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rizzanon · 2 months ago

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07-3 | SNEAKY LINK?

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Your face was burning.

Not from anger. Not from shame.

But from sheer, secondhand embarrassment.

Because what the hell was that?

You had just—what, snapped at Tim? And not in the normal, passive-aggressive, “I’m going to make this as difficult as possible for you” kind of way.

No. You had gone dramatic.

Full “No, Tim. Don’t. I’m not here to listen to whatever you have to say” levels of dramatic. Like you were starring in some self-indulgent soap opera about betrayal and lost trust.

And then, because that wasn’t enough, you had kept going.

“The least you can do after following me like this is help out with the kids with your friends.”

Like you were some righteous saint, personally assigning him his penance.

And then, to top it all off—

“You don’t have to bother yourself with me anymore. I’ll make sure of that.”

You’ll make sure of that.

You’ll make sure of that?

Make sure of that how?

What were you going to do, take out a restraining order? Get a new identity? Flee to Europe?

Who did you think you were?

God, the moment you had walked away, the sheer mortification had hit you like a brick wall. You had barely managed to keep yourself from cringing so hard you collapsed in on yourself like a dying star.

And now here you were, sitting in some abandoned corner of the orphanage’s yard, forcibly repressing every memory of the last ten minutes before you actually had a stroke.

You inhaled sharply, running a hand down your face.

No. You couldn’t afford to let this mess with your head.

Not right now.

Because you had work to do.

Mrs. Cole was out on errands. At least, that’s what you had overheard from one of the staff members you’d befriended. If there was ever a time to do some snooping, it was now.

You just needed to—

“Wow. You look like you just had the worst conversation of your life.”

Your entire body tensed.

Because of course.

Of course.

Slowly, you turned your head—only to be met with the sight of none other than Conner Kent standing a few feet away, arms crossed, an easy grin playing at his lips.

Because apparently, the universe hated you.

For a moment, you just stared at him, trying to gauge what he wanted, the sarcasm practically dripping from your voice. “Finally making use of that superhearing of yours, huh?”

Kon’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Only when it’s worth it,” he said, tilting his head slightly, clearly intrigued.

“You looked like you were about to burst into flames back there. Just thought I’d check in on you.”

Of course he noticed that.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Well, you checked in. You can go now.”

Kon raised an eyebrow. “Not even a ‘thank you’ for my concern? Cold.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away. “Go bother someone else.”

“Nah.” Kon said simply, pushing himself off the wall and stepping closer to you. He plopped down beside you in that effortlessly casual way of his, as though it was totally normal for him to invade your space like this. “I’m good, thanks.”

You sighed. Loudly.

Because of course he wasn’t going to leave.

Of all the people to find you, it just had to be him.

You and Kon had never really been close.

You’d only ever known him as Tim’s best friend. Tim’s partner-in-crime. Tim’s “I’m going to try and clone you 99 times because I have attachment issues” best friend. The guy who didn’t really fit into your orbit. But now, here he was, standing right in front of you, apparently more interested in whatever you were doing than the kids in the yard.

Other than a handful of stakeouts and a few missions where you’d been forced to work together, you had barely interacted.

And yet, somehow, somehow, he was the one who had found you.

You were already trying to fix things in your head, and now Kon—Kon, of all people—had decided to join you for the pity party.

Fantastic.

You exhaled sharply. “If you’re just here to talk, don’t bother. I’m not in the mood.”

Kon tilted his head. “Not in the mood? Or trying to be sneaky?”

Your fingers twitched.

Because that was dangerously close to being an actual observation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said flatly.

Kon hummed. “Sure you don’t.”

You shot him a warning look. “Are you done?”

“Not really.”

You sighed again. “Then what do you want?”

Kon grinned. “Needed a break. The kids get exhausting after a while.”

That, at least, was something you could understand.

You huffed, shaking your head. “Yeah. I don’t know how the others do it.”

“Right?” Kon groaned, dropping down to sit beside you. “One Bart is enough. A whole room of them? No, thanks.”

That caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected Kon to be so honest about his frustration. And, to be honest, you felt it too. You let out a soft, surprised chuckle, a real one.

It was soft. Brief.

But Kon heard it.

And when you glanced at him, he was staring.

Brows slightly raised, lips parted just a fraction.

Like he had just witnessed a goddamn miracle.

You raised an eyebrow, suddenly wondering what had caused the shift in his mood. “What?”

Kon blinked, then grinned. “So even you can laugh, huh?”

You deadpanned. “What, am I not allowed to?”

Kon held his hands up. “No, no. Laugh all you want. Just thought you’d be more of a carbon copy of your pops.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. It was like a sharp stab to the gut. You weren’t sure why, but it made you feel something close to irritation.

And without thinking—

“Don’t compare me to him.”

Kon froze.

You weren’t angry, per se.

But there was a sharpness to your voice that hadn’t been there before.

A warning.

Kon, to his credit, immediately backtracked. “Right. My bad.”

And just like that, he dropped it, his face shifting to one of genuine apology as he raised his hands in defeat.

No jokes. No teasing.

Just a simple, straightforward apology.

That… was unexpected.

You glanced at him, considering. Then, reluctantly, you decided to cut him some slack.

You stood up from your crouched position, brushing the dirt off your pants. “Well, I’ve got work to do.”

Kon looked at you, mildly confused. “Work?”

You gave him a pointed look. “Staff needs help around here. I’ve got my hands full.”

Which was true—on the surface. You had offered to help out with some of the administrative tasks the orphanage had, but in reality, your purpose was entirely different. You had to move, to snoop. Mrs. Cole would be out for a while, and you needed that time.

Kon’s brow furrowed slightly. “I’ll tag along.”

“No.”

Kon blinked. “No?”

“No.” You said it too quickly, too firmly, and you knew it.

Kon squinted at you, eyes narrowing with exaggerated suspicion. “Aww, why not? Thought you’d be grateful to get some help around here. After all, isn’t that what you wanted Tim to do?”

Your stomach dropped.

Of course, he’d heard that.

Of course, with his super hearing, he’d caught every single word.

You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, even as your mind raced for an out. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

Kon grinned, leaning back against the courtyard railing with all the ease of someone who had all the time in the world. “Nope.”

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your temple.

Kon, still lounging like he owned the place, tilted his head at you. “So, are you gonna let me help you out, or—”

“I like to work alone,” you cut in, shutting him down before he could finish.

And then, before he could argue, before he could get another teasing word in, you turned on your heel and walked off, heading straight into the orphanage building.

You didn’t look back.

But you could feel his gaze on you the entire way.

For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to follow. You could feel his gaze on your back, but he didn’t move.

Good. You needed him to leave.

Once inside, you made your way toward the front desk, where one of the orphanage staff members—Miss Jenkins—was standing, sifting through some paperwork. She wasn’t as unsettling as Mrs. Cole, but she was efficient, always delegating tasks to whoever was willing to help.

You cleared your throat, catching her attention. “Miss Jenkins.”

She looked up, offering a polite smile. “Ah, good timing. I was just about to look for someone to help with some tasks.”

Perfect. The more she trusted you, the easier it would be to sneak around later. You forced a pleasant expression, nodding. “I can help.”

Miss Jenkins looked relieved. “Great. There are some supplies that need organising in the storage room—”

A sudden weight landed on your shoulder.

You stiffened instantly.

You knew who it was before you even turned your head.

Because of course.

Of course.

Slowly, almost dreading what you’d see, you glanced to the side—only to be met with the insufferably smug face of none other than Conner Kent, grinning down at you like he had just won something.

And technically, he had.

“So,” he drawled, his arm still slung casually over your shoulder, “what are we helping out with?”

You have got to be kidding me.

You just stared at him.

Flabbergasted.

Because what part of “I like to work alone” had been unclear?

You were sure you had said it clearly. Firmly. Finally.

And yet, here he was.

Looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Miss Jenkins, completely unaware of the silent war you were now fighting, simply smiled. “Oh, perfect! That makes things easier.”

No, it does not, you thought, barely restraining the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.

You wanted to strangle him.

But you couldn’t.

Kon was watching you expectantly, clearly waiting for you to argue.

To fight him on this.

To give him some reaction he could latch onto, poke at, use as an excuse to keep going.

And you refused to give him that satisfaction.

So you swallowed your frustration, inhaled sharply, and turned back to Miss Jenkins.

You forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding as if nothing was wrong. “Yeah,” you said, voice strained. “Great.”

Miss Jenkins handed you a list of things to check, still clearly pleased by the unexpected extra help. “If I’m not around, just put the list back here when you’re done.”

“Got it.”

If she noticed the way your voice was slightly strained, she didn’t comment on it. She just nodded, already moving back to her paperwork.

That was your cue to leave.

You turned on your heel and walked briskly down the hall, doing your best to ignore the very solid, very annoying presence that was now trailing after you.

And, to his credit, Kon didn’t say anything.

Not right away.

He just kept up easily, hands tucked into his pockets, his usual air of relaxed confidence somehow making it even more obvious that he was enjoying himself.

You could feel it.

The sheer smugness radiating off him.

It was unbearable.

The second Miss Jenkins was out of eyeshot, you grabbed Kon by the arm and dragged him toward the nearest empty hallway, shoving him against the wall.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, voice low but sharp.

“What are you doing?”

You clenched your teeth. “I asked first.”

Kon raised an eyebrow. “Look, I know I might be a hot hunk”—

You rolled your eyes. Seriously.

Kon chuckled. “But that doesn’t mean I’m dumb. I know you’re up to something.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes. “So, what if I am? Are you going to snitch?”

Kon pretended to think. But you knew from one look that he was only playing with you.

“No. Never. As long as you let me join in on whatever it is you’re planning to do.”

Damn it, you thought, internally groaning. The last thing you needed was Kon sticking his nose into your business. “Why?” you asked, your voice dripping with exasperation.

Kon shrugged nonchalantly, completely unfazed by your frustration. “Why not?”

You gave him a look. “You’re wasting your time.”

Kon shrugged, his smile still intact. “So? I’ve already given Tim my time and day to spy on you. Might as well use the rest of it on you again.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Not funny.”

Kon sighed dramatically. “Right. Got it. I’m just… offering help, like a good citizen, y’know.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re not a good citizen.”

He gasped, feigning offense. “Wow. Rude.”

You weren’t in the mood for this. “Conner.”

“Call me Kon.”

You sighed sharply, rubbing a hand down your face. “Kon, I swear to—”

“So what exactly are you snooping for?” he interrupted, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Because let’s be honest, you’re not exactly a volunteer type.”

You glared. “And you are?”

He shrugged. “Nope. But I can recognize a lie when I see one.”

You clenched your jaw, mind racing. You had two options: make up some excuse or tell him the truth. Both had risks. If you lied and he caught on, he’d definitely tell Tim. If you told him the truth, there was still a chance he’d tell Tim.

Neither outcome was ideal.

Kon, as if sensing your internal battle, grinned wider. “Man, you’re really overthinking this, huh?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’m considering my options.”

“Options?”

“Yeah. Like whether I should knock you out or just leave you here.”

Kon chuckled. “Right. That’s an option.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, after a beat, Kon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a lower, more curious tone. “Seriously though. What’s going on?”

You studied his face. He wasn’t just messing with you anymore. There was genuine curiosity there. Maybe even concern.

You hesitated. That made it harder to brush him off. Because it didn’t seem like he had any other agenda.

Then, finally, you quietly mutter, “Something isn’t right about this place.”

Kon blinked, the teasing glint in his eyes dimming just a fraction.

You expected him to brush it off, to laugh, to call you paranoid.

Instead, he tilted his head. “Yeah?”

That threw you off. You had expected teasing. Maybe a sarcastic remark. But he wasn’t mocking you. He was listening.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Kon considered that for a moment. Then, with a shrug, he said, “Alright. Guess I’m in.”

You stared. “What?”

His smirk returned. “You heard me.”

It made you pause.

“You believe me?” You asked slowly.

Kon blinked. “Yeah?”

You frowned. “Just like that?”

“Just like what?”

“You don’t think I’m being paranoid or overreacting?”

Kon shrugged. “If there’s one thing I learned after working with Tim and you Bats, it’s to trust your instincts. Because somehow, for some godforsaken reason, you guys are always right.”

You froze.

The way he said Bats. Like it still applied to you.

Like you were still one of them.

You weren’t Batgirl anymore. You weren’t—one of them anymore.

You swallowed, staring at Kon’s face, but he wasn’t looking at you like he’d said something strange. He wasn’t looking at you with pity either, or like he was trying to backpedal. He’d said it so naturally, so easily, like it was a simple fact.

Your throat felt tight.

You looked away.

“You do know I’m not Batgirl anymore, right?” Your voice came out quieter than you intended, and you hated how it sounded—how it almost wavered.

You saw Kon hesitate, as if trying to find the right words to say.

“Yeah. I heard.”

You waited.

Waited for the inevitable Why? that always followed.

But it never came.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t press.

Just accepted it.

Your brows furrowed slightly, caught off guard.

“You’re not gonna ask why I quit?”

Kon shrugged. “Nope.”

And that… that was surprising.

You blinked. “…Why?”

His smirk softened, losing its usual cockiness. Just a fraction. “Because if you wanted to tell me the reason, you’d do so without any prompting.”

You stared.

Something deep twisted in your chest.

That was—unexpected.

People always asked.

Over and over, like they needed to hear you say it out loud.

But Kon…

He just accepted it.

Like he didn’t need an explanation.

Like your choices were yours.

You had no idea what to do with that.

Your throat felt tight again, and you cleared it quickly, shifting your weight like that would somehow shake off the sudden heaviness in your chest. “Well. Uh. Thanks, I guess.”

Kon’s grin returned in full force, his usual playful energy slipping back into place. “Anytime.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t quite shake the feeling in your chest, like something had settled in there, unfamiliar and warm.

Pushing past it, you nodded toward the hallway. “Come on. We have an orphanage to snoop through.”

Kon chuckled, pushing off the wall with ease and falling into step beside you. “Lead the way, not-Batgirl.”

You shot him a look, but he only smirked wider, clearly enjoying himself.

The search was… frustrating.

You and Kon had started with the staff rooms, slipping through the halls unnoticed, careful not to make a sound.

But there was nothing.

No weird documents, no strange behavior from the staff, no hidden files. The most suspicious thing you found was an outdated carton of milk in the break room fridge.

Then you moved onto Mrs. Cole’s office, lingering outside the door, waiting for the perfect moment.

“Seriously, what are we looking for?” Kon muttered beside you, shifting his weight.

“Anything suspicious,” you whispered back.

Kon snorted. “Right. Because that narrows it down.”

You shot him a look before cracking the door open and slipping inside, Kon following behind you.

Mrs. Cole’s office was surprisingly neat. A single desk sat in the center, with a few filing cabinets lined up against the walls. Everything was orderly. A little too orderly.

Kon leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching as you surveyed the room. “Alright, detective, what’s the plan?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just—check the drawers.”

Kon gave you a lazy salute before crouching down and yanking one open. Meanwhile, you moved toward the filing cabinets, quickly skimming the labels.

Most of them were standard. Financial records, employee files, supply orders. Nothing remotely suspicious.

Kon, however, had taken a different approach.

“Hey, do you think she’s hiding secret documents under here?” he asked, knocking against the bottom of the drawer like it might pop open to reveal a hidden compartment.

You turned to see him casually opening and shutting random drawers, half-heartedly rummaging through them.

“You’re terrible at this,” you muttered.

“Excuse you,” Kon shot back. “I am fantastic at this.”

You huffed, moving toward the desk instead, running your fingers along the edges. Sometimes people had false bottoms in their drawers, or a safe tucked underneath. Maybe that was the case.

Meanwhile, Kon had apparently decided he was bored of the search already. “I’m just saying, if I were running a shady operation, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave evidence lying around in a desk.”

“Well, lucky for us, not everyone is as smart as you, Kon-El,” you deadpanned.

“Damn right.”

You ignored him, crouching down to check the bottom drawers. One was locked.

You tried tugging on it again. Still locked.

Bingo.

Kon, of course, noticed immediately. “Oho, what’s this?”

“Locked drawer,” You murmured, studying it.

Kon’s grin widened. “Want me to break it open?”

You stared at him. “And make it painfully obvious that someone was snooping around?”

He shrugged. “I could put it back together. Maybe.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “No. No breaking things.”

Kon sighed dramatically but backed off, leaning against the desk again. “So, what’s the plan, oh wise and paranoid one?”

You pulled a bobby pin from your pocket.

Kon’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you seriously about to pick that lock?”

You held up the pin. “Why else would I carry these?”

He looked vaguely impressed. “Okay, I take it back. That’s kinda badass.”

Rolling your eyes, you crouched down and got to work. It wasn’t a particularly difficult lock. You had it undone in less than a minute.

Kon gave a low whistle. “Damn. The big Bat really did teach you guys everything, huh?”

You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you pulled the drawer open, feeling a flicker of anticipation—

Only for it to disappear just as quickly.

The drawer was filled with basic paperwork. A few financial reports. Some school records. Nothing remotely unusual.

You flipped through them quickly, hoping for something, anything that would justify the nagging feeling in your gut. But after a good five minutes of searching…

Nothing.

No hidden records. No cryptic documents. No damning evidence.

Just… nothing.

You sat back on your heels, frustration clawing at your chest.

Kon, peering over your shoulder, let out a low hum. “Sooo, either Mrs. C is really good at covering her tracks, or—”

“There’s nothing to find,” you finished bitterly.

The words tasted wrong in your mouth. Because that wasn’t possible. You knew something was off about this place. You could feel it.

So why wasn’t there anything here?

Your mind started spiraling. Had you misread the situation? Had you let paranoia cloud your judgment? Were you just wasting your time—wasting Kon’s time—chasing after nothing? Just because of something you conjured up in your mind?

Your fingers curled into a fist.

Then—

A warm hand suddenly landed on your shoulder.

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts as Kon gave you a small, reassuring squeeze.

“You’re spiraling,” he said simply.

You stared at him, caught off guard.

He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t mocking.

He was just… grounding you.

You swallowed, exhaling slowly. “I just—” You hesitated, struggling to put it into words. “I know something’s wrong here, Kon.”

Kon nodded, like he believed you without question. “So, we’ll keep looking.”

You frowned. “Even though we just found nothing?”

“Yeah,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “If you still feel like something’s off, then I’ll help you figure it out.”

You blinked. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

You hesitated.

It was stupid.

This was stupid.

You should refuse. You should just let this go.

You shouldn’t drag him into this.

But…

Maybe—just maybe—it’d be nice to have help.

Without it feeling like you were being dumb. Weak.

Without feeling like someone who wasn’t capable of doing things on her own.

Without the skepticism, the side-eyes, the exasperated sighs.

Kon wasn’t doing that. He might be humoring you, but he wasn’t questioning your decisions, either. He was just… there. Standing beside you, unwavering.

You let out a slow breath, forcing yourself to unclench your fists.

“Alright,” you muttered. “Fine.”

You looked up at him. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Kon grinned. “Of course you do. I am pretty great.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up. “Come on. Let’s wrap this up before someone finds us.”

The two of you made quick work of putting everything back in place, slipping out of the office unnoticed.

And you guys quickly cleaned up and organised the storage room, before rejoining the others in the courtyard.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It was so typical. So stupid. You had thought—no, you had to believe—that something was off about this place. That there was something hiding beneath its surface. But now, after sifting through Mrs. Cole’s meticulous paperwork and pristine office, as well as clean fhe storage rooms and found absolutely nothing, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were just seeing shadows.

Or worse… you were going insane.

It is plausible. After all, you somehow came back to life and you still don’t know how or why—

“Looks like we’re back to square one.”

Kon’s voice was casual, the kind of tone that suggested he wasn’t bothered by the dead-end. But then again, he always had that air about him. Like everything bounced off. You watched as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, glancing over at you with a half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His eyes weren’t teasing. He wasn’t giving you that cocky grin. Instead, there was something else there. Something quieter. Something more… understanding.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to dive into it right now. Maybe you were too tired to unpack the layers of meaning in his expression.

So, you did the next best thing—you rolled your eyes and muttered a half-hearted, “Yeah, no kidding.”

Kon chuckled softly, a little sound that felt almost like a weight lifted from your chest. It was strange how much he could make you feel lighter, even in the most absurd situations.

Maybe that was why Tim kept him around. As his friend.

You shook the thought away, rubbing your forehead as if that could erase the last few hours of frustration. It wasn’t his job to take away your weight.

“We’ll find something,” Kon said, voice steady, though there was a hint of something that sounded like reassurance. “We just gotta keep looking. No need to make it harder than it is.”

You exhaled slowly, glancing at him. “We, huh? You were really serious about helping me out with this?”

Kon shrugged, his smile returning, albeit a little more teasing. “Of course! What do you take me for?”

You sighed. “Alright, fine, you win this time, Kent.”

His grin returned, lopsided and teasing. “Damn. Must’ve been hard admitting that, Wayne.”

You rolled your eyes. “Go back to Tim before I decide knocking you out is a viable option.”

Kon smirked but backed away with his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Don’t miss me too much, partner.”

You groaned, shaking your head, and turned on your heel.

You walked back toward the courtyard where your friends are, feeling that ever-present weight of unease still sitting in your chest. But it wasn’t as heavy as before.

Maybe because you weren’t the only one carrying it anymore.

Your friends were scattered, lounging on benches and idly chatting, before you felt it.

A familiar pang in your chest.

A gut feeling that you knew very well.

Adrien and Caitlyn were already watching you, and it wasn’t a gaze of mere curiosity. No, it was that unmistakable, mischievous glint. The kind that always meant they knew something.

And they did.

“Uh-oh,” Adrien said, his eyes lighting up. “Look who’s back, Caity.”

Caitlyn’s grin was practically ear-to-ear. “Don’t think we didn’t notice who you came back with, hun.”

You couldn’t help the sinking feeling that settled into your stomach. God. You hadn’t even said a word and they were already making assumptions. You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, even though you were already bracing for what was to come.

Adrien raised his eyebrows, a knowing, too-perfect smirk on his face. “What?” He pretended to look innocent. “It’s just funny. You disappearing with Mr Hotshot—and coming back with him. Alone. After what? Hours?”

“We’ve been gone for barely an hour—”

Caitlyn nudged him in the side. “Totally suspicious.”

You tried to hide your irritation. “It’s not like that.” You crossed your arms, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “Kon just helped out with some of the stuff around the orphanage, which is what we’re supposed to do as volunteers by the way.”

“Already calling him by nicknames, eh?” Caitlyn teased, folding her arms and giving you a look.

Ok, this was too much.

“That—“

Adrien’s grin widened, impossibly smug. “Uh-huh. Sure. You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say something’s going on between you two.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you snapped, but your voice came out sharper than you meant.

That only made them more excited.

“Right.” Adrien’s tone was playful, but there was a sharpness to it, as though he knew exactly what buttons to press. “Then why are you getting all defensive, huh?”

“I’m not defensive.”

“Oh, you so are.” Caitlyn insists, raising a finger to tap her chin. “I think she’s hiding something, Adrien.”

“I’m not—”

As you said it, you turned slightly—and your gaze landed on him.

Kon, who was now on the other side of the courtyard.

Kon, who had somehow gotten himself into what looked like a heated argument with Tim.

Tim, who looked seconds away from beating his ass over something.

The two of them were practically going toe-to-toe, Kon’s arms crossed and his posture that of someone who didn’t give a damn, while Tim’s posture was stiff with irritation, his words sharp and fast.

Yikes.

And at that exact moment, as if he felt your stare, Kon glanced up—right at you.

You both froze.

The moment your eyes met, something shifted.

His gaze softened, his expression pulling into a quiet smirk. It wasn’t teasing this time. It was something a little… fonder.

Then, ever so casually, ever so smugly, he winked.

The small, silent gesture hit you like a jolt, making you freeze.

And, with a knowing smirk, he lifted a finger to his lips in a shush motion.

You blinked.

It was a promise.

He wasn’t going to tell Tim.

The thought swirled in your mind as you processed his gesture. Your breath caught in your throat, a small smile curling up your lips before you could stop it.

It was small. Grateful.

A silent thank you.

You dipped your head at him, and he gave you a lazy salute once more before smoothly dodging a half-hearted swipe from Tim.

The moment was fleeting.

But it meant everything.

“Did you fucking see that?”

You whipped your head back toward your friends, but the smile on your face was gone, replaced with a forced indifference. “What?”

Caitlyn gasped. “Conner just winked at you, didn’t he??”

“No.” You were emphatic, trying to brush it off, but it didn’t feel right. You were lying—to them, and to yourself.

“Uh-huh. You’re smiling way too much by the way.”

“Shut up.”

But they weren’t done. They never were.

Adrien leaned forward. “You totally like him, don’t you?”

Before you could answer, there was a sharp cough from behind you, followed by the sound of boots striking the ground.

Damian.

Your stomach dropped.

You barely even noticed him standing beside your friends.

And before you knew, Damian was heading straight for Kon, his eyes narrowed with barely concealed fury.

You could see his fists tightening as he closed the distance, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Kon, oblivious to the brewing storm behind him, was still bantering with Tim. But you could see it in his posture now, that little glint of recognition in his eyes as he noticed Damian’s approach.

RIP.

—

A: “I swear I’ve seen that guy somewhere before.”

“No, you haven’t.”

A: “He kind of looks like Lex Luthor if you squint—“

“Nope. Definitely not.”

Tim was not having a good day.

It had been one of those afternoons where the lines between “whatever” and “I’m about to snap” blurred, and now he was pacing the courtyard, trying to ignore the incessant buzz in his mind. He’d been looking for Kon ever since his argument with you. Well, if he can call it that.

Cassie and Bart were just a few paces ahead of him, chatting casually, but Tim couldn’t focus on their conversation. Not with Kon completely disappearing out of his sight. He had a bad feeling about it. More than usual. Something about today—about Kon’s behaviour—had felt off. So, Tim just… asked around.

“Hey, Cassie. Bart. Have either of you seen Kon?” Tim asked, his voice tight, trying to keep his growing irritation in check.

Cassie shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes scanning the area. Bart just raised an eyebrow, looking far too innocent, as if he hadn’t been the cause of half of their chaotic antics.

“Nope,” Cassie answered, glancing at Bart, who gave a shrug of his own, and Tim could tell they were both just as clueless as he was.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Where the hell was he?

And then it happened.

There, emerging from the orphanage building, was Kon.

And—what the hell?

You were with him.

Tim’s stomach twisted as his gaze shot to the two of you. You were walking side by side, talking in low tones. A small smile tugged at your lips, a genuine smile, the kind Tim hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

Why were you smiling at him?

Tim’s breath hitched. You looked comfortable—too comfortable. That smile wasn’t something you gave just anyone. It wasn’t something you gave him. So why the hell were you smiling like that at Kon?

A red flag.

The first one of the day. What were you and Kon talking about?

Tim swallowed hard, trying to steady his thoughts. He needed answers. He had to know what the hell was going on. He wished for a moment that he had superhearing, just to catch even the smallest fragment of your conversation. What were you saying to him? What was Kon saying to you? His gaze never left you both. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way you stood there with him, the subtle way you nodded your head as you exchanged words, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His fists clenched, but he stayed silent, watching.

The second you broke away, walking back toward your friends, Kon turned and made his way back toward theirs. And that’s when it hit Tim—he couldn’t let this go.

Tim immediately stepped forward, his feet bringing him toward Kon as he approached the others. There was no more waiting. No more uncertainty. This time, he’d get answers. He had to.

“Kon,” Tim said, his voice edged with irritation, “where the hell did you go? And what were you doing with (Name)?”

Kon’s face was a mask of casual indifference. He leaned against the wall, his posture relaxed, as if the world was his to do with as he pleased. “Oh, I was just helping her out with some cleaning,” Kon said, the words rolling off his tongue as if they were completely innocent. But Tim could see it. He was lying.

That much was obvious.

“Really?” Tim asked, crossing his arms. “Just cleaning? You’re telling me you spent all that time in there just… cleaning?”

Kon shrugged, giving him that easy-going grin that Tim hated so much right now. “Yeah, sure. There was a lot of stuff to organise, so I helped out.”

“Right...”

Kon raised an eyebrow. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“Well, yeah,” Cassie added, crossing her arms together. “I bet you guys were doing more than just cleaning.”

And Kon—

Kon just shrugged.

And that itself was an answer.

“What the hell.” Tim snaps, but he immediately was about to interrogate the half-kryptonian full on.

But then he saw it.

Kon’s gaze, drifting elsewhere. His attention shifting. Tim frowned.

Kon wasn’t looking at him anymore. He wasn’t focused on Tim’s interrogation or on his friends. His eyes were elsewhere.

And then, like a slow-motion train wreck, Tim’s gaze followed Kon’s, and his breath caught.

Kon’s eyes were on you.

And your eyes were on him too.

Tim couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in his stomach as he watched Kon wink at you, his expression mischievous, his grin more playful than Tim had ever seen it. But it wasn’t the wink that caught Tim’s attention—it was the damn shush that followed. Kon placed a finger to his lips, and Tim’s world seemed to slow down, his heart beating out of sync with everything else.

What the hell?

And as if that wasn’t bad, you smiled back.

You smiled at Kon. You actually smiled at him, the same smile that you didn’t just give anyone.

Tim’s mind spiraled, crashing into chaos. His thoughts were all over the place, every tiny movement, every subtle glance now magnified in his mind.

First Damian, now Kon.

Why does it feel like everyone else can move forward with you, but when it’s you and him, it’s always two steps back?

What had he missed? What had happened between you and Kon?

That smile. That damn smile.

He could feel the tension in his chest rising, his hands clenching at his sides, fighting the urge to storm over and demand answers from both of you. Why the hell was he acting like that? What was Kon hiding?

“Yeah, okay, I’m done,” Tim muttered, hands clenched into fists. He took a step forward, his voice tight with something he couldn’t quite place, and definitely didn’t want to admit. “You winked at her.”

Kon chuckled. “What? I think you’re seeing things, Timbo.”

“You winked.” Tim repeated, louder this time, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “What are you guys hiding? What did you two do?” He struggled to find the words, his brain running a mile a minute.

Cassie, sensing TIm’s growing frustration, leaned back on her hands. “Whoa, whoa, hold up. Calm down, Tim, I’m sure they didn’t do anything bad.”

“If it’s nothing bad, Cassie, why isn’t he telling us?” Tim shot back, his voice dripping with exasperation, before his eyes darted over to Kon.

Kon, predictably, didn’t back down. Instead, he chuckled, clearly enjoying the chaos he was stirring up. “Relax, Tim. We can’t keep secrets now? We were just having fun, alright?” He shot a quick look at Tim’s clenched fists, before shooting him a grin. “How about we all take a chill pill?”

Before Tim could snap back, another voice interrupted him.

“Kent.”

“Oh boy, here we go…” Tim heard Cassie’s sigh. He didn’t even have to turn around to know that Damian Wayne was approaching their group.

The younger boy, clearly agitated, marched over to Kon with an intensity that matched Tim’s own. The way his eyes narrowed, fists clenched at his sides, told Tim everything he needed to know—Damian was pissed.

“Tell me what you did with (Name). Now.”

For the first time in a long while, Tim felt a strange sense of solidarity with Damian. At least someone else was as frustrated as he was. Maybe together, they could pry the truth out of Kon. Maybe, just maybe, they’d get the answers they needed.

Kon barely had a chance to react before Damian was on him, arms crossed, gaze murderous.

“You,” Damian seethed, “are going to tell me what exactly you and she were doing.”

Kon blinked, caught off guard for maybe a second—before his trademark smirk slid into place.

“Oh?” he drawled. “Why do you want to know, Damian?”

Damian’s glare sharpened.

Kon grinned. “What? You jealous?”

Before he could so much as breathe, Damian lunged.

The sky had begun its slow descent into evening, streaked with warm hues of orange and pink as the day at the orphanage came to an end. The kids were beginning to settle down, some still clinging onto the last bits of playtime before dinner. You stood at the entrance of the courtyard, watching as Caitlyn and Adrien said their goodbyes to the kids they’d grown especially fond of over the past few days.

Meanwhile, Tim and his friends, as well as Damian, were nowhere in sight. The last you saw them, you watched Damian pounce on Kon and the rest was a mystery.

Elliot, as usual, was pressed against your side, his small fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. He hadn’t said much in the past few minutes, content just to be next to you, but you knew that look on his face—the gears in his little mind were turning, the questions were forming.

And sure enough—

“Hey,” he started, tilting his head. “Who were those people that came today?”

You froze.

You should’ve expected it. Of course he’d ask—he was an observant kid. He had been there after all, when you confronted Tim and his friends who had been spying on you from the bushes, and brought them in to play with the other kids.

It was a simple question, an innocent one, but something about the way he asked it made your mind stall. Your throat tightened slightly, and you hesitated longer than you should have.

Your mouth opened, then closed again, as you scrambled to come up with an answer that wouldn’t feel like a lie.

“They were… my brother,” you said at last, your voice even, careful. “And his friends.”

Elliot’s eyes widened in excitement. “Oh…! So Tim is your brother too? You have two brothers??”

There was an odd weight to that word—brothers—when spoken so freely by someone else. You hesitated, then gave a slow nod.

“…Yeah, I suppose so.”

You weren’t going to tell him that, technically, you had two other brothers and a sister as well—if you could still call them that.

If they still wanted you to.

If you still wanted to.

If they ever really were that.

But that wasn’t something you could even begin to explain to a kid.

Elliot, blissfully unaware of your inner conflict, perked up at the answer, his excitement growing. “That’s so cool!! I wish I have siblings. The other children here are fun, but it’s not the same as having a brother or sister.”

You exhaled slowly, bracing yourself for the wave of questions.

“Is Tim older or younger than you?”

“Older, by a year.” Not really.

“Wow! So you have an older brother and a younger brother. That’s so cool!”

“There are cooler things, Elliot.”

Elliot giggled, his face lighting up with amusement. “Maybe, but siblings are still cool! Do you guys fight a lot?”

You paused, then snorted. “You have no idea.”

Elliot gasped. “Like, actual fights?”

You hesitated again. “…Something like that.”

“Do they ever fight you?”

“Not physically.”

“Then how do you fight?”

“We… argue.”

He made a face at that, as if arguing was a far less exciting concept. “Oh.”

Before he could go down another rabbit hole of questions, you reached out and ruffled his hair. “Alright, buddy, calm down. Having brothers isn’t always fun.”

Elliot looked genuinely confused by that. “Really?”

“Really.”

He furrowed his brows, then shook his head. “But Tim was real fun today!”

That threw you off.

You blinked at him. “…He was?”

“Yeah!” Elliot nodded enthusiastically. “He helped us build that giant block tower after teatime! And when his friend, the really fast one, accidentally knocked it over, he helped put it back up again—twice! And he did that really cool thing where he guessed all the card matches without looking. How’d he do that? Is he magic?”

You stared at him, your thoughts grinding to a halt.

Tim… did all that?

After everything?

After that whole argument—confrontation you had with him, after storming off on him earlier, after being frustrated, and snappy, and distant—he still… sat with the kids here? He actually did what you told him to do and spent time with them? Helped them?

You weren’t sure why that surprised you. It wasn’t that Tim was heartless or incapable of kindness—but you hadn’t expected this.

Hadn’t expected him to listen to you.

Hadn’t expected him to go out of his way to be there, even in the smallest of ways.

Not after how everything had felt today.

You exhaled slowly, ruffling Elliot’s hair again. “…I see.”

Elliot grinned, pleased with himself, and you offered him a small, fond smile.

“I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself, kid.”

Elliot’s grin grew, and he leaned into your touch, his small head pressing against your palm.

Before you could say anything else, he looked up at you, voice softer this time. “Will Tim and his friends come back?”

Your smile faltered slightly.

You didn’t know how to answer that.

Because what were you supposed to say?

That Tim and his friends did not have any obligation to come again? They had no other reason to come again?

That wasn’t something you could explain to Elliot.

So instead, after a beat of hesitation, you simply said, “When they have time, maybe.”

That was enough for Elliot. He beamed, nodding, before waving excitedly and running off to join the other kids.

You exhaled, watching him go, before turning to find Caitlyn and Adrien walking up to you, both looking entirely too smug.

“You two definitely have favorites,” you accused, crossing your arms.

Adrien scoffed. “We have favorites? That’s rich, coming from you.”

Caitlyn smirked. “Yeah, let’s not forget your little moment with Conner earlier.”

Your expression immediately soured. “We’re not talking about that.”

“Oh, I think we are,” Adrien said, grinning.

“You two are the worst.”

“Love you too.”

You groaned, shaking your head, before clearing your throat. “Anyway—same time tomorrow?”

Caitlyn and Adrien exchanged glances before Caitlyn winced. “Actually… I can’t make it tomorrow. I promised my aunt I’d help out with some stuff in her shop.”

Adrien nodded. “ And I have that to serve detention for that stunt I pulled in Ms H’s class, remember?”

You paused, the answer catching you slightly off guard. “Oh.”

You quickly schooled your expression, nodding in understanding. “Got it.”

A quiet beat passed before Adrien nudged you. “You still gonna come?”

You hesitated. Your eyes flickered back to the orphanage, watching as the kids ran around, playing, laughing—completely oblivious to all the complicated things that sat heavy in your chest.

Your gaze found Elliot again, still smiling, still happy.

“…Yeah,” you said finally, voice softer. “I’ll come.”

The late afternoon sun cast a hazy glow over Gotham, though Jason barely registered it. His focus was on the ongoing call in the earpiece pressed to his ear as he walked, voice low and even.

“So, let me get this straight,” Roy drawled on the other end, the sounds of clanking metal and some kind of electric buzz filtering through the call. “You just finished dealing with a gang shootout last night, probably haven’t slept, definitely haven’t eaten, and instead of—I don’t know—taking a second to breathe like a normal human being, you’re already running off after another lead?”

Jason exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip on his gun as he navigated quieter side of Gotham’s industrial district. “Pretty sure I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“Oh, no, you definitely didn’t. That’s just a fun little bonus,” Roy quipped. “Seriously, Jaybird, do you even know what the word ‘break’ means?”

Jason’s expression remained flat. “Sure. It’s what your bowstring does when you don’t maintain it properly.”

There was a loud clang from Roy’s end. “First of all, rude. Second of all, false. I take excellent care of my bow, thank you very much.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I do!”

Jason chuckled, stepping off the curb and weaving through the alleyways.

“I just don’t get it,” Roy continued. “You could’ve taken a day off—gone to a bar, watched a movie, literally anything else—but no, here you are, chasing down some random lead for God knows what.”

“It’s not random,” Jason corrected, rounding a corner. “Weapons smuggling. Shipment came in last week, no record of it anywhere. Thought I’d check it out.”

Roy sighed. “And who told you about this?”

“…I have my sources.”

“That’s code for ‘I found it in a back alley conversation, and now I’m running with it,’ isn’t it?”

Jason smirked faintly but didn’t argue. He had more important things to focus on—like the unmarked warehouse he was now approaching.

“I gotta go,” he said, tone shifting back to business. “I’ll check in later.”

Roy groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Try not to get shot, explode, or mysteriously disappear, alright?”

“No promises.”

Jason hung up.

The warehouse was quiet. Too quiet. No guards, no movement. Just the eerie stillness of a setup that was either abandoned or a trap.

Jason slipped inside through a window, boots making barely a sound as he landed.

Inside, it was dim, dust motes swirling in the filtered sunlight. Crates were stacked haphazardly, some half-open, revealing stolen tech and firearms. Jason moved silently, boots making no sound against the concrete as he picked through the scene, scanning the contents—stolen tech, modified weapons, and—

Jason frowned.

There was something off about these. They weren’t standard black-market stock. They looked… almost gimmicky. Like they weren’t meant for your average arms dealer.

His fingers barely brushed against one of the devices when—

Click.

A sharp hiss filled the air.

Before Jason could react, a fine, invisible gas burst from the crate, dispersing into the air around him.

Jason recoiled, but it was too late.

His throat tightened. His head swam. His pulse spiked in alarm as a heavy, sluggish sensation crawled over his limbs.

His breath hitched. His vision blurred. His limbs felt like lead.

Shit.

Jason shoved back, forcing himself toward the exit, but his body was already betraying him. His head swam, nausea curling in his gut as he stumbled out onto the street.

His nearest safehouse wasn’t far. Just a few blocks. If he could just—

He barely made it past the first alley before his legs buckled.

His body was already shutting down on him.

Jason lurched against the nearest wall, breath coming shallow, mind fogging with every passing second. He forced himself to stay upright, but his body wasn’t listening anymore.

His vision tilted.

His knees hit the pavement, the rough brick of the alleyway biting into his shoulder as he slumped against it, legs giving out beneath him.

His mind fogged, the city sounds around him distant, muffled.

He barely registered the way his breathing slowed, the weight of unconsciousness dragging him under.

He gritted his teeth, trying to fight the darkness clawing at the edges of his mind.

Stay awake. Move.

But his limbs were numb. His breath was shallow.

His fingers twitched toward his comm—

And then—

Darkness.

The walk to the orphanage was supposed to be uneventful.

But the moment you turned down your usual route, something in your gut twisted.

You hesitated mid-step.

It wasn’t a noise, not anything obvious. Just an instinct, a quiet pull at the edges of your awareness. A feeling you couldn’t quite shake.

Your fingers curled at your sides.

Ignore it? Keep going?

The orphanage was only a few more blocks. If you were lucky, Elliot and the other kids would be outside playing already, ready to bombard you with their usual chaos.

…And yet.

Your feet had already shifted before you made the decision. You veered left, cutting through an alley that wasn’t part of your usual route.

The air here was heavier, the city quieter. Not unusual for Gotham, but enough to put you on edge.

You didn’t know what you were expecting.

But it wasn’t—

A figure slumped against the brick wall.

You stopped short, breath catching in your throat. For a second, your brain struggled to process what you were seeing.

Leather jacket. Boots. Black hair complementing the dark red of his helmet—

No.

Not his helmet.

It was off, discarded a few feet away like he hadn’t had the strength to hold onto it. His head was tilted to the side, eyes barely open, unfocused.

Jason.

lololol finally part 3 and end of chapter 7 🤗 (don’t hate me for the cliffhanger, but its pretty obvious that Jason and reader are going to interact in chapter 8 so stay tuned for that emotional turmoil) posting this before attending my vb training (yes i’m fasting and still have to attend vb training 🥲—tho i get to chill if i’m tired so that’s ok)

taglist is closed‼️

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mandoalorian · 2 months ago

Text

after hours [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: As Congressman Bucky Barnes' personal assistant, you've always maintained professionalism. But when a late-night work session turns intimate, boundaries blur, and hidden desires come to light.

Word Count: 2000

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content. employer x employee, hint of voyeurism, f recieving oral, fingering, just general filth, smidge of plot. there's enough here for a part 2 if it's what the people wanted.

Masterlist

congress & carnality masterlist

The glow of the city skyline filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Congressman Bucky Barnes’ office, casting long shadows over mahogany and leather. The soft hum of your laptop was the only sound filling the room, save for the occasional rustle of paper as you flipped through his notes.

It was well past midnight. The congressional building was deserted. Just you and him, working late—again.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension there. “You still with me, Congressman?” you teased, not looking up from your screen. The blue light was starting to hurt your eyes.

“I’d be a damn fool to fall asleep while you’re talking.” His voice was low, rough with exhaustion. Or was it something else?

You finally glanced up—and nearly lost your train of thought.

Bucky had discarded his suit jacket hours ago, leaving him in just his crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His tie was loosened, the top button undone, and his hair was slightly disheveled—probably from him running a hand through it out of frustration.

God, he looked good.

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to focus. “Sir, we need to go over your talking points for tomorrow’s press conference.”

Bucky sighed and leaned back in his chair, arms stretching behind his head. The movement made his shirt pull taut across his chest. “Can’t we take a break? And you know you can call me Bucky when we’re in private.”

“We’ve already taken three,” you pointed out, biting your lip, noting how all feelings of professionalism were lost on him right now. “At this rate, you’re going to wing it in front of the entire nation.”

He smirked. “Haven’t I charmed my way out of worse?”

You gave him a pointed look. “You’re not just a charming face, Barnes. You actually have to do your job.”

His smirk faltered, and something unreadable flickered across his face. “You always do that.”

Bucky’s gaze didn’t leave yours. His legs spread wide as he leaned forward in his chair, pressing his elbows into his dress pants and linking his fingers together. He displayed his usual stoic expression, the one that you struggled so much to read.

You frowned. “Do what?”

His eyes searched yours, intense and unwavering. “You see me. Not just the congressman. Not the soldier. Just… me.”

Your breath hitched. You had no idea where this was coming from, but you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

“Bucky…”

“C’mere,” he murmured, his voice softer now.

You hesitated. The air between you felt heavier than before, thick with something unspoken. You’d spent so many nights like this—late hours, stolen glances, brushing fingers when he handed you a file. But neither of you had ever crossed that line.

This felt like the edge of it.

Still, you moved toward him, stopping just short of his desk. “What is it?”

He reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist before trailing up your arm in a slow, deliberate touch. “You work too damn hard,” he murmured, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist. “Always taking care of me. Who takes care of you?”

You let out a shaky breath. “You pay me to take care of you.”

“Hmph, s'pose I do.” His voice had dropped to something even lower, more dangerous.

You should pull away. You should remind him that this was not professional. But the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing grounding him—made your resolve crumble.

“Bucky…” Your voice was barely above a whisper now.

He stood slowly, stepping around the desk until he was right in front of you. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“If I cross this line,” he murmured, “I’m not going back.”

His words bit at your skin. Your pulse pounded in your ears. “Maybe I don’t want you to. Maybe I want you.”

His eyes darkened. That was all the permission he needed.

His lips were on yours before you could think, before you could breathe. The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant—like he was waiting for you to push him away. But when you fisted your hands in his shirt and pulled him closer, he groaned and deepened the kiss, his hands landing on your waist, gripping like he’d been waiting years for this.

Heat coiled low in your stomach as he backed you against the edge of his desk, his thigh slotting between yours.

“This okay?” he rasped against your lips.

You nodded, breathless. “More than okay.”

His lips curled into a smirk before he kissed you again—this time with no hesitation, no restraint.

His movements were slow and controlled, like he had all the time in the world. He pulled you into his lap, hands palming at your waist before running up your chest and stopping at your face. He gazed into your eyes and for a moment, you felt your heart stop.

“You drive me crazy,” Bucky breathes into admittance. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, and on impulse, you press a chaste kiss to the digit. Something primal ignites in Bucky, and he kisses you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging enough just to make him groan into your mouth. The sound sent a shockwave into you, heat pooling low into your stomach. Bucky’s lips left yours, only temporarily, as he trailed down your jaw, your throat, his breath warm as he took his time.

You gasped as his mouth found that one spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out ton taste your skin before he pressed a slow, open mouthed kiss there.

“You’re always so put together,” he murmured, lips burshing against your pulse point. “So professional.”

His hands slid down your sides, slow and deliberate.

“Tell me to stop.” He whispered, coaxing you.

You couldn’t.

You’re only response was to pull him closer, tilting your head to give him more access. He groaned against your skin, his hands gripping your hips and pushing you up onto his desk, slotting himself between your legs.

Bucky ran his hand up your leg, stopping when he got to your upper thigh, when he started to feel the heat omit from your womanhood. You let out a gasp that you didn’t know you were holding when he suddenly removed his hand and pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you.

“Been wanting you like this for so damn long,” he admitted, voice rough with restraint. “Look at you, all spread out on my desk.”

You feel your face flush with heat as his gaze racks your body.

“Take me.” You sigh, and Bucky smirks, wasting no time and pushing up your pencil skirt so it bunches at your waist. He pulls your panties down, revealing your glistening folds to him.

“All this… for me?” Bucky asks, his voice dark, but the exasperation isn’t lost on you. He makes you feel small, at his mercy, as his broadness towers over you.

Licking his lip, Bucky hums as he starts working his tongue at you, lapping at your clit and relishing your taste. Your fingernails scratch at the expensive wood table beneath you as your stomach coils with pleasure. The brassiness of his beard scratches at your skin, but it just turns you on even more. He’s good —no doubt had more experience than the average non-Super Soldier guy. His teeth teasingly graze at you, and just as you’re about to finish, he stops, pressing a kiss to your mound.

He brings his calloused fingers to your cunt and your body twitches at just the slighest of his touch. “Wait—“ you call out, and Bucky immediately freezes, stops what he is doing and looks at you with concern in his ocean eyes.

You reach out and grab his other arm, his Vibranium arm, and replace his flesh hand with that one. Bucky almost looks hesitant. “Are— are you sure?” His cheeks turn pink, and your heart wants to burst.

God, he’s perfect.

“When I said I want you, I meant all of you.” You smile and press a kiss to his forehead.

Bucky slips his finger into your core, and you let out a moan, arching your back as it hits the spot. Bucky reacts to the moan and hums with contentment. “That’s my girl.”

The coldness of the metal sends shivers down your body, and you feel yourself clamp down on him. As he curled his finger inside of you, you catch a glimpse of his cock pressing against his light grey dress pants. You moan apologetically as you imagine it inside of you, and just then, Bucky pushes a second digit into you.

“Please— more— that’s so good—“ you breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Hear that?” Bucky murmured, returning his tongue back to your clit. “You beg so pretty for me.”

Your breath hitched as Bucky suddenly removed his fingers, and his metal hand ghosted over your hip, pinning you into the desk, exactly where he wanted you.

“You keep— you tease,” you groan, chastising him almost. Bucky’s ice blue eyes seem to darken as his pupils blow.

“Oh doll,” Bucky sighs. “Tell me what you want.”

This time, his flesh hand returns to your core and without warning, he pushes his three fingers inside of you as his thumb strategically circles your clit. “I like to feel you.” He mumbled, licking a white hot stripe down your neck.

“I can’t— I’m close—“

Before you could finish your sentence, his finger closed around your most sensitive spot.

And then, a knock at the door. “Congressman? Your private jet is here.”

Your entire body went rigid as you glanced over to see the silhouette of a man behind the frosted doors to Bucky’s office. Somehow, you'd totally forgotten that Bucky had plans to fly out tonight if he was going to make it to Tokyo for the conference in the morning. The man was only meters away from you both, and had no idea your boss was busy fucking you beyond belief.

“Ah shit!” You cried, feeling yourself near the edge just as Bucky’s driver interrupted. But Bucky paid no attention.

“Be there in a minute.” He called back, his voice perfectly calm.

And when he said a minute, he meant a minute. As if on cue, you fell apart, white-hot pleasure crashing over you and his hand muffling the desperate moan that threatened to escape your body as your body rifed and shook beneath him.

Bucky groaned as he felt you unravel, his hands gripping your thighs as he licked you through, taking everything you gave him. By the time he pulled back, his lips were swollen, and his smirk was wicked.

“Think he heard you, sweetheart?” Bucky teased, pressing a lingering kiss to your inner thigh.

You were too dazed to even glare at him.

But when he stood, smoothing his tie, his expression softened. He cupped your face, thumb brushing over your lips before kissing you slow and deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. When he finally pulled away, he smirked.

“Looks like we got a plane to catch,” he announced. You dizzily pushed yourself up and hopped off his desk. “Better fix your skirt. Don’t want anyone knowing what I just did to you, do we?”

You swore you were going to kill him.

But first?

You were going to let him do it again.

#bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x you #congressman #thunderbolts #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #smut

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urmum-lovesme · 4 months ago

Text

The Globe

pairing: Biker!Rafe Cameron x Stripper!Reader

summary: Rafe and Y/n both work at ‘The Globe’, the best strip club on the island, known for their famous ‘globe of death’ performances. Although their relationship is meant to be strictly professional, they can’t seem to deny the tension that lingers between them one night after they perform…

a/n: So I saw these two videos on TikTok of these girls in the globe of death, and It had me thinking, that's so Rafe x Reader get out. Especially with all the screen time he gets in season 4 with his bike 😫. This is my first smut tho so please don't murder me.

Here's the Link to the Inspo! => 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

warnings: !SMUT! basically porn with a plot, reader is a stripper, reader is wearing barely any clothing, Strip club, dangerous motorcycle riding, the globe of death, pole dancing, aerial hoop dancing, reader is a tease, making out, nudity, oral sex (male receiving), spitting, hair pulling, handjob, fingering, dirty talk, begging, praise kink, dom!Rafe, p in v, choking, unprotected sex, rough sex, mentions of cum, degrading terms.

The hum of the club was already starting to build. Neon lights flickered along the walls, casting dim glows over the velvet-draped walls. In the dressing room, Yn sat at the mirror, applying the final touches of her makeup. She powdered her face carefully, making sure every detail was perfect. Her lips were a shade of pink, glossy and sparkling under the lights of her vanity, just the right amount of shine to catch attention. Her hot pink two piece clung to her skin, sure to attract eyes with the material clinging to her skin, pushing her tits up, which she brushed over with highlighter.

‘The Globe’ was legendary, not just for the flashing neon lights that beckoned to the island’s nightlife but for its reputation as the best in town. It had earned its fame not through ordinary striptease acts, but through its center stage: the Globe of Death, an enormous metal sphere. Inside, motorcycles roared, their tires skimming the metal walls whilst in the center of it all stood the performers—suspended in the air, spinning in a dance. The act was dangerous, thrilling, and hypnotic, drawing crowds from all over the island. Tonight, the club was packed, as it always was on a weekend. The pulsating beats of the music filled the air, mingling with the scent of alcohol and sweat.

A sharp knock at the door broke Y/n’s focus.

Her hand hesitated, lipgloss in mid-air, she didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Rafe.

Her lips tightened into a thin line as she set the gloss applicator down against her lips carefully, her eyes still fixed on her reflection. She didn’t want him to know how much his presence affected her, even when she fought against it.

“Come in”

She said, her voice soft but clipped, betraying nothing. The door creaked open, and Rafe stepped inside. His silhouette was framed by the hallway lights, tall and confident. The leather jacket and body armour strapped to his chest made him appear every bit the part of the club’s star rider. His gaze flicked over her, lingering a moment too long, before he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Big night”

He asked, eyes lingering on her body, Yn met his gaze through the mirror, her expression neutral.

“As usual.”

But Rafe didn’t move. His eyes were intense, almost predatory, studying her in a way that made her pulse quicken. “You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone,

“Been thinking, maybe tonight, we take it a little further…”

Yn’s fingers gripped the makeup brush now in her hand pulling it back from her cheek, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She didn’t want to admit how much that suggestion stirred something deep inside her.

“Beyond the usual routine?”

She asked, her voice curious. Rafe appeared pleased at her interest, stepping closer, his arms folding.

“What’s the point of doing things the same every night, Yn? We both know we could make it more… exciting.”

The words hung in the air, charged with unspoken meaning, and Yn’s breath caught in her throat. There it was again- the unrelenting tension between them. They both knew they wanted to push the boundaries, but neither one was ready to admit just how far they were willing to go. Yn arched her brow as she caught his reflection in the mirror, her lips pressing together as she placed the brush down onto the vanity. She expected him to talk, but the weight of his silence forced her to finally glance at him through the glass. Rafe’s arms were still crossed, his jacket straining over his biceps as he leaned casually against the doorframe. He let the moment stretch before finally speaking.

“I want you to start on the floor tonight.”

She paused as she blinked at his reflection, they’d never started with her on the floor before, she was always hung up on her hoop, body curved in tune with the music. She raised her brow.

“Start on the floor?”

His smirk grew as he took a step into the room, his voice calm but with an edge of challenge.

“In the cage on the floor. Before I start riding.”

Yn stayed quiet for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched him through the mirror. He stayed rooted behind her now, his arms still crossed and his dark eyes locked on hers, unreadable and unrelenting. The tension in the small dressing room thickened, buzzing like static electricity.

Without a word, she turned in her seat, the plush hot pink fluff of the wide stool brushing against her thighs as she faced him fully. She had to look up at him, her fake lashes fluttering as her gaze traveled upward to meet his. Her head was level with his abs, and the faint scent of leather and motor oil clung to him, and she could smell his cologne mixing with the smell.

Her gaze dipped lower, catching the chunky, decorated belt buckle that drew her attention. Slowly, Yn raised her hand, her fingers brushing against the metal, tracing over the ‘R’ in its center before gliding her skin over the worn edges and grooves of the design. The act was deliberate, her touch light but intentional.

“And why do you think that’s a good idea?”

She asked softly, her voice carrying a hint of challenge. Rafe didn’t move, his smirk unwavering, he knew exactly what game she was playing, she’d been doing it for months now.

“Large crowd tonight, you on the floor while I circle around you will bring more money,” a shadow of a grin on his face as he continued, “I know you’d do anything for money- Sugar.”

His eyes looked down at her as he spoke, the name resting around her neck on a sparkling silver chain slipping past his lips. She tilted her head, her fingers lingering on the buckle as her lips curved into a faint smirk of her own.

“And what happens if your timing’s off?”

“My timing’s never off.”

He said, his voice low, almost a growl as he took a step closer, leaning slightly so she was almost eye-to-eye with him. Yn’s lips twitched upwards as her fingers drifted from the buckle to the belt loop just beside it. With deliberate slowness, she hooked her finger into it and tugged him closer, her gaze never leaving his. The move caught him off guard for only a second, but it was enough for her to notice the way his jaw tensed. Rafe shifted his weight slightly, and for the first time, his composure wavered. He licked his lips, a quick flick of his tongue that gave away more than he probably intended. She tilted her head, her lashes fluttering as she blinked up at him, her finger still hooked in his belt loop.

“What if I say no?”

She asked, her voice was delicate, but Rafe’s eyes darkened, and for a moment he just stared at her, fighting against the urge to shove her back against the vanity. He ducked his head down slightly, closing the distance between them until their faces were mere inches apart as he shook his head at her and responded,

“You won’t”

He murmured, his voice smooth and confident. Yn’s breath hitched, her hand tightening ever so slightly on his belt loop. She couldn’t look away from his eyes, the intensity in them pinning her in place. Rafe’s voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper now, as if the words were meant for her ears alone.

“You like the adrenaline.”

Her pulse quickened, and she hated that he could probably tell. Still, she didn’t let him see her falter. Instead, her lips curved into a small, defiant smile as she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe I do”

The tension between them crackled like a live wire, but the sound of the distant crowd and loud blaring music- snapped them both back to reality. Rafe straightened slowly, eyes fluttering down from her eyes to her tits, the supple curve of her skin looking back up at him.

“They’re out there waiting. Don’t make me carry this show on my own.”

She let out a quiet breath as he made his way out of the dressing room. At the door frame, he paused, glancing back at her one last time, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze, before disappearing down the corridor; and although he was gone her heart was still racing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The club was alive, pulsing with energy that seemed to seep into every corner of the massive space. The ‘Globe of Death’ stood proudly in the center, illuminated by beams of crimson and hot pink lights that swept across its surface. Surrounding it were glittering poles and platforms, alluring dancers twirling and spinning with practiced ease, their skin catching the light, sequined panties and bras shimmering in the caught light as the bass-heavy music vibrated through the air. The smoky artificial haze, added to the dreamlike quality of the club. Voices rose and fell, mingling with the pounding beat that seemed to sync with the pulse of the crowd. The multi-level layout gave every guest a perfect view of their choice, each floor something else, but all eyes were beginning to drift toward the center of the club, where the main event was about to begin.

Rafe was already inside the metal walls, perched on his well recognised motorcycle. He revved the engine, the low growl slicing through the music and catching the attention of those closest. He shifted slightly, his gaze scanning the room, searching for one person in particular.

Yn moved effortlessly through the crowd, her presence magnetic as she worked her way closer to the sphere. She was in her element, the teasing smiles, coy touches, and soft laughter flowing from her as naturally as the smoky haze that filled the air. A hand brushed her bare arm, and she turned, letting out a low, playful giggle as a man slipped a fifty dollar bill into the waistband of her panties. Her fingers grazed his wrist, lingering just long enough to keep him hooked, before she moved on, her hips swaying to the rhythm of the music as she made her way toward the edge of the crowd. She caught sight of the managers clustered near the DJ booth, signaling that everything was almost ready.

From his perch inside the globe, Rafe watched her. His hands tightened on the handlebars as his gaze tracked her every move, the way she charmed the crowd, her easy confidence making her the undeniable center of attention- even outside the spotlight.

His jaw clenched slightly as another man leaned in close, his hand brushing Yn’s skin as he tucked a bill under the strap of her bra. Yn responded with a smile, whispering something to the man, tipping her head back just enough to show off the delicate curve of her throat, the perfect image of playful seduction.

Rafe’s engine roared louder, the sound cutting through the club like a warning shot. A few heads turned toward the globe, and even Yn’s smile faltered for half a second as her gaze flicked toward him. Their eyes locked from across the room, and she tilted her head slightly, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. He was always prone to act out wherever she got too friendly with the customers.

The crowd was starting to gather closer, the lights above brightened, casting Rafe in sharp relief as he revved the bike once more, the sound vibrating through the floor beneath their feet. Yn moved closer, finally reaching the edge of the globe, her eyes still on him. She rested a hand on the steel cage, her lips parting slightly as she looked at Rafe.

The lights shifted, the rhythm of the music dipped, creating a hush that spread through the room, and then the manager’s voice boomed through the speakers, smooth and commanding. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, drawing out the words as the anticipation grew thicker,

“Tonight’s main event is one you don’t want to miss. So, put your hands together and make some noise for our best girl… our one and only- …Sugar!”

Rafe revved his engine, the growl of the bike perfectly timed to the announcement, and the room erupted into cheers and applause, whistles piercing the air as the bass dropped back into the music, pounding in time with the audience’s energy. Yn’s smile was dazzling, her confidence radiating as she stepped forward.

Rafe extended a hand toward her from inside the cage, his leather-clad arm steady as his dark eyes met hers. She placed her hand in his, her fingers delicate against his rough, calloused palm, and she climbed over the edge, stepping gracefully into the globe.

Inside the cage, the two of them stood just feet apart, the tension between them palpable, even with the steel separating them from the audience. Rafe’s hand lingered on hers for just a second longer than necessary before he let go, giving her a nod as if to say, you ready?

Yn returned the look with a sly smile, her lashes fluttering as she took her place in the center of the globe. The spotlight shifted again, casting her in a halo of light as the heavy doors of the cage clanged shut with a resounding finality, locking Yn and Rafe inside. Above them, the metal ceiling whirred, and a hot pink hoop began to descend slowly, its polished surface catching the light and glinting. It hovered just above Yn, swaying slightly as if beckoning her to take her place.

She glanced at Rafe, her heart pounding, though her expression remained unreadable. His helmet was on, the reflective visor obscuring his eyes. She couldn’t tell if he was watching her, but she felt his focus nonetheless, a magnetic pull that seemed to reach her even across the enclosed space. Yn hesitated, her gaze flickering between the hoop and the man across from her. Start on the floor, his earlier words echoed in her mind, daring her, taunting her.

Her lips twitched into a faint smile.

She turned her head toward the operator controlling the hoop, her movements smooth and confident. She raised her hand, giving a small, deliberate signal. The operator nodded, and the hoop rose just a bit higher, clearing the space around her but staying within reach.

When she turned back, Rafes head was already faced in her direction, the bike idling beneath him as he leaned forward slightly, his gloved hands steady on the handlebars. Even with his helmet hiding his face, she could feel the unspoken approval vibrating in the air between them. Yn’s smile deepened as she stepped into the center of the globe, her head tilting ever so slightly in Rafe’s direction.

The first notes of the song blasted through the speakers, the heavy bassline reverberating in the air and signaling the start of their routine. Yn’s body reacted immediately, the familiar rush of adrenaline sparking to life and coursing through her veins. Her hips began to sway in perfect rhythm with the beat, each movement fluid and hypnotic. Her hands slid down her sides, over the curve of her hips, and back up to her waist, brushing up against her tits, pushing them up slightly; every motion deliberate.

Behind her, Rafe’s bike roared to life, the sound cutting through the music like a blade. He shifted into gear, the bike lurching forward before gliding smoothly into motion. The crowd watched intently as he began circling her, the steel walls of the cage echoing with the sound of his tires and engine. Yn stayed in the center, unshaken by the vibration of the bike under her feet as Rafe rode closer, the rush of air brushing against her skin with each pass.

And then, without warning, she felt it.

A gloved hand slid against her waist, the touch firm yet fleeting as Rafe’s bike roared past her. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, her movements faltered- just for a heartbeat- before she caught herself and fell back into the rhythm of the music, hands raising above her head, giving him more access to her skin. He came around again, and this time his hand brushed against the curve of her stomach, it was subtle, yet it sent a shiver racing down her spine.

He’d never done this before, never reached out mid-performance.

Yn felt it- felt the deliberate nature of it, the way it made the air between them crackle with a charge that wasn’t part of the show.

As Rafe continued his path, his hand skimmed her again and again, following the circular motion of his bike as if he were tracing invisible lines around her body. Yn didn’t dare look at him, but she could feel the weight of his focus, the intensity of his presence wrapping around her like the walls of the globe.

Yn extended her arms up, fingers brushing the polished surface before gripping it firmly. Her muscles tensed as she lifted herself, her body moving with practiced grace as she adjusted her position. The crowd cheered as the hoop began to rise, lifting her higher into the globe’s confines.

For a moment, she hung motionless, her body suspended, on display like a jewel in the center of the cage. One hand released the hoop, leaving her to dangle precariously as the audience gasped. Then, with fluid precision, she transitioned into a two-handed grip, her body curling and stretching as she performed a series of intricate, mesmerizing movements. The music pulsed, growing louder as the beat synced with the rhythm of the performance. As Yn spun herself around the hoop, her body arched in perfect symmetry, she felt the sudden, firm touch of Rafe’s hand on her calf. With his guidance, she spun in sync with his path, her body following the momentum he created. Her legs extended gracefully as he moved her, the interplay of the bike’s roar and her ethereal movements creating a performance that had the crowd watching at the edge of their seats.

The routine builds to its climax, Rafe’s bike roaring beneath him as he veers sharply, taking the cage’s vertical walls with an almost reckless abandon. The crowd holds their breath as he pushes his bike into a full arc, his wheels now nearly inverted. Yn, suspended in the air, watches as Rafe defies gravity. Her heart races, the adrenaline coursing through her, matching the beat of the music as she curves her body. The two of them are in perfect sync, finishing the routine with a breathtaking drop as Yn lands lightly on her feet, breathless but exhilarated.

The crowd explodes into applause, the cheers echoing as the music fades out.

Rafe’s helmeted face glimmers in the light, and Yn’s chest rises and falls with the rush of the performance. The doors to the Globe of Death creaked open slowly, revealing the dim lights of the club beyond, their flickering glow casting long shadows on the floor. The roar of the bike’s engine faded, leaving only the sound of heavy breaths and the buzzing crowd.

Rafe, still behind Yn, moved with purpose as he pulled his helmet off, his hand brushing his buzzed hair. He watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath, her body decorated with a slight sheen of sweat from the performance, which made him want to lean forward and lick it off her skin. She was still catching her breath, her body pulsing with the aftermath of the rush.

Without warning, Rafe’s hand landed lightly on the back of her upper thigh, his fingers lingered for a moment, and though his voice was hushed, it carried a weight that only she could hear.

“Atta girl”

He murmured softly to her. Yn looked back at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes were locked onto hers with an intensity that was felt even beneath the helmet. The chemistry between them flared, the feeling of his hand against her skin, warm and steady, sent a thrill through her, deepening the connection they shared.

Rafe’s gaze flickered down to Yn’s lips for a brief moment, the suggestion behind the look undeniable. Yn felt the shift in the air, the unspoken desire hanging between them, and she couldn’t help but notice. But just as quickly as the thought entered her mind, she looked away, the reality of their setting grounding her back to the present.

They were still at work, after all…

She made her way out of the cage, her heels clicking against the metal floor, her body still pulsing with the adrenaline of the performance. Rafe followed close behind, his steps steady but purposeful, his eyes drifting down to the way her ass looked in her pretty pink panties.

Yn didn’t walk through the crowd this time. Instead, she moved up onto the small dancing platform situated in front of the globe, a familiar spot for her after a performance. The stage was raised just enough to give the crowd a better view, and as she stepped up, the patrons eagerly threw bills at her, their hands reaching out to add to the chaos.

The money rained down, some landing on her body, others falling to the floor of the stage, but it didn’t matter. The customers loved it- their eagerness evident.

From by the cage, Rafe stood, watching as the money cascaded around her. His gaze didn’t leave her for a moment, the scene unfolding like a dance with Yn at the center. His eyes followed each piece of cash as it landed, but they always returned to her, lingering in a way that felt almost possessive.

Yn slowly circled around the pole, hips grinding against it as her fingers glided along the smooth cold metal, moving with practiced grace. Her eyes flickered to Rafe, and she glanced over her shoulder, the teasing glint in her gaze matching the sensuality of her movements. She gently bit her lower lip, a playful challenge in the way she held his gaze.

Rafe’s reaction was instant. His jaw clenched tightly, his eyes darkening as he followed her every move. His stare didn’t waver, but there was a moment of almost painful restraint in him as he watched her. The tension between them hung thick in the air, both of them aware of the silent exchange.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the performance, Yn made her way back to her dressing room. The sound of the music faded as she closed the door behind her, the silence settling slightly, her body still humming with adrenaline, the heat of the performance lingering on her skin. She quickly made her way to the vanity, taking in a deep breath as she sat down. The reflection in the mirror was a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction- her makeup slightly smudged from the sweat, but the glow in her eyes remained.

Before she did anything else, she reached down and pulled the money from the waistband of her panties and the straps of her bra, gathering the bills into the small basket she kept for such moments. As she wiped the sweat off the back of her neck and touched up her makeup, her thoughts kept drifting back to Rafe- the way his eyes had followed her…

Yn was changing her heels, the soft rustle of fabric and the click of the shoes as she slipped them off and reached for another pair. Then the door opened, and she didn’t immediately look up, assuming it was one of the other dancers but when the door clicked shut softly, she turned her head, confused by the silence that followed.

There, standing in the doorway, was Rafe.

He’d closed the door behind him and was now leaning against the frame, his presence almost overwhelming. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and unreadable, as if he’d been waiting for her to notice him. Yn pressed her lips together, fighting the smile threatening to break through. There was something about the way Rafe stood there, calm and composed, that made her want to tease him.

Barefoot, she held her shoes loosely in one hand, her perfectly manicured toes pressing against the cool cement floor. She slowly straightened up, her movements deliberate as she let her gaze move up to meet his. With a slight tilt of her head, she locked eyes with him, Yn couldn’t resist teasing him. With a small, knowing smile, she turned and gracefully made her way to her fluffy stool, sitting down slowly. Her eyes never left his as she leaned back slightly, resting her arms against the vanity behind her. The soft, cushiony fabric of the stool seemed to accentuate the way her posture shifted, back arching, pushing her chest forward- relaxed but with an undeniable air of confidence.

Rafe watched her every move, the space between them growing thicker with the weight of the tension. He took a few steps toward her, his gaze locked on hers, when he finally reached her, he looked down, his expression unreadable for a moment. Yn met his eyes, her sight flickering to his lips before returning to his eyes. She didn’t move, watching him closely as his hand reached out, coming to rest under her chin. He gently lifted her head, encouraging her to tilt her head upward just slightly.

The touch of his hand was like a spark, making her pulse quicken.

His thumb brushed over her lower lip, slow and deliberate as he tugged it down slightly. Yn held her breath, her lips parting ever so slightly as his thumb traced the delicate curve. The tension now suffocating as Rafe licked his own lips, his eyes darkening just a fraction as he held her gaze, every movement charged with anticipation. Rafe’s thumb lingered on her lower lip, for a heartbeat, neither of them moved, both caught in the weight of the charged silence. Yn’s breath hitches slightly, as Rafe’s lips part, and his voice comes out low, like a challenge.

“You know you want this”

He murmured, just barely audible, his breath warm against her skin. He leaned in as if to say something more, but at the last second, he held back, his eyes waiting, letting her decide.

Yn’s pulse quickens, she could pull away, play coy, act like nothing’s going on. Or, she could lean into this- let the magnetic pull between them take over. She smirks slightly, a playful challenge in her eyes.

Slowly, she reaches up, her fingers brushing against his hand that’s still resting at her chin. She lets her fingers trace lightly over his knuckles, teasing, deliberately slow, savoring the moment. Then, as if unable to stop herself, she brushes her lips against his thumb again- just barely, enough to make him feel it.

He’s on the edge, and she knows it.

Yet she doesn’t pull away; instead, she leans in just a little closer, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her lips. Without warning, she catches his thumb between her teeth, biting down gently, tongue flicking over the tip of his skin.

Rafe freezes for a moment, his entire body tense, the spark of frustration and desire mixing in his chest, the playful bite- the teasing gesture- riles him up more than he cares to admit. His grip tightens on her chin, eyes darkening with a mixture of amusement and hunger.

Yn stays seated, inches away from him, and she can feel the heat radiating off Rafe as he hovers in front of her. Slowly, she runs her hand up from his abs, feeling the muscles tighten under her touch, before slipping her fingers under the collar of his black t-shirt.

She hooks her finger into it and pulls him closer, her eyes never leaving his.

Rafe is practically leaning over her now, his other hand coming to rest on the vanity behind her, bracing himself as he leans down. The space between them is practically nonexistent- his face only inches from hers. She watches the way his pupils dilate, the tension in his jaw. Yn lets the silence hang in the air for a moment, the only sound between them their labored breathing. Then, in a voice that’s barely above a whisper but still charged with challenge, she speaks.

“It’s all yours if you want me… ”

The invitation hangs in the air and she watches him closely, her lips parted, waiting for him to make the move.

Rafe can’t take it anymore. His breath catches as he leans down, closing the space between them. His lips crash into hers, hungry and fierce, pulling her into a kiss that’s been building for far too long. She leans back against the table of the vanity, giving into the kiss, letting him take the lead, both of them finally surrendering to the moment they’ve both been fighting to resist.

As Rafe pulls her in, Yn’s hand slides up from his chest, her fingers trailing along the rough fabric of his t-shirt before curling around the back of his neck, feeling the heat of his skin beneath her touch. She pulls him closer, her fingers brushing over the back of his hair, her thumb gently grazing the side of his neck as their lips meet in a wet, desperate kiss.

Her other hand, now free, moves to his cheek, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the tension there as he deepens the kiss. His breath mingles with hers, and she can taste the urgency in his movements, both of them finally giving in to the magnetic pull.

Rafe’s hand moves from the vanity to her chin, his thumb brushing over her lower lip before sliding down her neck. He lets his fingers drift along the curve of her jaw, palm sliding over her collarbone, before finally resting at her waist. His grip tightens slightly, pulling her closer as he leans in, his body pressing against hers in a way that makes her heart race even faster.

The space between them shrinks with each passing second, and before long, she’s tilted her head back slightly, her body melting into the kiss. Her legs instinctively move, wrapping around his waist, drawing him in closer as their bodies press together with a newfound urgency. Her fingers still hold his neck, feeling the weight of him on top of her, his hands sliding to her hip now, slyly moving down to her ass as he grabs it roughly. His lips are everywhere, trailing down her neck, before coming back to her mouth, making her feel dizzy.

As the kiss breaks for just a moment, Yn’s hands move urgently to Rafe’s jacket, pushing it off his shoulders; she can feel the tension in his body, the tautness of his sleeves pulling against his defined arms as he shrugs it off. Her hands move instinctively, running over his arms, feeling the strength beneath her fingertips. Her grip tightens on his biceps, pulling him closer, she can feel his muscles flex under her touch, and it’s too much to resist. She shifts slightly, her legs still wrapped around him, as she breathes heavily, eye-lids heavy, her pupils blown wide with desire.

She pulls back from his kiss, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and looks up at him through a haze of longing. Her fingers trail down his arms slowly, inching their way to the hem of his t-shirt. She hooks her fingers underneath it, running them along the ridges of his abs, her breath catching in her throat as she feels the heat of his body beneath her touch. She locks eyes with him, her voice a husky whisper as she says,

“Take it off.”

The words hang in the air, charged with anticipation, as she waits for him to respond. Rafe’s breath hitches at her words, and with a quiet, almost possessive growl, he pulls back from her slightly. The fabric clings briefly to his skin, and as he quickly pulls it over his head, his toned, muscular frame is revealed.

“This what you want Sugar?”

His chest is broad and defined, the muscles sculpted beneath smooth skin, with deep lines of tension running down to his abs. Every inch of him is hardened with muscle, from his solid biceps to the sculpted lines of his abdomen. The soft light from the vanity reflects off his skin, highlighting the curve of his shoulders and the strong, defined V of his waist.

Before Y/n can stop herself, her fingers are reaching out, brushing against the hard planes of his chest. The touch is tentative at first, like a spark igniting, and her fingers trace the lines of muscle along his shoulder, moving down slowly, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.

Rafe’s pulse quickens, and he watches her with hooded eyes, noticing the way her fingers linger on his skin, exploring. Yn shifts, sitting up slowly, her body moving with a deliberate grace. She positions herself closer to him, her eyes locked with his, dark with desire, and her breath hitches as she moves forward, now inches away from his bare torso.

With a teasing glint in her eyes, she leans in, her lips brushing lightly against his abs. The touch is slow and deliberate, a soft kiss against skin, sending a ripple of heat through both of them. Her lips linger just long enough for him to feel the warmth, before she pulls back, her gaze still fixed on him, waiting for his reaction.

The simple gesture sends a shockwave of desire through Rafe. He watched her, his breath shallow, heart racing, his jeans were so tight against his cock it was becoming painful. Yn shifts forward again, a bit closer this time, her lips curving into a teasing smile. She doesn’t rush, taking her time as her gaze flickers between his eyes and the hard planes of his torso. Her fingers graze over his skin, and without breaking their eye contact, she presses another kiss, this time a little lower, just below his navel.

She pulls back slightly, letting the tension build before she leans in again, planting a few soft, lingering kisses along his abs, her lips moving slowly, reverently. Each kiss is deliberate, as though she’s savoring the moment, every inch of his body. Her breath is warm against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. Her hands rest lightly on his sides, her fingers curling into his muscles as she continues, her lips brushing against his skin with a soft, teasing rhythm.

Rafe, unable to control himself any longer, reaches out his hand, threading through her hair and gently gripping the back of her head, pulling her closer to him. The sensation of her lips against his skin, is making him lose his mind. He groans softly as his fingers tighten in her hair, urging her to keep going, his body leaning in toward her with a need he can no longer ignore.

As Yn continues pressing soft kisses against Rafe’s abs, her hands move slowly, trailing from his sides to the front of his pants. Her fingers brush over the edges of his waistband before they find the chunky belt buckle, the metal cool under her fingertips. She runs her fingers along the indents and details of the design, feeling the strength and texture of it. She leans back slightly, her eyes now locked onto the buckle as her hands toy with it, slowly flicking it with a teasing, deliberate touch. The tension in the room thickens as Rafe watches her with a deep intensity, his hand still holding her head close, his grip tightening as she continues to play with him.

With a slow, steady movement, Yn pulls at the buckle, glancing up at him through her fluttering lashes, her gaze daring to push him over the edge. The heat between them simmers just beneath the surface, every touch, every movement. Yn’s fingers brush over the buckle again, this time more deliberately. She feels the cool metal beneath her touch as she works it loose, unfastening it with a slow, steady motion.

The sound of the buckle clicking open echoes in the silence of the room, and for a brief moment, there’s a pause - the anticipation hangs heavy in the air.

Rafe’s body goes rigid for a split second as he watches her. His hand tightens in her hair, a silent warning, but the way his gaze darkens only heightens the heat between them. He leans in closer, but he doesn’t move, not yet. His eyes flicker between her hands and her face, his jaw tight with restraint.

Yn slowly slides her hand away from the belt, meeting his gaze with a challenge of her own. She smirks slightly, her lips brushing over the edge of the buckle as she pulls her hand back. The act of unbuckling it and then teasing him, is enough to make Rafe’s resolve crack, his hand moving from her head to cup her face, roughly pulling her chin up to look at him grunting out,

“Get on your knees.”

As Rafe holds her face with his hand, Yn shifts slightly, siding off the stool and moving onto her knees, the cold floor cooling her burning skin. She’s eye-level with the bulge in his jeans, and the sight makes her squeeze her thighs together in an urge to relieve the ache between them. She looks up at him, her eyes half-lidded, watching the flicker of restraint in his expression faltering. Rafe’s hand stays on her face, his thumb brushing along her jawline as he continues,

“Take them off.”

She reaches for his belt buckle again, teasing him with her fingertips, but this time, her motions are more deliberate as she moves further, unbuckling it fully. Her fingers pop open the button and draw down the zip, fingers curling into the waistband of his jeans and pulling them down, leaving him in his black brief, the material tight over the outline of his hard cock. Rafe’s breath hitches at the movement, but he doesn’t pull her closer. Instead, his hand tightens on her chin, lifting her gaze back up to him. The way she’s kneeling, her body drawn closer to his, causes his voice to drop lower, now edged with more command than it was before.

“You gonna behave for me Sugar?”

Y/n bit her lip as she tilted her head up to look up at him, hand coming up to press his hard on over the material of his briefs, Rafe let out a low moan at her movements, sucking in a breath through his teeth. Losing patience he roughly grabbed Y/n’s chin as he leaned down towards her,

“You want my cock baby?”

She hummed back in response nodding her head, bottom lip still caught between her teeth, he pulled her head up closer to him, tone harsher,

“Use your words”

“Yes”

“What?”

“Yes please”

Y/n could feel the arousal dampening the material of her panties. She was sure if he told her to take them off, he’d see the way the wetness made them stick to her pussy. Rafe let out a hum of satisfaction as he tugged down at her bottom lip again, thumb slipping between her teeth pressing her tongue down, prompting her to open her mouth. The girl complied, mouth slackening instinctively for him. He leaned down closer, eyes locked onto hers, as he spit into her mouth, the girl letting out a whimper as his spit hit her tongue.

“Yes please what”

“Yes please Rafe”

“Good girl”

He grunted, standing straighter as his grip on her chin dropped, letting her move towards him. Her hands slid up from where they rested on his upper thighs, slipping between his skin and the elastic of his briefs, pulling the material down and letting his hard cock free against his lower stomach. She shuffled closer to him, knees sore from the hard floor, but she didn’t care, she was too turned on to pay attention to things that weren’t his cock in her mouth.

His hand brushed some of her hair out of her face as her hand wrapped around his length, moving up and down slowly; causing Rafe to let out a breath. She leant forward, licking a stripe up from the base to the top of his cock, tongue swirling around his sensitive tip, evoking a low groan from him. She spat on his length, hand working the slick up and down, the wet sounds, along with their heavy breathing filled the room. She tapped the tip against her lips, Rafe’s hooded eyes watching her every move as she rested him against her tongue, lips wrapping around his cock, hollowing her cheeks as she moved down his length. He jerked his hips forward at the feeling moaning out huskily,

“-Fuck”

She hungrily worked at him, gags passing her lips as he rutted into her occasionally, struggling to hold back as he let out deep moans, her warm, wet mouth ever so inviting. Beads of precum leaked from his slit, and Y/n lapped them up eagerly, eyes fluttering shut as she savoured the warm, salty taste.

“Such a fucking slut… shit-”

He bit back a moan as he suddenly gripped her hair, pulling her back and muttered harshly,

“Get up”

She rose on shaky legs, standing in front of Rafe as his hands slid down to her thighs, unexpectedly lifting her up effortlessly, causing her to steady herself on his shoulders. He moved towards the leather sofa in the corner of the room, placing her down onto it, the material of the blanket below her soft on her skin.

“Rafe-”

She whimpered out her thighs squeezing together, she was so aroused now her panties were completely soaked, the material sticking to her needy pussy. His hands pressed against her skin, sliding up from her calves to her knees, where he spread her legs open for him, her back arching up slightly as the feeling of the cool air between her thighs. He tutted as he guided his hands further up her body, fingers snapping the waistband of her panties against her hip, causing her breath to hitch,

“Please”

He slowly pulled them down her legs, a string of her slick connecting her pussy to the material, causing him to groan out,

“Fuck- look at her baby, so needy for me hmm?”

Rafe bunched the panties in his hand, shoving them onto the couch as he leaned down to her, littering wet sloppy kisses over her neck, the girls hand coming out to grip at his bicep as she lifted her hips up to meet his, letting out a soft moan at the friction. He pulled back from her, immediately pushing her hips down, hand firmly over her stomach,

“Good girls wait Y/n”

She shook her head as she whined out, hands grabbing at his shoulders trying to pull him closer, but his firm frame stayed motionless.

“Don’t tease…”

He shook his head, a smirk slipping onto his face as he looked at the desperate girl, her usual confidence now gone. This time however, his hand fluttered over her inner thigh, causing her to bite harshly at her lower lip.

“How bad do you want me?”

He mocked as his hand slid up further, brushing faintly over her aroused pussy causing her to mewl out,

“So- so bad.”

“Yeah?” He asked, satisfied glint in his eye as he watched the girl trembling beneath him, “Beg me then.”

Her eyes looked to him, staying silent

“No?”

He questioned, she could feel his body heat against hers and it was driving her insane. The hand which she rested against the couch, now clenched the blanket she layed on tightly in her grip.

“So I guess I won’t touch your pussy then-”

He started pulling his hand away, sitting up slightly, causing her to snap,

“No!- no please… please touch me Rafe I’m so wet for you please… - need you so bad baby, need your cock so bad.”

At this point she didn’t care about the humiliation of the brainless rambles passing her lips, she was so horny that all she wanted was a release from the agonising ache between her thighs. He couldn’t stop the satisfied grin from creeping into his face as he pressed his mouth against hers and running his tongue over her bottom lip. Y/n’s breathing picked up at the action but hitched as she felt his thumb press steady circles against her clit, causing her to moan loudly into his mouth in relief, back arching at the newfound sense of pleasure.

“So sensitive”

He mumbled against her lips, the words barely audible, a low husky whisper that sent shivers down her spine. He pulled away, his breath mingling with hers, their closeness still electrifying, and Y/n panted heavily, struggling to keep her composure. With a high pitched moan, she felt her nails dig into his bicep instinctively,

“More”

“Ask nicely”

“More please Rafe”

“Whatever you want Sugar”

Y/n’s mouth dropped open into a silent ‘o’ as Rafe teased her weeping hole, before slipping his finger in effortlessly due to the wetness now dripping into the blanket below her.

“Fuckkkk- so ready for me hmm?”

She threw her head back with a desperate gasp as he pumped two fingers into her, curling them slightly, the girl's hips rising to match Rafe’s movements. Her mind was becoming fuzzy and all she could focus on was the slowly building knot in her stomach. Rafe could feel her clenching around his fingers as he leant down, breath brushing against her ear,

“Feel good sugar? You like it when your coworker makes your pussy feel good in the back of the club”

Her loud moan cut him off,

“Fuck! Rafe please- I’m gonna cum”

He pulled back all together, causing her brows to furrow as her eyes flickered open from where they’d shut second ago. She was met with the image of Rafe with his fingers by his lips, tongue coming out to lick over the arousal covering his slender digits, causing her to swallow hard, she felt like she was going dumb from how badly she needed him.

“Rafe”

“I know, I know, gonna make this pussy feel so good”

He spoke out heatedly as he pushed himself forward between her thighs, lining his cock up with her hole. Rafe eyes flickered up to Y/n, from where they were gazing at his heavy dick resting against her throbbing pussy: and she was already looking directly at him, eyes glossy with desire. His hand rested on her thigh, thumb rubbing small circles against her skin as he pushed his tip into her, causing her to let out a breathless moan. He teased her pulling out slightly, causing her to babble out,

“No please- I can’t-“

He shushed her as he languidly slid his hips forward, filling her up with his length. She moaned out, walls fluttering against him as her arms came up, wrapping around his shoulders, nails digging into his back, frantically pulling him closer to her, causing him to let out a grunt.

“You like that?”

He groaned out voice deep as he thrusted his hips against her at a fast pace, the sound of their skin slapping and Y/n’s high pitched wines and breathless moans echoing in the dressing room.

“Yes yes yes-”

The words mindlessly passed her lips as she dragged her nails down his back, drowning in the hypnotising pleasure of him rutting against her. Rafe shifted slightly, hand pressed against the sofa supporting himself as the other moved down to the girl's collar bones, grazing over them before his fingers slipped around her neck, squeezing slightly. Y/n’s back arched up in response, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

“Such a dirty fucking slut”

He spat out at her as he relentlessly snapped his hips against her. Her hand shakily reached up, gripping into Rafes wrist, as she looked up to him, mouth falling open in pleasure again.

“Fucking say it”

He grunted as his grip around her neck tightened slightly, causing her walls to tighten against his cock, she could feel her high building and she choked out to him,

“I’m a fucking slut”

“Yeah you are”

He groaned as his hips stuttered slightly, his jaw clenching. Rafe let go of Y/n’s throat, hand moving down between their hot and sweaty bodies to rub at her sensitive clit, the girl jolting at the feeling causing her walls to clamp around him again, she was moaning relentlessly now, loud gasps of his names passing her lips as she chanted them like a prayer.

“Fuck”

He let out a long low whine as he continued to rock his hips into her, his pace faltering as he felt the heat in his stomach rising.

“Rafe- Rafe- I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum-”

She cried out, hands clawing at his skin, digging into his bicep, sliding down his chest, dragging down his back. He knew he was going to have red angrily lines littered over his skin tomorrow but he didn’t seem to care, the knowledge that everyone would know it was her who had marked him up only aroused him more.

“Give it to me Sugar, fucking soak my cock in your pretty juices”

His words caused her to topple over the edge, her body melting into Rafe’s as she threw her head back, mouth open in a silent moan as waves of pleasure caused her vision to blur slightly. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been fucked so good, her limbs felt like jelly. Rafes grunts turned into pants as he moaned into the crook of her neck,

“Fuck baby”

His hips stilled, his cock pulsing inside Y/n’s pussy, hot seed leaking into her tight walls. She whined out at the feeling, legs still firmly wrapped around him, keeping him in place as they worked through their highs.

The room was now filled with nothing but their heavy breaths, Rafe pulled back slightly, slipping his dick from her warm walls, his eyes flickering down to her pussy as he watched some of his cum dribble out of her hole onto the blanket below, causing him to let out a small hum. His hand reached up, resting on the girl's thigh as his thumb circled her skin again, however this time it was not teasing.

“You okay?”

She nodded her head to him as her hand came up, to run over his chest, fingers trailing down his skin to his bicep, where angry red lines had already started to appear. She couldn’t deny that the image of him marked up by her nails was bringing her a sense of satisfaction. However she brushed that aside as she spoke out,

“I hope nobody heard us”

He looked down as her an amused smirk on his face as he responded,

“I don’t know if they heard me… but they definitely heard you.”

1K notes · View notes

kenyummy · 5 months ago

Text

HIGHLIGHTS OF THE NEL ꒰⚘݄꒱ BLUE LOCK

SYNOPSIS : the highlights of the NEL seem to go viral on social media, and it seems the ones surrounding you, as blue lock's dear manager, are the most popular. which are the four most popular?

notes: hey guys u should read wahhh this was very very fun to write

#4 — BONDING TIME OVER CHESS! 2.0m VIEWS

Sitting at a small table, is you and the one and only coach of the infamous German team—Noel Noa. There is a small jug of water on the table in front of you both and also a chess table.

You clutch your chin between your fingers thoughtfully, eyes narrowed and squinted down at the board. Each of you has equal pieces taken away, and he's seemed to have cornered your pieces on the table.

He's watching you with an unreadable expression—you hardly notice through your intense thinking.

A game, all about strategy—It's no surprise you and Noa were locked intensely in a game such as this. It is a game that centres around your team's core values, and there's no substitution for cold, unfiltered logic.

Your eyes light up, and you move your piece on the board. Underneath the table, you cross your fingers as he makes his next move.

It is not long at all before your smile widens and you move your pieces along—collecting his King piece and practically sparkling when you announce, "Checkmate."

He shows a semblance of emotion—shock—when his eyes widen at your moves. It's for such a split second that it was nigh impossible to catch it if you blinked—however, his expression soon reverted back to normal as soon as the reality of his loss sunk in.

"Hm." That is all he has to say. He stares down at the chess board for a few silent moments longer, then says, "I did not expect that. That was a smart move."

You aren't too prideful, but you feel like preening like a peacock at the praise. You smile, placing your linked hands on your lap and nodding, "Thank you. It only worked because I believed you would take the most logical option possible for that next move."

You gesture towards the barren pieces left around his king. If Noa were a regular person, you're sure he would've smiled.

But he is not, so he didn't. "...Good job."

You don't expect the way his large hand finds its way atop your head and how he gives you a singular head pat. You blink incredulously, with dotted eyes.

He pulls away after a moment and you cough into a closed fist. "Master... how about another game?"

He has an indifferent tone—"Sure."—But the way he looks at you fondly tells you all you need to know.

You smile—ignoring the crash and bang of the unsupervised training behind you—and keep smiling as Ness chases Raichi through the room with a kitchen knife.

COMMENTS:

— mimiziiii: THE MOST ICONIC FATHER AND DAUGHTER DUO FRRR

— noastan2234: noa is so hot I want him

— user464637: IM LITERALLY SOBBING THEY PLAY CHESS THEYRE SO CUTE SHSBHSGSHSJ

— user464637: father snd daughter are father and daughtering

#3 — BATTLE OVER THE BATHROOM! 2.6m VIEWS

Aryu and you are at a standstill. Staring at each other, you both are silent and glaring.

You move quicker than the eye can see—rushing forward and using your hand to push the taller man behind you. "Ladies first," you try to say, excusing yourself but is quickly tugged backward.

You screech, lips forming into a nasty scowl at the man tugging your lacy singlet like you're a dog, "WHAT THE HELL, JYUBEI?!"

He winces at the mention of his name, but holds his head up high and huffs, "A glam being such as I deserve to use the bathroom first."

"You and your long ass hair takes years to dry! I need it more!"

Sparkles fly around Aryu and he makes a glam pose, "I don't think so, my [name] dear. I cannot waste a moment to not deter my extreme—" He makes the mistake of letting go of you for a moment to gesture to himself, "—Glam."

His head is suddenly jerked back as you roughly tug it and hiss through your teeth, "Just be a good boy and let me use the bathroom—and I won't make your life hell during training, okay?"

He screams, eyes hardening at you, "You cretin! How dare you touch my hair?! The mop on your head doesn't need any care whatsoever!"

You gasp in offended shock and lunge at him, "Oh no you didn't—"

Five minutes of tussling and petty insults later—it is abruptly stopped by the upward grab of somebody tossing the skinny, spider-limbed boy over their shoulder.

"What... the hell... are you idiots doing?" There, in all his pajamaed, loose-hair glory, is Barou Shoei, holding Aryu in a death grip and staring at you two with an aura of death. His tone is nothing short of dangerous. "You... woke up the entire stratum."

You blink, wide-eyed, while Aryu flips his hair around like a buzzing fly.

"What the hell are you all yappin' about?" Aiku walks in with pants hanging low and shamelessly shirtless—yawning and eyes half-lidded while Niko stands beside him in an oversized shirt with the print, Sleep, Anime, Game, Repeat.

Sendou is walking like a sluggish zombie with a bright pink eye mask on that says, Pretty, with him inches away from walking into a wall, if Lorenzo had not steered him away with a loud cackle.

Suddenly, you stand up and dash forward, "Well, thanks for letting me use the bathroom!" You don't waste a second in flashing Barou a pearly smile and waving as you close the bathroom door.

Behind her, Aryu lets out a loud scream of frustration and Barou snaps at him to shut the fuck up.

COMMENTS:

— barouscleaningspray: OH BAROU SHOEI THE MAN THAT YOU ARE MY MAN FOREVER AND EVER

— cutiepiecoded: AND THEN THEYRE DOING EACHOTHERS HAIR THE NEXT DAY SHSGHSHS I LOVE THEM

— user33535: ubers the only family ever

— animefan222: niko so real for that shirt

#2 — GETTING INTERRUPTED! 4.3m VIEWS

You peek your head into an—almost—empty training room, blinking curiously and surveying the inside. Your eyes light up like stars when you catch sight of something inside the room. The camera pans to show that thing happened to be Isagi Yoichi.

"That shot you made during training was so incredible," you say, taking a seat beside him. A towel is wrung around his neck and he's drinking out of a water bottle like it is the first time he has ever touched water.

Sweat drips down the side of his face—he wipes it away with a large pearly grin and tilts his head toward you, "Right? I could barely believe I did it."

"But you did!" You look to be just as excited as he is, twinkling with joy and smiling wide, "Even Mariele was impressed! You did great, Isagi! If you can replicate it during a game, it will be perfect!"

Isagi stands up suddenly—seeming to be bursting with energy and joy—he situates himself in front of you and you stare up at him, "It's perfect!"

You laugh, standing up in front of him and he places his hands on your shoulders, "It is!"

You both start giggling uncontrollably together—even from a viewing perspective, the energy in the room is unmistakable—and he stares deeply into your eyes with a soft smile.

You look up at him with a similar expression—eyes-half-lidded and squinted upwards—you start to lean in, slowly, when—

"[name]!"

You nearly fall backwards, if not for Isagi's arm wrapping snugly around your waist and tugging you forward. Your head snaps towards the source of the noise in the room—and there stands Gagamaru, with an empty, confused look in his black-hole eyes.

You step aside, away from the egoist—you don't catch the disappointed look on his face as you look towards your goalkeeper—"Sorry, Gagamaru, what did you need?"

He blinks, soullessly. "We've run out of tide pods again."

Isagi is shown rolling his eyes in the background and grabbing his towel.

COMMENTS :

— THEdiva: AHHH THEY WERE SO CLOSEEEE <3333

— cloudycloudss: isagi and [name] have so much chemistry!!! i hope they start dating :((

— soccersoccer888: i hate isagi GOD I HATE ISAGI kaiser is so much better for her i cant

— jellylover3: NOOOO GAGAMARUUUU WHYYYYYY

— isa[name]stan_2626: THE WAY HER EYES LIT UPP WHEN SHE SAW HIM. THEYRE THE REASON I BELIEVE IN LOVE.

#1 — THE FIGHT OVER THEIR MANAGER! 5.6m VIEWS

The video abruptly starts at a strange angle, where Ness has a death grip on the front of Isagi's shirt, "Shut. Up! Die, Yoichi! DIE!"

Kurona and Hiori both leap over to try and pry the screeching boy off of Isagi with panicked expressions. Yukimiya, Gagamaru, Raichi and Kaiser all sit in the back without seeming worried whatsoever.

"Get off me—!!" Isagi pushes the magician away with a snarl, eyes narrowing into a hard glare and face contorting uncomfortably. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"How dare you say that to Kaiser?!" Ness regains his composure with a huff and glare, cheeks puffing out like a small child, "Don't you get it?! If Kaiser wants your manager, she's not yours anymore, she's his! This is his team, not yours, idiot Yoichi!"

A stark silence fills the room and everyone's eyes turn to Ness. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care—because his boiling hot glare directed towards Isagi does not falter for a moment.

"Well, that's incredibly presumptious of you to say." Yukimiya steps forward and pushes his glasses furthur up his nose bridge. "You talk about her as if she is nothing more than a exclusivity, no?"

Kaiser grins, pearly teeth peeking out from behind his slim lips, "Oh? Are you Blue Lockers getting all possessive over your little manager, now? Cute."

"Stay away from her," Gagamaru looms over the German with big wide eyes. "She's ours."

"No way!" Ness snarls, forcibly moving the big man away from Kaiser. "Stop talking to Kaiser like this! He's better than you all! You're just stupid stepping stones for—"

Kurona bares his teeth and frowns deeply, "Miss Manager likes us better, anyways. Anyways."

Kaiser squints his eyes and smiles at the shark-boy, head tilted to the side and smile dangerously charming, "Oh? And who said that?"

"Me, obviously." Isagi looks completely and utterly unaffected by Kaiser's words and stands up in front of him without hesitation. He stares, deeply, into his eyes. "You think, that in any world, she'd choose you, over me?"

His eyes rest and he looks strangely calm, "You're a fucking clown, Kaiser."

"Yoichi..." His voice is strained and hard—brows furrow downwards and he does not get a chance to say anything else when Ness pushes him back and gets all up in Isagi's face instead.

"Die, Yoichi! Die, you idiot!"

"Hey now, maybe we shouldn't..." Hiori raises his hand and begins to try and walk closer to the two—when he is swiftly cut off by Raichi yelling something to start a fight—and a fight he earns.

A catfight hidden by the circle of players ensues in the middle of the cafeteria—just as three figures pass by the open doorway.

You peek inside for a moment—then look right back at the people beside you. "Is everything alright in there?"

"If we walk quickly, we will not be able to see them." An ominous reply, from Noa, and that is all the soccer star says before grabbing you by the hand and tugging you along—forever lost and confused about what was going on in the cafeteria that day.

COMMENTS:

— bereal_hoe: HOW DOES SHE DEAL WITH THOSE GUYS I WOULD ACC KMS

— cherrypiepiepie: THE CUTIESSSSS OF THE WORLDDD THEY LOVE HER SM ITS SO ADORABLEEEE

— nonchalantdreadhead34: i cant kaiser is such a DICK

©KENYUMMY 2024

1K notes · View notes

crushmeeren · 6 months ago

Text

master list link touya art by birf.

༝ ᭝ ༝ this was written to be the counter part of bodyguard! katsuki by @with-my-calamitous-love ! ༝ ᭝ ༝

Bodyguard! Touya, who was a sketchy hire at best. Who your mafia boss of a Father discovered on a Craigslist ad. Who has a rap sheet a mile long, which is why he was chosen. It includes, but is not limited to; arson, grand theft auto, breaking and entering, assault, etc. Whose scars and piercings scare off any lingering, unwanted leering.

Bodyguard! Touya, who is so stupidly hot that it just pisses you off. Who’s aware you have a crush on him, even when you threaten to shove your hand down his throat to shut him up. Who jokes “don’t think I’d be too fond of your hand down my throat doll, but I’m all for you sittin’ on my face if you really wanna keep me quiet.” It absolutely does not make your belly flutter with a sweet, rich heat.

Bodyguard! Touya, who stays glued to your side once he’s “welcomed” into the family. Who follows you to the grocery store, to work. Who waits patiently outside in his car until you’re off shift. Who does not give you a damn inch of space when you go bar hopping, hovering like an overprotective Doberman, snapping at anyone who dares to venture too close.

Bodyguard! Touya, who wears a perpetual catlike grin, eyes full of amusement each time you bitch at him for being overbearing. Who secretly loves it when you’re mean to him, blood rushing south when your lip curls and you cuss him out. Who takes it in stride, teasing you relentlessly until your cheeks are flushed and you’re on the verge of slapping him across the face.

Bodyguard! Touya, who gets antsy and fidgety out of nowhere. Who, when he deems you safe with friends, will disappear for ten minutes, tops. When he returns it’s with bloody, busted knuckles and white hair sticking to sweaty temples. Who always pokes fun at you when your concern shows plainly on your features, reassuring you that “it’s nothing I can’t handle, doll. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

Bodyguard! Touya, who, despite getting on your last nerve, never crosses a line. Who maintains a respectful distance between you, never touching you unless it’s dire. Who grows on you as you learn about his past. Who you catch smiling at you with soft eyes when you animatedly explain something to your friends. Who drives you insane when he tugs on a lock of your hair where it’s fallen loose, lids lowering, grinning lazily as the tension notches up between you.

Bodyguard! Touya, who one day goes to retrieve the car for you while you wait outside the entrance of a bar. Who appears out of thin air when a guy crowds in your personal space and grabs your ass. Who fists the guys collar from behind and throws him around the corner into an alley, beating him until he’s unconscious.

Bodyguard! Touya, who you shove up against that same alleyway wall and kiss until your lungs burn. Whose kisses are hot and slick, chasing you and sneaking his soft tongue into your mouth when you try to break apart and swallow some air. Who you make out with until you’re dizzy, until Touya pushes you in the direction of his car. Who can’t help himself and smacks your ass when you walk in front of him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Bodyguard! Touya, who commands you to get into the back seat of his car. Who drives you to the first abandoned parking lot he can find before he joins you. Who manhandles you into straddling his thighs, cupping the back of your neck and coaxing you into another blistering kiss.

Bodyguard! Touya, who moans low in his throat when you grind down onto his stiff cock. Who reaches into his pants and readjusts himself until slick tip peaks out of his waistband. Who places his palms on your lower back, pressing his fingers into the muscle there and helps guide the slow roll of your hips.

Bodyguard! Touya, who surges up and sinks his blunt teeth into the side of your neck. Who leaves dark hickies in a chain along your throat, ignoring your breathy warning not to leave visible marks. Who murmurs in your ear “I don’t give a shit what your Father says, I want everyone to see you’re fuckin’ mine now.” Who roughly shoves his overly warm hands up the front of your shirt, under your bra, and squeezes handfuls of your tits.

Bodyguard! Touya, who doesn’t protest when you instruct him to recline against the door. Who lifts his hips, cooing at you in a patronizing tone when you yank his pants and briefs to mid thigh. Who pets your head as you settle between his thighs, laughing at your affronted expression. Who gasps in delight when you swallow his cock in one go, securing you in place with a hand to back of your head until your throat constricts around him.

Bodyguard! Touya, who gets impatient and pulls you off his cock, shaft shiny with your spit and twitching. Who sits up and, with slender fingers, helps free one leg from your pants, letting the rest dangle on your other ankle. Who shifts you both until you’re hovering on your knees over his lap, tugging off your shirt and bra. You complain about being entirely naked when he’s not even close, but he argues that he just needs to see your tits bouncing while you ride him.

Bodyguard! Touya, who grips your ass when you reach down to circle your fingers around his shaft, steadying him, and sink down onto his cock with ease. Who lets you rest your forehead on his, fisting the shirt covering his shoulders as you adjust to the new blood buzzing ache in your pussy.

Bodyguard! Touya, who lacks self control. Who urges you to move with a sharp smack to the ass. You get the message, hastily rising and sitting down until you find a decent rhythm that allows you to bounce. Who, after awhile, sinks lower into the seat, forcing you to sit up straight, and braces his feet. Who meets you thrust for thrust after that, moaning through his teeth when you cry out.

Bodyguard! Touya, who can’t shut up when your pussy starts to squeeze him. Who babbles “ah fuck, that’s it babygirl. You’re about to cum, yeah? Fuckin’ cum for me, I know that sweet pussy loves me.” Who fucks you through your first orgasm, having to bite down harshly on the knuckle of his pointer finger to last through the second one.

Bodyguard! Touya, who inhales sharply after the second time you cum, gritting his teeth and yanking you down with both hands on your waist as his own pleasure swells and bursts. Whose head thumps back onto the seat, his sweet moan of your name making your pussy tighten once more.

Bodyguard! Touya, who manages to get you redressed and into the passenger seat, still intent on bringing you home by your curfew. Who, before he puts the car in drive, takes hold of your jaw and leans across the console, leaving but an inch of space between you. Who smirks playfully and promises “next time I get you alone, I’m tastin’ that pussy. You’re gonna sit on my face, doll.” Who then winks and acts as if nothing happened, whistling as he begins the long journey back to your home.

Bodyguard! Touya, who leaves you dumbfounded and with a furious blush. Who annoys the ever loving shit out of you, but leaves you a bit too close to falling in love for your comfort.

#todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya smut #todoroki touya #dabi x reader #dabi smut #dabi x you #dabi headcanons #todoroki toya x reader #mha smut #mha headcanons #mha x reader #dabi x reader smut #mha todoroki #todoroki smut #todoroki x reader

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lokisgoodgirl · 8 months ago

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Clean [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After a difficult mission, your ex Loki has a revelation. (w/c 1.6k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Mild angst. Pining. Feelings. Smuttish. Loki x Fem Reader. A/N: I'm planning some filthy stuff soon - but for now, we're still in angsty romance era. 😇

Loki sat hunched with his back against the bathroom wall, head in his hands. Blood was smeared over the white shirt: his own and not his own. It was ripped in several places, sleeves folded up to the elbows.

“It wasn’t locked,” you said stiffly, fingers tightening around the knob. “Would it have mattered? I expect you’re quite desperate to see me like this.” He tilted his head, voice sharp, eyes tired. “Don’t you wish to capture the scene on your device? Surely Rogers would relish a commemoration of my ineptitude.”

Loki had made a scene as the team exited the Quinjet, throwing his ruined suit jacket off the roof of Stark Tower and kicking a fire bucket for good measure. His voice was choked with anger.

“Let me be,” he’d roared after Steve shouted something about medical in his direction. The Captain had turned to the rest of you with a defeated shrug, but your eyes hadn't left Loki's back as he waged a path though the doors and they slammed behind him in a flash of green.

Loki had taken the worst of the heat from the Hydra agents working undercover in downtown Chicago. He’d been cornered by three of them, and soon a capture order had turned into a triple kill—but not before taking some punishment for his efforts.

‘I tried to subdue them humanely,’ Loki had muttered afterwards, inspecting a deep gash on his forehead in the Quinjet’s sheen. ‘They wouldn’t listen to reason.’ ‘How hard did you try?’ Steve had sniped. ‘We’re in a pickle now, thanks Laufeyson. A real pickle indeed. Typical.’ To that, Loki had said nothing. He’d refused all clean-up on the way home, sitting in a fury-riddled silence that tainted the re-circulated air.

You took a step over the bathroom’s boundary, and then shrank back.

Relations between you had been frosty since you’d gone your separate ways: to this day you weren’t quite sure what had happened. One day, everything was perfect. The next—it was over. You’d chalked it up to the god settling in to life on Earth; him realising you weren’t the only person on the planet who thought the sun shone from his perfectly formed arse…but that had never felt right. Despite snooping, you’d never got a whiff of him shagging anyone else. Based on your experience with Loki, that was especially odd.

You took a deep breath, crossing the floor and extending a hand. To your surprise, he took it and heaved himself up. Fuck, you’d forgotten how heavy he was; how his forearms bulged when they flexed, how his body felt pressing down on yours as he railed you gently on the bed you’d shared.

Ok, maybe not that last one. You cleared your throat, pulling your hand back. Loki sighed, eyes cast to the floor.

“I’m filthy,” he said with an air of disgust, reflexively running a hand across his waist. Pain rippled across his features.

“You’re hurt, you need to go to—” “I’m quite well.” “Loki,” you warned. His lashes fluttered up, nailing his gaze to yours. An eyebrow cocked. Feeling your cheeks heat, you turned and switched on the shower. “Steve shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier,” you said, trying to keep the flurry of nerves from your voice. “You did what you had to do—they’d have killed you.” “Please,” Loki snorted. “They would not have killed me. I’m offended that you would even imply it.” You glanced over your shoulder. Even in his dishevelled state, he was giving every inch the haughty, regal snob that you’d fallen desperately in love with. And that was the problem, wasn't it? It was the only version of him you'd ever been granted.

“Then why are you in such a state?” Loki’s brow furrowed. “A what?” “Why are you upset?” “I’m not upset.” “You were literally sitting on the floor with your head in your hands.” “It’s an Asgardian victory custom.” “Loki…”

His jaw clenched as you leant against the sink and his keen eyes darted over your face. “I…tried not to kill them,” he said through gritted teeth. It was the same voice he’d used when the two of you had ‘the conversation’—you hadn’t heard it since. An icy finger trailed down your spine at the bitterness in his voice as he said, “I failed.”

Understanding blossomed through your mind. You remembered a cold winter’s night, Loki curled naked against your back, confessing his deepest secret while he thought you’d slept. I’m afraid I’ll never be good, he’d whispered in the dark; that I’ll always be stained with the curse of my past.

You realised the mask of stoicism had slipped from your face at the exact moment Loki’s expression shifted. His gaze broke, returning to the floor. “You should leave,” he said. “You’re not safe with me.” The echo of the last time you’d been alone together—the same words. Does he remember?

Pushing off the sink, you shuffled towards him, cupping his forearm. The grit of dried blood rubbed beneath your fingertips as you squeezed. “You can’t think that. It’s been years…”

Suddenly Loki’s hands ran up your cheeks, thumbs pressing into your jaw as your back met the wall. He’d pinned you under the shower, speckles of water hitting off his shoulder and splattering your skin. His eyes searched yours: all fire, and destiny.

“I’ll never be free,” he said. His gaze dropped to your lips and back to your eyes. “I’ll never be clean.”

You caressed the well-trodden path his buttons made up the front of his shirt. Still beautifully tailored despite the dirt, and sweat, and blood. “Not with that attitude,” you said, and his brows peaked. “Everyone knows your history, Loki. We need you here. We want you here.” “And you?”

The shower seemed very loud all of a sudden. Especially me. “You really have to ask?” You brushed the sides of his shirt apart and Loki swallowed, his eyes closing a heartbeat too long as your fingers lingered on the bruise forming over the flat of his abdomen. “Loki…” you chided, tracing the blossom of indigo across his alabaster skin. “Steve was right, you should be in medical.” He snorted, hands falling by his sides. “If you’d come five minutes later, it would have been gone.” Fat droplets of water roll over the tips of his cheekbones, streaks of pale skin beneath the dust and dirt of the mission. You’ve never seen him like this. He never let you see anything other than the perfect prince; the unshakeable god. “Doesn’t it hurt?” You circled higher on his chest, appreciating the taut skin firm beneath your own. You'd swear you could see the thrum of his heartbeat.

“Always,” he said sadly, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t talking about the injuries. God, I miss this. I miss him. Now, finally, you could admit it to yourself. The weight of the confession slid from your body, circling the drain as Loki shivered, and the dark pools of his pupils spread wider.

Cautiously, your hands ran up his chest, over his shoulders, peeling the soaking shirt from his back and down his arms. It fell with a slop to the shower floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a faint narrow of his eyes. You licked your lips, unsure of what how to answer. What are you doing? But it was now or never. This kind of vulnerability was a particularly rare ship to dock in Loki’s harbour.

Running your palms up his neck, he groaned softly as they slid up the sharp prow of his jawline, up the bladed cheekbones and into the slick of his sodden hair. He closed his eyes, a low sigh rattling his chest. For a moment, there was only the patter of water against porcelain.

“Showing you how to be clean again,” you whispered before your lips fastened to his. Loki’s eyes shot open, one hand slamming to the tiles behind your shoulder to steady himself as you pulled away. Your heart thumped between your ribs.

Oh god, he doesn’t want it. You’ve fucked it up. Memories of the longing glances you’d seen painted on his face across the room, the brush of his touch on your arm which lasted a second too long, the anger simmering beneath his skin when he thought you’d moved on. It had all been in your head. The thought was almost too much to bear.

“Why did you stop?”

Breath caught in your throat as his words soaked through the rising steam; low and smooth. The response fell from your mouth in breathless stages, hyper-focused on the shirt plastered to his skin. “I didn’t think you wanted it, I’m sorry I—” A soft, disbelieving chuckle rumbled in his throat before he said, “How could I not want you?” Your eyes rose.

The god was fully soaked now; hair plastered to his neck like ink, shirt and trousers moulded to the sinews and meat of his body like a second skin. The last traces of dirt from his skin were gone, and the water around your feet ran clear. You pulled the back of his neck towards you.

Loki’s kiss was an eruption of desire, of pain, of need; his palm slipping on the tile behind your head before switching to your waist. It worked over your hip, your breasts, your ass, never staying in one place, never lingering too long. “Gods, I missed you, I've missed you,” he murmured wet against your cheek. You crossed your arms over your chest, pulling the sodden top over your head. “So soon?” A soft smile curled at his mouth. “We’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?”

In answer, Loki ran a finger from the hollow of your neck between your breasts. A chill skated across your skin as your trousers dissolved— his too. He pressed his body to yours, warm against the sharp sting of the tiles. Water pooled in the crevice where your skin met, Loki’s kisses sliding over your lips—one slipping into the next—pants of devotion wisping down your throat. He lifted your thigh, manoeuvring himself inside with one, liquid movement. You clasped to his shoulders, nails digging in to his flesh like he might vanish. All you could feel was his body, his presence, his faint moan of relief in your ear.

“No more living in the past,” you panted. “Loki, promise me.” He tilted his cheek into your wrist, water droplets falling from the ends of his hair to the curve of your breasts below. “A fresh start,” he said quietly, kissing the delicate skin. You groaned as he thrusted gently inside you. “Clean,” he panted, “New.” “Together,” you said. “Together,” Loki replied.

And then, among plumes of steam and the slide of bodies and wordless promises, there was no more talking.

Tags in comments ❤️

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki oneshot #loki imagine #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x yn #loki odinson #loki marvel

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chevroletdean · 1 month ago

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Welcome Home

nsfw prompts, send in a character + a number

PAIRING: Dean x Fem!Reader GENRE: Smut (18+ CONTENT) TO NOTE/WARNINGS: mentions of (healed) injuries, PWP, established relationship, (guided) masturbation, dirty talk, sex toys, fingering, not proofread WORD COUNT: 2.8k PROMPT: 10) finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them A/N: based on an anon's request, ty! CREDIT & LINKS: dividers by cafekitsune ─〃★ join the taglist ─〃★ Dean Masterlist

You were sitting on the bed, legs crossed, compact mirror in one hand, mascara wand in the other. Maybe it was a little silly, but you wanted to doll yourself up extra nicely today.

Dean’s been away for two whole weeks, working on this super complicated case several states over. You, on the other hand, had been stuck at the Bunker thanks to an annoying injury for the whole duration of his absence. A busted ankle rendered you bed-ridden for a while and Dean, ever the worried boyfriend, was strict about your healing process.

Thus, you stayed behind, unable to do much except twirling your thumbs and calling him every day.

Fourteen lonely days, every single one feeling like torture.

Even though your leg’s been fully healed since a couple of days, Dean insisted that you should take it easy. Restless as you were, however, you offered to tag along, join him after all.

His response you couldn’t have anticipated.

“I’m on my way home already,” he said through the phone, the curl of his lips audible. “Surprise, sweetheart.”

You immediately dropped everything.

That thick novel you’ve been reading? Shoved back onto the shelves. Your warm cup of tea to comfort that empty feeling in your chest? Left behind to cool entirely. Blanket? Who needed that when soon you would have your boyfriend’s arms back around you!

You nearly tripped over your own two feet as you rushed to your wardrobe. If you’d manage to break another bone in the process of exchanging your pyjamas for something nicer, Dean wouldn’t let you hear the end of it.

However, in your giddiness you could not be bothered to care.

Dean informed you that he’d be at the Bunker in an hour or two, which was just enough time to prepare everything. Like cleaning your room and making yourself presentable.

Absorbed in your own world, you hummed along to your playlist as you did the finishing touches of your makeup. Though, when your door creaked open, you squealed— half surprised, half flustered.

“You’re early,” you huffed, though the wide smile and the brightness in your eyes belied your attempt at scolding him.

You jumped up from the bed, practically flinging yourself into his arms. His eyes almost appeared greener than you remembered, or maybe you just missed the color so badly that seeing it again made your heart flutter even more than usual.

“My bad,” he played along with a chuckle and the deep rumble of his voice sent your pulse skyrocketing, “Want me to leave again and come back later?”

“Don’t you dare, Winchester,” you retorted, grin still wide on your tinted lips. Before he could even think about abandoning you again, whether in jest or not, you pulled him into a kiss, the familiar taste of him melting your heart right away.

Despite being worn down after a long drive and an even longer hunt, Dean soaked up your excited welcome, mimicking the effortless smile you wore.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against your mouth with a relieved sigh.

“Missed you too,” you whispered back, connecting your lips with his in another chaste kiss.

“I can tell,” he grinned, leaning back only to scan you up and down. You had picked one of his old Metallica shirts, paired with a denim mini-skirt. One that left him no choice but to whistle.

“Two weeks without me and you turn into a caveman,” you quipped teasingly. Still, that look of approval and desire caused your skin to tingle.

“Can’t blame a guy for appreciating his pretty girl,” Dean shrugged, boyish grin plastered across his face. “You look like a work of art.”

“And the canvas isn’t even done yet,” you chuckled. “Can you grab my lipgloss from the bathroom real quick?”

Dean didn’t respond for a second, too busy taking in the sight of you. His hands lazily trailed up and down your sides, testing the material of his shirt, the fabric old and worn and falling softly over those irresistble curves of yours. You were asking the impossible of him—no way did he want to pull away from you for even just another minute.

“What’s the point if I’m gonna kiss it off that pretty mouth anyway?,” Dean tested, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

“Hold your horses, Cassanova,” you clicked your tongue with that flustered grin of yours, shyly shoving at his shoulder to nudge him towards the bathroom. “It’s the cherry flavored one, your favorite.”

Dean’s eyes lit up to match the flirtatious sparkle in yours, both thanks to the heavenly sound of your laugh and your little promise.

“Should’ve said so sooner, sweetheart,” he hummed with that wide, giddy grin of his. Though he did not let you off the hook that easily — giving you another peck, along with a well measured squeeze of your ass that had you yelp and giggle again — he turned on his heel and retreated to the bathroom.

“Gotta freshen up a bit anyway,” was the last thing you heard him mumble.

As for you, you swiftly finished the last bits of preparations. The moment you learned he’d finally come home, you knew just how to welcome him back properly. Microwaved popcorn, some slices of greasy pizza, one or two of Dean’s favorite old Western classics.

“Steve McQueen or John Wayne?,” you called as you were shuffling through the DVD collection in the box, which usually sat under your bed. You’d found it pulled out already and, what can you say, sometime’s not tidying up immediately has its perks.

And sometimes it’s a bulletproof set-up for failure.

Dean returned just then, though it’s the rasp of his voice that grabs your attention rather than the steps of heavy boots you expected to appear behind you.

“Wanna tell me what this is?”

Curious, your head turned to him. Your gaze fell on his frame first, much closer than you thought he’d be and half-naked. He’s washed the grime off his skin, which thus was slightly damp and smelled like the perfect blend of citrus and spice.

Once finally managing to peel your eyes off his broad chest, your eyelashes flickered upwards. Though your heart sank right to the bottom of your stomach as you realized what he was holding might’ve been pink, but it definitely wasn’t your lipgloss. Instantly the shade of your cheeks matched the silicone toy he waved around.

Your Satisfyer. Of course, you’d just cleaned it in the bathroom and forgot to put it away. Hence that box not being stashed away yet either.

“I can explain,” you muttered shyly, almost timidly and tense, though your defensive response earned you just a smirk from Dean.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he hummed. “Didn’t say I was mad.”

He turned the small vibrator in his hands, once, twice, eyeing it with curiosity. Not anger. Not disgust or any of that.

“Didn’t know you owned one of these,” he spoke, casually, as if he didn’t just jumpscare the shit out of you by wiggling your sex toy in front of your face.

You’re not sure what prompted you to even attempt defending yourself: “I only use it when I miss you too much…” While justifying why you had it, that explanation certainly didn’t make you feel any less exposed.

A thick silence followed, so heavy between you you could hear your own blood rush through your ears. The blush crept from your face to your neck, darkening into a tomato-red.

Dean stared at you as if you’d grown a second head, and you couldn’t possibly maintain eyecontact with him anymore. Although, when you averted your gaze, he lifted your chin up again, looking down at you with an intensity that overwhelmed you.

“When you miss me,” Dean echoed, voice low and laced with something dangerous. Something proud. Like the secret you just revealed equated to you handing him a trophy.

Shyly, you nodded. Barely.

“You’re thinking of me when you’re touching yourself, sweetheart?” His words had you shudder. And swallow. Thickly. Though your throat remained dry and you didn’t trust yourself to speak up just yet.

“Hmhm,” you hummed quietly, nodding again. Wasn’t it self-explanatory? Of course you were. It was always him you imagined in those moments. It was always his touch you wished would explore you. His hands, mouth, thick cock—

“Show me,” Dean spoke, holding the item out for you.

Bewildered, you blinked at him, unsure if you understood correctly.

“Wh-what?”

He took a step forward, towering over you in a way that made you feel small, but desired all the same. Instinctively, you staggered backwards, until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, causing you to sit down.

“Show me what happens when you miss me, sweetheart,” Dean elaborated, placing the toy in your lap and then pulling back.

Your eyes, wide with shock, never left him as he pushed a chair over to the bed and made himself comfortable, sitting there leaned back and ready to enjoy the show.

“But I— You…”

Dean tilted his head, one hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “What? I wanna see my girl make herself feel good. Just do it like you normally would.”

It’s not that you were uncomfortable with the idea, knowing he’d never push you to anything you don’t want. It’s rather that his request made heat pool at your core, so fast that it made you dizzy. He couldn’t possibly hold you getting so flustered against you.

This felt like a damn ambush, one that made your brain short circuit.

Hearing the gears turn in your head, Dean leaned forward, supporting his elbows on his knees and tilting his head. “Not your cup of tea, sugar?”

Damn bastard knew what he was doing, letting his wolfish eyes roam your body like you were some frozen-in-the-headlights deer. The low rumble of his voice was enough to make you instinctively squeeze your thighs together.

“No— I mean yes? Just…,” you stuttered, making a complete fool of yourself. This was uncharted territory. You knew your body and how to explore it. Dean knew your body and how to explore it. But in this constellation, the alignment of stars painted a new picture.

While you didn’t want to admit how awkward you felt, not wanting to sound lame, Dean understood without you having to spell it out for him. He got up from the chair and settled on the bed instead, making himself comfortable right behind you.

Biting your lower lip, you let his arms circle around your waist and pull you closer until your back was pressed flush against his chest. The heat of his skin seeped through your clothes and you relaxed into his embrace right away.

“This okay?,” he whispered, the gentleness of his voice contrasted only by the brush of his stubble against your cheek. As his fingertips slipped under your shirt, erasing the tension from your middle, you leaned back into him even further.

“More than okay,” you answered, voice soft but sure.

You felt the smile tugging at his lips against your neck, along with the kiss he placed there. Slow and deliberate. Reassuring you while his fingers made quick work of your skirt’s button. He unfastened it, helping you lift your lower half to slip the denim down and taking your panties right with them.

Both items discarded onto the floor, you shifted into a more comfortable position. You settled between Dean’s legs and slowly spread your own, following the guide of his palms that stroked the plush of your thighs.

“Show me, please?”

The way he asked for it had your heart and pussy flutter in tandem. That desperate edge to his tone, the subtle twitch of his fingers against your inner thighs — as if he was itching to touch you himself, but wanting you to do it instead.

You bit your lower lip and pressed the toy’s switch, its soft buzz making both yours and Dean’s breath hitch.

You guided the vibrator to your slick folds, your center already throbbing with anticipation. Dean’s chin settled on your shoulder, eyes glued to your ministrations. Having him watch you at your most vulnerable, such a private moment suddenly so intimate, it drove you to the brink of insanity.

“You’re tellin’ me this is what I’m missing every time I’m gone?,” Dean huffed through a clenched jaw, absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of him. You, all splayed out for him, letting yourself fall apart, unwavering trust behind your actions.

A whine left your lips as you shook your head shyly.

“No?,” he hummed, hands still tracing lazy circles over your thighs, occasionally lifting your oversized shirt out of the way.

“Mmh, ‘s different when you’re here,” you replied in between ragged panting.

“Different how?”

“Better.”

You had no idea what those words did to him. Or maybe you did, judging by the way you arched your back and pushed your hips back, just to feel the tent in his boxers.

“What’s it like when I’m not here?” Maybe Dean was pushing his luck, asking you to share the most scandalous of your thoughts, wanting a glimpse of your fantasies. Or maybe he was pushing your buttons in just the right way, relishing in the flush of your cheeks and the tremble of your lips. “What’re you imagining then, baby? Bet you wish it was me touching you, right?”

The moan bubbling from you was broken but beautiful, accompanied by another nod of yours.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

You angled the toy up slightly until the ring suctioned right over your clit, pressure and friction so delicious you sobbed softly.

“Wish you’d fuck me, keep thinking ‘bout your cock filling me,” you rambled to your own surprise.

“Keep it up, and I might,” Dean chuckled lightly behind you, his only reward for now another kiss to your flushed skin.

Eager to please him, more than pleasuring yourself at this point, you turned up the setting. Though your thighs twitched, you kept chasing the feeling. Your hips automatically bucked into the smooth surface of your toy. It was practically drenched already, glistening with your essence.

“So fucking pretty,” Dean rasped, large hands holding your legs open from behind.

You whimpered, throwing your head back against his shoulder as the pressure between your thighs became nearly unbearable. Dean used the opportunity to plant wet, hot kisses across your neck, burying his nose in the curve of your shoulder.

“Doing so good, baby,” he whispered. “Just a little longer, can you do that for me?”

“Dunno, ‘m so close,” you cried, coil in your lower stomach so damn tight, so damn close to snapping.

“’s alright,” Dean purred, his own hand maneuvering their way between your legs. You yelped softly as you felt his fingers collect your wetness and run right through your slit. “Almost there.”

Overwhelmed, you almost squirmed away, but his grip on you was iron, his words whispering sweet affirmations into your ear. How pretty you looked. How good you felt. How perfect you were. And the best part about it? He was actually, really, right there—not some flicker of your imagination, not the ghost of his touch or the memory of his voice.

Dean slipped one finger inside of you, then added a second one. His thrusts were steady, a welcome scratch to the itch you could never quite manage on your own. A soothe to your nerves only Dean was able to accomplish. He was making you sing and curse and worship his name with your voice.

“Let go for me,” Dean spoke, talking you through it as all that you managed were moans and slight thrashes.

He pushed you over the edge with ease, catching you all the same in the storm of your orgasm. The intense crash of heat washing over you caused one of your hands to grasp his wrist—you weren’t entirely sure whether you were trying to make him slow down or asking him to keep going.

Dean slowed his movement, the pulsating of your heat subsiding gently until all that was left was you, sweaty and shaking in his embrace.

“Good to be back,” Dean quipped jokingly, sealing your long awaited reunion with another lock of your lips.

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grenadehearts · 11 days ago

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get undressed, and bare yourself, for my eyes only.

warnings: wlw, gender swapped katsuki, smut, overstimulation, oral reader!receiving, top!katsuki, praise, thigh r!ding, finger svcking, fvcking infront of a mirror. masterlist link. not proofread.

authors note: this is not my best work been going through a slump rn, but had to get smth out for fem!katsuki since shes been taking up my mind baddd. reblogs + likes are much appreciated! word count 2k.

Thinking about fem!Katsuki, who absolutely hates the outfits you wear—not because they’re ugly, but because they’re inconvenient as hell. And she knows what’s coming, like clockwork: your sweet little voice drawing out a syrupy “babyyyy,” bottom lip jutted out in that way that makes her pussy ache, drives her wild, makes her wanna fuck you till you forget what your pretty mouth was even complaining about.

Maybe then you'll finally learn not to dress like that when you know it’s gonna be a whole thing.

Like earlier today when you insisted on doing a full beat before a hike. She watched, arms crossed, grumbling from the bathroom counter while you overlined your cupid’s bow and flicked your eyeliner just right. Your face already so damn pretty—and you’re still adding more.

She’d never admit it out loud, but she loves watching you do your makeup. Thinks you look so damn pretty, loves how focused you get, the steady hand when you do eyeliner, the cute face scrunch you do—it all makes her weak. But that doesn’t stop her from being a brat about it. She leans forward, grabs your chin, and plants a messy, tongue-filled kiss right onto your freshly glossed lips—then pulls back laughing as you gasp and swat at her.

“I did tell ya. Ain’t no point doin’ your makeup,”

“You don't need all that. Hot as fuck out, ya just gonna complain.”

Then when you walked out in a pretty light pink baby tee and mini shorts—

She had narrowed her eyes, scanning your bustful figure, then she scoffed, “Ya gonna regret that choice, baby.”

And what happened five minutes into the hike?

Exactly what she predicted.

You stumbled into a branch, fell into a patch of dirt, and let out that familiar whiny little whimper, “Sukiiiii…”

She sighed hard, boots crunching on the forest floor as she turned around, crouching beside you with a cocked brow. Her spiky blonde hair shifted with the movement.

“What’s the magic word?” she asked, voice full of smug amusement.

You glared.

She grinned. “C’mon. Use that pretty mouth—I know that tongue of yours works.”

You grumbled under your breath, cheeks flaming red. “You were right.”

“Atta girl,” she smirked before effortlessly scooping you up over her shoulder, hand patting your ass and dusting the leaves off all while doing so.

“Hmph. You don’t have to carry me like this!” you grumble in annoyance.

“And you don’t gotta be a pain in my ass, but you are,” she grumbled.

Annoyed, you bit her shoulder.

“Ow—brat.” She adjusted you with a huff, now carrying you bridal-style. “There. Better, you idiot?”

“So damn annoying…” she muttered, but yet her hold never faltered.

Back at the car, she set you in the passenger seat and knelt down between your legs, hands caging you in on either side as she reached into the backseat for the spare bag. She pulled out one of your comfier shirts and a pair of her basketball shorts—ones that hung low on your hips, just the way she hated everyone else seeing.

She held them up with a cocky grin. “Alright, princess. Lift up.”

You raised your arms, rambling on about how you “didn’t think you’d actually fall” and “it wasn’t that deep,” while she dressed you with gentle ease, no roughness apparent.

“S’fine. I gotcha.”

When you were done, you started pouting again, facial features crumbling like a kicked dog, as you whined, “I look ugly now.”

Her expression softened—eyebrows furrowed as she leaned in close, lips ghosting over yours. You could feel the warmth of her breath.

So close that if you were to exhale, your lips would touch.

“Dummy,” she muttered, flicking your forehead, then tugged you up by the waist. “C’mon. Let’s finish the hike.”

Yeah, she hated the inconvenience of your outfits. But that didn’t mean she didn’t love taking them off your pretty body.

Especially tonight.

Fresh from your shower, skin still dewy, you came out wearing a black dress, delicate lace adorning your chest, those thigh highs riding down just enough to tease the skin she loved biting. Sitting there, all done up and perfect.

She didn’t even let you leave the bathroom.

Before you could blink, she had you cornered against the bathroom counter, hands gripping your thighs.

“Ya look so fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?” she growled, nipping at the skin of your neck as her tongue swirled soothing circles over them. You giggled, soft and warm, the sound echoing inside her chest, turning her insides into goopy mush.

Your fingers ghosted up to brush the scar that bloomed over her cheek, admiring her flushed face and heavy eyes.

“You’re so pretty, Suki. My pretty baby.”

She groaned, burying her face in your neck, hands creeping up under your dress. “Stop sayin’ dumb shit like that.”

Normally, you’d argue. Lecture her about how it wasn’t dumb. But instead, you kissed her—letting her know with soft kisses, that you meant every word you said.

And that kiss turned into you sprawled out on the plush bed you both shared, dress hitched up, lace panties askew, while she hovered above—her baggy jeans and worn-out skull tee blocking your view from bare skin.

“Mph—off,” you mumbled, wriggling beneath her as you tugged at her shirt.

She caught your hands, and lifted the shirt off with a roll of her eyes—exposing her soft, milky breasts with hardened pink buds, Calvin Klein waistband peeking above her jeans before those, too, hit the floor. She climbed back over you, lips crashing to yours, one hand gripping your thigh and slowly inching up.

“Told you,” she murmured against your skin. “Told you not to wear that.”

“Suki,” you whined. “Not right now…”

“Nah.” She bunched your dress up to your breasts, kissing along your belly. “Lemme finish.”

Her lips pressed lower, mouth hot and wet against your skin. You squirmed and gasped, full of need—she looked up through her lashes, pupils blown wide, lips pouty and red, face flushed.

She looked cruel in the amber glow of your bedroom, sun slipping behind the clouds.

“Don’t ever stop wearin’ that stupid shit,” she muttered between kisses. “Fuckin’ love it on ya. Love takin’ it off ya.”

Then she nipped at your thigh and you let out a breathy yelp, fingers tangling in the sheets as your hips bucked.

“Don’t stop,” she rasped out again, against the skin of your thighs.

She trailed lower, one hand sprawling your thighs apart, leaving your glistening pussy pink and pretty for her eyes. She hiked your legs over her shoulders, her lips curling into a cruel smirk only adding to the pool of wetness between your legs, as she cursed low and raspy under her breath, her hands grabbing your dress and pulling it off your body with need.

“Wanna see those pretty tits bounce when I get you screaming,” she growled, crawling back down and positioning herself between your legs. “You’re fucking soaked for me, huh?” Her voice was rough with desire. “Such a needy girl.”

She moved back down, settling between your legs, breath ghosting over your soaked core.

“So wet for me already,” she murmured, lips brushing slightly against your folds.

She lowered her head fully, her tongue swiping through your slick folds, muffling more curses and praise as she devoured you like she could never get enough. Her hands gripped your thighs, keeping you still as your hips bucked into her face, desperate for more.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking good,” she muttered against your core, her tongue diving deeper as her eyes locked on yours, filled with hunger. “Can’t get enough of this sweet pussy.”

Your hands tangled in her hair, tugging her closer, and you gasped, “Suki—more, please, fuck, please, more…”

She sucked your clit hard, making your thighs tremble. You were unraveling, breaths choked out between whimpers and gasps. But she didn’t let you release—not yet.

“Beg,” she growled, lips brushing your soaked cunt. “Come on, baby. Wanna hear you really beg for it.”

You whimpered, grinding against her mouth, voice fractured and incoherent. Your body squirmed, overwhelmed. And then—she stopped.

Abruptly.

She crawled up your body in a haze of heat, her chain dragging cool metal over your fevered skin. You shivered. Her hand caught your jaw and guided your mouth open, slipping her thumb past your lips.

“Missed you,” she whispered, before kissing you hard, biting your bottom lip until you tasted iron and her spit and yourself.

Her mouth dragged lower, teeth scraping your collarbone, tongue swirling over your nipple until it puckered. Then she latched on, sucking until your back arched off the bed.

“Suki—f-feels so good—fuck—”

You moaned, clutching her hair tighter, grinding your cunt into her stomach. Her mouth wet on your breast.

Quickly She moved back down, to your needy, sopping pussy, and you spread your folds eagerly. “Look at you, so fucking perfect,” she growled. “Gonna ruin you again, don’t worry.”

You moaned in response, your body already trembling as she dove back in, her tongue flicking and thrusting into you with wild abandon. “Fuck, Suki…” you gasped, gripping her hair tighter, feeling the tension build inside you.

“Fuck—can’t take this,” she moaned into your cunt as you came, crying out, your slick coating her mouth. She didn’t stop. She licked you clean like it was worship, like she was starving for you.

“So fuckin’ ruined for me. Just how I like you.”

She lifted you easily, fingers digging into the fat of your ass, and set you onto her thigh. Her eyes burned with want.

“Ride me, princess. Wanna see you make a mess all over me.”

You whined, exhaustion creeping in your bones. overstimulated with tears welling in your eyes.

“Suki, please—wanna feel you inside me.”

You reached for her hand, guiding it down, but she pulled away with a slight turn of her lips, slipping those fingers into your mouth instead.

“Suck.” she demanded, and you obeyed eagerly. Which shut you up. As you You begin grinding against her thigh, your wetness smearing on her skin with every rub. Her fingers dug into your hips as she groaned, head tipping back.

“Fuck, baby… just like that.”

She brushed your hair from your face, her palm warm and soft against your cheek.

“My pretty girl,” she rasped, eyes locked on your flushed, needy face. “So fuckin’ pretty. Don’t ever say otherwise, you hear me?”

She smacked your ass, making you yelp and ride her harder, breasts bouncing with every desperate roll of your hips.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous—can’t take it—gonna show you just how pretty you are.”

You whimpered, clinging to her, exhausted and full of need for her fingers in your pussy.

Then she hoisted you again, muscles rippling as she carried you in front of the mirror.

settling behind you, your back to her chest, her slick pussy pressed against your ass. Her arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you open and on display.

Her fingers trailed slowly down your front.

“Look at you. Look how fuckin’ beautiful you are.”

She kissed your neck, teeth nipping your skin with feverish bites, and whispered,

“Say it. Say you’re pretty. I wanna hear you.”

You turned your head shyly, voice muffled in her neck, cheeks burning.

“I’m so pretty…”

“Again.” Her voice was rough, her fingers hovering just at your soaked entrance, teasing.

“Pretty. Pretty. Pretty,” you repeated, breathless.

Then she plunged two fingers inside you, curling them just right.

“Good girl." Her praise sent a rush of heat straight through you, your mouth falling open as you tried to ride her hand.

She added another finger, fucking you hard and fast, your wetness slicking her knuckles. Your head fell back against her shoulder as you came, pussy spasming around her fingers.

She pulled them out with a wet pop, sucking them clean.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” She rasped out around her fingers, licking your sweetness clean off them.

She turned you around to face her, sitting you in her lap, fingers still glistening with your cum.

“Taste yourself, princess,” she cooed, sliding them into your mouth. Watching the saliva drip from the corners of your lips, as you sucked on her cum coated fingers.

taglist: @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation @van9lla @dienamiight @sk1ppy-art @ni-aaaaaaa @kelisewrites @chosostonguepiercing @izzymff @swuzzin @aryuunachigiri @badslittlemuffin @yuhkai @candiiee @ugh-ellie69 @khloefrlsss @camydoesstuff @11thlife02 @alixezae @diamondocean001 @izycarrot7 @vivitg @cupkiki @wonubby @lotusstarr @tatumsscream96 @babriye @cphlo @mwahs-stuff @r0m4nth33rizzl3rr @makaroni-and-chez @mightydynamight @soundtrqck @gethexxed

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mactavishsgfandwife · 1 year ago

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Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley Cuddling You 🧸

this is not about dominant tough simon riley, this is about sweet precious baby boy simon riley :3 this is my response to @paper-r-i-n-g-s-and-c-r-o-w-n’s request (here) and the link they included! thank u for being my first request loviee

Simon Riley absolutely loves to be babied when you cuddle him.

Scary Simon. Soldier Simon. 6’4", jacked Simon, walking around the base in his skull mask, scaring anyone who doesn’t know better shitless. To the enemy, he’s like an urban legend - once you realise that he’s there, it’s too late.

And that’s the image that he likes to keep - he grew up tough, and he refuses to be anything but tough. He might be nice now but he wouldn’t hesitate to blow your brains out if you double-crossed him.

That is, until he met you. It was hard to get him to open up at first, with his reluctance to be anything but casually terrifying, and his fear that he would get too attached, just in time for you to leave. But after 6 months together, he’s finally comfortable, and you’ve discovered his soft spot for being praised like a baby.

"Aww…" you coo, stroking his grown-out buzzcut, as he lays on your chest, "my sweet boy." His broad body is holding you down to the bed, and you know you wouldn’t be able to escape from under him if you wanted to. But you don’t mind, after all, it’s sweet to see him like this. With his face pressed into your neck, one strong arm around your waist and the other around your torso, he mumbles softly.

You press soft kisses into the top of his head as you rub his back - he’s been training all day and he’s so tired. :( Poor baby, he really needs you to hold him. His shoulders are sore and as you rub them gently he lets out a little whine, nuzzling his face further into the crook of your neck.

"Mmm," he groans, his voice muffled against your skin.

"Oh, baby…" you pull those hands back up to cradle him to you, "are you okay, sweet boy?"

"Tha’ hurts," he mumbles. He’s not very talkative when he’s like this, he just wants to be held.

"Sorry," you kiss the top of his head apologetically, "is my poor baby sore from training?" He groans as you call him that, nodding in response as he breathes in your scent.

"Speak up for me, sweetheart" you coo.

"’M sore from training."

"Who’s sore..?"

"Me."

"N what’re you, honey..?" you stroke his hair softly, like he’s a precious teddy bear.

"Your baby," he mumbles.

"Good boy." Just a few months ago, Simon would have been mortified by the interaction, but you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, cuddling up to you like he’s a cat and you’re a heating pad. He is a good boy, and he deserves some comfort after working so hard. 💗💗💗

(my other - nsfw - story about pathetic simon here)

i hope this is what you asked for! i hope it doesn’t come off as too pathetic but also i love writing (and thinking about) sweet pathetic simon. <3 like omg if anyone knows who made the render then lmk so that i can credit! i wasn’t sure who the name on the image referred to

masterlist buy me a coffee

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harrie-cc · 1 year ago

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The Klean Collection - Part 4

This month I focused on creating the Klean Home Office. I focused my attention on what a designer's home office would look like/contain. I have wanted to make shelving like this for quite some time & was excited to try out Sims 4 Studio to angle the slots, unfortunately many painful hours later after trying to troubleshoot why exactly the rotation didn't work in game, I managed to come up with a workaround, so that you can still snap flat books and deco items onto the slanted shelves at the correct angle. For some peculiar reason the rotated slots would not work unless I locked their orientation. As a result once an item snap into one of these slots it will stay at the 45 degree angle even when you snap it to a regular slot. If I did this for all the slots to work it would end up being very difficult for you to effectively clutter all the other shelves as all your items would snap to these angled slots instead. So I've created only 3 of these slots on each shelf to help you to orientate your deco items to the correct angle. They are located in the middle and either end of the the shelf, so you should be able to avoid them while decorating the regular slots on the other shelves. I think this issue is down to EA changing the slotting information in the game as it a very simple process to rotate these slots and both programmes I used to do so ended with the same result. Fingers crossed this is changed in the future so I don't have to irritate myself and you all with such a workaround and they just work how they are supposed to!

Items Include:

Bookshelf configurations 1 to 5 (short & medium)

1 tile bookshelf configuration (short & medium)

Left ending bookshelf configuration (short & medium)

Right ending bookshelf configuration (short & medium)

Bookshelf post (short. medium & tall)

Desk chair

Glass desk

Statement desk/ conference table/ dining table

Design portfolio

Open design portfolio

Pantone swatch books (3 options)

RAL swatch books (2 options)

Fabric sample book

All items are Base Game compatible and you can find them by searching KLEAN in the build/buy catalogue.

As per usual textures are linked between similar items, so if you download the unmerged file, make sure to include all items from that family, so the textures appear correctly in your game.

Now Available on Patreon Early Access

Public Release: 7th April 2024

#ts4cc download #ts4ccfinds #heyharrie #ts4mm #ts4 maxis match #harriecc #ts4 custom content #ts4cc #ts4cc finds #ts4 cc download #maxis match #the sims 4 custom content #the sims 4 cc

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hsnlv · 5 months ago

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caught in the act (of falling) | y.jw

req!: jungwon with fake dating trope (and like he wants to make it a real relationship or smth like that)

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis: what started as a fake dating scheme to fend off jungwon’s ex turns into stolen kisses, lingering touches, and feelings neither of you expected. when “pretend” starts to feel a little too real, jungwon’s flustered confession might just change everything.

warnings/others: fake dating trope!, cute flustered jungwon🤭, jungwon’s ex is obsessive (i would be too if i were one actually)

w/c: 1.07k

here’s my masterlist!

you honestly can’t figure out how you and jungwon ended up here—tangled in each other’s arms in his room, no one around but the two of you. his chest is warm against your back, his chin perched lazily on your shoulder, and his hands are wrapped around yours, helping hold the comic you’re both supposed to be reading. except neither of you is paying attention. how could you, when you can feel his breath tickling your neck every time he exhales?

this whole thing started as a joke—or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. jungwon’s ex had been haunting him like a particularly clingy ghost, and out of sheer desperation, he asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend. fake dating, he called it. to drive her away.

at first, you thought he was out of his mind.

<<<<<<<<<<<<

“jungwon, have you completely lost it?” you whisper-shouted, darting nervous glances at his ex, who was seated way too close to your table in the cafeteria. her glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. “she’s going to end me.”

“she’s not going to end you,” jungwon whispered back, though his tone wasn’t exactly convincing. “look, it’s a foolproof plan. a few hugs, maybe hold hands—just when she’s around! it’ll be fine.”

“fine? jungwon, she’s been staring at me like i ran over her cat.”

he winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “okay, fair. but you’ll be doing me the biggest favor ever. i’ll owe you one. please?”

you crossed your arms. “and what exactly does fake dating involve? because i swear if this gets weird—”

“it won’t!” he exclaimed quickly, his face scrunching up in that stupidly cute way that made you want to throttle him and pinch his cheeks at the same time. “just little stuff. harmless things. like holding hands. maybe linking arms. y’know, couple things.”

you eyed him warily. “define ‘couple things.’”

<<<<<<<<<

“couple things” turned out to be… a lot. jungwon, in his infinite wisdom, decided you both needed to “practice” being a convincing couple. this involved a series of increasingly absurd activities that had you questioning his sanity—and yours for agreeing to any of it.

“okay,” jungwon said one afternoon, pacing in front of you like a drill sergeant. “let’s practice nicknames. couples always have nicknames.”

“we already have nicknames,” you pointed out. “you call me by my name, and i call you uwon to annoy you.”

“no, no, no.” he waved his hand dramatically. “those aren’t cute nicknames. i mean things like ‘baby,’ or ‘sweetheart,’ or… or ‘honeybuns.’”

you nearly choked. “honeybuns? jungwon, if you call me honeybuns in public, i will personally make sure your life is a living nightmare.”

“noted,” he said with a laugh. “okay, let’s keep it simple. i’ll call you… babe. and you can call me—”

“uwon,” you interrupted, grinning. “i’m sticking with uwon.”

he sighed but didn’t argue. “fine. but we still need to work on PDA. let’s practice holding hands.”

you raised an eyebrow. “jungwon, we’ve held hands before.”

“yeah, but not like this,” he said, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. his grip was warm and secure, and he gave your hand a small squeeze. “see? it’s all about the squeeze. it makes it look more real.”

“this is ridiculous,” you muttered, though your cheeks felt suspiciously warm.

<<<<<<<<<<<<

present.

weeks passed, and jungwon’s ex finally got the message. her death stares became less frequent until she eventually stopped showing up altogether. mission accomplished. but the fake dating didn’t stop.

“uwon,” you call softly, the nickname slipping out naturally as you shift in his arms. he hums, his chin still resting on your shoulder, but his hold on you tightens slightly.

you put the comic down and turn to face him, his hands automatically settling on your waist like it’s second nature. “what are we doing?” you ask, your tone light but pointed.

he blinks at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. “reading?”

you sigh, rolling your eyes. “not the comic. this.” you gesture between the two of you. “what is this, jungwon? because i’m pretty sure your ex isn’t spying on us anymore.”

jungwon freezes, his eyes darting away like he’s suddenly very interested in the corner of his room. “uh… practice?” he says weakly.

“practice for what?” you press, crossing your arms. “you said the whole point was to convince your ex. but she’s gone now. so why are we still… doing this?”

he scratches the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “well, you know… just in case.”

“just in case of what?” you shoot back, leaning in slightly. “jungwon, are you hiding something?”

his face flushes, his mouth opening and closing like he’s searching for an excuse and coming up empty. finally, he blurts out, “okay, fine! i like you, alright?”

your brain short-circuits. “you… what?”

jungwon immediately panics, his hands flailing as he starts to babble. “oh my god, i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to just—i mean, i did, but not like this! and i totally get it if you don’t like me back, but—oh no, wait, please like me? or don’t? no, wait, maybe you could? or we could just pretend this never happened? or—”

“jungwon,” you interrupt, your voice sharp enough to cut through his spiral.

“yes?” he squeaks, his wide eyes meeting yours.

instead of answering, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him into a kiss. he freezes for a split second before melting against you, his lips moving softly against yours. the kiss deepens, and his eagerness makes you giggle into his mouth, causing him to pull back slightly, breathless.

“what’s so funny?” he asks, pouting.

“you,” you tease, your fingers still gripping his shirt. “you’re way too eager.”

his cheeks flush, but he doesn’t back down. instead, he grins mischievously and suddenly hovers over you, gently pushing you onto your back. “you stole a kiss from me,” he says, his voice low and playful, “so now you’re stuck with me. forever.”

before you can respond, he leans down and captures your lips again, this time with more confidence. his hands cradle your face, and the weight of him above you is both grounding and electrifying. when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his smile soft but radiant.

“so…” he whispers, his tone teasing, “can we drop the ‘fake’ part now?”

you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “yeah, i think we can.”

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notlongtolove · 5 months ago

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in the woods

three photos. three crime scenes. three notes. slowly, then all at once, it hits you. you know these words. you’ve read these words before. why do you know these words? where have you read them before? this work is part of the little red cap series

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff?

content: very brief mentions of a crime scene and blood. lit student reader helps spencer put together a clue he missed.

word count: 2.6k

note: this idea was truly so random but if you like it and are interested to see a p2 that includes her meeting the team feel free to lmk! i would love to develop this story but im having mad writers block rn lol anyways the linked poem is amazing, one of my favourites.

a line: Spencer Reid hardly swears, if ever, but the next words out of his mouth are nothing short of explicit.

But then I was young – and it took ten years In the woods to tell that a mushroom Stoppers the mouth of a buried corpse, that birds Are the uttered thought of trees, that a greying wolf Howls the same old song at the moon, year in, year out- carol ann duffy

Spencer’s distracted tonight. You noticed it the moment he breezed past you, pressing a distracted kiss to your cheek before disappearing into the study. Normally, you’d give him space, let him untangle the thoughts on his own, but it’s past midnight now, and you’ve decided enough is enough.

“Spence,” you call softly from the doorway.

He doesn’t look up.

You take a breath and step inside, the floorboards cool under your bare feet. The study feels foreign to you. You’re hardly ever in here despite Spencer’s gentle efforts to make space for you after you’d started spending more time at his place. He’d cleared half of the mahogany desk for your own books and files—a space now claimed by a few framed photos of the two of you from last year’s Christmas market.

You’ve always preferred his bed over the confines of this room, the comfort of his sheets beneath you, his bedside table the perfect coaster for your copious cups of coffee as you slog over your essays. The study always felt too still, almost stifling. It’s the kind of quiet that breeds overthinking, though Spencer thrives in it—Especially when it’s work.

Which it does seem to be tonight, judging by the furrow of his brow and the way his hands are clasped, tense, as he pours over the file in front of him. You cross the remaining space and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, thumb moving in soothing circles.

“Hey,” you murmur, leaning down to speak into the curve of his neck. He reaches up absently, fingers threading into your hair, but his eyes stay fixed on the contents on the desk.

“Come to bed,” you whisper, quieter this time, softer, as though you might coax him away if you’re gentle enough.

He murmurs something you don’t quite catch, his focus still locked on the papers. You frown, the corners of your mouth tugging downward as you try again, this time layering your voice with the soft insistence you know he can’t resist.

“Please?”

That gets him. He sighs, the sound heavy, before slowly swivelling his chair around to face you. There’s a small flicker of satisfaction in your chest—still got it, you think, though his tired eyes make it hard to fully savour the victory.

“Soon, honey,” he says, soft and apologetic, but it’s not enough for you.

“Missed you today,” you murmur, stepping closer.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, reaching out to pull you into him. His arms wrap around your waist as he presses his face into your stomach, breathing you in like you’re the first fresh air he’s had all day. And with the day he’s had, you might as well be.

“It’s almost 1,” you remind him gently, brushing a strand of his hair back. “And you haven’t even showered.”

He makes a sound—somewhere between a groan and a half-hearted protest. Probably indignation, though he doesn’t bother to articulate it. When he finally lifts his head to look at you, your chest tightens. He looks so so tired. Handsome, always, but tonight, the weariness in his eyes is impossible to miss.

“Aw, honey,” you coo, voice soft with affection. “C’mere.”

It’s ironic, considering you’re the one climbing into his lap. The chair protests under your combined weight with a faint creak, but neither of you care. Just your presence alone is a comfort that Spencer accepts all too willingly. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you closer and burying his face into you, fingers toying with the edges of your—his shirt.

“Tough case?” you ask quietly, your fingers slipping into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

He nods defeatedly, the motion slow and heavy, like even that small acknowledgment takes too much out of him.

“He’s already—” Spencer sighs, low and weary. “Already killed three women. And the profile is… flimsy at best.”

You nod quietly, your fingers gently tracing patterns on his shoulder. Though crime-solving and criminal profiling aren’t your expertise, the weight of what he carries is never lost on you. You’ve come to know the signs all too well.

You see it in the way he comes home after cases like this—silent, drained, his body curling into yours. You hear it in his voice when his worry spills over during arguments, like the time he snapped at you for drinking too much on a night out after a brutal final. It wasn’t out of anger but fear, raw, born from the evils he sees every day. He’d never explicitly linked it to the horrors of his work, but you didn’t need to be a profiler to piece it together.

“You’ll catch him,” you say softly, keeping your voice steady despite the knot tightening in your stomach. “You guys always do.”

Spencer sighs, releasing one hand from your waist to rub the bridge of his nose. “There’s something off,” he mutters, words tinged with frustration. “I just... I can’t figure out what it is.”

“Do you… want to talk about it?” you offer gently, watching his face for any sign of what he needs.

He manages a faint, tired smile and shakes his head. “I’d rather not,” he murmurs.

You nod, letting it go. Spencer tries, always, to keep that part of his life separate from you. But even you know some things are impossible to leave behind. Shadows don’t adhere to boundaries. They’re stubborn and heavy, sometimes seeping into the cracks of his resolve. All you can do is try your best to hold him together when that weight gets too much to bear. Leaning into him, you rest your head against his, the silence between you filled with a kind of unspoken understanding.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Spencer whispers after a moment, as though he can sense your quiet disappointment at not being able to do more. His arm tightens around your waist as though anchoring himself. You press a soft kiss to his temple, a quiet gesture of acknowledgement.

“Now,” you say, standing up. Spencer leans forward instinctively, unwilling to let the warmth of you go. “Shower?”

He glances between you and the desk strewn with papers, hesitation in his face. “After I—”

“Nope,” you interrupt, grabbing both his hands and gently pulling him to his feet. “I’ll handle this,” you say, gesturing to the chaos on the desk. “You,” you point toward him, then toward the bathroom, “Shower. Now.”

Spencer lets out a long-suffering sigh, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “Bossy,” he teases softly.

“Maybe,” you reply, a playful glint in your eyes. “But you love me.”

Without missing a beat, Spencer wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he presses a kiss to your lips. “Wow,” he murmurs against your mouth, his tone warm and teasing. “Bossy and smart. How did I get so lucky?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling, nudging him lightly toward the bathroom. “Go,” you say, laughing. “Before I add ‘violent’ to that list.” At that, Spencer tears his arms away from your waist, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he backs slowly toward the door. “Go!” you laugh again, shaking your head at him before turning your attention to the desk strewn with papers.

You turn your attention back to the desk surveying the organized chaos, trying to piece together how he usually files them. The thin sheets—pale and slightly crumpled—belong in the manila folder. The thicker briefs, stapled neatly, go in the black case. And the photos…

Huh.

Your hand pauses mid-reach, brow furrowing as your eyes fall on the glossy prints. You tilt your head. Something about them feels—almost… familiar, maybe. You stop to lay them out side by side, studying them more closely.

Three photos. Three crime scenes. Three notes.

The first note reads, ‘I burn.’ The words are scrawled haphazardly, the letters jagged and uneven.

The second is darker, more ominous, ‘Your knife.’ Its edges marked by splatters of blood.

The third is the most unsettling of all. Just two words. ‘All alone.’ Stark and final.

Slowly, then all at once, it hits you.

You know these words. You’ve read these words before.

Why do you know these words? Where have you read them before?

It gnaws at you. The exhaustion you felt earlier is long gone as you find yourself sinking into Spencer’s chair. Your fingers trace the edges of the prints as you try to piece together your fragments of memory. You don’t know how much time has passed since you first laid eyes on the photos until Spencer calls to you from the bedroom.

“In here,” you answer absently.

When he steps into the doorway, your heart flutters despite yourself. He’s a sight to behold—hair damp, shirt slightly clinging to his chest, a towel draped over his shoulders as he dries his hair.

“Hey,” he says, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Why’re you still in here?”

“Got distracted,” you murmur, gesturing to the desk.

“Intriguing, huh?”

“She definitely is,” you reply, almost without thinking.

“I don’t know when he’ll strike next—” he starts, then stops abruptly. His expression shifts, his gaze sharpening as he looks at you.

“What’d you just say?”

“Hm?” You blink, finally meeting his eyes.

“You said ‘she’s’ intriguing,” he repeats, stepping closer now. “You think the unsub’s a she?”

“Isn’t she?” you say, frowning at the question. “I could definitely use a lot of other words to describe her, but…” your voice uncertain.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, the poems, for one—I mean, they’re all about hurt and enraged women,” you explain. “And signing off with them? That’s definitely not not intriguing…” You trail off, puzzled by the sudden gravity of the conversation.

Spencer goes rigid, every muscle in his body locking up. “Poems?”

“Yeah,” you say, your voice small now, “The notes. They’re all closing words of Duffy’s poems. I thought you—Did you not…”

Your words trail off as you see his face harden, eyes widening as the weight of your words hits him.

“Oh my god.” Your hands fly to your mouth as the realization hits you, the pieces suddenly falling into place. “You didn’t know.”

Spencer Reid hardly swears, if ever, but the next words out of his mouth are nothing short of explicit. He’s already moving towards the desk, the towel falling unnoticed to the floor. “Show me,” he says, urgency in his voice. You get up quickly, wanting to make room, but he stops you. “No, you sit,” he says, eyes locked on the notes. “Show me.”

“Okay, okay.” You steady yourself before pointing to the first note. “Um, look, this one, ‘I burn.’ It’s from her poem Warming Her Pearls. She’s a maid who secretly pines for her mistress. She loves her but, well, she can’t be with her cause they’re from different societies.” You look up at him expectantly. “It’s about class inequality and…”

“Unrequited love.” Spencer finishes gravely, his voice low but certain.

“Right, exactly.” You glance up at him, searching his face for understanding. Spencer nods, taking it in, and you move on to the next.

“And then this one, ‘Your knife.’ It’s from Valentine. The speaker, she doesn’t want the usual valentine gifts, so she gives an onion instead. But… she says it’ll make the receiver cry, because well, onions do that. It’s a basically a metaphor for love, how—” You take a deep breath, your throat tightening. “How dangerous it can become.”

Spencer stays quiet, but his eyes are fixed on you. His hand finds your back, giving a reassuring, gentle rub.

You hesitate before pointing to the last note. “And this one, ‘All alone.’” You swivel the chair around to face him fully, the tension in your chest growing. “I wasn’t sure about the first two, but when I saw this, I knew.”

“Little Red Cap,” Spencer finishes for you, his voice tinged with self-reproach. “Your favourite. God, why didn’t I see this?”

You nod, your voice softening. “Yeah. The opening poem of The World’s Wife. She uses Red Riding Hood to explore growing up, losing innocence and… well, you know the rest.”

Spencer’s lips press into a thin line as he nods grimly. “The wolf represents someone older, predatory. A lover.”

“Yeah, and she uh,” you say, barely a whisper. “She kills him.”

Spencer’s jaw tightens, his frustration evident. “How did I not—How’d you—” If the situation weren’t so dire, you might have joked about never expecting to hear those words from Spencer Reid. Instead, you force a shrug, casual, as if your analysis hadn’t just reshaped everything. “TA-ed a few classes on Duffy,” you say grimly.

The silence stretches, heavy and charged, until Spencer crouches down in front of you. His sharp eyes soften as they meet yours. “You’re… you’re incredible, you know that?” His tone is low, reverent. He presses a brief, warm kiss to your forehead before standing, running a hand through his still-damp hair. Then his expression shifts, eyes darkening with urgency. “I need to make a call.”

You nod silently, still curled up in his chair. You don’t trust your legs to carry you to the bed that’s one room over, not right now. Spencer steps away, his phone already pressed to his ear. It takes only a few moments before he starts speaking.

“Hotch,” he begins, “I think the unsub is a woman.”

The reply on the other end is muffled, but you can follow the conversation through Spencer’s responses.

“Poems, yeah—Carol Ann Duffy,” he says, pacing a few steps. “We’ve been looking for patterns in the wrong places.”

He pauses, listening, before adding, “How’d I—? Just… from a friend.”

His tone is careful, protective. You know Spencer doesn’t want his team knowing about you. When Spencer told you he wanted to keep his professional and personal lives separate, you didn’t understand at first. But after he’d opened up about what happened to his boss—how it shattered everyone—you stopped pushing. You understood then why he was so insistent on drawing those boundaries, even if it meant staying in the shadows of his world.

You watch him, eyes tracing the way his jaw clenches, the restless motion of his fingers. “This is the lead we need. What—No, we don’t need to bring them in.” You can see the moment his patience snaps.

“What we need is to focus on her work—her themes, her voice. It’ll give us insight into the unsub’s mindset. No, I—” Spencer’s tone sharpens, frustration creeping in as he rakes a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends.

“I know this is important, I’m not saying it isn’t—” He stops mid-sentence, the voice on the other end cutting him off. His lips press into a thin line, and he exhales through his nose, fingers pinching the bridge. “Fine,” he mutters, his tone tense but resigned.

“Okay.” He pauses for a beat, “We’ll—she’ll be there.”

As he hangs up, Spencer turns back to you, his expression carefully guarded. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks, tentative.

You have two lectures. “Nothing,” you say, the word slipping out easily. He frowns, uncertain.

“Kristoff’s out sick, and Burton doesn’t care about attendance anyway,” you quickly lie. The tension in his face eases just slightly, but you can still see the hesitation in his eyes.

“Right, um, my boss,” You can sense a hint of nervous energy in the way he shifts his weight. “He wants us in at 8, sharp. I’ll drive.”

The apology is clear in his expression as he crouches down, taking your hands in his. “I know this isn’t exactly what you signed up for,” he says, his voice quieter now. “But... I know he wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

A simple, quiet “I know” is all you can manage.

You can tell he feels bad about dragging you into this. You definitely hadn’t imagined this would be your introduction to his world either—messy, intense, and impossibly heavy. And from this brief glimpse, you’re not sure if you’re ready for it after all.

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