couldn’t really… work. You had made peace with your physical differences weeks ago. The both of you got along just fine despite the size difference, and it never impeded your normal interactions. But you doubted Mirage felt the same; no matter how familiar, how friendly you were with him, you could never shake the feeling of being just a little too alien. Your greatest similarities were in personality. The closest resemblance you held physically was the fact you were both humanoid in shape.

That didn’t stop you. No, not at all. It didn’t stop you from dropping into bed after a quick shower with a heavy sigh, your hand inevitably sinking beneath the covers as you thought of digits — Mirage’s digits, so well articulated for their size and so careful — playing with the hem of your underwear instead of your own fingers, pushing the fabric aside just a little roughly to explore your alien anatomy. It took very little time for you to grind yourself to climax; in fact, it was embarrassingly quick, and it left your face hot with some special kind of shame as you slunk out of bed to wash your hands. The entire time, you avoided your reflection in the mirror.

Even with the ancient AC cranked on and chugging away, it took you a long while to fall asleep.

Off in the industrial district of Brooklyn, meanwhile, Mirage was burning rubber as he took ninety-degree turns at sixty miles per hour. His processor was thrumming at max capacity, and his engine felt like it was about to either stall or explode.

Primus, it was all too much. Your teasing always got him some kind of hot and bothered, tight under his interface paneling, but the acidic rush of embarrassment still prickled at his cabling. Prime, come on, man. Mirage was still floored at the fact that Prime of all bots had embarrassed him like that, in front of you, no less!

He had it bad for you, and he knew it, but apparently every other bot in that warehouse knew it too. Ever since he’d met you, you’d stuck in his processor, the way the light glinted off your eyes and your all-teeth smile and the way he could get you to laugh. Sure, his flirts were only playful at first — and he only did them to mess with Noah, who’d harbored an on-and-off crush on you for a while — but the more he did them and the more you returned them, the more he started really… considering it.

It was so shameful. Primus, it was shameful. He’d barely ever interfaced in his life — there was just no time, especially not on Cybertron — and never with organics. After that one night where he’d hefted you up with ease in both servos and completely blanked when confronted with your soft, warm weight in his hold, he’d been on a spiral. It wasn’t just enough to be friendly with you; he was plenty friendly with Noah (though with the amount of stupid passes Mirage made at him, Noah would probably say too friendly) and he wanted something more with you.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d rolled into some long-abandoned warehouse or pitch-black deserted alley and scrabbled at his interface panel to pressurize his spike before he feverishly, frantically humped his fisted servo for relief, mental processors supplying increasingly filthy fantasies of your soft skin against his chassis and your mouth, Primus, your mouth on his own, on his spike, wherever, he didn’t care. Every single time, though, after coming down from his high with steam pouring off his lax frame, he felt just a little more discouraged than the last — because he knew that his fantasies would have to stay that way. Fantasies. Your friendship was enough, had to be, no matter how bad he wanted you, because he’d be damned to the Pit before he scared you off by being stupid and admitting his feelings.

Ugh. Ugh. He took another corner too hard and felt his tires shriek, let the burn travel upward and reverberate in his frame. The chaos in his mental processors quieted as he neared HQ. All he knew was that it was late, and he couldn’t be too loud or Prime would get on his ass for interrupting his stasis.

Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me. Your voice played, unbidden, from some file that popped open in his memory bank. He willed it away with a vengeance as he rolled into the warehouse-turned-headquarters as quietly as he could, transforming as soon as the door was shut and stretching out his back. Clicking echoed off the walls as his spinal struts reset, and the residual burn in his scraped tires tingled.

Mirage turned, and—

Yelped. Bumblebee was standing right there, shoulder against the wall and fiddling with some holographic projection from his forearm. Mirage coughed into his clenched servo to preserve what was left of his dignity.

“‘Sup,” he greeted through gritted denta. “I, uh, didn’t see you there, man. How’s it hangin’?”

Bee gave him a flatly unamused look that communicated ‘No shit, you didn’t see me.’ very well. The projection phased out of existence and left the two of them in the dimmed space in some kind of standoff.

“Well, y’know, beauty stasis and everything, I’m just gonna—“

“I wanna know, what you’re feeling! Tell me what’s your mind!” burbled Bee’s radio in place of his voice. Mirage jerked back for a second, not expecting Information Society at whatever unholy hour of the morning it was.

“Look, man, I don’t really wanna talk about—“

“There are some things you can’t hide!” insisted the same song. Bee gestured for Mirage to talk. Clearly he wanted to know.

This was as good a time as ever to spill, he guessed.

Mirage groaned and clasped both of his servos over his face after explaining the bones of it, his head tilted upwards, optics fruitlessly searching the water-stained warehouse ceiling for a solution to his problem. His… very human, very embarrassing problem.

Not that he thought you were embarrassing— not at all, never. But Prime would have his head over falling for a human. Okay, well, maybe not his head; it was more like Mirage would be in for a lengthy disapproving speech about responsibilities and goals and distractions, and Primus, just thinking about it made the former option of decapitation the preferable one. Even though he seemed to approve of his choice, considering what he’d said earlier, the ‘Bots were still at war, and there wasn’t time for human distractions. Literal human distractions.

It wasn’t like he could help it. You were funny, okay? And smart. And you teased him in just the right way that made his cooling fans sputter, and you were so curious about… everything about him, he thought, remembering your impromptu Cybertronian anatomy lesson with a hot flash in his processor. He couldn’t help but be flattered by your attention.

“Ugh, Bee, I don’t know what to do, man,” he said despairingly after a moment, pacing in circles in front of said squat yellow bot leaned against the nearby concrete wall. “I mean, look at this, she’d be missin’ out if she said no,” he added, arrogance staining his words in an attempt to console himself. It didn’t work; insecurity eviscerated his bravado moments after he said it. “Or… I guess we’d both be, huh.” A short, self-deprecating laugh left him.

Mirage wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come to Bee of all bots for advice, but he was sure as shit not going to Optimus after today, and Arcee would have just told him anyway. Plus, considering that Wheeljack wasn’t even in the country at the moment, his options were slim. Besides, Bee had… experience with this sort of thing. Dealing with humans and all. Just… not in this way. But it was close enough, and Mirage was totally lost; if he thought about it by himself for any longer, his processors were going to fry.

Speaking of, Bee tittered through his gutted voice synthesizer to get Mirage’s attention. Expression drawn into a very human grimace, Mirage turned to face his friend, servos planted firmly on his hips.

“Well, you gotta tell her— wanna know what love is— want you to show me,” Bee’s radio clipped, first from a talk show, then from a nearby station, and Mirage felt energon surge to his face in a hot rush at a very personal song being blared back at him.

He had the words memorized at this point. The shape of them was practically burned into his memory files, considering how much he played it for you. It was reserved for days on both ends of the spectrum, bad and good; Mirage would pick you up in his alt-mode and take you for joyrides across the city, flying over the Brooklyn Bridge at daredevil speeds, all the while blaring music loud enough to make your head pound.

The two of you had discovered a few favorites, but the Foreigner song was at the top of the list, right next to Careless Whisper, of course. The sound of your voice belting at the top of your lungs, softened with that specific human accent, thrumming and reverberating through your chest— you sounded so alive, but so different from what he was accustomed to.

“Dude—” Mirage nearly barked, voice up a full octave before clearing his synthesizer into his fist and repeating himself. “Dude. I can’t just do that. Aliens— we’re aliens. Well. She’s an alien, too, I guess, but we,” he paused to gesture frantically between himself and Bee, “are the aliens here. I don’t really think humans are into the whole giant robot thing.”

“Noah?” Bee played a clip of Mirage’s own voice back at him questioningly.

“Yeah, well, Noah’s a different story.”

With a whir of his actuators, Bee shook his head and looked away for a moment, big blue optics considering the floor. With a soft clunk, he crossed his arms over his chassis.

“Come on, man, you gotta give me something,” Mirage urged, tilting his head to follow the other bot’s motions. “Should I just leave it? I mean, I don’t want it to be weird, I just—“

Bee straightened up off the wall, clearly done thinking. His arms opened out in a shrug and his optics squinted, communicating I don’t know what you want me to say, dude, far better than his vocal synthesizer ever could have.

His radio clipped again, this time a few seconds of a Beatles song and then Noah’s voice. “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah— right?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem,” Mirage groaned, rolling his head back with a pained expression and letting his body follow the motion as he paced another tight circle. His faceplates felt hot at the insinuation. “And if I ask, it’s gonna be weird. And if I make it weird, I’m never gonna—“

He stopped rambling when a four-digit servo thumped on the headlight atop his shoulder, rooting him to the spot. Bee’s optics stared him down, wide and bright blue, and it made Mirage press his lips together firmly as he awaited whatever sage advice he was about to impart.

ABBA filtered through the radio first. “Should walk right up to her and say—“ What came next made Mirage’s brow ridges shoot up so high he thought they were going to fly off his helmet. “—when I get that feeling, I want sexual healin’!”

Mirage’s jaw dropped. Immensely flustered and ten times more frustrated at his friend’s useless advice, he shoved the other bot off. “Are you serious, dude? Primus, I never shoulda asked you. Thanks, I’ll go walk right up to her and ask to interface on the warehouse floor, that’ll go super well.”

Bee nodded quickly and gave him a double thumbs up with a series of approving beeps and chirps, the bottoms of his optics flattening into an amused look. Mirage dragged his servo down his faceplates in mortification, although his cooling fans kicked on a click higher than normal.

Sometimes he wished he’d been left on Cybertron with Soundwave and all his other goons. This was one of those times. As he dropped back into his alt-mode with an embarrassed mumble about ‘going on patrol,’ Bee whooped behind him, and the last thing Mirage heard before peeling out of the warehouse was “There’s nothin’ wrong with me lovin’ you, baby, no, no!”

Whoever gave Bee access to Marvin Gaye needed to be whacked upside the helm.

Knowing Mirage’s luck, it was probably you.

He stayed out for the rest of the night in his alt-mode, wandering the streets and staying away from your apartment, no matter how bad he wanted to go. The pool of people with any useful advice to offer for his predicament was steadily shrinking; after the disaster with Bee, Mirage just needed to stay away from that warehouse and let his processors cool.

Sometime in the morning he returned, though not to the warehouse. He almost immediately crashed into stasis as soon as he rolled into Noah’s garage, his simultaneously pent-up and exhausted processors eager for a chance to refresh themselves and defrag.

Ha, he thought blearily as he sank into stasis. Defrag.

You were waking as he was crashing, though you weren’t happy about it. The eight hour shift that loomed ahead of you on top of the bullshit from last night was a pretty potent combination for a headache of a day, especially when you couldn’t have your morning jam sesh with Mirage on your way to work. Thankfully, though, your roommate was a kind soul, and there was an extra cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter when you stumbled out of your bedroom.

As you sipped it, you wondered just how long you could keep the front up. By some small grace of God, your roommate’s schedule didn’t align very well with yours; you barely saw them in your daily life even before you met Mirage. It wasn’t on purpose, of course. It just happened that way. But on a few occasions, they’d been home when Mirage had dropped you off, and you’d been just calling him a ‘friend with places to be’ to excuse the fact that he never walked you to your door. Being somewhat prescient, they’d nudged you a couple times about this ‘friend’ turning into a boyfriend, but had never pushed it.

You just hoped it stayed that way.

Breakfast was a quick and quiet affair, though you traded a few jokes back and forth that had the both of you giggling into your food. The ride to your job was similar, and your roommate wished you a good shift before driving off leisurely — such a stark difference compared to Mirage’s affinity for peeling off into the street at Mach-fucking-10. Thinking of him made your face burn and your mind race. You tried not to.

Time was an especially cruel mistress today, though. You swore that people were actively winding the clocks back every time you looked up at them, and your shift felt like a thick slog, knee-deep, that you had no choice but to wade through. The worst part about slow shifts was that your mind wandered with nothing else to do, and like a moth to a flame— or rather, like metal to a magnet, your brain circled around to Mirage again and again and again.

Damn that bot. Damn it all. Every time you thought of him, it was some stupid joke he’d cracked or silly offhand comment he’d made or ridiculous flirt he’d lobbed your way — always accompanied by memories of his body, surprisingly lithe considering what he was made of, all legs and a dramatic waist topped with wide shoulders that made your own engine purr.

“Mirage, did you go upstate or something? You’re disgusting,” you’d laughed as you raked your gaze over his pecs, pretending to eye the dirt smeared there and not something else.

“Disgusting?! You gotta be kidding me, I’m not half as bad as the rest of ‘em. You should see Bee, dude!” He’d gestured out the door of the warehouse, where you assumed the other bot was lurking in dirt-covered shame.

“What the hell were you two even doing?”

“Pfft. Practicin’.”

“Practicing body-slamming each other?”

“Yeah, want me to show you?”

“Mirage,” you’d groaned, laughing despite yourself.

“C’mon, I know a few good ways to pin a bot down,” he grinned, winking at you. You fixed him with the most dead stare you could muster before breaking into a half-smile of your own.

“I’ll pass on the whole getting crushed thing, but I could be persuaded to spray you down by hand,” you flirted back, just for fun. 

No, not for fun. Real flirt. It was real, all of it was, and you couldn’t shake the memory of his optics widening, brightening, with eagerness and the way he’d pleaded. Playfully. Playfully?

“Please,” he begged dramatically, clasping his servos together, optics enormous. “I’ll be good! Maybe even stay still!”

You pinched your nose bridge between your fingers and tried to think about something else, because you were starting to press your thighs together a little and you were still at work, damn it. Professionalism was something you were aiming to maintain.

Hot. It was hot. That’s what you were thinking about. You’d glanced at the weather report earlier in the morning, and seeing a row of little sun icons clued you in on an insufferable heatwave that didn’t have any intention of breaking any time soon. Even now you felt sweat collect under your shirt and dot your hairline; all you could do was wipe your face with the back of your hand and keep working.

And working.

And working.

And. Working.

And then, eventually, you watched the clock tick over the last minute of your shift, and you heard angels sing a holy choir as you all but slammed your things down and sprinted to clock out. Well. You didn’t sprint, but you did speed walk, which counted for something.

Such was your haste to leave your workplace and talk to Mirage that you speed-walked headfirst into the lashing rain outside without a second thought. Genuinely caught by surprise, you stumbled back into the safety of the entryway, eyes wide as you watched the storm front swallow the last dregs of the golden evening sky and pour rain on the streets outside. Ink blots bleeding across paper. Rorschach tests. Some other poetic fluff came to mind over the supremely annoying realization that you were going to have to walk to the garage in wet clothes.

At least it was a quick walk.

Patience waning, you nearly considered calling Mirage — or even Noah — to come get you, but at the last second your roommate swooped in, pulling up outside and honking the horn a few times to let you know your knight in shining Prius was here to rescue you.

They cracked a few jokes at your expense when they saw your wet clothes, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Not after the trials and tribulations of Mirage. With a few clicks, the rest of your ride home was filled with Boyz II Men and intermittent conversation as you watched raindrops race each other down the window and considered what the hell you were going to say to Mirage tonight. 

Mostly, you were dying of curiosity to know what Prime had meant to get him so flustered. Thinking about that, though, just made you go down a spiral of what-ifs… especially considering that one of them was ‘What if he feels the same way?’

You could handle rejection. You were an adult who paid taxes. But just this one time, you weren’t sure if you could handle reciprocation. Especially full reciprocation.

Mirage’s friendship was something you felt privileged to have. You were just quite scared to fuck it all up and lose out on all the things that made being his friend worth it — including him. Jaw tightening, you blinked and looked away from the window. No use stewing in it.

At home, your dinner was quick and light — something in a Tupperware that you didn’t look at too hard after microwaving. When your roommate asked about your rush, you came up with some lame excuse about hanging out with Noah, waving your hand dismissively.

Don’t worry about me. I’m going to go break Hynek’s scale of close encounters. Don’t worry about it though.

“In this weather? You’ll be soaked thirty seconds out the door. You were soaked thirty seconds out the door.”

“I’ll bring an umbrella,” you said, barely listening to them over the cacophony of your own thoughts. Mirage. Mirage. Mirage. I’m seeing him tonight. I’m talking to him tonight. I’m not going to pussy out of anything tonight. Now or never. “The place is like two blocks up the street, I’ll live.”

“If you’re so inclined to catch a cold, I’m not gonna stop you. Not making you chicken soup, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you snarked affectionately, and the last thing you heard before exiting your apartment was their familiar laughter. That bolstered you somewhat.

Even if the rain whipping at your face made you reconsider your stupid horny stubbornness.

Only two blocks felt more like two dozen as you tucked your chin to your chest and gripped your hood to keep the wind from snatching it off your head; in your other hand you white-knuckled your umbrella to keep it from tilting the wrong angle and washing water down your back. Thunder rattled your bones more than once and made you think offhandedly of Kris, the poor kid. He hated storms but refused to admit it out of pride; he was probably curled up in a ball under his covers right now trying to block out the worst of the noise. And you thought of Noah alongside him just out of pure association, and you weren’t sure what made your stomach turn, but it did.

God, you hoped Noah wasn’t with Mirage right now. You didn’t want to slam the door open to the garage soaking wet and wrestle Mirage’s true feelings out of him while Noah spectated. Wrestle. Soaking wet.

Fuck my life.

The side door to the garage was jammed like it always was, even after you unlocked it, and you huddled against it to stay under the mediocre cover of the awning as you shoved your shoulder into it to force it open. Old metal hinges wailed as you ground them open, and the blessed dry warmth of the garage — the temperature always heightened with Mirage’s presence — sighed against your freezing skin as you wormed your way inside. 

“Mirage?” you called tentatively as you leaned back against the door to get it to shut and latch. A beat passed before your senses came to you and your hand fumbled behind you to lock it. Not for sordid reasons, honestly. You just didn’t want anyone to even have the chance of walking in on Mirage when he wasn’t folded into a Porsche.

Speaking of, you saw him then, pacing around the garage and seemingly very involved in a conversation with himself. Although the rain outside provided a dull roar of background noise, the whirs and clicks of his actuators and soft whooms of his pedes against the concrete filled your ears with their familiarity. It was Mirage, and you knew Mirage, and it helped dull the edge of abject nervousness in your gut.

He cut a sharp figure under the hanging ceiling lights, making sure to duck and avoid smacking his helm on them. When those bright blue optics registered your existence, you swore they flared with delight; he said your name with such enthusiasm it almost made you excited. For what, exactly, you didn’t know. “Hey, sugar, what’s k— Primus, you, uh, swim on your way here? Or do I just make you that wet? Cuz I appreciate the compliment.” He grinned wolfishly at you. Sparks flew off your rubbed-raw nerves.

The unimpressed stare you gave him was lethal. “That is not how that works,” you said, shaking your umbrella off on the floor and setting it against the wall to drip dry. “All the wetness is— would be in one place, dumbass.”

“Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention during my anatomy lessons. Wanna reteach ‘em to me? I’ll behave, swear on my spark.”

A scoff. “When have you ever behaved in your life?”

“When it counts! C’mon, you know you like it,” he said, gesturing down the length of his body with a flourish of his servo. “I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

“If I answer that question, I’ll hurt your feelings.” Excess rainwater dripped off your jacket as you peeled it off. Mirage’s optics followed the motion intently.

Amber lighting nearly glowed against the sleek metal of his torso. So what if your own eyes had wandered down it at his emphasis? He’d invited it. Expressly. He loved your attention, loved flaunting everything about himself just for a glance his way from you, for anything you’d give him.

It took him a second to register your words. He gasped and clasped a servo over his chassis— his spark, you remembered that from your own anatomy lesson a few weeks ago. “Gonna break my spark talkin’ like that. I hurt your feelings or something, sugar? What’s got you so bent?” With his question, he sank into a deep squat, draping his forearm over his thigh and leaning close to you.

A deep exhale left you. Your shoulders deflated. “It’s not you. Just the weather.” A short huff of a laugh, barely humorous, left you. “I mean, look at me.” You held your arms out and spun in a slow circle, errant droplets flying in every direction. “I look like a drowned rat.”

The lightbulb over his head was nearly visible. “You, uh, want a hand drying off?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your hands fell to your sides. Something akin to lightning danced up your spine.

“What?”

“Hold on, hold on, I got an idea,” he said,  holding his hand out at you to tell you to wait, excitement ramping up in his voice. What the hell was he planning? Nothing good, you figured. Or hoped.

Otherwise harsh sounds of metal against metal were softened by the alien chirrs and trills of the mechanical viscera working in his chassis as he settled on the ground in a sitting position. His back was leaned against the wall, carefully adjusted so his darling paint job was away from the rough concrete. To keep his balance, he rested against his tires and scooched his hips away from the wall, kicking his long legs out with a flourish and gesturing at his lap.

Although he was shorter this way, it was still a climb you didn't want to make while you were damp and the general slip hazard was high. “Can you give me a lift so I can see whatever shit you’re planning?”

“I got you, sugar, don’t even worry about it. Just hang on,” came the reply, and your brain blanked just a little at the feeling of his servos on you again, picking you up just like they had done on that night two weeks ago. With zero effort — seriously, you didn’t even hear any mechanical creaking — you were scooped upwards.

Your damp clothes clung to your body, a fact both you and Mirage were painfully aware of; the chill of the soaked fabric contrasted against that fascinating living heat of your skin nearly made the sensors in his servos short-circuit. He’d thought about this, exactly this, so much that it had probably worn a path into his neural processors. So soft. You were so soft.

A shudder ran up his spinal strut and he prayed you didn’t notice.

You were set down with your feet firmly on the flat tops of his thighs, ignoring the slight wobble in your knees. Arms raised a bit for balance, you looked down at the living machinery beneath you. The flight paths of the butterflies in your stomach grew more frantic. Broad servos released you from their hold, but they didn’t leave; no, they skated down, down, down until they settled on the flare of your hips and stayed. They were so heavy.

A breath caught in your throat like a wild animal in a trap. “If I fall, I’m gonna be so pissed off. You know that, right?” Anything to make this more normal. You had no idea how you kept the shake out of your voice.

“Relaaax, hot stuff, I’m on it. I got it, I got it,” he replied, his voice a full octave lower than what you were used to. “‘sides, I’m Mirage, remember? Protecting humans is kinda my thing.”

You scoffed. “Not with the way you drive.”

“Hey, I drive perfectly fine! You’re the one who’s scared of fun.” His servos left your hips to brace themselves on the floor. “Mirage, don’t drive so fast! Mirage, that’s a red light! Mirage, there are cops behind us!” His voice pitched up into something high and nasally to poorly, poorly mimic yours.

It was your turn to be affronted, though your mouth was open in a disbelieving sort of smile. “I don’t even sound like that, you fucker! And sorry for trying to keep us from getting arrested!”

“I dunno, you all sorta sound the same to our audio processors.” He was lying, and blatantly so. He had the distinct tone and pitch of your voice memorized down to the wavelength. “And besides, we wouldn’t get arrested.” His own voice took on a smug, self-satisfied edge, accompanied by the raise of his brow ridges.

“Oh, really? Why’s that? Please, enlighten me,” you snarked, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down. In response, he leaned his head in, closer to you, closer than you expected, and an insufferable smirk crawled across his faceplates.

“Cuz cop cars can’t drive that fast,” he whispered conspiratorially, like it was a clever response.

What should have been a minute movement — just a shift of the head — actually became very noticeable on a twelve-foot-frame; his hips repositioned of their own accord to account for the redistribution of weight, and the change was enough to trip you up. Especially when you had been leaning in already to match his movement.

The world tilted as you started to fall forward; fearing injury or worse by tumbling off your semi-precarious perch, you jammed your hands out in front of you—

And slammed your palms directly on his chassis. It was all very fast after that. Mortified, you stared down at the planes of metal beneath you, feeling heat creep up, up, up your neck and seep into your face. Mirage had cursed above you out of surprise, and you felt the displacement of air as his servo shot up behind your back and hovered. Right there. He was right there, and he always would be.

You raised your head and made eye contact, and you knew it was over. His optics were wide with surprise, and they searched your face for any expression of pain or discontent. They cycled once, seeing none, and then flickered down to your lips.

He was so done for. Something in his expression sagged at your proximity; in his field of view, he saw an alert stating that his internal temperature was rising beyond ideal levels, and he would have laughed if not for you. Finally. Finally. Finally. He was half-expecting this to be a dream, something cooked up by his fried processors that he would wake up from any minute now. 

His servo was still hovering over your back.

“Can I—“

“Yes,” you said immediately in a sharp exhale — before he could even get the question out — and there it all went.

He surged forward like a flood from a dam, closing the distance between the both of you with a hungry rev of his engine. Explaining the logistics of it would sound silly; all you could do was go with the flow, just like every other time you’d ever kissed someone. All you knew was that it was satisfying, supremely so, and completely encompassing. Every sense was filled by him, and you realized with a kick of your heart that you never wanted it any other way.

Though your hand shook, you shoved past the fear and indulged in everything you had wanted for weeks, let yourself sink deep into that pit of want and refused to come up for air. Your fingers skated his curves and edges; you brought your palm up to the sharp angles of his jaw and smoothed it upward until it ran over the curve of his cheek.

He reacted to your touch like it was a live wire. Minute jerks of excitement ran through his frame, and when your hand rested on the side of his face, he tilted his helm into the kiss with barely restrained excitement. He was so careful, it made something inside you purr. That kind of caution was only reserved for something precious. You were precious. He couldn’t ever risk hurting you. Especially not by his own hand.

First impression was that his lips were far softer than you’d ever assumed. Pliable, hot metal pressed greedily against your mouth — more, more, more was a mantra echoed wordlessly between the both of you. The hovering servo came to rest on your back, pushing your front against his chassis as you shifted up on your toes to keep the angle of the kiss correct. Digits splayed against the planes of skin they found there, pressing down to feel your warmth — your heart slammed against your ribs so hard that Mirage could probably feel it against his palm.

With a hot flash, you wondered if the metal of his lips would bear the dent of your teeth from a bite. So you bit. It was more of a playful nip than anything, but the reaction you got was so instantaneous it was like Mirage had been waiting for it. Again, his engine throttled, the powerful rumble surging through you as his servo pinned you to his chassis. Against your mouth, his lips ticked up into a smile.

Air. You needed air. He let you pull away with no resistance, though his head did trail after your mouth for a moment.

You let your forehead sink down and rest against the top of his chassis for a moment; the condensation from your breath fogged the metal. Out of nowhere, manic giggles erupted from you. They shook your body incessantly as you rose and fell in time with Mirage’s heavy vents, your knees feeling weak and mind frazzled. From one kiss. One.

Laughter rocked his frame too, short chuckles of disbelief as his thumb rubbed circles into your back.

“Oh my god,” you murmured into the warm metal beneath you through shocks of giggles.

“Not exactly, but, eh, I’ll take it,” Mirage replied above you, and while he laughed at his own joke, you groaned and whacked him lightly with a palm. It wasn’t like he was unaffected though — far from it, in fact, judging from the steadily heating chassis beneath you and the tinge of static fringing his words.

“Bring me up,” you said hoarsely, twisting an arm behind you to paw at the servo on your back.

Without question, his other servo came up and curled under your thighs, hoisting you up so that his face was easier to reach. With most of your body now resting on his chassis and very much secured in his grip, you grasped his face in both your palms; he leaned so far into your touch with a shaky ex-vent that your noses almost brushed.

“Again?”

“Yeah, again,” he agreed, and this time you pulled him in, fingers hooking in some unseen seam behind his jaw as you crushed your mouth against his. Hunger, latent and now finally triggered, drove you closer, as close as you physically could, until your skin was starting to hurt from the random edges being pressed into it.

Curious above all else, you licked your tongue into the front of his mouth. The searing heat inside surprised you; it teetered on the edge of uncomfortable and reminded you very much of your computer at home when it ran for too long, with that special kind of mechanical stress and burning warmth that only came with overworked processors.

“‘S like that, is it?” he murmured into your mouth with a grin, his engine kicking up a notch and the vibration of his chassis hitting you very nicely right where you needed it most. You made some soft noise, half-gasp, half-groan, and hiked one of your legs up so it was bent at the knee, flattening your hips against his chest and fuck, there it was. The consistent rumble of his motor pressed a steady vibration right into your cunt over the seam of your jeans; a particular grind made you gasp and falter as you rolled your clit against the line of denim and held it there.

“Whoa-ho-ho! Heyyy, hot stuff, something feel good down there?” His voice was bursting at the seams with some rich kind of excitement; you breathed into his neck cabling as your hips jerked a little against his chassis. One servo pawed at your ass, clumsy with its eagerness, gripping and massaging the soft flesh it found there with intent.

Experimentally, his servo pressed down, pushing your pelvis down with it, and the pressure on your clit pulled a groan of satisfaction out of you that had his cooling fans sputter.

“Fuck,” you hissed through gritted teeth, and before he could say something stupid, you leaned your head down and pressed kisses to the delicate cabling of his neck.

A delighted noise rattled out of him, and his helm rolled back against the wall to allow you more access. Impatient, your kisses soon turned to bites, playful nips that tugged at the sensitive wiring and made his body jolt beneath yours like he’d been shocked. To your utter delight, you found that Mirage’s proclivity for talking extended to situations like these, too — noises streamed from his mouth as your curious teeth and hands worked over such a fragile part of his anatomy in ways that only a human could.

“Oh, Primus, babe, babe—“ he stammered out, and you lifted your head for just long enough of a window to allow him to swoop down and kiss you again, feverishly now.

Something thick and wet prodded past your teeth experimentally. For just a second you balked— and then remembered it was his glossa. His tongue. Yeah, you remembered that from your anatomy lesson; he’d stuck it out and pointed at it in a dumb way then, but fuck if it didn’t have your thighs tightening now. The hot biomesh probed your mouth, and it was so big you inadvertently drooled around it — but Mirage didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, you were pretty sure the spit dripping from your mouth around him was getting him even more worked up, judged by the way his digits tightened their grip on your ass.

You had been cold when you’d walked in that garage. Keyword there was had. Now your skin seared with a deep flush and steadily increasing heat; mindlessly, your hips started a slow, staccato rhythm that kept your breathing heavy. The servo on your back slid upwards to the point where it encompassed the back of both your neck and head. He could not get enough of your taste. He wanted it burned into the sensors on his glossa, for all he cared. Spit and lubricant swapped between the both of your mouths — you found that the metallic taste that seeped into your tongue did nothing but turn you on further.

Pulling away again for a deep inhale of air, you propped yourself semi-awkwardly on an elbow to look at him. Open adoration was written across his faceplates, along with blatant want that made his optics cycle frantically.

“I thought you were— fuck, I thought you were supposed to be drying me off,” you said, breaking in the middle of your sentence as his servo carefully started to move you. Just barely — just enough pressure to keep your hips working against him and chasing your pleasure.

“You really wanna?” He grinned at you, spit shiny on his chin. “I dunno about you, but I think I’m likin’ you being wet more.”

“You’re awful. That was terrible,” you laughed, brain foggy with arousal and general swelling affection for the bot underneath you.

“How many more of those you got left in you before you start admitting the truth that I’m the funniest bot you’ll ever meet?”

“I mean, you don’t exactly have stiff competition.”

“Aaand the best-looking.”

“I dunno… Optimus is kind of—“

“Hey!” he interrupted, bringing you up for another kiss to silence your thought before you could finish it. You happily complied, laughing into the heat of his mouth and then moaning in the same breath as his servo ground you down against his rumbling chassis again.

Hot. You were getting really hot. The damp clothes sticking to your skin were not helping; in fact, they felt as though they were going to start steaming being pressed against your skin like this. Against your wishes, you pulled backwards again, bracing yourself against the warm vents that substituted for his collarbones. They cycled hot, dry air against your fingertips, though it didn’t burn. Not yet, at least.

“Mirage,” you breathed, and that got his attention immediately. “…Are we fucking?”

“Please,” he instantly replied, so eager that it made your cunt throb. His enormous blue optics watched you with such intent that it almost made you want to shrink away from the scrutiny — but you steeled your resolve. You had him, and you had him right where you wanted. Opportunity of a fucking lifetime. You were not about to waste it.

You glanced down for a reprieve from the eye contact. “Fuck,” you swore softly, staring at the metalwork beneath you for a few heartbeats before shaking your head and glancing back upwards at him. “Okay, well— I— Okay. Let me just— do this—“

Hands shaking slightly, you balled your fists in the hem of your work shirt and wrestled it up and off you; the damp fabric lingered and peeled off of you, which made Mirage’s motor throttle powerfully underneath you. Other than that, though, you got no reaction, which made all that heat in your abdomen cool rapidly into a dense ball of abject horror.

Oh, you made a mistake. This was too much, you were too alien, too different—

The servo not supporting you against his chassis slid around from the planes of your back to your front, and you gasped sharply as he did the same fucking thing that drove you insane the first time, however many days ago. His thumb, warm on the palm-side, gently passed over the peak of your chest. His optics narrowed in on the indent in your soft flesh his digit created. Nerve endings in the trail it left behind sparked.

“Oh, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” he said reverently, voice steeped in a combination of awe and victory.

Oh-kay! You sucked a deep breath in, a litany of responses running through your head. The boost to your ego was very much appreciated, and it helped lighten the sinking mass of worry that had formed in the pit of your stomach.

Mirage nearly groaned when you placed your soft palm atop the junction of his digit and the heel of his servo. “Do it again,” you decided on, and that worked damn well.

As his servo groped at your chest, he leaned in, tucking his face under your jaw. To accommodate, you tilted your head up and away—

Only to swear into negative space as he very much returned the favor from earlier and began carefully sucking the world’s biggest hickeys into the skin of your neck. Breaths came harsh and choppy as the expanse of his glossa, hot and spit-slick, laved over the gentle bites he worried into your skin with his denta. 

“Ah, Mirage, Mirage,” you breathed; every mention of his name spilling from your bruised lips made his circuitry heat just a little more. It was so much all at once — his servos were so broad that their expanse covered huge swaths of skin at once, and his mouth on such a sensitive part of your anatomy wasn’t helping either. Your hands clawed for purchase against his helm and the back of his neck. One palm flattened as much as it could on the back of his head, trying with all of your laughable human strength to bring him as close as possible. The other ended up cradling the side of his head, your thumb brushing over the audial disk there. With no small amount of wonder, you watched the plates of his back ruffle at your touch.

Mirage wasn’t trying to be weird, but he could die happy so long as he had the taste of your skin still registering on his glossa. It was more addictive than any high-grade he’d had back home by leagues. That human flavor of salt and skin and some kind of sweetness had his processors thrumming at maximum capacity; you made his mouth flood with lubricant, a fact you could corroborate by the amount that spilled over your bare sternum. The feeling of his own spit sliding down your front between your bruised breasts made the muscles of your abdomen twitch. Fingers shaped like claws now, you pressed weak kisses against the smooth curves of his helm wherever you could reach.

Your jeans were just getting in the way at this point. The minute shocks of pleasure you derived from grinding your clit against the inseam were just that — minute. You needed something more now or you were going to get frustrated, and you’d dealt with enough sexual frustration over the past weeks to be very sick of that feeling.

“Oh, fuck, okay— Mirage,” you said breathlessly, giving him a light tap on the side of his helm to get his attention. Reluctantly, he pulled away from your chest, optics dimmed with pleasure. They cycled once and returned to their full brightness as he cleared the fog of arousal — barely — away from his processors.

“All systems go, sugar?” Static hissed underneath his words.

You tried and failed to stifle a snort of a laugh. “Corny ass,” you mumbled, although you were absolutely close enough for his audial sensors to pick up on it. He made a sound of indignation, but you pushed forward regardless. “I, um, I need to get these off.” Hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your jeans to emphasize your point, you glanced up at his optics again.

Blankness for a second. Then it registered. “Oh, right, right, of course, haha! You, uh, want help? Or you got it?”

“I think I can manage taking my pants off,” you laughed. “Just— let me sit on like— the top of your chest, there we go,” you instructed, and the hand under your ass pushed you up until you were turned around and seated on the lip of the top of his chassis. For a second, you wrestled with the denim — still not fully dried — but you managed to kick both your jeans and your shoes off. They were thrown somewhere in the direction of the door. God, you were so glad you locked it.

Underwear went next. There was a beat of hesitation — for what, you weren’t sure — but like you’d done so often as of late, you just ignored your trepidation and worked the elastic down your legs. A laugh barked out of you when you lifted the fabric up and saw the downright ridiculous wet spot that stained the gusset.

“Jesus Christ, look what you did to me,” you said with a faux accusatory tone, holding your panties out for Mirage to inspect. Two digits delicately took them from you; he held them up to his face, so close that it made you blush from sheer embarrassment.

“Wow. You weren’t kiddin’ ‘bout all the wet being in one spot, huh?” He examined them with no small amount of fascination, much to your mortification.

“Mirage! Put those down, oh my god,” you said, covering your mouth with a choked noise.

“What, I can’t admire my work?”

“No you can not.”

Mirage pouted at your denial, and mumbled something about you being no fun, but he still lifted you off his chassis regardless. Like he was helpless to your draw, he pulled you in for another kiss, though he couldn’t stop his mouth from wandering. Down, down, down, until his nose was nestled in your chest and he spoke into the soft flesh of your stomach. Shaky ex-vents tickled the damp skin there.

“Shit, baby, tastes so good,” he mumbled, and you were impressed by his ability to sound completely sex-drunk without even having done anything yet.

Your hips rolled against nothing; they bumped into his neck cabling and the top of his chassis fruitlessly, and a noise of frustration eked out of you. Mirage seemed to get the memo and pulled you away. Your body was brought down until your ass was sat firmly on his hips — his interface panel nestled right in front of your dripping cunt — and your back was leaned up against the flat support of his thighs; his knees were tucked up and his pedes placed firm and flat on the floor to give you the most stability. Fumbling for a second before you found somewhere to place your own feet, the enormity and absurdity of the situation brought more of those breathless giggles to your mouth that seized your chest and shook your shoulders.

Toootally breaking Hynek’s scale here. So beyond abduction. Way beyond abduction.

A few careful digits slipped around your knee, wormed their way between your legs. “Can I—“ 

Your thighs fell open without a word.

What had made you fall for Mirage the hardest was his motormouth. He never stopped talking; he always had something stupid to add, something to pitch in with, some silly joke to crack. There was a lightness he teased out of you that even you didn’t expect. But now? Now, for once, he was speechless. It made uncharacteristic shyness flare in your gut and heat your face as he studied your very bare, very human form with slightly parted lips and enormous optics.

His body caught up before his mouth did. The servo on your knee slid over it until it gripped your bare thigh; he watched the flesh shift back and forth under his touch with no small amount of fascination.

“Is it— it’s okay?” Your voice sounded very small. It was a special kind of insecurity to be faced with.

“Oh, yeah, it’s okay. It’s cool, you’re just— just different. A lot different.” He jiggled your thigh again playfully.

“Good kind of different though, right?”

“Very good.” To punctuate it, his engine snarled again, seemingly in response to the drool of your cunt on the hot metal of his interface panel. “Primus, you look good, babe. Shit.”

Ego boost! You smiled. Any other partner — any person — and this would be too much, this position too unflattering, your everything too open… With Mirage, though, it just felt like it always did. Easy.

One of your hands rested atop the servo still holding onto the meat of your thigh. The other slid down over your shining chest, passed over your stomach and pubic mound, and brushed past wiry hair, shiny with slick, in order to slide a finger up your folds. A whine ripped its way out of you at direct contact with your clit after mere heavy petting, and you couldn’t stop yourself from drawing tight circles with your fingers and twitching your hips forward to eke out more of that delicious pressure.

The servo on your thigh dug into your skin. Mirage’s vents became far heavier at the open display of your arousal; it has always been him vying for your attention. Now that it was the other way around, he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Transfluid was seeping between the seams of his interface panel, joining your own fluids in a shiny pool that sent sparks up his struts. He made you like this, made you so wet you dripped, made your clit swollen enough to be visible, made your cunt tight with heat and Primus, he needed you on his spike so bad, he thought he might die without it.

He verbalized these thoughts with an unintelligible noise of adoration.

It was enough encouragement for you to slide down from your clit and venture two fingers into yourself. Zero friction. They glided. Christ, when was the last time you were this wet? You’d slept with a handful of people, especially in your first couple years of college, but you’d never been soaked like this. Mirage’s cooling fans choked at the sight of your fingers vanishing into you. His thumb dug into the crease of your thigh and hip as he leaned just a little closer to watch.

Very little time passed before it devolved into your fingers working inside your walls, crooking against that one spot that made your breath hitch and hips jump. Mindlessly, you ground against your palm, catching your clit on the heel of your hand with a sweet moan that nearly shorted out his processors. He had to hear that again. Without thinking, he moved his servo over, resting the digits on your lower stomach and gently, gently nudging the heel of your hand out of the way to replace it with his thumb.

“Ah!” spilled from your lips at the insistent, broad pressure of his thumb, and your hips jerked against it, working your fingers that much deeper. Tears pricked at your eyes from pure sensation. “Mirage, mmm, just— just rub, up and down— or circles, just move, I don’t ca—are,” you floundered, the last word breaking as he did as he was told, carefully sliding his thumb up and down on the bead of your clit and sending twinges of searing pleasure up your spine.

You found quickly that just your fingers weren’t enough. Not when the reminder of his servo lay heavily on your lower stomach, tips of his digits digging into the soft fat there insistently. Although you were loath to part with your hand, you pulled your fingers out with a sigh. Mirage froze, optics flicking to your shiny hand as you spread your fingers, examining the strings of fluid that connected them with a far-off feeling of pride.

“Sugar, you’re killin’ me here,” he groaned, and you saw, for one endearing second, a puff of actual steam rise from the vents near his shoulders as he ex-vented harshly.

“Okay, well, here,” you said, unable to come up with anything clever with the purr of arousal in your cunt fanned by the heat of his interface plate and consistent, maddening rumble of his engine. Your hand, still shiny and wet with your fluids, grasped the top of his servo and gently pushed it downwards, until the tips of his digits rested against your drooling entrance. To fight the whimper that threatened to claw its way out of your throat, you nearly chewed a gash into the inside of your cheek. A gasp of an in-vent jolted his frame in awe.

“You sure? I mean— it’s cool?” His flustered stammering was so damn endearing; supreme affection for him swelled in your chest. 

“I’m sure. Just— just go slow.” His adoration was fueling your bravery. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you; if he did, it would never be intentional, and it would never be something he couldn’t fix.

He paused for a second before remembering the position of your own hand and flipping his servo so it was palm side up; you dragged a large enough breath in to balloon your lungs fully at the sight. Anticipation danced in the burn of your spread thighs. For a few seconds, it was just exploration; his digits slid over your silky folds, collecting the gathered slick with minute trembles. One delicious slide all the way up from entrance to clit had you gasping. Mirage silently thanked Primus above that your whole set-up was similar enough to his valve to know at least some of his way around it. It was just hotter. Wetter. Softer. So much softer.

“‘Raj, just— fuuuck,” you groaned out, your head rolling back as the tip of one digit sank into you, soon followed by the rest as it slid all the way to the base. Stars flickered behind your eyelids. The width matched the two fingers put together you’d just pulled out of yourself, though the texture was so wildly different to anything you’d ever put up there that it made your brain stutter for several moments as your nerve endings processed the feeling. The individual ridges and articulations of his knuckles dragged against the silk of your walls in a way that pulled the breath right out of you; your chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow breaths as your thighs twitched.

You were a mess. Mirage was in love. “Holy shit, baby, I get you this bad?” It was only partly teasing. “l— fuck, a second one good?”

“Good, yes, please.”

All thoughts were wiped clean from the forefront of your brain with the addition of a second digit. Slick noises and the sound of dripping fluids landing on metal and concrete filled your ears over the steadily climbing racket that Mirage’s entire body was making — his cooling fans competed with his engine to make the most noise, over top of the typical whirs and clicks that came with his motion. You couldn’t look, could only feel with your eyes squeezed shut as Mirage pumped both digits in and out, in and out, in and out. One arm was thrown up behind you, hooking loosely around his knee to ground you somewhere. The other was occupied: your hand clutched his wrist like a lifeline, white-knuckling it even as your sweaty palm slipped over the metal cuff. When his thumb returned to your clit, swirling clumsy but eager circles on top of it, that only contributed to the tight, hot coil building in your gut.

Mirage had half a mind to pop his interface panel right then and service himself, because the sight of you, shining with sweat and slick with his spit as you rode his digits, was almost too much to bear. The plush folds of your cunt, tight with arousal, were so soft against the hard planes of metal that comprised his servos; the contrast was short-circuiting him. Under his paneling, his spike was already pressurized. Had been for what felt like hours. Your ass was beginning to slide back and forth just a little due to the transfluid collecting underneath you; the rippling motion of your flesh was driving him insane. As were your walls, Primus, your walls that sucked greedily around his digits as they glided in and out of the tight ring of muscle that made up your entrance.

Your name left his lips in a groan that was an octave too high to be suave. The thought of your cunt clamping down on his spike — so soft, so hot, so wet — like it was doing on his digit had his hips rolling against nothing, working fruitlessly for friction they weren’t getting.

Sweat collected wherever skin touched skin. Condensation fogged wherever skin touched metal. The combination of his digits stretching you, curling in you when he realized what a dramatic reaction it incurred, and his thumb working your clit was getting to be too much. Heartbeat roaring in your ears like the rain outside, you clawed a grip into a seam in his leg and jerked your hips against his servo with breathy noises and gasps that you certainly wouldn’t be proud of later. For now, though, all it did was fuel Mirage’s ego and go straight to his spike.

Almost there. You were almost there, grinding your way towards it, sweat beading on your hot skin—

He pulled out. He pulled his digits out. A keen tore out of you at the loss of feeling, tears springing to your eyes as the hot edge you were so fucking close to fell away, your hips working unconsciously against a servo no longer there. With a gasp of a breath, you wrenched your eyes open, blinking away the collected tears and nearly baring your teeth at the bot beneath you — until you saw what he was doing.

In utter astonishment, you watched as the digits that were just inside you slid into his mouth, peeks of his glossa flashing as it worked them clean.

“Oh fuck,” you said before you could stop yourself. One of your hands slapped over your mouth; you tasted sweat and metal. His optics slid to you, lidded and cycling frantically as he processed your taste. A harsh ex-vent slumped his shoulders — the servo not preoccupied with his mouth clutched your hip like you were something precious.

“Sugar,” he breathed, static grating on the word. “Fuck, c’mere.”

Servos hefted you up, and you clutched onto them out of instinct as he helped you up to his face. Without thinking, you lunged forward to kiss, your tongue seeking out his glossa and tasting yourself with a resurging thrum of arousal. He cut it short, though, ignoring your protests as he cupped your ass in one servo and held you aloft. 

For a second, you stared at him in confusion. “What are you—“ Then it hit you. “Oh.” Your heart rate skyrocketed.

The grin stretching his faceplates was downright devious. “Hang onto something, wouldja? Not that you’re gonna fall. Just want you to enjoy the ride.” A short, heady chuckle rounded out his words.

“You’re insane— oh!” Your lighthearted scold was immediately interrupted by the press of your hips against his face and the slide of his slick glossa over the entirety of your sex. “Oh my fuck!” sobbed out of you as your upper body jackknifed over his helm. One arm curled around it with clawing fingers; the other slammed, palm flat, against the concrete wall.

A groan of satisfaction rumbled into your cunt as the taste of salt and sweat and girl bloomed on his glossa — just like earlier but so much stronger now. The proud line of his nose bumped your clit for a second before his glossa followed, narrowing so he could flick at it experimentally. Lubricant spilling from his mouth mixed with your own slick and ran down his chin; his cooling fans sputtered and spun weakly for a second as he pushed up further against your hips, malleable mesh drawing shapes between your clit and your hole.

Your fingernails scraped against the wall as your hips jerked of their own accord; the edge stolen from you earlier had very much returned, and the feeling of his faceplates sliding over the plush, soft skin of your inner thighs was doing something terrible to you.

“Mirage, ah, ah— I’m— fuck, fuck!” Broken syllables and curses streamed from your lips as a substitute for real words. When he closed his lips around your clit and sucked, it was over. It was so quick, embarrassingly quick. The orgasm that had been building suddenly snapped free and tore through you like a fucking hurricane, leaving spasming muscles and a wonderful endorphin afterglow in its wake. As you sobbed out his name, he slid two digits of his free servo back into you just to give you something to clamp down on, and it made tears spill down your burning cheeks from pure stimulus. Mirage drank you; he wanted nothing more than this, to swallow you down and leave your taste buzzing on his glossa like high-grade. Several thundering heartbeats later found you hunched over his helm as his glossa continued to work lazily against you, forcing twitches out of your thighs from pure overstimulation.

“Okay, okay,” you managed to croak, voice hoarse from weeping moans and boneless from what was probably one of the most insane finishes of your life. You tapped out weakly on the side of his helmet. Reluctantly, he pulled your pussy away from his face and cradled you in both servos, one noticeably damper than the other, in front of him.

His chin was shiny with you, his grin wide and completely self satisfied, and his optics dimmed with pleasure. If you were being honest, he’d never looked better, but in your frazzled state you weren’t sure if you had the capacity to string together enough words to form a compliment.

“I gotta say, compliments to the chef,” he hummed, and you stared at him, words not processing.

“Did you seriously— you just gave me head and that’s what you’re gonna say?”

“Uhh, yeah, babe. And I meant it.”

A genuine laugh shook you. “Oh my god. Ohhh my god. Okay. Well, put me back down there, you corny fuck,” you said with a gesture back at his hips.

“Oooh, keep sayin’ that. I’ll start thinkin’ you mean it.” Your body, errant trembles still running through it, was set carefully down back near its original position. This time, you sat in something closer to a straddle, back straight instead of leaning.

The garage air had gone from temperate and warm to fucking scorching. Outside, the rain droned on, occasional rumbles of thunder sounding so far away that they may as well have not been real. Your entire world had been compressed down to one point — a gravitational singularity in this garage, crushing space and time down until only bricks and concrete stood between you and the oblivion outside. All you knew was living metal and Mirage’s voice, trembling with excitement and fuzzy with static, and that was all you wanted to know. His chassis was making so much noise that you probably, under any other circumstance, would have been concerned; if he blew a gasket fucking you, though, you would wear that with pride.

Pure adoration reflected right back at you from his optics as his servos settled on your hips, his thumbs stroking your slick skin. Any concerns he had about Prime’s reaction to you, or to this — well, maybe not to this specifically, but to the both of you being together — were completely null and void in your presence; the reality of your soft weight in his lap was enough to short out his circuits.

Your hands slid down from the cooling fan in his abdomen spinning at maximum speed towards his soaked interface panel; glancing up at him demurely through your lashes, you spoke.

“You gonna let me return the favor?”

“Huh?” He broke out of his reverie. “Oh, right, um— yeah. Yeah, please.”

A smile crawled over your face at the reminder that despite all the poetic words you could come up with in your head, Mirage was still, and always would be, Mirage. Dazed already, he ran the subroutines to open his interface panel. Machinery shifted with a few clicks, and there was a hiss and an outpour of steam as his spike swung up before you, clearly aching for some kind of touch.

You heard more plates shifting lower, too, and out of curiosity peeked downward; something slick glowed lower down, but the nervous shifting of Mirage’s hips and his closed thighs obscured it from view.

Probably better to just focus on what’s in front of you. Your eyes roamed the length of his array first, your mouth going dry just at the size of it. It was bigger than any toy you owned, anyone you’d slept with, and bigger than his digits, too. Still, though… what were humans if not persevering?

And flexible?

You wrapped a hand around it right below the tip, and a full shudder lanced up Mirage’s frame; it was so thick that there was still space between your fingers and thumb left over. Transfluid, milky in consistency but pearlescent pink in color, spilled from the flared head. Curiosity overtook you, and you swiped a thumb up to catch an errant bead of it as it trailed down the side. The fluid was semi-oily, and smelled… fairly innocuous. Metallic, sure, but that came with the territory.

The array itself was as impressive as it was pretty. Like everything else about Mirage, it was fancy, mostly chrome with blue striping up the sides that led to a fully blue head. The biomesh it was made of — similar to his glossa — gently throbbed with alien pulses as you stared at it. Oh, that was hot. Why was that so hot?

Exploration in full was rewarded with soft noises spilling unbidden from Mirage’s lips, his hips twitching uncontrollably as you carefully slid your hand down from the tip to the base in one fluid motion, feeling the transfluid slick under your fingers. “Mmph, I— ah,” he choked out through gritted denta as you observed him.

Oh. Oh. The realization of the power you held over the big mech made a special kind of arousal thrum through you. Another slow pump had his hips jerk up once and a servo clamp over his mouth.

“This was not included in your anatomy lesson,” you said pointedly, a cheshire grin on your face as you hovered dangerously close to his spike. It throbbed in your grip, working another bead of transfluid out of the tip.

“Oh shit, babe,” he groaned, rolling his helm back against the wall. “Uh— hands— hands-on learning?” he offered weakly, unable to focus on anything other than the soft, damp skin of your palm around his spike.

He made the mistake of looking down as you let spit drool out of your bruised lips and spill over his spike for additional lube, and he snapped his optics shut to avoid from a spontaneous overload right there. The noises he made as you slid your tongue over the head were pitiful.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed, spinal struts clicking as they arched. Primus, was he seriously about to overload in your mouth? Your lips closed around the head and sucked lightly, and he yelped. A servo shot out and carefully grabbed your shoulder, though the tremors running through his digits told you of the restraint he was barely employing. A string of spit and transfluid connected your mouth to his spike as you lifted your head, and he had to force himself to look away for a second with that same servo clutched over his mouth to keep steady. “‘m not gonna last like that, you— can we just—“

“Fuck?”

“Primus, yes.”

“Yeah, we can. I guess.” Despite the leap of excitement in your stomach, you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t even start with that, c’mon,” he said fondly, one servo supporting you as you lifted yourself above his spike and stared down at it with no small amount of trepidation.

It looked a little more manageable from above, but working with something the size of your forearm would cool anyone’s heels, even if there was slick drooling down your inner thighs. Mirage’s servos settled heavy on your hips and you braced yourself on first his knees behind you, then his wrists as you tilted your pelvis to align your entrance as best you could. You sank. The head pressed insistently against your hole. Relax. Relax. Relax.

A deep breath filled your lungs, then whooshed out, deflating your shoulders. Unable to help himself, Mirage inched one of his servos over and ran his thumb through your folds, rolling over your clit and jolting your hips enough to slip the head inside. A long sigh of  “Fuuuuck.” was all that managed to come out of your mouth, your toes curling at the stretch and then the pop of the flared head sliding past your entrance.

Mirage’s entire frame trembled. His vents became shallow and sharp, and the tips of his digits clamped onto the soft meat of your hips desperately as the sensors on his spike reckoned with the realization of just how wet and warm humans really were. “Babe, babe, babe, shit,” he stammered out. “That’s— um, fuck, that’s good!” A weak laugh escaped him as his chin sank down to his chassis, cooling fans hiccuping from stress.

“Hold on, just hold on, I can… shit.” Sweat-dampened palms slid off his wrists for a second before you resituated yourself and leaned back a little, letting your upper back rest against his tucked up thighs. Whatever you were doing worked, because you sank further, and you thanked whatever god was listening that you’d already finished once, making your body quite boneless and that much easier to maneuver.

Mirage, on the other hand, was as taut as a fucking bowstring, made helpless to his own pleasure and completely powerless to you. His optics first scrunched shut, unable to look at you for fear of overloading at the sight of you finally on his spike; then they flew open at the realization that he wanted this burned into his visual processors forever.

Your skin shone with sweat and lubricant; rivulets trailed down your body like a visual pointer to your slick sex, nestled within wiry hair and stretching so beautifully around his spike that it tore an honest-to-Primus whimper out of his vocal synthesizer.

“Mirage, I need you to— mmnh, fuck, I need you to just touch— please,” you gasped, his spike punching the air right out of your lungs. Although your words were broken, he seemed to get the memo, and despite his minute tremors, brought his thumb back to your clit and pressed down. Just the surface area alone made you sigh and roll your head back in pleasure, and it loosened you enough to take him right up until the head nestled against your cervix and your ass brushed his hip plating. There was maybe an inch or two left, but you felt immense pride at managing to work most of his spike in — and immense pleasure, too. If he moved his thumb at all, you were done; you were so fucking full you could barely breathe, and you felt the slow, rhythmic pulses of his biomesh throb through you.

Mirage had never been one for restraint. He did things all-in, one-hundred-and-ten percent, all with a flourish to top it off; the feeling of the hot silk of your walls flexing around his spike just sitting there was enough to quite literally kill his cooling fans via a micro-short in an attempt to divert more power towards keeping his hips still. Senseless praises streamed from his lips, voice whining and roughened by static fuzz. “Yes, yes, yes, sugar, Primus, that’s good— feels so good, please, can I move, please,” he fumbled, jaw slack and optics flickering with the power surges cascading throughout his frame.

“Just— let me start,” was your response, tears pricking at your eyes, and although Mirage groaned pitifully underneath you, he listened.

You had a fair amount of experience with riding toys, and you knew what felt good; the lightbulb above your head became apparent. A shift in your position pushed further weight to the back so that the ridges and nodes of his spike pressed insistently toward the front — though, to be fair, it pressed everywhere — and oh, fuck, right there. Now shoved against that sweet spot inside you, the pleasure teetered on the edge of pain, and you dragged yourself up with a vicious grip on the seams of his thighs behind you. Mirage whined and shifted his hips just slightly; it was enough to pull a moan from your lips as you slid upward. Thick, sluggish droplets of slick swirled with transfluid oozed down his spike. He watched — it was all he could do — with an open mouth and rapidly cycling optics.

The flared head caught against your entrance; a spike (ha!) of pleasure lanced through you. “Okay, now, you can— help me, please,” you stammered out, dizzy with pleasure already and feeling a loopy kind of open-mouthed grin situate itself on your face. 

Your words were all he needed. Although he desperately, desperately wanted to snap his hips up and chase the vice-grip of your slick walls, he’d rather take on Megatron alone with his servos tied behind his back than risk hurting you. Especially while interfacing. He did not want to have to explain that to anyone.

Thumb slowly working your clit, his servos gripped your hips just a little too tight and assisted; you could feel the tremors lancing up and down his arms as he helped you establish a rhythm. At a word, the dam would break, but for now, you maintained tenuous control over the mech and over yourself as you rode him with his help.

Well. Rode was a strong word for it; he all but dragged you up and down the length of his spike, earning each of you luxurious groans from the other, but your quivering thigh muscles assisted as best they could. Heat surged through your body at the drag of his nodes against your walls, and you realized with a hot flash that Mirage was going to fucking ruin you for anybody else, and you liked that. Which was good, because he could have stayed buried in your cunt for the rest of his life and offlined happily just like that.

It was good. It was really good. But even the overwhelming stretch wasn’t enough. Just like earlier — it seemed like light years away now — when you’d still had pants on and hadn’t been completely lost to metal-on-skin debauchery, the grind of your clit on the seam of your jeans had been good, but not enough. Your fingers clawed at his wrists. The burn of your thighs from exertion seared through you, mixing with the jolts of pleasure from your clit to create some new, terrible monster that had you twitching with shameless ecstasy.

“Mirage, Mirage,” you croaked, as he slid you down his spike again and pushed it into your lungs, “I’m— fuck, please, faster, please, please.” In any other scenario, your begging would have immensely embarrassed you; now, though, it seemed like the only viable option to get him to fuck you like you needed him to.

“Shit, baby,” he hissed, and you gasped as he kept moving you, legs jerking uselessly. “You— fuck, you sure?”

“Yes, please, just— oh, fuck!” The cry — and the air in your lungs — was knocked right out of you by a single desperate snap of his hips upward, his spike driven straight home. Your entire upper body crumpled forward, kept upright only by a tenuous grip on his wrists, and then he really started fucking you, and you were gone.

His cooling fans surged back to life as he slammed into you, power no longer diverted towards holding the actuators of his hips back. No, now he was fucking jackhammering into you, and you were barely moving as his spike pistoned in and out of you, slick drooling from your cunt. Like he remembered himself, his thumb began to work furiously against your clit, and you rewarded him with a gasp and more than a few uncontrollable moans of his name, which only served to fuel him more.

Not like he was being quiet, either. You were glad that the building was solid brick and the rain continued to pour outside, because the amount of noise coming from his chassis and spilling from his lips was worrying. Praises and broken mentions of your name streamed from him; he tossed his helm back against the wall with his optics squeezed shut to keep from overloading prematurely. It was too much— it was way too fucking much. Your poor overworked cunt was nearly bruised with sensitivity, barely able to keep up with the stretch of his spike as the nodes pulsing along it raked that sweet spot inside of you mercilessly. Neither of you were going to last long; not your fragile human body nor his torqued-up frame could handle much more of this.

Every sharp thrust paired with the frantic, messy circles he pressed into your clit brought you viciously closer and spilled tears from your eyes. All you could really do was hold on as Mirage wrung pleasure from both your body and his. Impossibly, his thumb worked faster, his pace got even more brutal, and you were almost seizing from pleasure as your nerve endings were frayed raw. That peak was building in your gut, that familiar tight coil of heat, for the second time that night, and you knew it was going to completely destroy you, and you wanted it to.

Without warning, Mirage spread his knees apart, slammed his pedes flat on the floor, and thrusted up. His spinal struts arched again to get his spike that much further inside of your yielding body, his overload imminent and warning signs flashing in his optics’ periphery. “Fuck, yes— yes, baby, yes, yes, ah, shit!” His frenzied whine rang in your ears as steam from his vents heated the air around you; the only thing that rang in your ears besides your thunderous heartbeat was the heady slap of skin against metal, everything slick with your combined fluids.

You responded in kind at the new angle with a cry of his name and some noises that resembled words, but the way he sheathed his spike inside you — fuck, was it all the way in? — and ground his thumb against your clit was too much— too much— you couldn’t—

You shattered. Doubling over from pleasure, you sobbed incoherently as your climax slammed into you. Pleasure crackled through your veins like lightning; a fog of pleasure dulled your senses until the only thing you could focus on was his spike pulsing in your cunt and his thumb still grinding against your clit. Tears pricked at your eyes, joining the ones already wetting your cheeks, as jolts of pleasure lanced up your spine. Maybe you moaned his name, maybe you didn’t. You couldn’t tell.

Mirage went soon after you, because the feeling of your walls clamping around his spike as if trying to suck him in impossibly further did him in instantly. His optics snapped open wide before slamming shut and he cried your name as the best overload of his life wracked his frame; the actuators of his hips trembled violently, along with his servos, as transfluid gushed into you and was immediately forced out by the pure lack of room inside your cunt. Engine snarling, cooling fans nearly spinning off their axles, he held your hips as flush to his as possible while the both of you rode out your respective climaxes, twitching around each other violently. Minute jerks of his hips attempted to work more transfluid inside of you. Brain still wiped blank with pleasure, all you could do was make soft noises and let the aftershocks spasm through you.

Consciousness eventually came back to you in gritty waves. Mirage had set your body down, leaned back against his thighs, his spike still seated within you but depressurizing slowly. Transfluid seeped out of your puffy folds, and you lifted a shaking hand to collect some of it and taste it. Metallic. Like you’d expected.

Enormous vents whooshed through his frame as he attempted to cool his chassis; coolant dripped from him, some of it turned to steam by the pure heat of his internal mechanisms. Body shaking and feeling very small and human, you stroked a thumb over his wrist where you held it, feeling both its ambient warmth and a surge of affection. And satisfaction.

You were absolutely going to feel this in the morning, holy shit. Thank God you didn’t have work tomorrow.

Mirage eventually came back down to earth, his optics cracking open and cycling a few times before they flared to their usual brightness. Lids heavy and a dopey grin on his face, he carefully lifted you off his spike — it slid out of you with a slick noise that made you flush — and brought you up to face-level. With one servo, he held you tight against his torso; he planted the other flat on the floor and resituated his hips so he could slump down further against the wall, his entire frame lax.

Self-satisfaction beamed at you from his faceplates. “Oh, that was good, huh?”

You scoffed, too tired to get riled up at his teasing; you knew he was feeling the same as you. “Yeah, pretty good. I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow, to be totally honest.” An exhausted laugh left you.

“Gonna count that as a win.”

“You… do whatever you want.” You waved a limp hand at him dismissively, letting the rise and fall of his chassis with his vents rock you.

“Well, then, I wanna do this,” he purred, and brought you in for a kiss that communicated all his smug affection without any of his stupid jokes. You returned it gratefully, a smile on each of your mouths as you basked in that pleasant post-sex glow.

The rain still droned outside. A boom of thunder rolled through the building; the lights flickered. Both you and Mirage glanced upward. His optics slid back down to you first.

“You thinkin’ about going anywhere in this weather?” he asked, raising a brow ridge.

“I dunno, do I have a ride?”

“Nah,” he replied playfully, kissing you again, and you found that it could storm for the rest of your life, and you wouldn’t really care. So long as you had your favorite — yes, your favorite, not that you could ever admit around him — to keep you company.

[fanficsformyfaves]

Now, You're Mine

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

WARNING: SMUT 18+, ANGST, Possessive!Rhea, Breeding Kink, Hickeys (R Receiving), Choking (R Receiving), Cum-Filled Strap On (R Receiving), Bulge Kink, Mommy Kink

PREFACE: Rhea and Reader were hooking up on and off, but Rhea wanted her all to herself

A/N: Rhea's P.O.V. in Bold and Colored!

Flashback in Italics!

Texts in Bold and Colored!

Some surprise appearances by other WWE Stars!

THIS HAD ME GRIPPING THE SHEETS FOR REAL

Kinda toxic, but eh

RHEA'S P.O.V.

She was all I've ever wanted. From how beautiful she was, to her kind-hearted nature and quick wits, she was nothing short of perfection. I remember the day we met vividly.

I had just gotten done with my match and was grabbing a bite to eat with my friends.

"I'll take-"

"The chicken tenders", I say in unison with Fin and Priest.

The three of us laugh, as Dom shook his head.

"Typical", Priest mocked,

"Hey, I know what I like, alright?", Dom argued.

Snapping the menu closed and handing it back to the waiter.

"I'll be back", I say,

Dismissing myself and heading to the bathroom, but as I did, somebody walks out.

Time came to a sudden halt, as I took in just how beautiful she was. It was as if everyone else disappeared and we were the only people there.

She gives me a shy smile, before walking past me and heading back to her table. My eyes never leaving her, as she took her seat.

YOUR P.O.V.

I immediately walk back to my friends, trying hard to hide my flushed cheeks.

"You good?", Nikki questioned,

"Yeah", I hesitantly answered,

As my gaze fell upon her once more. I couldn't help it, even if I tried. Besides how breathtaking she was, there was just something about her that intrigued me. Maybe it was the jet black hair or the tattoos that masked her hands, either way, I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

"What's got you all shy?", Brie questioned,

Taking me out of my head.

"What?"

She turns to try and see what I was looking at and immediately caught on.

"Oh, she's so your type"

"Dear God, please shut up", I pleaded,

"Who?"

It was now Naomi's turn to look and she also began teasing me.

"Oooh", she taunted,

Nudging me.

"Guys, come on. Let's not embarrass her", Nat ceased.

During the time of my friends poking fun at me, she looks over and sends another smile my way. If my heart wasn't racing out of my chest already, it surely was now.

Once we were done with our food and paid the bill, her table was also finishing up their dinner.

"Now's your chance, don't be shy", Nikki egged on,

"Nikki!", I warned in a whisper,

"Oh come on, what's the worst that can happen?"

"Um, she could hear me?"

"You're really gonna let her go?", she emphasized,

Pointing, when I smack her hand away.

"Keep your hand down!"

"Sorry", she whispered,

"I think you should go for it", Nat chimed in,

"Oh, not you too"

"(Y/N), you've got nothing to lose. She says no and then what?"

"And then I die of embarrassment"

Causing her eyes to roll.

"Look, nothing's gonna happen, if I don't talk to her"

"Exactly. Nothing's gonna happen if you don't talk to her, which I personally think is worse", she retorted.

I take a deep breath, slouching back against the booth chair, when I notice her table begin to gather their things.

"It's now or never, champ", Brie added on.

Was I terrified? Absolutely...but after battling with the anxious chill in the pit of my stomach, I ultimately got up and carefully made my way towards her.

Every step feeling like boulders strung at my feet.

Once I was less than a foot away, I clear my throat in an attempt to catch her attention. She turns around and somehow, she was even more breathtaking up close.

Her eyes reflecting baby blue skies in them, as her lips curled up into a grin.

"Hi", I greeted,

"Hello", she smiles down at me,

"I hope I'm not being too forward, but, I think you're...really beautiful", I struggled,

I knew my face had turned a bright red by the way she eyes my cheeks.

"Do you, now?", she challenged,

"Yeah", I chuckled nervously,

"Well", she began,

Taking my hand inro hers.

"I said the same thing to my mates earlier. You're quite the sight"

My heart was on the verge of giving out.

"What are you doing after this?"

"Um", I say,

Glancing back at my friends, who immediately turned away.

"It seems we have an audience"

"Don't mind them, they're just nosy", I reassured,

Making her laugh to herself.

"I'm not doing anything"

"Perfect", she said,

Gently leading me outside.

We head back to the hotel she was staying at and after letting my friends know where we went, she started up a movie for us.

Let's just say the movie had simply become background noise.

Since then, we'd been hooking up on and off, but in all honesty, I wanted more. Don't get me wrong, what we had was beyond my wildest imaginations, but I often caught myself daydreaming about being more than just 'friends'.

It didn't help, the fact that she fueled these delusions. Intentionally or not.

In those moments, post-sex, there would be a glimmer of softness that made me melt from the inside out. A contrasting difference from how she would usually treat me in bed.

Little gestures she'd do, like playing with my hair till I fell asleep or tracing mindless shapes onto my back. It all just added to the already burdensome weight in my chest.

The longer this went on, the harder it became to keep my feelings at bay. The harder it got to avoid the questions that plagued my mind.

Would she want that too? What if she didn't? Would she get upset and cut me off entirely? I could have all the time in the world and none of it would be enough to find a single answer.

I was planning to just keep my mouth shut and take this secret to my grave...until I heard about Liv. She was Rhea's tag team partner and at first, I didn't think anything of it, till I saw their backstage interview, where she kissed Rhea's cheek.

Alarms immediately went off in my head.

I knew she'd been sleeping up with other people, but to actually see her flirt with someone else was the wakeup call I needed.

I decided to keep my distance for a while and eventually, she caught on. For the last few weeks, I'd been responding less to her texts and have ignored her late night calls all together.

As much as I hated to admit it, I missed her, but I knew I had to hold my ground.

(SUNDAY)

Rhea: Hey

Seen at 5:06 pm

Rhea: I haven't seen you in a while, how's things been?

Seen at 5:25 pm

(MONDAY)

Me: Good, you?

Seen at 9:03 pm

Rhea: Pretty busy lately, aren't you?

Seen at 10:00 pm

But what I think finally made things click for Rhea was when I run into her at Dom's birthday party.

As it was being thrown at her house, I knew to come prepared, so I put on the dress I knew she liked and paired it with the perfect heels. Between my hair, makeup and outfit, I was undoubtedly sure to make some heads turn.

Not even a minute goes by, before Rhea spots me and makes a beeline toward where I stood.

"Ladies", she greets,

As they all nod, before heading inside. She eyes me up and down, before taking a few steps closer.

"(Y/N)", she grins.

I cross my arms over my chest, avoiding her daunting stare.

"Beautiful, as always"

"Thanks"

She goes in for a hug, when I simply brush past her, leaving Rhea undoubtedly confused. For the rest of the night, I stood by, watching my friends get wasted and have the time of their lives.

I, however, was too distracted by Rhea watching me from across the room. The slicked-back hair, the leather top that perfectly showcased her strong arms. I was intoxicated solely by staring at her.

Somewhere in the night, my friends had completely disappeared and I was left on the couch alone.

That was until Sonya took the vacant spot next to me.

"I don't like parties either", she spoke,

Finally ripping my gaze away from Rhea.

"Hey, Sonya"

"You know my name?", her eyebrows meet,

"Yeah, I saw your match with Nikki and John. They invited me to watch"

"Oh, cool, your Nikki's friend. I'm assuming you came with her and Brie?"

"Yup, but...", I say,

Quickly scanning the room.

"I have no idea where they went"

"Well, Brie's probably throwing up the drinks she chugged and Nikki's probably hooking up with Cena upstairs"

"Probably", I chuckled,

Sipping my cocktail.

"But, hey, at least you got me", she joked,

Playfully nudging me.

"At least", I agreed.

"I hope this isn't me coming on too strong, but would you like to dance?"

"Um..."

I go to look back at Rhea and it was almost as if she was trying to communicate with her eyes.

It was now my turn to have fun.

"I'd love to", I turn back to Sonya,

Grabbing her hand and leading her to the dancefloor.

RHEA'S P.O.V.

What the hell was Deville up to and why was (Y/N) reciprocating it? I knew she'd gone almost radio silent lately, but I didn't think it was this serious.

My blood boiled at the sight of Sonya twirling her around, as her eyes raked up and down (Y/N)'s body. Shamelessly staring at what was mine. I knew I had only myself to blame, but I couldn't help but seethe with anger. It should be me grabbing her hips that way. It should be me making her laugh like that.

Had I messed up by not owning up to how I really felt? Yes, but I wasn't going to lose her over that. She was everything I could ever want and I'd be a fool to just let her go.

Having had enough, I shove my drink into Priest's chest and made my way over to them.

"(Y/N). Deville", I address,

Interrupting their laughter.

"Hey, Ripley", Sonya replied,

As I respond with a sarcastic grin.

"I need to talk to you", I address (Y/N),

"I'm kind of in the middle of something-"

"(Y/N)", I cut off,

Causing her to be taken aback.

YOUR P.O.V.

I couldn't lie, the stern tone in her voice made my core ache and my knees go weak. I had no choice but to comply.

I follow her through the crowd and up the stairs, till we reach her bedroom at the end of the hall.

As we step inside, she closes the door behind her and leans against it.

"What do you want?", I questioned,

"Don't play dumb with me"

"I'm not", I egged on.

She scoffs, leaning off the door and taking a step towards me.

"Are we really going to do this?"

"I don't know...are we?"

I knew me challenging her was a risk, but it was one I was willing to take. I needed to know once and for all if this was something worth fighting for.

With a mischievous grin, she leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Do you really think Sonya, of all people, can treat you better than I can? Hm? Make you feel as good as I do?"

Her hands creep up to the small of my waist and pulled me in closer. I could feel my knees threatening to give out and was fighting so hard to stop it.

"Or was this all just to get my attention?"

She kisses up my neck and chewed on the lobe of my ear.

"You want me? You've got me"

Like I'd weighed nothing, she picks me up by thighs, causing a surprised gasp to escape me.

"All you had to do was say so"

She then carries me to bed and crawled atop me, kissing and licking up my legs.

"This dress. Fuck", she murmured against my thighs,

Before spreading them apart to discover my glistening core.

"I've barely started and you're already making a mess", she teased,

"Rhea", I whined,

"Yes, darling?"

"Please"

"Please what? You know I like to hear you say it"

I take in a deep breath, before finally locking eyes with her.

"Fuck me"

She smirks once more, before pulling away and walking over to her closet. I carefully observe her every move and once she was done digging through her clothes, she turns around, causing my stomach drops.

She's used straps on me before, but this one was...different.

"I've been saving this for something special, but of course you had to be a brat tonight", she says,

Stopping right before the bed.

"Take my clothes off", she ordered.

I crawl over to her, helping her out of her blazer, before unbuttoning her blouse and pulling her pants down.

Unbeknownst to me, she was already completely naked beneath her clothes. The sight of her exquisite body never failing to drive me crazy.

"My turn"

She pulls my dress off over my head, leaving me in just my stockings.

"No underwear? God, you are a slut"

And without wasting another breath, she pulls me in by my waist, whilst wrapping her lips around my hardened buds.

Desperate moans and whines escaping me as she did so.

"You're so much nicer when Mami's got a hold of you, hm?"

She then pushes me onto my back, before spreading my legs and ripping my fishnets down the middle. She must've sensed my concern, by the way her eyes flickered up to me.

"I'll get you new ones", she reassured,

Before pulling back and securing the toy around her hips.

I was practically drooling from how good she looked. From her inked hand rubbing up and down the dildo, to her insatiable eyes eating me alive, I could've cum right then and there.

"I need you, Mami, please", I pleaded,

Tugging her lips up into a smirk.

"I know you do. Why else would you try so hard to get my attention?", she teased,

Licking the shell of my ear and sending a chill up my spine.

In a flash, she throws my legs around her waist, dragging me in closer, whilst rubbing the tip of the strap against my entrance.

"Let's see if you can keep up"

She thrusts into me in one swift motion, filling me up to the brim and causing a cry to escape past my lips.

Her pace was immediate and rough, like the hand she snaked up my body, before settling around my throat. It felt like I was being split apart in the best way possible. The mixture of the pleasure and pain already causing tears to blur my vision.

"You're fucking mine", she grunted against my shoulder,

"Yes, Mami!", I cried out,

Grabbing her wrist.

With each merciless thrust, my orgasm was nearing faster and faster and I knew it was only a matter of time, till I came undone in her grasp.

"Fuck!", I whined under my moans,

"You're doing so good for me", she licked up my throat,

Reaching down to rub vigorous circles on my clit and yanking a final scream out of me.

"Do it. Cum for Mami", she demanded.

The stars in my eyes were all I saw, before being pushed over the edge.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, I feel her hand pull back to squeeze the base of the toy, causing it to spurt out ropes of warm sticky liquid all over my clenching walls.

I let out a surprised gasp, as Rhea chuckled against my neck. She looks back up and smashed her now-smudged lips against my own.

"Now, everyone here knows who you belong to", she teased.

My stomach dropped at the realization.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Since I already have established myself as a little pickle freak with no shame I have another extremely embarrassing story that will probably make you laugh.

When I started dating Brendan he was still living at home, but after we'd been dating a while he and his best friend Charlie decided to move in together. Another friend of theirs was looking for roommates and they decided to go for it. It was the lower level of a house.

Here's where I need to set the stage a little. Looking back on the time I spent in that space, I don't actually even know if it could have been nice under other circumstances. I feel almost pity for that house, full of young disgusting boys. Bare and wretched, it had minimal threadbare furniture, no decorations, and the guy who lived there already was hands down the most disgusting person I've ever met.

Not his character, but his habits. This boy's name was Josh. I genuinely don't know if their moving in with Josh was a handshake deal or if they saw the place beforehand. No sane person would ever have chosen to live there otherwise, I feel certain.

There was a kitchen. Sorta. But like. Was there a kitchen? Every counter, the whole sink, everything was just covered in dirty dishes. Brendan and Charlie said, "Josh, you need to do the dishes, we can't even wash anything cause it's so full of dirty dishes."

Josh's response to being asked to clean was to load all the dirty dishes onto a blanket. And then he dragged that blanket down the hall into the laundry room.

Crusted on residue, molding slimes, and horrible odors arose as he moved the blanket. After two months they said, "Josh, you can't just leave your dirty dishes on a blanket in the laundry room."

Josh's response was to drag the blanket of misery and miasmas into his room instead.

Josh didn't shower very much and he was a big guy. At one point I walked past his door when it opened. His girlfriend was crossing to the bathroom and I almost dry heaved directly in front of her. The smell of rotting foot, dried on sweat, and sex musk swirled together into the most eye watering assault my nose had ever faced.

So that's where our story takes place. A home of no hand towels, no soap by the bathroom sink, a blanket covered in months of early-twenties depression dishes.

I was meeting some of these people for the first time on the night of our story. Josh had a crew of two others guys who just hung around constantly. So it's me and five dudes hanging out, chatting, ignoring the various smell scapes to live in the moment. Josh left briefly to go pee.

Then I felt a stabbing in my guts. I shot a panicked look to Brendan and casually said I had to pee too. At that time in my life I was experiencing some of the most god awful IBS I've ever experienced. I knew I was going to make a crime scene in there. To my dismay there was no fan to turn on. But Brendan, like the champion partner he was, started telling a story at extremely high volume to cover the sound of my anus exploding under the force of my anxiety poops.

When I flushed and turned to the sink, I was dismayed. There was no soap. I looked around the bare bathroom and didn't see anything useful. No one had ever wanted to wash their hands here before. I then looked over the tub and spotted a tiny window that I wasn't tall enough to open. I wanted to let out the truly rank and terrible smell I had filled the bathroom with, but I had to give that up as impossible.

I slipped out and quietly said, "Hey, is there dish soap or something to wash my hands?"

"Oh," said one of Josh's friends, "There's a bar of soap by the window, let me grab it for you." This was not unreasonable, because again, I couldn't reach the window but I was doused in fear at the ridicule I was about to face.

He went to the door of the bathroom and literally staggered back from the unholy smell I'd left there. He had his arms up as if to protect his face from the malevolent beast my bowels had left behind. When he turned to us there was tears standing in his eyes.

In this house of awful smells and terrible hygiene, I was the stinkiest monster of all, bringing this boy to tears. I broke out in a sweat, ready to cry myself at the shame that was about to be cast upon me.

But instead. He said, "JOSH!"

"I can't believe you dude! Oh my god! That is the nastiest shit I've ever smelled!!" He waved the door frantically to dilute the awful power of my shit and then plowed through to open the window and air out the bathroom, passing me the soap. "I can't BELIEVE you had to go in there after him, oh my god, use the kitchen sink to wash your hands! It's gnarly!"

Everyone turned to rag on Josh for the newest addition to the gallery of smells in the house and he didn't look at me once. He laughed and pulled my shame onto his shoulders with grace, taking the bullet for me like a true hero. Only Brendan and I knew I was the stinky villain.

Josh never brought it up after, but I remain grateful to this day.

[inkskinned]

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “gushing to your friends about the person you’re literally head over heels in love with” prompts

Requested by: Anonymous Request: “any chance you could prompts A telling their friends that they have a crush on B?”

“Okay, we get it — you’re in love with [insert Character B’s name]. You don’t have to keep reminding us.”

“Have you ever thought about telling them about how you feel instead of like… Telling us about it?” “Um, no, because I don’t want to embarrass myself and I’d rather fangirl/fanboy over them from a distance.” 

“Oh, what I would give to talk to them…” “Huh? Then… Talk to them? I don’t understand why you’re making it sound like such a dilemma—”

“I had the most romantic dream about them.” “Oh God, here we go again…”

“With the way you talk about them, do you ever stop to consider that maybe your feelings run deeper than you seem to realise?”

“If they think they’re the best thing to have graced planet Earth then they’d be absolutely right.”

“If they called and told me they needed me right now, I’d drop everything and run to them.”

“They own me.” “That sounds weird, but sure.”

“I don’t believe in being a simp for anyone but yourself, but hear me out—”

“I will do whatever it takes to win their heart.” “I’ll do whatever it takes for you to stop saying that and actually do something.”

Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation

[seospicybin]

TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART I

Felix x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist

Synopsis: You and Felix become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (15,4k words)

Author's note: It's kind of experimental turning this into a fanfic but hope you enjoy it. Part II will be out next week x

Content warning: This is entirely a work of fiction and not affiliated with real Too Hot To Handle show.

YOU: I think physical appearance is not that important. It's all about confidence. [flips hair] I think all women should carry their self with confidence, stand tall, and always strive to be better. 

But when you look at me, I'm pretty much a smoke show [laughs] I'd date myself if I could [laughs]

My ideal type is someone with a distinct charm. I'd love to see a tattoo or two on a man and someone who knows how to keep it exciting, cause I get bored easily [blows kisses to the camera]

-

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

That's why you accept your cousin's offer in exchange for money that would save you from getting kicked out of your apartment and from dropping out of college.

She was in a desperate time too when she reached out to you as one of the contestants decided to drop out of the reality show she worked in as the casting director.

Guess desperate times reached out to each other.

But you, as a nobody with less than a hundred followers on Instagram and you believe half of them are bots, have no experience of being in front of the camera, doubting that you'll do well in it.

Other than that, you think reality shows are just a waste of time, they have no educational value but dumb people down.

But what option do you have? You're broke, jobless, and a week away from being homeless when the offer came.

"What's the reality show about again?" You ask your cousin, Sara.

She rolls her eyes at you, it's probably the umpteenth time you asked her about it again. "It's on the description."

It's on the pile of papers she gave you but you're too lazy to read that many pages written in small fonts with single spaces.

You have to bring it close to your face to read it.

A group of determined singles visit paradise to meet, mingle, and remain celibate for their chance to win $200,000.

"So..." you stop reading after seeing the amount of money you can win from it, "it's basically a dating show."

"Yes," she answers, "but... you will not be allowed to kiss or touch or have sex."

"Oh, thank God!" You let out a long sigh of relief.

Yes, you need the money but knowing that you don't have to do such things for a reality show makes you feel relieved. At least when one of your peers knows, you wouldn't have to be embarrassed about it. You can say you did it for the experience, but spare the part that you did it for quick money.

Another question pops into your head, "But then... how are we going to date each other if we're not allowed to kiss or touch and whatnot?" 

Sara smiles at you, "See? That's the catch!"

She gets all excited in a second, "you have to resist each other from going at it," she further explains as her eyes turn a little loopy.

"Oh, so they'll be sex in it?"

She chuckles, "Maybe yes. Maybe not. Who knows?"

That's a vague answer and you still don't get how she would make money from making a reality show but doubtfully giving people what they want.

It's not like you're in it to actually find someone to date. You agree to join because she promised you more money once the shooting is done.

You're going to stay at a gorgeous villa on an island with a few people and try not to be in each other's pants, which is not what you intend to do in the first place.

What's so hard about it anyway? 

-

Wow!

You might have missed the part that you have to be dressed in provocative swimwear and show as much skin as possible in the papers Sara gave you.

However, there's this one motto that always works to make you through the day.

Fake it till you make it and you have no other option but to fake it.

Your hair is styled into loose waves to make it look like you've been spending time at the beach and thankfully, you're allowed to do your own make-up. You put on a simple one, put a little blush on your cheek, and a layer of shiny gloss over your lips.

You changed into a two-piece bikini and look at yourself in the mirror.

Damn, you don't even have to fake it anymore. You look hot and you think that's why they still passed you as a contestant despite knowing that Sara is a relative of yours.

The first segment of the reality show is contestants entering the villa one by one, but in your case, you have to do it with another gorgeous girl.

"I'm Maeve," she introduced herself in a cute Irish accent.

You might or might have not just checked her out from head to toe before shaking her hand back to introduce yourself back.

You're taller than her but that's what makes her cute. She has that pretty dirty blonde hair and a nice smile, exuding a very positive vibe. You like her already.

The staff gives you the cue to start walking into the gravel path that leads to the villa while the cameras take you from every angle possible to capture your best features.

By best features, you mean your breasts and boobs, anything that possibly makes people think that's how a perfect body should be.

You are against female objectification but again, what other choice do you have? Giving up your principles just so you can live another day in this capitalist world.

Cheers welcoming both of you as the other contestants that have made their entrance before you, watching you step into the scene.

You can feel their eyes on you, either in envy or lust or things in between. You introduce yourself around with hugs and kisses, which is not how you usually introduce yourself.

Once they handed you a welcome drink which is a glass of warm champagne from being under the sun too long, it's when you see each one of them better.

Your confidence deflates in an instant because they're all way hotter and sexier than you. They look good in their bikinis and their hair is perfectly tousled like they rolled out of bed looking that gorgeous.

You're not just talking about the female contestants, the male too are incredibly stunning, their abs are on display since they're only wearing swimming trunks, their skins glowing under the sun.

You find yourself fanning your neck just from stealing glances at it.

"Hot, huh?" The other girl asks you, one with a perfect bone structure and full lips.

You lightly chuckle, "Everyone in here is hot," you carefully with what you said, aware that a mic is attached to your body.

"I know right?" She says with a flirty smile.

After a moment, you learn her name is Laura and she's the epitome of a hot girl. She has the perfect hair, perfect body, perfect nails, and even the way her hair parted is perfectly in the middle. Other than that, Laura, like other pretty girls, has it easy in her life, she's a social media influencer with 300k-something followers and said she's here for 'shit and giggles', her words, not yours.

A lot more male contestants enter the villa and everyone refills their champagne flutes as the temperature raises. You can't tell if it's because you're so close to the beach or there's just a lot of heat in here, or it could be that you're panicking inside and try not to show it.

Your cousin Sara is wrong about one thing.

There's not just one catch, they're all a catch and you can't do anything about them.

-

YOU: I feel like I'm in an ice cream shop and they have all of my favorite flavors. Vanilla, chocolate, salted caramels, cookies, and cream... [bites thumb] I just can't wait to have a scoop of each flavor [chuckles]

-

After the introduction and draining six bottles of champagne in the process, everyone is allowed to explore the place, get familiar with each other, and mingle.

Well, of course, you have to do your part, be flirty with them but you don't intend to go into that yet. Not when your confidence level is at its lowest that you can't even fake it anymore.

You sit by the lounge chair by the beach, enjoying the view of the beach while trying to ignore all the cameras filming you.

One of the cameramen suddenly got closer to get an angle when you notice that one of the male contestants is coming to the beach and you see no one else there but you.

Suddenly, you feel alarmed, immediately check your appearance, and got you wondering why that is your first reaction. This never happens in real life.

"Hi," he says, sitting on the other lounge chair next to you.

You raise yourself from the longue chair, supporting the back of your head with a cushion.

"Hi," you finally say back, trying to sound calm yet sultry like how Laura speaks.

You notice that he speaks in an accent that you can't quite decipher its origin, "may I know what accent is that?"

"It's French, but I do speak German as well," he says.

"And English," you point out.

He chuckles, "That too!"

"I learn that everyone has an exotic accent while I'm here with the most basic accent," you say and it surprises you how well you're doing at being an obnoxious reality show star.

He smiles, showing his perfectly good teeth, "Nah, I think you're cute."

And surprises yourself again at how receptive you are, smiling at his compliment. You laugh to yourself as you try to remember his name, everyone introduced themselves too quickly earlier and gave you no time to memorize them.

"I'm sorry. What's your name again?"

"Alex," he says, taking another step towards you as if he wasn't standing close enough.

Alex is super tall, super attractive, muscles in all the right places and you have never cared about such things in a man before. Alex has nice brown skin and soft curly hair, he's charming in a way that subtly grows in you.

"Well, Alex, how come you're so tall?" You playfully ask him, holding your champagne flute close to your face.

"I play basketball," he answers.

You click your tongue in awe and at the same time, feel afraid that Alex has raised your standards of men to a whole new level.

-

YOU: Alex is hot. Isn't that obvious? That French accent ooh... [whistles] and he plays basketball. He's like a tall glass of water and I'm super thirsty.

-

He's hot, he's tall, he speaks three languages, and he also plays sports. What else can he do? You wonder...

"What about you?" He asks.

You think for a moment, "Well, I only speak English," you answer with giggles.

He leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, looking at you with an intense stare.

"I can speak cat language too if that counts," you add.

He raises an eyebrow at you, "So you're a cat person, huh?"

"Yes, I am."

"I see..." he says, looking at you with an even more intense stare, "you like to be spoiled, huh?"

You turn to lay on your side to show him the curve of your body and bite your lower lip as you bravely stare back at him, "who doesn't like to be spoiled?"

Alex licks his lip as you catch him glancing at your lips, he thought of kissing you for sure but has no idea what stops him.

"What animal person are you?" You ask as the conversation starts to dry up.

He props a hand under his chin, "Why don't you guess?"

You tap your lips with your index finger to subtly tease him, "A puma?" You wildly guess.

He laughs, "Why?"

"I got the impression that you're wild, can't be tamed," you say whatever it is crossed your head at that moment.

You don't think Alex would care anyway with what you're saying because all he can think about is whether he should kiss you or not.

"Am I right? Or am I not wrong?" You dare him by closing the gap a few inches short.

Yet he remains in his seat and you're getting bored of waiting already. You retreat from keeping this going and sit up on the longue chair.

"I think I have to start getting ready for the party," you excuse yourself.

You're not proud that you're back to being such a bitch who plays with men but gosh, something about this reality show that brings out the bad girl in you.

-

YOU: Perhaps it's too early for him to get his move on someone. I think he wants to keep his options open and that's what I'm doing as well, I want to get to know a few of them and see if I... uh can have some fun.

-

The males are already waiting at the beach for the party.

The females are taking longer time to get ready because there is so much to do, hair, make-up and even putting fake acrylic nails.

You have lived as a woman for twenty-three years but only realized now how exhausting it is to be one. Not that you don't like it but people oftentimes don't give women enough credit for it.

"Come here, you sexy!" One of the males says.

Wow. What a way to impress a woman!

Everyone is sitting on the benches set around a bonfire and drinking cocktails with umbrellas in them, sipping and talking, checking each other out in secret or not so secret

A player recognizes another player so there's no use for all contestants to play naive, pretending that they're just here to sit around bonfire and make friends.

Everyone knows that they're here to get wild and becomes famous by doing it on a reality show. Except you thought, you don't want to go that far.

"Icebreaker time!" Says the girl with brunette hair and rosy cheeks. You believe her name is Heidi.

"Each one of us will take turns to stand in the middle with a blindfold on and anyone can do anything to that person. In the end, they have to guess who did it," she explains but more like babbling around the words while seductively chuckling in between words.

You don't get what she's saying but try to learn the game by watching as she takes the first turn to set an example. Heidi is a total babe, it's impossible if no one wants to have a piece of her.

A male comes up to her and has a deep kiss that put everyone to shame. One look and you can tell that it's one hell of a kiss. You sip the drink you've been holding in your hand.

Your heart is drumming the closer it gets to your turn, afraid that someone does things with you but it would be more embarrassing if no one does things with you.

So far, everyone at least has a kiss or a smooch, Laura even lets a guy touch her ample bosoms. You haven't made a move yet and it's kind of a requirement that you show your wild side because that's the idea of the show.

It's Jamie or that's what you remember his name is. He's taking his turn and putting a blindfold on, he looks gorgeous wearing a white shirt and short pants.

Jamie has glowing tan skin and six-pack abs, his hair must have skipped months of a haircut but rocking it all right. He keeps brushing his hair to the back, knowing that it looks better when it's messy.

You take a glance at everyone and none of them seem to make a move on him, impulsively, you get up from the stool and come up to him.

It's when you stand in front of him you have no idea what to do with him or more like, you have tons of ideas of what you want to do but can't choose one.

Everyone else is watching from their seats in anticipation, you shut down your brain from thinking and just go with it. You stand on your tiptoe and kiss him on the neck, covering your lips once you're done to not give him any clue that it's you who kissed him.

You run back to your seat and see what his reaction is once he takes his blindfold off. Next, Jamie has to guess who is it and to avoid looking suspicious, you calmly sip your drink and watch him guess who did it.

After taking too much time observing, he gives up, "I don't know. But whoever it is, I kind of want more," he says.

You try to remain calm and take another sip, looking anywhere but not in his direction.

It's finally your turn, your heart is beating faster and you wonder if the audio guy can hear it too with the mic resting around your neck.

Taking a quiet deep breath, you tie the blindfold over your eyes and around your head. You can only hope for the best now and block every insecurity that tries to reside in your head.

"Ooh..." everyone coos in unison and that only means someone is coming or about to do things to you.

Nervous, you clench and unclench your fists to calm yourself. Then a pair of hands gently cup your face and tilts your head upward.

Not ready for it, this mysterious person kisses your open mouth and proceeds to kiss you more, using his tongue in the most pleasurable way to taste you.

Damn! He's a good kisser and you reflexively respond to his kisses with your hands holding theirs. For a split second, you forget that you're in the middle of shooting a reality show and everyone is going to watch it.

You gasp the second they let go and have you fixing your lipstick because there's no way that phenomenal kiss not smudging it.

"Whoa. Can barely think after that kiss," you shamelessly tell everyone as you act drunk as you walk back to your seat.

Sipping your drink, you secretly assess everyone and try to guess which one of them kissed you. They're all hot anyway, it's not a loss to kiss one of them and you didn't know why you were fussing about it earlier.

Since Laura is taking the last turn and everyone seems to be whipped by her, you can see that all the male contestants anticipated this. You bet they're lining up to get a kiss from her.

It takes only a few seconds for anyone to make a move, the first one to have it is Daniel with half of his body covered in tattoos. He has a lean body and that bad boy attitude, he confidently strides to kiss Laura on the lips, so hard that she gasps in surprise.

You find yourself clapping at two people doing lewd things in front of a group of people. When you think Daniel is the only one succeeding in having a piece of Laura, another one takes his turn.

You almost scoff seeing Alex holds her by the neck and kisses her so deeply. Instant turn off, all those charms he has seems to be wiped off your head in a second.

-

YOU: Well, now we all know why Alex didn't kiss me [laughs] He likes someone else and that's good, I'll stop chasing him from here [sucks air through teeth] and on to the next one! [Raises hand triumphantly]

-

Moving on to the next segment, you prepare yourself for your act.

Sara is nice enough to let you know what the show is really about. When you ask everyone else, they believe that they're on a dating show and are here for partying and having fun and such.

Well, until... the cone-shaped talking pops out of its hiding and stops the party and the fun altogether.

"Hi, I'm Lana, and welcome to Too Hot Too Handle!"

Everyone stops talking and turns serious while deep inside you will find pleasure from their pain.

"You have been specially selected because you are all choosing meaningless sex over genuine relationships."

"That's true, though!" One of the males says and the other chuckles along.

"The purpose of this retreat is to help you gain deeper emotional connections in your personal relationships."

Daniel seems to be taking the news badly, "I'm not here for that!" He comments.

"As always, there are conditions to your stay here. You must abstain from sexual practices for the entirety of your stay."

Everyone is groaning in frustration, covering their eyes as if not having sex will make them die.

"No kissing. No heavy petting. And no sex of any kind."

More groans are spilling out of everyone's mouth.

"This also applies to self-gratification."

Wait! You didn't know that you'll not be allowed to touch yourself. Your body and you can't do anything about it.

-

YOU: The second I saw Lana, I know it's bad. But I didn't know it's that bad. Can't even touch myself? What?

-

"However, to aid your development, I've increased the prize fund to $200.000."

That one gets everyone hyped and jumping in excitement, including you. Thinking of that much money, you can shrug all your financial problems away. 

"Each time the rules are broken, money will be deducted from the prize fund."

But this one gets you down immediately, there's a possibility that no money will be left with all these horny people locked in a villa together.

"Everyone, welcome to the retreat!"

"Ugh!"

-

YOU: Everyone is pissed off, including me. But you know, something about being told not to do something only makes me want to do it [bites lip]

-

No, you're not pissed off about it. Sex is something you can easily avoid doing, you just need to keep it in your pants and that's what you're going to do.

You want the prize so much and want to put your focus solely on that.

"How do you feel, babe?" Maeve asks while putting her wavy hair into a messy bun.

You're cleaning up your make-up with her with Heidi in the room, "I'm super bummed!" You lie.

"I'm here to have fun so... I'll continue to do that," Heidi eggs on the conversation.

Maeve nods in agreement, "Right!"

Going to the bedroom, you see the next struggle and that is choosing your bed. A few of them have chosen partners to share the bed with. You don't want to choose yet so you nudge Maeve's elbow, "Want to share a bed?"

She smiles at you, "I thought you'd never ask," she answers.

Everyone else is on the bed and you look around, catching someone staring at you from across your bed. It's Jamie.

"It's you," he points at you.

You raise an eyebrow at him and mouthed, "What?"

He turns his head to the side and shows his neck, "the kiss."

Instead of answering, you slump down the bed and giggle behind the duvet. You bet he can tell from the color of the lipstick mark.

However, from all the males you see, you can't guess yet which one of them kissed you. Alex can't be it, he's sharing the bed with Laura and looking comfortable there.

That leaves Jamie, Daniel, Cole, and Felix. It could be Jamie but...

"Goodnight, babe!" Maeve says as the lights are turned off for the night.

"Night, beautiful!" You greet back and you silently thank her for stopping you to think about boys when you should be thinking about the money.

Eyes on the prize.

-

The first day and you wake up feeling so disoriented. It's the timezone, the weather, and the blinding sun that greets you the moment you get out of the bedroom.

They provide swimwear in the closet for everyone to wear besides your own clothes. You pick a pair and put on your make-up after with Laura and Alex, not sure if either of them is trying to make you jealous.

It's the first day of the rules applied and you already need to remind yourself of the prize fund.

"Who do you like?" You curiously ask Maeve as you're in the pool together with Jamie.

"I like Felix," She answers without a beat.

It's an obvious answer. If this show has two main characters they would be Laura and Felix. The males go for Laura and the females for Felix. You haven't had time to speak to Felix in person then again, everyone in here is attractive. 

"I think he's just so hot and cute," Maeve adds.

Jamie splashes her with water, "you're blushing!"

Maeve giggles and splashes water back at him, "what about you? What is your type?"

You didn't expect she'll turn the table at you and that you're like a rabbit about to get hit by a car.

"Come on, you can say it. Brunette with a British accent, nice smile, nice hair," Jamie playfully says with a grin at you.

Maeve chuckles then comments, "I think you two look cute together!"

-

YOU: I think Jamie is cute, he's a goofball. We share a vibe and he always smells so good [laughs] I can't say anything yet but yeah, let's see.

-

There are five males and five females, everyone can pair up and be a couple but things don't work out that way. There are so many things to consider like chemistry and connection, etcetera. However, you believe everyone is just waiting for someone to break the rules to go further.

That seems to be plausible with Lana throwing a party tonight.

"We're matching!" Jamie says.

You chuckle seeing that the only matching thing you have with him is the color of the pants you're wearing.

"You look beautiful," he compliments.

You tease him by jutting your ass at him and looking over your shoulder while batting your eyes at him, "Thank you!"

Doesn't want to be tempted, he turns your body around and puts his arm around you to lounging outside. You bet that he will use the opportunity to tell you about his intention.

You haven't been in relationships for so long that you forget how nerve-wracking it is.

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!" You clink your glass with him before taking a sip.

The sky is so pretty and clear tonight that you can see the stars like pinpricks on the night sky. The breeze is warm and salty, it's not good for your hair, you spent almost an hour straightening your hair and it's ruined in ten minutes.

"So do you have anyone you like?" Jamie asks.

You put your glass away and shake your head, "Nah, not yet."

He stares deeply into your eyes, "well, I like you," he suddenly admits.

"Like it isn't obvious," you jokingly say.

He laughs and licks his lips which makes you glance at his lips, it's round and full, glistening wet. You look away before it gets too creepy.

"You're gorgeous and easygoing and so fun to be around," he starts by complimenting you.

You don't know how he can have that conclusion when you only know each other for one day, you go along with him and nod, "Yeah, I agree."

He shifts on the seat and leans in close, putting his arm on the back of your head, "You're the first that caught my eyes when I came."

It's hard to know if Jamie said that in all honesty or to merely impress you. You saw how Alex jumped from one girl to another in a span of a few hours so you can't just trust his words.

Remember that they're all here for a reason, they're horny and emotionally unavailable. Sadly, that's what your types are for the last few months.

"I was hoping you'd compliment me more," you joke.

He throws his head back as he cracks a laugh, "I think it's your time to compliment me back."

You fold your legs on the sofa and put a cushion on your lap to play with the lint to keep your brain stimulated, to prevent you from zoning out midway.

You look at him as he looks back at you with hopeful eyes, "I think you're absolutely fit, you have a nice smile and are tall enough—"

"Tall enough?" He asks, a little offended.

You chuckle at his reaction, "In the best way. I hate when a guy is too tall," you explain.

"Okay, continue..." he allows.

"And you always smell so good," you lean in to take a whiff of his perfume.

"Good, yeah?"

"Tell me the perfume you're wearing," you playfully ask.

He shakes his head, "Not when there's the chance to make you take a whiff of it from me."

Jamie places his hand on your knee and the gust of wind makes his hair tousled and makes him look double attractive. His light brown eyes pierce right through you with the gaze he locked you in.

"What is there not to like about you?" You conclude.

He props a hand to support his head as he looks down at you, "what do you think about us?"

To be honest, it's too early to say something about this relationship. Not only that you barely know him, you don't have the intention to have a relationship at all.

"There's something there but I don't know, not sure about it yet," you honestly answer.

The hand on your knee moves up to your thigh now. Damn! Jamie is smooth.

"Maybe once I get to know you better, I'd know," you hurriedly add before he gets the wrong idea.

The next thing you know, you get yourself in a pickle as you find him leaning closer to you and his hand that was on your thigh, now resting on your waist.

"Maybe if we kissed, we'd know each other better," his eyes are centered on your lips.

"You want to kiss?" You lower your voice, afraid that there are other people around you.

Jamie leans in closer until his nose meets yours, "So bad," he answers.

Is it why he smells so good? That his perfume isn't just perfume, but it's also pheromones? You hold his chin, unable to choose whether to turn him away or bring him close, finding it hard to resist him.

-

YOU: Jamie looking so good tonight. He's literally too hot to handle [dramatically rolls eyes]

-

Jamie leans in closer and an inch away from your lips when you put your hand on his lips, stopping him from kissing you.

"Stop!" You mewl at him.

Jamie looks a little taken aback, thinking that he can seal the deal tonight.

"I want to kiss you," you tell him with your thumb brushes over his lips.

"But..." You cup his jaw and slowly speak to him so your explanation is not lost in the middle, "I don't want us to be the first to rule break."

If you were out there in the wild, you'd be all over each other by now. However, you think about the money, and spending money this early in the show isn't worth it, well, for you. Other than that, being the first to break the rules will only get you so much shit from everyone.

-

YOU: If we were outside, I would have ripped his clothes already by now [laughs] [facepalm] Lana, you should be proud of me.

-

Jamie sucks air through his teeth and laughs this off, maybe he feels a little rejected, you bruise his ego. Men are fragile like that.

"It's hard for me too," you sincerely tell him and throw your arms around him, consoling him with a hug.

"I'll just give you another kiss on the neck, okay?" you proceed to do it, placing a soft kiss on his neck right below his ear.

You hear him lowly groan with eyes closed, "That's not... uh, make it better."

He puts a hand around you, keeping you close next to him, "what about sharing a bed?"

You laugh at how relentless he is. Not only it means putting you at a bigger risk to break the rules but also, he's being haste about this.

"I'd like that," you answer, earning a grin from him.

"But not tonight," you hurriedly add.

His hand slides down your head to play with the end of your hair, twirling it around his fingers. 

"Why not?"

The player recognizes the player and Jamie is giving you the eyes right now. You look away and snug to his side, "I hump in my sleep and I think you'd like that too much."

He cracks a laugh with his hand drawing you closer to him, "More reason to share a bed!"

-

YOU: It's too early to share a bed with anyone. I still want to get to know the other and... [shrugs] keep my options open.

-

The party is far from over but you feel tired from socializing, and worse is, you can't escape them since you're sharing a house with them for the rest of the month.

You decide to excuse yourself, going to the make-up room and powdering your nose, then staying there to sip your drinks in silence.

There are nine other people to get footage from so you don't have to worry about making it interesting for people to watch.

"Hey, I've been looking for you!"

You turn on your seat to see Maeve entering the room, "what's up, babe?"

She drags the chair next to you, then sits on it. She checks her hair in the mirror and brushes the end with her fingers.

"I'm thinking of talking to Felix," she finally answers.

You sip your drink before talking, "And why are you here?"

Maeve laughs at your playful response, she leans back on her seat and sighs, "I don't know I'm so nervous to talk to him," she says.

That should be your question but you know that Maeve doesn't seek an answer from you, she needs some encouragements.

"You're gorgeous and fun, I think he'll like you," you tell her with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder.

She warmly smiles at you and checks herself again in the mirror.

"But if you intend to break the rules, I suggest you apply matte lipstick," you poke fun at her.

"I should do that," she searches for her make-up bag from the cluttering mess on the long vanity table.

After sending Maeve out of the door with another encouragement in a form of a cheeky slap to her butt, you bring your drink with you to the bedroom, feeling so ready to end the day already.

The first thing you see are two bodies going at it on the bed in the corner. You don't know why but you stay there standing in the doorway of the bedroom, watching them kissing on the bed.

After a minute of observation, you're positive it's Heidi and Daniel.

You hear someone coming from behind you, you hurriedly turn around to find Jamie there.

"Get me more drinks?" You immediately ask him, trying to sound natural.

"Sure, yeah, been looking for you," he says, more than eager to take you back to the party.

It's the only right thing to do. He doesn't care about the rules and if he knew that someone has broken the rules, he will be more relentless than he already is.

-

Thankfully, Lana doesn't announce any rulebreaking behaviors for today, the party ends on a good note and everyone has their happy ending, at least for today.

But for you, you're just happy to finally get on the bed.

As Maeve climbs onto the bed after you, you can't wait but ask her about how the talk went. 

"So, how's the talk?"

From the lack of her usual radiance on her face, you can tell that it didn't go well. You regret asking about it.

Maeve scoots closer to you on the bed and leans in, keeping her head turns away from Felix's bed.

"I talked to him and he was nice, said he finds me cute and funny," she keeps her voice low.

"Well, that's great!" You comment, a little louder than you intend to.

Maeve puts on a thin smile, "yeah so I asked him if he has eyes for someone," she says.

"Yeah and?"

"He said he likes someone," she answers.

You playfully bump her shoulder, "and it's you."

"Else," she finishes her words, "he likes someone else."

She rests her head on your shoulder and you put your arm around her, comforting her with gentle squeezes on her shoulder.

"Does this mean you're going to stop trying or...?"

"Not sure," she shortly replies.

"He said you're beautiful and funny, you should focus on that and work your way from there," you comfort her.

Men are not only stupid, they're all short-sighted, and that's why they like everything big. Maybe at first glance, Felix didn't see Maeve clearly and that's why you encourage her to try once again so he can take another good look at her because who knows?

-

The morning alarm is ringing.

They set a time to let everyone know when to start their day even though a few of us have woken up earlier. The lights are on and greeting each other, barefaced with eyes still sleepy.

Jamie jumps onto your bed and gets between you and Maeve on the bed.

"Good morning, girls!" His voice is muffled by the pillow underneath.

Maeve gently pats his back, "Cuddles only!" She reminds him.

He lifts his head and looks at you, "Not going to lie but I was about to kiss her until you said that," he tells Maeve.

Jamie looks so fine with a bare face and his bedhead looks extra fluffy when it's tousled.

-

YOU: Good morning! It's a good day, clear sky, nice weather with no chance of sex. [Snorts]

-

When everyone is called to the cabana, you know that it's judgment time.

You feel calm knowing that you successfully refrained from breaking rules but you know that everyone is not going to be pleased that a few people spent a few thousand dollars last night. Including you.

So far, you only knew about Heidi and Daniel but there's a big chance that other people break the rules too. It's a big place, you can't keep track of everyone.

This secret you've been keeping is getting too hard to bear yourself. The only person you can share it with is Maeve and you're positive that she didn't break any rules, not that you know of.

"I walked in on Heidi and Daniel kissing," you whisper to Maeve.

"My Gosh!" She lowly gasps.

The sound of Lana's cone-shaped head chiming and your heart leaps. You're not ready to lose money, not when you have your credit card bills spilling out of your mailbox as you speak.

"I regret to inform that there are several rule breaks."

Several? So that means there's more than one rule break? You're doomed, everyone is doomed.

"Everyone better be telling the truth right now!" Cole says as the resident's sex cop.

Everyone is looking at each other and a few are looking very suspicious right now. You bet that Laura and Daniel broke the rules from the way they avoid everyone's eyes.

Heidi raises her hand like she's in a classroom, "So..."

And everyone groans, knowing that they are about to hear a piece of bad news.

"Daniel and I, we kissed in the bedroom," she admits.

It's good that Heidi decides to come clean but it's a bit upsetting that Daniel just sits there like he didn't take part in it.

"But that was it. Just one kiss!" She assures everyone.

Welp, that's $3000 down the drain. However, Lana continues to press everyone to confess.

"Let's just get it over with, guys!" Cole adds with gritted teeth.

Can't hold it in yourself for long, you call them out by the names, "Laura? Alex? Have anything to say?" You ask with a piercing gaze.

"We uh... we kissed," Alex may have a buff body and the tallest of the bunch but he's bad at being honest like all men are.

"But it's because we're sure we have a connection. That's why we kissed," Laura is, of course, backing her man and ready to claw people with her super-long acrylic nails.

"I don't care what all of you are saying. We—"

"You kissed for how many times?" Cole cuts her off with the most important question of all.

There's a moment of silence and that means it's bad.

"Twice. On the bed and the beach," Laura answers with no apologetic expression whatsoever.

"That's so selfish!" Maeve exclaims next to you and lets out a big sigh after.

The worst is Lana is still here and asking if anyone wants to own up to their shit. You don't even want to count the most you've lost, it's a lot.

"You've got to be kidding!" Jamie groans from the end of the sofa.

Not only that the truth costs everyone money but serves the juiciest drama needed for TV broadcasts.

"Daniel kissed me," Aly finally confesses.

Everyone's eyes dart at Daniel, he kissed two girls yesterday and put them in a fight after this. Heidi looks furious sitting next to him.

"I'm pretty sure he kissed me first then he kissed Heidi," she adds, her eyes throwing daggers at Daniel.

"This is a mess!" You quietly comment and plant your face in your hands.

"These rule breaks have cost the group a total of $12.000," Lana announces.

You groan into your hand thinking that much money can cover a couple of months of your rent and here these fools spending them to satisfy their wild desire.

-

YOU: From now on, I'll be thinking of a Chanel handbag every time I get the urge to kiss someone because that's how much it costs.

-

"There are a total of four rule breaks in the last 24 hours and the fine on any further rule break will be doubled as of this moment," Lana announces another shocking news.

-

YOU: Great! A kiss equals two Chanel handbags now. [Hand against forehead]

-

It was one hell of a way to start the day.

Everyone's mood turns sour after that and Cole, being the sex cop he is, doesn't stop preaching to everyone to not break any rules.

What you fear the most with rules has been broken more than once now, it's allowed everyone else to take their turn and that includes Jamie.

It's only about time that he'll start demanding a kiss from you. Don't get fooled, men are just as insecure as women but they mask it well with their huge egos.

You try to avoid him and hang out with Maeve instead, chilling by the pool.

"I heard Irish people are a great drinking buddy," you want to distract yourself from the reality show you're in.

"I wouldn't call myself a 'buddy' but yeah, we're good drinkers," Maeve answers with her playful laughs.

You dip your fingers in the pool water and mindlessly splash it around.

"Come to Ireland and I'll show you a good time," she says.

You snort thinking that with the debt you have, you can't afford to travel out of the country right now but you can't pass on the invitation.

"Okay, I'll just go there with my winning prize," you jokingly say.

"Oh, yeah, totally," she responds with giggles but her eyes are nowhere in your direction.

Following her line of vision, she is watching Felix working out with Alex and Cole at the beach. You take it that she hesitates to make a move on him after knowing that he likes someone else.

"You're going to talk to him again right?"

Considering that the outside world is off-limits, leaving all of you with no choice but to interact with each other. This also means that Maeve will have to get a move on him or try not to be awkward with Felix walking around the house for the next three weeks.

"Who do you think it is?"

"The one he likes?" You guess.

She nods, glints of curiosity filled her eyes, "yeah."

"Certainly not you," you joke and break into laughter.

"Ouch!" She splashes water at you.

-

YOU: Maeve thinks a lot when she has nothing to worry about. She should just do it.

-

The house is huge even for ten people living in it but you can't keep avoiding Jamie.

After dressing up to hang out in the firepit, you sit next to Jamie at ease with the presence of other people there. But that doesn't stop him from touching you, putting his hand around you to play with your hair and whatnot.

"We should have kissed yesterday," he suddenly says.

You lowly chuckle, "When it was cheaper?"

The wind keeps blowing your way, sending your hair flying around and making it messy. Jamie attentively puts the stray hair away and tucks them behind your ears.

"Do you still want to break the rules?" You ask out of curiosity.

"If you want to," he answers.

He fixes the collar of his shirt and looks at you, "what about you?"

You crinkle your nose at him, conflicted. On one side, you want to kiss him and see if there's a spark between you and him but on the other side, it costs two Chanel handbags.

You rest your head on his shoulder, "I just don't think we should be selfish by spending money recklessly," you honestly answer.

"Yeah..." he agrees but the sigh he lets out at the end tells you otherwise.

-

YOU: Jamie sounds a little disappointed that I don't want to break the rules. I mean, don't hate the player, hate the game!

-

The make-up room is crowded with the girls cleansing their faces and doing their bedtime routine. You decide to take the last turn, lounging on Jamie's bed to make up for not sleeping with him tonight.

"Are you guys going to sleep together tonight?" Aly asks from the bed across the room.

Jamie turns his head with an eyebrow raised at you, asking you the same question.

"Yes, we are," you finally answer.

Jamie can't hide his triumphant smile and it looks adorable on him, you can't help but smile along.

-

YOU: I don't want to feel pressured to do it but I owe it to Jamie to at least try and see if this relationship is going somewhere.

-

It's understandable for them to be nosy, it's what the viewers need, a little drama, a little action but what they need are the juicy details.

Before anyone else gets nosy, you start getting ready for bed. Wipes clean your make-up and go to the bathroom to wash up, someone else is showering inside the stall.

It's a normal occurrence. Honestly, everyone else is just so calm about seeing each other's body at this point.

However, the glass wall is blurry so you don't have to worry about seeing someone's naked body inside. You head to the sink and mind your own business.

As you're brushing your teeth, the shower door opens and a hand reaches out for a towel hanging by the handle. In the mirror, you see Felix steps out of the shower and your eyes eventually meet through the reflection and you reflexively smile with a toothbrush tugged between your teeth.

"Hey," he greets.

It surprises you that the deep voice belongs to him, "Hi," you greet back.

He walks toward you and you scoot to the side knowing that he needs to use the sink.

"You don't mind, right?" He asks, taking his toothbrush out of his toiletry bag.

You shake your head, "not at all."

It's hard to not see his body when he stands close next to you. Everyone in here has a nice body but on the first impression, you see him as this thin and dainty guy.

Now, you've seen him up close, he has one of the best bodies in the house, his muscles are perfectly toned and it shows that he diligently worked on his body.

"How's your day?" He casually asks with the towel hanging low around his hips.

"Alright, I guess," you answer.

"You?" You ask back while washing your toothbrush under the running water.

He looks at you and smiles, "just got better, actually," he answers.

Felix is definitely flirting and you immediately fill your mouth with water before stupid things come out of it. You decide to quickly wrap it up before someone else enters the space even though you're doing nothing.

-

YOU: Felix and I are just talking. There's— [inhales] he's low-key flirting with me and I freaked out, there I said it.

-

Maeve is already on the bed when you enter the bedroom and so is Jamie with a space prepared on the bed for you.

It would be rude to say nothing to Maeve that you'll not be sleeping with her, so you come to her first.

"I'm sleeping with Jamie," you tell her.

She slyly grins at you, "Should I give you the sex talk?"

"No, thank you, mom!" You grab your pillow and walk to Jamie's bed still laughing.

Jamie's smile grows wider the closer you get to his bed, he opens his arms to welcome you.

"Come here, sweet thing!" He playfully says.

You hit him with your pillow before coming into his hug. As you settle on his bed, Felix walks past your bed and flashes you a smile, a little different from the one he gave you earlier.

You forget that he sleeps on the bed next to Jamie's and you don't know how it suddenly feels awkward to you.

"Be good, you two!" Cole warns with a piercing glare.

"Not going to break any rules. You can have my words," you assure him despite Jamie nuzzling his nose onto your shoulder as you speak.

-

YOU: At least, that's what I hope. Being in bed with Jamie and try not to break rules will certainly not going to be easy. Ugh!

-

Once the lights are out, Jamie spoons you from behind with his arms wrapped around you. Not going to lie but it feels nice to be with someone.

"You smell so good," he whispers into your ear.

You don't respond, afraid that it will only encourage him to do more.

"You're so soft," he says again with his hand splayed on your bare stomach.

"Night, Jamie," you put an end to the talk.

That doesn't stop his hand from cuddling you and nuzzling his nose in your neck.

"No goodnight kiss?" He asks.

You take his hand and kiss it as a substitute, earning a low laugh from him.

Jamie kisses you on the neck in return, "Night!"

-

YOU: It's getting a little hot in here [fanning your neck]

-

The first thing Cole does when he wakes up is ask everyone an important question.

"Did anyone break any rules last night?"

You shake your head because as much as it's been hard to refrain from touching Jamie, you didn't do anything but cuddle under the cover.

"I can promise you we've been good in here!" Jamie confidently states and puts his arm around you.

Aly as Maeve's new bedmate, points at Laura and Alex's bed, "I definitely heard noises coming from their bed," she snatches on them.

Alex may have a good poker face but you can't say the same with Laura, she's looking guilty but the kind that tells she's not sorry for doing it.

"You may as well spill the truth now," Daniel eggs in.

Laura nonchalantly shrugs as if she's not been acting selfishly when it's only about time that Lana announces how much money we've lost because of them.

-

YOU: I'm proud that Jamie and I managed to not break any rules last night. I hope that proves that we do have a real connection.

-

It's too late for you to walk out as Felix sees you coming into the bathroom.

You walk to the sink to grab your toiletry bag you forgot to take with you, "I can't believe our meet cute is in the bathroom," you say.

He laughs hearing your words while struggling to put sunblock on his back.

"Need help?"

He considers it for a moment then nods, "Yes!"

You take the tube of sunblock from him, pressing a big dollop of the cream on your hand and slowly lathering it on his honey skin. His skin is smooth and warm with muscles that make his back the perfect spot to lean on.

"So, you and Jamie, huh?" he suddenly asks, looking at you through the reflection in the mirror.

The question snaps you out of your daze. You're thankful that he can't see your face as you're busy making sure the sunblock is covering his back evenly.

"Yes," you shortly reply.

He hums while subtly nodding his head, "And what do you think?"

You play dumb but it's also because your hands wander to his lats and they're distracting, "of what?"

Felix leans forward with hands resting against the sink, "is it serious?"

You silently gulp air because his question only means that he has an interest in your relationship which also means that he has...

"We're still figuring each other out," you settle with a diplomatic answer for him.

You glide your hands back up to lather the sunblock down his shoulder blades.

"I see," he responds with a smile.

And not just a smile, a smile that tells he got the answer he wants.

You slide your hands down his arms and playfully squeeze his biceps, "there! Done!"

He takes the sunblock back from you and checks himself in the mirror, "thank you."

Felix raises his hands for a high-five with you, "Let's have a great day!"

You smile at him and return the high-five, "Let's do it!"

-

YOU: Maeve likes Felix and I'm obviously team hoes before bros. Always!

-

"Blue looks good on you!"

It's another day of Jamie's endeavors to kiss you, starting the conversation by complimenting your bikini. He joined you sunbathing by the pool in the afternoon, sharing a sun lounger.

"Thank you!" You reply with a smile with your eyes squinting under the bright sun.

His hand is squeezing your arm, "you got some muscles here," he says.

"I played volleyball in high school," you share.

Propping a hand under his head, he looks down at you, "I want to see you play volleyball."

You chuckle, "That was years ago. I forgot how to play."

"Must be looking sexy serving ball in tight shorts," he lowers his head into your neck.

You burst out laughing and slip your hand in his soft locks, "that sounds so wrong."

Not only that you're out in the open, it's rather dangerous with how close he is and his lips looking inviting as he plants it on your shoulder.

It's only right that you distract him by giving him a little taste but not too much, enough to make him crave more.

"Do it for me?" You ask with a bottle of sun spray in your head.

"I'd love to," he eagerly says.

Jamie sprays on parts of the body he wants to touch, all over your back as you lay on your stomach and down to your asscheek, excessively kneading on them.

You laugh at how he can't stop himself that you eventually have to turn over so he can continue, spraying your shoulders.

You take off the straps around your neck so he can spray your chest and sneaks his hand on the valley between your breasts.

"Yeah, get in there!" You playfully encourage him.

Jamie grins like a child who got caught taking a cookie out of the cookie jar. He then continues to spray on your abdomen and evenly rub them down your thighs next while glancing into your eyes once in a while.

To say that you don't enjoy teasing him would be a lie.

-

YOU: Jamie becomes more relentless by the day but am I wrong to not want to rule break? Isn't that the purpose of this retreat?

-

As the day turns to night, it's only about time until everyone got called to the cabana.

You feel sick listening to the sound of Lana's cone-shaped body chiming, especially with Laura and Alex acting so suspiciously.

Lana is a computer but she sounds not pleased as she greets everyone. Cut to the announcement, she informs that Laura and Alex did break the rules last night.

You glance at Cole who got speechless that he's just looking at Alex in disbelief.

"These rule breaks cost the group $18.000."

-

YOU: For three kisses? Really? Lana, please, be reasonable with the prices.

-

"That's not the only rule break they committed," Lana spills more truth.

This is what you fear the most, getting riled by the whole group for breaking the rules. Everyone looks at both Laura and Alex waiting for them to confess.

"I touched his willy under the cover," Laura confesses.

Everyone groans in unison.

You don't know how Laura is okay being so selfish and can keep a straight face, but that's probably why her make-up is super thick.

"This rule break costs the group a further $4.000."

"Why would you do that?" Maeve asks and she rarely gets this mad.

"It's not a big deal!" Laura nonchalantly responds.

"Yeah but not for $4.000!" Heidi snaps at her, as furious as everyone.

"Now the prize fund stands at $166.000."

-

YOU: I can use that money as a deposit for a house and here we are, spending it on kisses and a hand down a guy's trouser.

-

The night gets darker not only on the outside but inside the house as well.

Lana sends Laura and Alex to the suite to test if they're building a true connection but everyone is skeptical that they'll pass the test.

You sit on the bed with Jamie resting his head on your lap, brushing his hair to relax you now that you've lost a chunk of money.

"Alex is like the horniest people and Laura is the biggest teaser, it's a recipe for a disaster," Aly comments, lying on her stomach on the bed opposite yours.

"They will rule break once or twice at least," Jamie adds his opinion.

The night ends early but you see that Maeve and Felix haven't returned yet to their respective beds. You hope that things are going well with them.

You nuzzle your head into Jamie's chest and murmur, "We haven't broken any rules," you tell him.

"Yet," Jamie continues your words clasping your hand with his.

You look at him and smile as he looks back at you, "We've been good and I'm proud."

He foolishly smiles and opens his arms to invite you for a hug. You jump right into his embrace and those muscles on his body feel pillowy under you.

Jamie pulls the duvet to cover both of your bodies even though the lights aren't out yet. You squeal as he starts to glide his hands down your sides.

-

YOU: I appreciate Jamie for being so patient because I know, it was hard for me to not throw myself at him.

-

"We don't need another rule break tonight!"

Cole pulls the duvet down to reveal that the two of you are just tickling each other under the cover.

At the same time, Felix makes his way to his bed, seeing you straddling Jamie on the bed which sends you to get off of him immediately.

It's unclear why you do that but your eyes go straight to Maeve's bed, it's empty even when the lights are already out.

You nestle your head in Jamie's neck as he lightly touches up and down your arm and kisses your hand once in a while.

You plant a soft kiss on his neck and whisper, "Night."

He kisses you back on the head, "Goodnight!"

-

YOU: I start to believe that maybe Jamie and I do have a genuine connection [smiles]

-

Everyone is looking restless from the moment they woke up and looks in shambles once they gathered in the cabana, ready for that time of the day.

After a while, Laura and Alex are returning from the suite. You recognize the glow on Laura's face right away but you could be wrong.

God! You hope you're wrong and they didn't do anything selfish last night.

You're spacing out as Lana comes with her anxiety-inducing ping sounds and all you can think about is how much money Laura and Alex spent last night.

"They're looking suspicious," Aly whispers at you.

Indeed, they are, and looking very guilty as well. Everyone waits in anticipation as Lana takes her time to announce whether they pass the test or blow all the money in one night.

"I must tell the group that Laura and Alex did..."

You hold your breath for the worst outcome.

"Not..."

It's getting harder to breathe now.

"Break any rules!"

Everyone shoots up from their seats and congratulates the couple in turns. You got so far in life that you get to celebrate people for not having sex.

-

YOU: So they can keep it in their pants! I'm proud!

-

Lana has another announcement after everyone settled in from the celebration.

"To motivate everyone to grow genuine feelings of connection as opposed to lust, I've prepared gifts for all of you."

You take the box in front of you and open it to reveal a watch inside.

"When I observe two people forming genuine connections, they will be given a green light like this."

Everyone's watch chimes and turns green at the same time.

"While the lights are green, the rules do not apply for a limited amount of time."

Cole claps his hands together to get everyone's attention, "There's no more excuse for anyone to break any more rules!"

-

YOU: This [shows the watch] motivates me to build a connection with Jamie. Hope we get to be the first to get the green light.

-

After a very stressful morning that thankfully ends with a happy ending, you can have the room to breathe since the boys are out of the house to do a workshop at the beach.

The girls are hanging out in the bedroom and with the drama going on earlier, you forgot to ask Maeve why she went to bed late last night.

To get a little privacy, even though you can't get any with cameras placed in every crook and nook of the villa, you take her to the make-up room. You sit next to her while fixing your make-up in the mirror.

"Is everything okay?" You ask.

Maeve sits with both feet up on the chair and looks down at her nails, "not okay, honestly," she answers.

You stop looking at the mirror and turn your chair to face her, "why? What happened?"

Maeve hugs her folded legs and looks at you, a sad smile on her face.

"I just don't know what I'm doing here..."

You place your hand on her knee, "hey, don't say that!"

"I'm not making connections with anyone and I tried, but it's not working. I-I don't know why I'm here," she says with a heavy sigh at the end of the sentence.

It seems like things aren't going well between her and Felix, and Maeve is someone with low self-esteem, which makes her somewhat dejected that things didn't go well.

"You don't have to be a couple to make progress, you know," you comfort her and it's true, Cole is proof that he's fine not being in a pair and dedicates himself as an avid protector of the prize money instead.

"I'm not pretty. No one wants to be with me," she breaks into tears and buries her head in her hands.

You get up from the chair to hug her, "First of all, everyone here is pretty and it's not a beauty pageant, okay?" You comfort her while slightly bending down with your arms around her.

"It's not about look. It's about chemistry, attraction, and stuff," you awkwardly explain.

You have no talent in comforting someone but you try your best. After a moment, Maeve lifts her head and looks at you.

"No one is attracted to me," she says with her fingers carefully dabbing the corner of her eyes to avoid ruining her make-up.

You scoff and turn the chair to face her before sitting on it, "you are so beautiful, Maeve," you assure her with both hands holding hers.

Maeve puts down her feet and your clasped hands dropped onto her lap, "I know," she half-heartedly agrees.

"For you, I'll fly to Ireland and come see you, we'll get drunk and have so much fun," you cheer her up with nice thoughts while shaking her hands.

Maeve cracks a laugh and you can see that she starts to get hopeful again. She's a genuinely kind person which is not someone you expect to meet here, you think of her as a friend despite it happening because you both are in a reality show.

A crazy idea crosses your head, "you know what? We can be a couple and win the money," you tell her.

-

YOU: I'm bad at comforting people and the only thing I know how to comfort someone is through actions [slyly smiles]

-

She laughs at your wild suggestion that it takes her a while to reply to you, "I'd love that, yeah," she jokingly answers.

An even crazier idea crosses your head, "come here then," you tell her, pulling her close until your heads meet in the middle.

Maeve senses your intention but not doing anything to stop you, instead, she leans in first to kiss you.

You kiss her back as she softly brushes her lips on yours over and over again. She tastes so sweet and warm, she knows how to use her tongue and not overdo it, and overall, one hell of a good kisser.

You pull away first as the reality that someone might walk in on you dawns on you.

"Did we just break the rules?" Maeve asks while wiping her smeared lipstick.

"You'd better have a good poker face!" You warn her.

-

YOU: Goodness! Maeve is a good kisser and that kiss... I think that was the best $6.000 I ever spent. No regret at all.

-

The boys are back just in time for another party Lana is throwing tonight.

The theme is Saints and Sinners and there's a box of costumes for everyone to wear. You choose to be an angel with wings even though you've been behaving badly after breaking the rules earlier.

He sits you on his lap even though the sofa is spacy enough for another two persons but you feel safe since Alex and Laura are there, cuddling in the smaller sofa across from yours.

"So, what did you do in the workshop?" You ask Jamie.

He takes a deep breath and his chest heaving along with yours, "we learned how to be more open with our feelings."

You nod along and leer over at him, "And how did it go?"

Jamie rests his chin on your shoulder with a hand resting on your stomach, "Well, I'm never good at it but I think I did alright."

He doesn't sound so convincing but you appreciate the effort.

"You look beautiful, babe!" He compliments you along with a gentle squeeze on your thigh.

You're immune to sweet nothings like this but a compliment is a compliment. You smile and mutter, "Thank you!"

You slip your hand into the opening of his shirt, "I like your shirt," you compliment back with a seductive smile.

He sees your hand slide in further into his shirt, "should have let another button open."

Jamie keeps checking his watch hoping that the light turns green soon.

You doubt that a few compliments can do it and silently laugh at his fruitless effort. 

-

YOU: I'll always be physically attracted to Jamie but I don't know. I can't tell if I doubt myself or him, or us, entirely [clicks tongue]

-

The time for doom is here.

You exchange nervous glances with Maeve knowing what we've done would damage the numbers on the prize fund. You doubt that it's what Laura felt when she broke the rules because what you're feeling is a sense of guilt but that's solely because you behaved selfishly, not for the kiss.

"Hours after receiving the gifts of my watches, a couple of you decide to break the rules by kissing," Lana announces.

Everyone's eyes land on Alex and Laura since they're the regular rulebreakers. Just know that they'll be surprised once they found out who did it.

"You know the routine. Just spill it!" Cole sounded so done at this point.

You hate to break his trust but you don't feel bad for breaking the rules, not when you have a good intention. Your heart is pounding for how much shit you'll get either from admitting it or don't, you choose the former.

"It was me," you blurt out with a hand raised.

Jamie snaps his head at you, eyes wide filled with confusion because he knows for damn sure you didn't kiss him or vice versa.

"I'm not going to name names who I did it with and why," you quickly add and it's the only right thing to do, you don't want to force Maeve to speak out unless she wanted to.

"I'm sorry," you apologize.

Jamie looks even more confused but his eyes are scanning the guys one by one even though it isn't any of them you kissed.

"I'm sorry, Cole," you apologize to him personally since he's the one who gets sensitive the most about the money.

Maeve raises her hand and decides to admit it as well, "she did it with me."

They let out a collective gasp, laughter, and sneaky eyes going on after. Jamie squeezes your shoulder but not saying anything to you.

"Another $6.000 has gone from the prize fund, leaving the group with $160.000," Lana furtherly informs.

Funny that you didn't about the money at all when you kiss Maeve. Probably because you know that you intend to rebuild Maeve's confidence, so she's not giving up on herself and continues her journey here.

However, when it comes to Jamie, you're still not sure if you want to spend $6.000 on a kiss with him.

-

The rule break doesn't seem to leave that much impression on everyone.

Maybe because they give you a pass because it's your first time breaking the rule and the night ends in peace or that's what you thought.

You're chatting with Aly in the firepit to avoid the crowded make-up room when suddenly Felix comes behind you. You didn't notice until Aly sends you a signal with her eyes.

"Can I talk to you?" He asks.

Aly gets the hint and decides to leave, "I'll excuse myself then."

You've spent a couple of times alone with him even though they only last for a few minutes, but this time is different, no one is around except for the filming crew lurking in the bushes or somewhere you're not aware of.

The sofa could fit a couple of dozen people but Felix decides to sit next to you.

"Hi," he sweetly greets.

"Hi, how are you?" You ask with a smile.

His legs are spreading wide and he has gaping holes in his jeans, exposing bits of his thighs that you found are surprisingly muscular.

"I'm good," he answers, doing the classic move of putting his arm on the headrest of the sofa, "how about you?"

Your body somehow responds by putting your leg over the other and leaning towards him, "Never been better."

Felix gets quiet but his eyes are deeply looking into your eyes as if he found something fascinating in them. A while later, he clears his throat as he slightly slouched on the sofa, legs spreading wider, sending the holes in his jeans to stretch and expose more of his skin.

"During the workshop, we were taught to open up about our feelings and I–" He pauses to scratch his small nose and continues with an uneasy glance at you, "I know what I want and I want to do it. I know I'll regret it if I don't."

"Okay," you respond while nodding along and at times, getting distracted by the holes in his jeans.

"I know you're with Jamie and I don't mean to break things between the two of you but I feel like... I need you to know that I like you."

Felix talks without a beat and with the intense stare he's giving you, you gulp air feeling nervous but in an exciting kind of way.

"I like you," he says again.

Your heart starts to race because you can feel how much he meant all of his words.

-

YOU: Oh my God! The hottest man in this retreat likes me?!

-

"You don't have to do anything about it," he casually says as if he didn't just put you in a predicament since you're with Jamie.

Felix retracts his hand and accidentally or not, brushes his hand on your shoulder. He gives you the faintest of physical contact but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Still speechless by his sudden confession, but you know you should have said something to him to avoid him getting the wrong idea.

"Thank you for letting me know," you begin.

"You're very welcome!" He excitedly responds with a wide grin.

"But let me know if you want to do anything about it," he adds with a playful grin.

Something about him makes you warm inside, you can feel your cheeks heating, flustered with his eyes never straying away from yours even for a second.

The night is late and the fireplace is laying low, swaying with the gentle breeze coming from the sea, Felix's lips suddenly look so inviting, enticing you like a forbidden apple.

This is dangerous. 

"Let's head inside," he says, thankfully being the one putting a brake on the imminent danger.

-

YOU: This is honestly what I seek with Jamie, that excitement, that sparks and it's a problem that I got it from someone else without any sort of physical contact whatsoever.

-

"So, Maeve, is she a good kisser?" Jamie asks as he sits with you on the bed.

Maeve sips water from her tumbler before answering, "The best!"

She takes another sip before talking again, "You're in for a treat, Jamie."

He glances at you with an impressed smile, "Too bad that I can't confirm that," he says.

That's his way to dig at you for what you did. You understand that he feels betrayed by what you did, you refuse to kiss him but easily kissed someone behind his back.

You put your hand across his chest and look at him, "Are you mad?"

"Nah," he coyly answers.

You bring your mouth close to his ear, "are you jealous?"

Jamie chuckles as your breath tickles his ear, "A bit, yeah."

You kiss his cheek and deliver your apology with a heartfelt whisper, "I'm sorry, baby."

-

YOU: I, of course, feel bad for not giving Jamie the heads up about the kiss I did with Maeve. He looks rather upset but I know I deserve it.

-

It's probably luck that follows you throughout the times you spent in the retreat.

Everyone forgot about your rulebreaking as Daniel decides to get a new bed partner. He used to sleep with Heidi but tonight, he decides to sleep with Aly.

You nudge Jamie who's sleeping with his head nuzzles in your neck to witness the drama happening in the room.

His mouth opens in surprise while you look at Heidi who's slumped down on the bed.

"You okay?" You mouth at her.

"No," she mouths back.

You turn to look at Jamie, "Oh my God!" You lowly gasp.

"I feel bad for Heidi," Jamie whispers.

"Me too," you say back behind the duvet at Jamie.

-

YOU: Let's say we never know what's going to happen next [shrugs]

-

The mood the next morning has been set to gloomy with the drama that happened last night.

The good news is there's no sign of anyone breaking any rules and the bad news is that Jamie seems to not moving on from your kiss with Maeve yet.

Jamie is usually chipper whenever he's with you, except for today, he seems distant even though you're working out together by the beach.

"Tighten your glutes," he instructed.

You play dumb since that's the most successful way to win a guy's heart, "tighten my what?"

Jamie chuckles and enthusiastically shows you the parts of your body you need to work on, the back of your thighs and legs. His hands don't skip the chance to rub over the curve of your ass.

"Can you feel it?" He asks as he guides you to do a proper squat by standing right behind you.

You intentionally nudge his crotch with your ass, "oh yeah, I can feel it," you answer with giggles.

By working out, you hope that it would help to release tension between you and Jamie, it worked but in the process, you're getting that tingling down there with his hands constantly touching you.

You collapse onto the yoga mat from doing a plank and groan, "Ugh... I'm so horny."

Jamie laughs as he helps you get up from the mat.

-

YOU: I realized now that maybe Jamie needs validation, he needs more than just words from me. Maybe I have to do something about it [raises an eyebrow]

-

Before you can set a plan, Lana calls everyone to the cabana.

Not sure if anyone breaks any rules but you feel sick in the stomach whenever you sit down and face her cone-shaped body.

Cole is getting ready to put his laser eyes on anyone who breaks the rules.

"No one break any rules last night," Lana announces.

Everyone seems to be letting out a sigh of relief and you feel guilty just from thinking about doing a rule break later for Jamie.

"With the couples seeming to form deeper bonds, it's time to establish how committed to each other you really are," Lana states.

Couples? You are positive you and Jamie are included in it.

"By sending some of you on dates..." Lana continues.

-

YOU: The question is... Who's going on a date? I would love to go on a date with Jamie.

-

Now everyone starts to hold their breath again with Lana dragging each piece of information just to torture all of you.

"With new arrivals," Lana finally finishes.

This is not a good time for Lana to intervene, not when you plan on taking things further with Jamie. Also, new arrivals mean that they're not adapted to the rules yet, they'll be uncontrollable, horny babies like... well, everyone here a week ago.

"The first arrival is... Mia," Lana announces.

The guys snickered in joy, excited even just from hearing the girl's name.

"I have given her a choice of dating one of the boys currently in couples."

Your mouth hangs open in surprise, you're wrong to underestimate Lana's power and that she owns this game, she's the mastermind.

"She has selected..."

-

YOU: I hate to think about it but I have an inkling that this Mia girl is going to choose Jamie [leans back on the sofa]

-

"... Jamie."

The timing is impeccable.

Things are going well between you and Jamie, then Lana, being the girl boss she is, decides to ruin all of that.

You look at Jamie and he looks slightly pleased that he got chosen.

You're spacing out the rest of the time Lana announces another arrival, a boy who chose Laura to be his date.

It's unclear whether you're jealous about him going on another date or you regret holding yourself back from him all these times.

Jamie rubs his hand up and down your arm, briefly kisses your cheek, then says, "You have nothing to worry about."

How come you trust his words when you've witnessed all these bed hoppings and jumping ships happened overnight?

-

YOU: What Jamie said only makes me even more worried. Lana said it's a test so this Mia girl must be sexy, and speaks three languages or something. You know, like a girl version of Alex.

-

Maeve is helping you style your hair for tonight.

"How do you feel about Jamie going on a date with someone?" She asks.

You shrug and sigh, sending the powder you're holding flying around your face.

"I just hope she's ugly," you jokingly answer.

"Hate to break the news but I think she's hot and a potential rulebreaker," Maeve decides to pour salt on your wound instead of soothing it.

"It's not that I don't care but I decide not to care," you explain.

You finish your make-up with a setting spray and check yourself again in the mirror, "but you know, deep down, I'm scared, shitless," you admit.

It's getting more nerve-wracking waiting for Jamie to come back from his date. Maeve keeps you occupied with happy thoughts, telling you fun things you can do in Ireland with her.

The other girls low-key comfort you by complimenting your looks. It's a nice gesture except that no one died and you're not in mourning, you just want this to get over with.

Laura is the first one to come back, guiding the new arrival by linking her arm with his.

She introduces Killian around, an Irish man who's just the perfect match for Maeve.

Killian is a great distraction, his accent is attractive and so is his smile. You keep nudging Maeve's elbow to send her hints.

Maeve replies by elbowing your side and you thought she was being playful, then turn your head around to see Jamie has came back from his date.

"Oh shit. She's hot!" Aly exclaims.

You bite your tongue and put your lips together, not wanting to lose your calm easily. There are only two possibilities, Jamie stays with you, or not.

As Jamie pulls you to the make-up room, you know it's time for him to decide.

"How was the date?" You ask with a smile.

"It was nice. We had champagne and fruits and cheeses," he gives you an answer that you don't expect.

You silently gulp air and keep on putting on a smile for him, "Sounds lovely!"

The moment passed in silence is deafening and you need to burst it. You clear your throat and hold the hand on his lap.

"So... are you here to tell me I was right for not worrying you?" You joke.

Jamie awkwardly laughs at your question and that you're right for worrying him. A part of you is in denial that you're not chosen but another part of you decides to shut him out right here, right now.

"I want to tell you that Mia and I... I think we have something going on between us and I want to get to know her more," he slowly explains.

This heart is fickle, you decided not to care but you feel a sting in your chest when he told you that.

"You're saying you chose her?" You ask for confirmation.

Jamie takes your other hand, afraid that you run away before he can explain.

"No, I'm staying with you and openly telling you that at the same time, I want to get to know Mia," he refuses your words when it's exactly what he wants.

Other girls would give him the chance but not with you, if Jamie chose her then he should stay with her. There's no use for you and him to stay together if he wants to get to know someone that isn't you.

"Jamie you can't do that. You either stay with me or be with her, you have to choose!" You insist on him settling on a decision.

-

YOU: Apparently, Jamie wants to have his cake and eat it too [shakes head]

-

You get it that Jamie is conflicted because he still likes you but the other girl offers him something that you don't give to him.

"I like you. I still want to be with you," Jamie persists.

His words are not aligned with his action. You shake your head and put his hands away, "it sounds like you're asking me to wait for you while you're getting it on with someone else."

That seems to put the nail in the coffin that he got speechless. The disappointment got to you that you and if you stayed longer, you're afraid you would say something you didn't mean to him.

"You've made your choice, Jamie," you tell him.

-

YOU: To say that I'm disappointed is an understatement. I'm livid, I'm... I was planning to take things further but yeah... [brushes hair to the back] Mia happens.

-

Can't believe that you'll be the one serving drama tonight.

You stall in the make-up room, not wanting to get to the bedroom yet. You're drying your hair after a shower and sitting there for a minute, just taking everything in and trying to let it go.

Taking a deep breath, you keep a straight face as you push the door into the bedroom and have no choice but to share a bed with Heidi since Maeve is sharing the bed with Killian.

"You alright, babe?" She quietly asks.

You hold your forehead and slump down on the bed, "it's shitty."

She gently squeezes your elbow, "yeah."

You lay down on the bed and avoid the eyes looking back and forth between you and Jamie. You may decide not to care but seeing him sleeping with another girl right in front of your eyes, hurts.

You cover your eyes with your hand and mumble, "I just want to get this day over with."

-

YOU: Jamie has decided so he has to live with that decision. Good luck, I guess.

-

If it weren't for her, Jamie would have stayed with you and you wouldn't be waking up to Heidi lowly snoring next to you.

Mia might have seduced him but it wouldn't happen if Jamie remained faithful so you decide to blame him, not her.

This is probably what Maeve felt that day when she cried, defeated, and dejected.

But Jamie has to try harder if he wants to see you cry.

 "How are you feeling, sexy?" Maeve asks as she waddles in the swimming pool.

You sit on the edge with your feet dipped in the sun-warm water, "I don't know, really," you shrug.

She holds onto your leg, clinging to it to stay afloat, "You're better than her, trust me, she's not that attractive if you looked at her long enough."

You know that she's not saying that out of spite, she said all that to make you feel better.

"Saying unkind things about her doesn't make me better, Maeve," you tell her with a glare.

"I'm sorry but it's true," she says with a subtle shrug.

-

YOU: Jamie and I [sighs] We hugged, we cuddled, we slept in one bed together. I don't want to care but the truth is... I care.

-

The day drags on and you're more than happy to get to your bed except that you're not ready to see Jamie and Mia cuddling on the bed you used to sleep on.

You're hanging out with Maeve in the make-up room while she's braiding your hair to pass the time.

"We can sleep together. I'll just tell Killian—"

"And risks Heidi stealing him from you?" You cut her off with a joke.

Maeve laughs as she tied the end of your hair with an elastic band and fixes the loose hair on the back of your head.

"Enough about me. How about you and Killian?"

Maeve plops down on the chair next to you and takes a hairbrush from the table, slowly combing the end of her hair.

"We chatted a lot but not sure if we have that connection," she answers.

"But don't worry, we're getting along just fine," she assures you in response to your concerned expression.

"Is it perhaps because you haven't moved on from Felix?"

Asking her that is like walking on eggshells and you're doing it carefully. Mostly because Felix confessed that he likes you that making it seems that way to you.

"Oh come on! I've moved past that," she answers while twirling her hair around her fingers.

You consider telling her about Felix's confession that night but it comes to no use, the retreat has come halfway to finish and you're not sure if Felix still likes you.

It's close to lights out and you step into the bedroom with Maeve.

Heidi is already taking half of the bed with her long legs that you have to scoot close to the edge to lie down.

"Goodnight, everyone!" Aly says to everyone in the room and getting sleepy mumbles in return.

-

YOU: When I think about it, I'm seeing Lana more than my therapist [uneasy smiles]

-

This is not how you want to start the day.

You don't want to hear what Jamie and Mia did or how they spent $20.000 last night. He probably has pent-up tension and finally got to release it with her.

"You got the watches, man!" Cole is coming at him.

You sit back and watch it from the end of the sofa on how Jamie is trying to explain himself.

"I know you won't believe me but Mia and I, we have a connection," he explains.

"Why not act right and get rewarded?" Cole is jabbing him with words.

"You won't understand," Jamie says with a defeated sigh.

-

YOU: Maybe that's why I doubted Jamie. I can see it now, the bright side [smirks]

-

Nothing says a fresh start than doing yoga with Heidi.

Apparently, she is a licensed instructor and you feel a whole lot better after stretching your body to the limit.

You share the shower with Maeve to cut the time and get ready to dress up.

As you're applying your lipstick, Lana chimes in and makes you jolt in your seat.

Maeve's mouth drops open and she stops curling her hair altogether.

"Hello, ladies!"

"Hi, Lana," you nervously answer and push your chair away from the table.

Then she calls your name and you almost choke on air.

"Y-yes?"

"I'm offering the chance to go on a date with Felix " Lana informs out of the blue.

"Me?" You ask in disbelief.

"Would you like to attend?" Lana asks.

You turn to look at Maeve to remind yourself to be a good friend and a good friend avoid hurting her friend's feelings.

"Shouldn't we make them wait for at least 48 hours for an answer, Lana?" You playfully respond.

Maeve kicks your feet under the table, "what are you doing? Say yes!"

"Then how about you?" You blabber, not expecting that she gives you the blessing to go on a date with her former crush.

"What about me?" She asks in pure confusion.

"Don't you like him?"

Maeve excessively sighs, "I told you I've moved on!"

She kicks your feet again, "Hurry! Say yes!"

You turn to look at Lana in her mixed purple-hued lights and hesitate to say yes. Not only it means you have to start it all over again, but also letting yourself open for another heartbreak.

"Would you like to attend?" Lana asks once again.

-

YOU: I'm not sure if I'm ready to try and restart [sighs]

-

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[nohva]

Zoro drunkenly (or while tipsy) confesses his love to Sanji one night but, in the same breath, tells him it’s okay—he knows Sanji is straight and is fine with them remaining "only" crewmates, he just had to get these feelings out of his system. And Sanji is overwhelmed because ???? Where is this even coming from? Why is the mosshead suddenly saying these things? This isn’t how their relationship is supposed to work. They don’t do the whole talking thing, especially not about serious topics?? When they have emotions to work through they fight each other, maybe throw in an insult or two. But this? This is unfamiliar territory for Sanji, so he’s really not sure how to react, much less respond.

So he doesn’t; he just stares at Zoro, his mouth opening and closing. Zoro takes that as his sign, gets up from the stairs he’d been sitting on, and leaves for the sleeping quarters. It is quite late, after all.

The next morning while preparing breakfast Sanji is oh so tense. He’s still mostly confused because there’s just no way the green-haired brute could harbor any such feelings toward another human being—least of all him—could he? And what if this does change things? Zoro said it wouldn’t, but who's to say?

And Zoro acts like nothing ever happened, he's just the same old moss ball that drinks too much Sake and takes way too many naps during the day and Sanji is so confused and he's getting angry now, because how can he act so nonchalant while the cook is over here losing his god damn mind over this? Does Zoro maybe not remember confessing? Had he been that drunk?

And obviously Zoro DOES remember, and he's NOT calm at all. He's freaking out internally every time he and Sanji are in the same room, but he'd rather lose his remaining eye than have anyone notice. So he does his best to play it cool. And yeah, maybe he takes a nap or two more than usual, and maybe he spends even more time working out in the crow's nest than is strictly necessary, but that is nobody’s business but his own, isn’t it?

Bla bla bla cue Sanji questioning the universe and his existence, freaking out over his sexuality, sloooowly coming to terms with it and then freaking out again about telling Zoro and what it means for the crew dynamic etc etc.

Also Robin being somewhere in the background of the story, smiling to herself, sipping on her tea, because of course she knows something is up, and she has a pretty good idea of what it is about, even if she doesn’t know the whole story, because she knows pretty much everything that’s going on on the sunny, cause she’s the responsible older sister™️.

————————————————————-

I have never attempted to write anything before, not even a rough draft like this, but Zosan has been living in my head rent free for the past few months now, and once the idea for a possible plot popped up in my mind I absolutely needed to note it down. Oh well, I hope I am not embarrassing myself too much by posting this.

Anyways, this is the most I can offer due to a lack of actual literary skills, but I still hope you enjoyed!

The obligatory English isn’t my first language speech: please excuse any spelling and grammar mistakes, I tried my best, I swear!