#for a moment. before going 'fucking SHIT i need to go back'

[rafes-slut]

You let him hit raw for first time

Pairing: rafe cameron x bitchy!reader

Summary: after he was beghing you for months to hit it raw you finally let him. But he gets too excited to last long

Warnings:( Smut (MDNI), Unprotected sex, Praise & degradation, Rafe being obsessed with you, Slight power struggle, Bitchy attitude (from you), Begging (from him), Possessiveness, Probably some light choking/gripping, A lot of dirty talk

----

"Come on, baby. Just once. Just let me feel you."

It had been Rafe's favorite thing to beg for since the start of your relationship. His obsession. His mission.

Every time he had you underneath him, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his hands gripping at your waist or your wrists or your throat—he'd ask. He'd plead. He'd run his lips over your ear, whispering filthy promises about how good it would feel, how much better it would be, how you’d never want to go back.

And every time, you told him no.

You liked making him work for it. You liked the way his jaw clenched, the way his grip got tighter, the way his frustration seeped into every rough thrust. Because Rafe Cameron didn’t lose, and telling him no? That made him desperate to win.

But tonight?

Tonight, you felt mean.

Maybe it was the way he’d been looking at you all night, the way his hands had barely left your body, like he was starving. Maybe it was the way he pulled you onto his lap the second you got to his house, hands palming your ass, lips dragging along your jaw. Maybe it was the way you wanted to ruin him.

So, when he kissed you breathless and muttered against your lips, "Please, baby, just once," you smirked.

"Fine."

Rafe froze. His pupils dilated so fast you thought he might pass out. His lips parted, brows pulling together like he was trying to process what he just heard.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "You heard me."

And then?

He lost his fucking mind.

The second his cock pressed inside, with nothing in between, he let out a sound you’d never heard before. Like an actual, feral groan, deep in his chest, his body shuddering against yours as he bottomed out.

"Fuck," he gasped, dropping his head to your shoulder. His hands gripped your thighs like he wanted to bruise them, like he needed to ground himself. "Fuck. You feel—Jesus."

His breath was hot against your neck, his whole body shaking with restraint. Like he wanted to ruin you, but he was trying—failing—to keep himself together.

"You good?" you teased, a smirk playing on your lips.

Rafe let out a low, humorless laugh before he pulled back to look at you. His blue eyes were dark, wild, possessive.

"Oh, baby," he rasped, voice dripping with something dangerous. His hand slid up your body, fingers wrapping around your throat, tilting your chin up. "You just fucked up."

Rafe didn’t move for a second. He just stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him. Like he was already dreading the moment he had to pull out.

“Holy shit,” he rasped, voice all shaky and breathless.

You smirked, just a little, running your hands up his arms. “What? You’re not gonna punk out on me, are you?”

That snapped something in him.

Rafe let out a choked laugh, but there was nothing funny about the way he gripped your waist. “You think I’m gonna tap out? Oh, baby.” His fingers dug into your skin, holding you down. “I’m just trying not to bust the second I move.”

You laughed, but the sound cut off when he rolled his hips—just once, slow, deep.

His whole body shuddered. His head dropped forward, forehead pressing into yours, his jaw clenching like he was physically fighting his own body.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, voice wrecked. His breath came out in short, sharp bursts, and his grip on you only got tighter. “Oh my God, this is—this is so much better—”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, dragging your nails up his back. “C’mon, baby,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “I thought you were dying for this. Don’t tell me you can’t handle it.”

That did it.

Rafe’s hands jerked your hips up, making you gasp, making you feel just how hard he was struggling to keep it together.

“You love running that mouth, don’t you?” he gritted out, glaring down at you. “Think you’re so fucking funny.”

You smirked up at him, dragging your fingers through his hair. “You begged for this, Cameron. If you can’t handle it, just say so.”

That was the final straw.

Rafe let out a sharp breath, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were still talking, still teasing him when he was this close to fucking losing it.

“Okay,” he muttered, half to himself, like he was officially done playing nice. His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing you into the mattress, tilting your chin up so he could look you in the eyes when he said—

“Don’t fucking move.”

Then, he pulled out—all the way—before slamming back in, forcing a gasp from your lips as he stretched you again.

Rafe let out a broken groan, his body shuddering as he tried—tried—not to let it get the best of him. But you were so tight, so fucking warm, and there was nothing, nothing, in between.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasped, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Baby, I swear to God, I can’t—”

You laughed, breathless. “Already?”

His grip tightened around your throat in warning. “Shut up,” he muttered, voice shaking.

You did, but only because you were too distracted by the way he was trembling above you, holding himself back, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw popped.

You could feel how desperate he was. You could see the way his abs tensed, his muscles flexing as he fought for every ounce of self-control he had.

He wanted to ruin you. He needed to.

But he was so close, and it was killing him.

Rafe let out a shaky breath, glaring down at you. “I hate you,” he muttered, his voice all breathless and wrecked.

You smirked. “No, you don’t.”

And then, you moved. Just a little. Just enough to make him jerk inside you, to make his whole body seize up.

“Oh, you bitch,” he groaned, his grip tightening as he thrust forward, his restraint finally snapping.

[crowsofdarkness]

After weeks of arguing, you thought your relationship with Bucky was near the end. That was until you held something positive in your hand.

18+ CW's below the cut(angst, language, unprotected pinv in Bucky's computer chair, Bucky having a sudden breeding kink)

The door slamming in the small confines of my apartment echoed causing me to jump, doing whatever I could to keep the tears at bay. I wouldn't cry, not for him. Not for Bucky.  Even though the moment he walked in the door, all I wanted to do was cry not only because of the constant arguing but because I missed him terribly. He was here physically but emotionally, Bucky was checked out. 

"Asshole," I grumbled under my breath, eyes boring daggers into the closed door of his office/studio. 

It had been weeks of non stop fighting yet barely speaking to each other. He’d been gone on missions constantly so he could avoid being home. When I needed him the most, he was gone. 

Ignoring the thoughts plaguing my existence lately, I blew out a shaky breath and forced myself to turn back towards the kitchen counter.  The exhaustion had been buried deep in my bones for the last couple of weeks and I didn’t think it had anything to do with working almost every day. All I wanted to do was curl in bed to sleep the rest of the evening away. Even though Bucky's words from our fight this morning before I left for work kept pestering me. 

"I haven't thought much about the future. I'm trying to focus on getting myself better, mentally, before having kids." 

I asked him in the middle of yet another argument where he thought this relationship was going because I made the mistake of mentioning how I felt like things were stale between us. Bucky didn't think of the future. Of our future. He only thought of the now. 

It had been weeks of arguing. Weeks of walking on eggshells around each other. Weeks of not having sex. And weeks of keeping a secret to myself. Now that I knew how Bucky felt, I couldn't decide on if I should continue to keep it to myself or tell him which could potentially ruin everything. 

The urge to cry burned in my throat as I snatched the bag off of the kitchen counter and locked myself in the bathroom. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a long moment, noting the dark circles under my eyes. 

Averting my gaze away from the mirror, I dug out the box from the bag and nearly choked on a breath when I read over the letters once more. I nearly dropped it in the pharmacy when the realization began to sink in. 

Pregnancy Test. 

I had missed my period last month and it was coming up on when I was supposed to get it this month but with how I’d been feeling, I knew I wouldn’t be getting my period this month either. 

That night was a night where we had a huge blowout argument, both of us questioning if we loved another. Deep down we knew we still loved each other and it was wrong for us to question it. But both of us were stubborn so instead of admitting our love, we decided to fuck out our frustrations; Bucky dragging me to the shower with him as I wrapped my legs around his midsection, marking his neck as mine while his cock slammed into me. Afterwards, Bucky helped me to our bed and apologized for the fight as he held me against his chest. I took the morning after pill later that afternoon once we realized we weren’t safe which is why I was hoping the test would be negative. Maybe the reason why I missed my period was because of all the stress I’d been under. 

“Might as well get this over with,” I grumbled under my breath while ripping open the box. 

It came with two tests and I figured it would be better if I used both so after peeing on both sticks, I set them on the counter and washed my hands. These next five minutes were going to be incredibly slow so after I changed into one of Bucky’s shirts and opted out of wearing pants, I paced the bathroom.

“Shit,” I clutched my chest when the timer on my phone went off. 

As I reached for the tests which were overturned, I paused for a moment wondering if maybe I should have been doing this with Bucky. 

“If he wasn’t such an asshole,” I muttered to the thought in my head and turned over the two tests. 

My heart was in my ears, in my throat, and in the depths of my stomach when I saw the one word that sealed our fate. 

Positive. 

Both tests were positive. 

“Fuck me,” I breathed while resting a hand on my stomach, the tears finally falling. 

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that even though we were fighting, Bucky would be fine with whatever I decided to do. It was my choice. But would he stay with me? The Avengers seemed to be all over the world, helping people who needed it, hence why Bucky had been in a mood lately. I knew his anger wasn't directly related to me but because he’d been overworked. I also knew that didn’t give him the right to take it out on me. 

Pulling up Bucky’s text thread on my phone, shaking fingers worked out a text even though he was still in the next room. 

Me: I need to talk to you. It’s important. Can you meet me in the living room please? 

Bucky 🩶: Not right now. 

With a snarl, I snatched the tests off the bathroom counter and stormed out into his office, letting the door smack against the wall. Bucky didn’t bother to look away from the book on his lap as he sat on his computer chair. 

“Congratulations. You’re going to be a father,” I snapped before turning to walk away. 

The chair creaked as Bucky leaned forward to gaze down at his desk, a soft breath catching in his throat. 

“Doll,” his vibranium fingers grazed my wrist, halting me. “Wait.” 

“What? Are you going to claim I’m faking this?” I snapped, slicing him with my gaze. 

“I-,” Bucky’s face softened as he looked back at the pregnancy tests. “You’re pregnant?” 

I let the anger fade momentarily when I heard the sincerity in his voice; the slight excitement. 

“Yeah, I guess so. I missed my period last month and I’ve been so exhausted lately. Not to mention my boobs have been really sore,” I cringed while running a hand over my chest. 

Bucky glanced up at my breasts with a small smirk but then he let his gaze lower on my stomach where it rested for a long few beats of silence. Fear of what he would do or say weighed heavy on my shoulders causing me to remain frozen in front of him. The air in the room was thick with an unreadable tension and the ringing in my ears was deafening. I couldn’t even hear our shared breathing as Bucky continued to stare at my stomach before his large hands rested there.

“Hi,” he breathed. “I’m your dad.”

I dragged a finger over his cheek, those ocean eyes I adored so much gazed up at me. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what, doll?” Bucky asked with furrowed brows. 

“For everything. For avoiding fixing things between us by working non stop.”

I rattled off which made him link fingers with me and brought me down onto his lap, both of us now sitting in his computer chair. He rested his hands over my hip, slowly raising up the hem of my shirt so he could drag calloused fingers over my skin. It was the most contact we’ve had in a week and I leaned farther into him. His nose dragged over my jaw, breathing me in. 

“I’m sorry for all of the hurtful things I’ve said. I’m sorry for ignoring your feelings when I should have asked you up front what was wrong. I’m sorry for locking myself away with work instead of fixing things between us,” Bucky apologized. 

I looked deeper into his eyes, taking in the slight freckles on his face. “Can I be honest?” 

When Bucky nodded, I continued. “You freaked me out when you said you never thought of our future and now that I’m pregnant, I’m worried you’re going to leave.” 

“Absolutely not,” he cupped my cheek, dragging his thumb just underneath my eye to wipe away the stray tears. “I’ve never thought about the future until you came into my life, doll. I might not express it enough, which is my fault but please know you’re in my future. Especially now.” 

His free hand grazed over my stomach and I nodded into the grasp on my cheek, leaving a kiss on the inside of his palm. 

“Can you promise me one thing?” I asked. 

“Anything.” 

Biting my lip, I spoke. “Can you promise not to propose to me just because I’m pregnant? I want you to propose because you want to, not because you feel like you have too.”

Something flashed in his eyes but Bucky eventually nodded. “Of course.”

While sitting on his lap, the chair continued to creak underneath our shared weight and I sighed, ready to get off which caused him to tighten his grip on me. 

“Stay,” he breathed in the crook of my neck. “I need to show you how sorry I am.” 

Quickly, Bucky’s lips were on mine in a leisurely kiss. It started off like how our first kiss did, like he was testing the waters again. I nearly sobbed into the kiss when I felt the love pour out of him. I’d been desperate to feel this way again. With his hands on my hips, he began moving me up and down his lap, the hardness of his cock pressing against the thin material of my panties. His name fell from my lips, almost immediately swallowed by his tongue as it explored my mouth; tasting me. 

Vibranium fingers slinked up my shirt to graze over my back before Bucky tossed it over my head and down to the floor, breaking our kiss. Lust bleed in his already dark eyes as he looked at my stomach, his cock straining in his jeans. 

“Shit,” he groaned while pressing kisses along my chest. “I can’t wait to see you round with my baby.” 

A moan fell from my lips as I exposed more of myself to Bucky, his teeth now grazing over my nipples. Along with my sore breasts, my nipples were extra sensitive. 

“Bucky,” I pulled on his shirt. 

He immediately understood and helped me work it off. Immediately my nails raked along his chest as my lips met his again in a fiery kiss, this one more intense than the last. With a gentle tap to my ass, I raised my hips slightly so Bucky could drag down my panties with a bit of maneuvering. However with his jeans, it would have taken way more manuerving on his part to slide them off completely. 

“We should move to the bed,” I suggested, breathless. 

Bucky shook his head, keeping his lips on the current mark he was working on my neck. “Absolutely not. I want you to sit on my cock while I sit on the chair.” 

Feeling feisty, I pulled away from him slightly to gaze down at him. “Really? This has nothing to do with Steve making it slip the other day how he and his girlfriend did something eerily similar to this.” 

He rolled his eyes with a groan. “Please don’t bring up Steve having sex right now.” 

When he motioned towards his unzipped jeans, I let out a soft giggle and then reached my hand in his briefs to grab his cock, already so warm and hard. 

“I’ve missed this,” I whispered, gathering his precum to drag it over his head. 

“Doll,” my name came out through gritted teeth as Bucky rested his head on my shoulder. “I need to be inside of you. Please.”

Pulling his cock out from his briefs completely, I dragged it between my folds a few strokes before sinking down on him; both of us letting out a loud groan of pleasure.  It had been so long since we’ve felt this so I knew we wouldn’t last long. 

“Fuck,” Bucky strangled out while wrapping his arms around me to bring me closer. “I can’t wait to watch your belly get round with my baby.”

I mewled in response, mouth busy with leaving dark marks across his neck while one of my hands slipped between our bodies to press circles on my clit, bringing me closer to the edge. 

His cock twitched inside of me, indicating he was close when his hips stilled. “You'd look so beautiful pregnant with my kid. Your belly and tits-oh shit." 

“Don’t stop,” I begged while riding him faster this time, the chair nearly falling over. 

“Doll,” Bucky’s voice was strained so I brushed away the hair from his sweat slicked forehead. “I’m going to fill you up over and over again.” 

I nodded as the coil in my stomach began to ignite in a blaze of ecstasy, my orgasm about to snap. 

“I love you,” I cried out when my body finally snapped, arousal coating Bucky’s cock. 

With one final thrust, he followed me over the edge as he filled me with his cum and breathlessly announced his love for me as well. Falling into him with exhaustion, Bucky lifted me from the chair and carried me through our apartment towards the bathroom. 

“Are you alright?” He questioned while still carrying me. 

I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m okay.”

Setting me on the closed toilet seat, he turned on the shower and removed his pants while we waited for the steam to bellow around us. 

[lologoinsolo]

Cats and Their Men Masterlist, Part 5, Part 6

You can’t seem to think without debating over what you said to Kyle. Needless to say, you feel like you got in your head over it. Maybe he meant it and it wasn’t a pity ask or maybe it was. You don’t know. Kyle doesn’t seem like the type to do that to a lady. He’s sweet, and genuinely funny and handsome and kind an—

“Dude,” Jess comes from the grooming salon as you bang your head against the reception table. You were cold calling but your mind had other ideas. “You look like shit.” Normally you’re more focused on your work but it’s just Kyle, Kyle, Kyle— Remember what you said to Kyle?

Sighing defeatedly, “gee, thanks.” Hitting your head again and again on the firm table. Your forehead throbs when you finally give it rest. “I feel like shit.” You’ve been a zombie at work, you don’t speak much about your home life. You try to keep that separate from the job because you don’t want to drag it in here. It’s not your fault that a stupidly handsome man with an equally stupidly charming smile looked at you the way he did. So why do you feel so hung up about it?

“So…” She asks after a moment of far too much silence. “How’s the calling going?”

“Oh, it’s going.” Groaning softly, “not many people are answering. Some said they wanted to come in but not for today.” Some even started bitching about their previous grooms but you muted them until they finished and still asked if they wanted to come in for an appointment. Funnily enough, they said no.

“Surprised it’s slow for a Saturday.” One of the pains of a grooming salon is that it’ll be filled with clients or it’ll be deader than a western movie scene of a tumbleweed blowing in the wind. “You wanna leave early today?” Nudging you a little as she asks maybe to brighten you up. You’ve been a little cloud of gloom and the other groomers are getting worried.

You think it over, maybe you can ask Connor to let you take a shift on the floor? They still haven’t hired anyone but it would be nice to get home earlier than you usually do. Kyle hasn’t come back… maybe you did fuck yourself over. Wouldn’t be the first time you shot yourself in the foot. His warm brown eyes flashes through your mind's eye and you stand up quickly. Jess quirks a brow and you give a weak nod, “yeah… yeah, I’ll clock out.”

“Alright, clean up and get going.”

She leaves you to your thoughts, cleaning up some kennels and hurriedly clocking out before one of the groomers can even ask you to bathe one of their dogs. Heading straight for the breakroom and shoving your hoodie back on. Rubbing over your face again when you see your reflection. You do look tired. Why does this bother me so much? Walking out and stuffing your wallet and keys into your hoodies pocket. “Oh wait,” you bite your lip slightly, a man’s voice can be heard milling over the different litters the store sell. The Scottish notes to his voice barely heard when you think about those cats around your apartment that you’ve been feeding. “I could to buy another bag.” Blame your grandma for your love of cats, that woman is THE old cat lady and you love that for her.

You waltz down the familiar aisle, looking from the 25 pound bag to the 50 pound bag… It might be best to get the smaller one since you ride the bus but the big one would feed the cats longer. “hmm, alright,” you go for the heavier one after weighing your options. Heaving it onto your shoulders, you wobble a bit when you bend back too far. Shit… Shit! Your world starts to flip and you’re bracing for a hard fall.

“Woah!” A hand settles heavy on your back and steadies you. “Ye need help, lass?” Sparkling blue eyes look down at you. He doesn’t even wait for an answer as he pulls it over his shoulder with ease.

“You— hey!” He doesn’t let you take it from him even when you try to reach for it. In fact, he steps back towards his cart that pokes out from behind him. “I can handle it.” You’re just tired and sluggish, you can lug those things in your sleep.

“Nearly took a tumble,” he winks and you get a better look at him as your lips purse. He’s handsome in a charming, farmer boy way. His hair’s cut into a mohawk and you’d make fun of it if it didn’t actually fit his appearance. There’s a jagged pink scar that’s hard not to notice on his face, your stomach churns at what he must’ve gone through to survive that. The other thing that worries you is that he’s wearing no jacket or hoodie and his face, arms, and hands look like he’s been run through a human sized blender.

“I’m— are you okay?” You point to his arms first and he looks down. He grins something wild and you take the tiniest step back.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “this one just needed some convincing.” You tilt to the side and nearly squeal when he pulls his cart to his side. A bundled up cat in a thick, dark blue jacket is nestled over some litter bags. Orange fur poking out to the fluffiest extent and what’s something of a coincidence… The cat looks like they got an orange looking mohawk of their own. “Bugger didnae want to be caught.”

You blink once and then twice, “oh… oh?!” He laughs a little when it starts to make sense on those cuts of his. The cat doesn’t look like they’d do that from where you’re standing though. They’re sitting quietly in the jacket save for the tiniest flicker of its orange fluffy tail. Slowly blinking their eyes as if the noises from your conversation has woken them up. “They did that?” Gesturing to him once more, “really?”

He nods, doesn’t seem strained at all with how he still holds your bag of cat food. “He’s been around my house for the longest. Took a lot of convincing to grab him.” And you can see the effects of that convincing. Poor, little guy he must’ve tried so hard escape the Scot’s arms from how beat up the man looks. Wait… Scot?

“Johnny?” You blurt and his shoulders tense. His smile drops, the blue of his eyes switches to something sharp. “I— sorry, are you Johnny?” Stammering a little as he eyes you up and down.

His eyes squint and he stands a little more in front of his cart, blocking your view of his cat. “Aye, that’s me,” his accent thicker and just a bit on edge. “Have we met?” No… no you have not and he knows that.

“No, I— uh, Kyle? Are you friends with Kyle and John?” Stammering out your words.

It starts to click in his head and whatever tense moment that was there is gone immediately. “Bonnie?!” You flinch at his boom, “I ken who ye are,” puzzles all connecting finally in his head now, “boys been yappin’ about ye, was wonderin’ when I’d met this cashier of theirs.” Boys? Plural? Theirs? “Can ye help me, lass? I’ve an idea on how to take care of my boy but m’not against asking for help. Been told ye ken what yer doin’.”

The complete 180 is a whiplash, he acted like you were gonna hurt him. Like you could, all the men you’ve been meeting recently look like they can easily hold themselves alone in a fight. “Yeah,” shuffling around, the boys he mentioned are probably the three you’ve met already. Small world… “I can help you out. I don’t mind.” You smile and he returns it happily, granted you are off the clock but… you have a feeling he’ll need some pointers. Damn your heart of hearts. “I can hold tha—“

“Nonsense,” waving his hand with a shrug of his shoulder when try once more to grab the bag. “I’d never let a bonnie thing like ye lift anything heavy. S’what these are for, yeah?” He flexes his arms and you try to not ogle at the muscles. “Mind pushing the cart though?” You nod and step closer to push. His cat seems to not even care at all about the movement. Just sits and stares, calm as can be despite the terror he must’ve caused Johnny.

“He’s a pretty fluffy cat, I’d recommend a good comb.” Cats can get matted and knotted despite being self-groomers, you’ve seen some get groomed at the salon. Usually longhair cats like this one. His paws are big, ears pointed more, “I think your boys a maine coon cat.” The lion’s mane also helps in your thought process. “At least he could be?”

“I think so too,” Johnny looks positively happy in his capture. He worked hard to catch and chase. “He’s been eating what I’ve been leaving out, I checked for a collar but found none.” Though… you doubt he’d care about that from the way he’s speaking. “Guess he’s all mine, Kyle owes me money.” You perk up at the mention of Kyle.

“Poor lad, seemed sad the other day.”

You deflate a little, looking away and you miss the knowing look that Johnny gives you. “Yeah…” you mutter and leave the cart to pull items for his cat. If you had his number then maybe you could talk to him. Or maybe you wouldn’t… “here,” you come back with a cat bed and some toys. You’ve yet to figure out what to say to Kyle when— if. If he comes back. You hope he comes back.

“Careful, hen,” Johnny says worriedly as you put your hand in the cart. Johnny makes a move to grab your arm but it’s too late, your hands already placing the toys down in the cart. There’s a brief pause before his cat tilts his head and moves to sniff as best as he can despite being burrito’d in the jacket. “Oh?” His eyes widened slightly, “I see how it is, hmm? Ye scratch me up but allow the pretty lass to be near ye.” Turning rather green with jealousy as you laugh at his envious expression. To add insult to injury you pet his boy some more and he purrs. Loudly.

“Well…” you pet away at the purring cat, rubbing from his nose to the top of his head. His ears flickering when you thumb over his head to then scratch at his chin. “You did chase him.” Cooing down at the baby, not an ounce of spiciness in those big eyes of his. “Poor boy, you were just scared? Weren’t you?” Baby talking the cat as if he can understand you. “Big scary man came grabbing at you, poor baby.” You’d probably freak out too if Johnny came after you… the man looks like he can definitely toss you around.

“It was for his own good,” Johnny rolls his eyes with indifference. “I couldnae leave ‘im out in the cold.” You flick through the cat’s tufts of hair on the top of his head. Standing them up so it looks more like a mohawk to match his dad’s hairstyle. “He’s too smart, tried to box’im but he ken what I was doin’.” There’s a growing of a smile on his face as he watches you. Can’t be bothered to stay displeased, not with how sweetly you are eing towards his cat. He’s starting to understand the appeal.

You feel eyes on you and you lock eyes with him once you look up. He doesn’t turn from you even as you pull back. The cat doesn’t seem happy about the loss of pets when he tries yet fails to get out of the jacket. “I,” clearing away at your throat and that makes him blink finally. “Well… how did you get him?” A bit curious but it falters when Johnny grins wolfishly. “Oh no, what did you do?”

“Built him a cat house with one of those nice heaters. Only,” he leans closer like he’s telling you a secret, “I made it to where it would shut once he stepped in.” Rolling his shoulder slightly once he stands straight so the bag sits better. “Hardest part was getting him settled cause once I managed to get’em out of it. He ran all around the house knocking things over.” He chuckles, “had to wrap my jacket ‘round him. Clawed me up good.” — ouch! Aw ye stupid wee man! M’tryna help ye, stop bitin’! No, John, m’fine. Finally got my boy.— “He seems calm,” those blue eyes of his squint, “for now.”

Snorting a laugh, “yeah, he does. Just shaken up.” Pivoting on your heel, “come on, need to get you some more things for him. Hope you don’t mind?” He’s already got the litter and the litter box, even has the cat food.

“Not one bit, lass, not one bit.”

You take him around the store to grab what’s needed. His cat is snoozing the entire time, only waking up when a bump gets hit or you laugh a little too hard from Johnny’s jokes. Turns out, the Scot really is bad at naming things. “Firewatch is not a name, Johnny.”

“Ye sound like John.” He muses, cocking a brow at you.

“It’s the truth.” Saying it like a judge’s final answer on a case.

“An Cheddars any be’ter?” Tilting his head down, he’s long since put your bag of cat food in his cart. He would’ve held it longer had you not pestered him so. He liked how flustered you became when he asked if you’re always so worried or if it’s just for him. “Startin’ to think ye donnae ken how to give names.”

“Hey,” looking highly upset that he’d doubt your superior naming abilities. “I can name a cat, you just don’t like any of the names I’ve mentioned.” You’ve both listed off names. Cheddar, Bomb, Apollo, Firestick, Jackie, Blaze, Riley— now that on one, he seemed vehemently against. You don’t know why and he refused to give his reasonings behind it. “What about… Oliver?” He goes to say something but pauses once he chews on it.

“Hmmm,” he looks from your and then downwards, “Oliver, huh? Better than Riley that’s for sure.” Somewhere a big man in a mask that sneezes, “alright,” Johnny concedes, “I like it.”

“Could call him Ol’ Riley for short?” Wiggling your brows.

“Oh, now ye are pushing yer luck, lass.” Pushing the cart to the front to get to paying for everything you told him he’d need. He doesn’t mind the price, pays for it without doubting your knowledge. Even pays for the cat food that you planned on buying much to your surprise. He simply smiled when you tried to offer him your discounts, “s’fine, hen. Least I could do since yer not workin’.” Your cheeks warm a little, those butterflies start fluttering around once more.

“Okay, but, next time?” God, will there be one? “I’m paying for you.” Not taking a no for an answer on the matter.

“S’bad manners if I let ye pay for me, hen.” shaking his head once he walks with you to the exit. “Do ye need help taking this to yer car?”

“What? Oh,” shaking your head no, “I uh,” thinking of a quick excuse. “I need to talk to my manager, gott speak with him on somethings.”

“Ye want me to stay then?” His arms cross as he offers, “I can load it up for ye once yer done.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Coming close and petting Oliver one final time, you reach right for the big bag but Johnny’s hand wraps around your wrist gently to stopping you.

“Ye sure?” You take in a quick gasp, he’s nearly at your side. He’s warm, like a furnace, burns hot even when there’s a chill outside. “S’pretty heavy.”

“Y-Yeah,” tugging back from his grasp, “I’m sure,” you pick it up and he helps settle it on your shoulders. Distributing the weight for you so you don’t have to. “You should get home. It’s too cold out to not be wearing a jacket.”

“Donnae worry yer pretty head, lass.” His hand lands on his hip as he watches to make sure there’s not a wobble to your legs. “I’ll see ye?” Though it doesn’t sound like a question, sounds more like he knows he will sooner rather than later.

“Okay,” watching as he finally leaves to load up his car. You hide in the grooming salon till you think he’s gone and then make the trek up to your bus’s stop. Plopping the bag down and you sit to take a deep breath. There’s sweat on your brow despite the cold but your bus should be coming any minute now. Wiping at your brow, you pick up your phone to look on tiktok to pass the time. Once you hear the hiss of the bus stopping you heave the cat bag up and over your shoulders. Trudging along inside and sitting back in your usual spot.

You don’t notice the pair of eyes thats been watching you from a distance. Taking note of your exhaustion from where he observes you, “hm...” He leaves once your bus gets on moving down its route. It takes you straight home as always.

[yours-truly-q]

Even when he's running late, Caleb will never forget your kiss <3

☆

1k words, sfw, no warnings, for those who want to know this was based on the 24 hour schedule that was released for Caleb [:

<3 ☆ <3 ☆ <3 ☆ <3 ☆ <3 ☆ <3 ☆ <3 ☆ <3 ☆ <3 ☆

Caleb's late because you asked him ONCE that morning for him to stay a bit longer in bed with you and took that as an invitation to just spend another hour-ish in bed with you.

Now he's late because he just couldn't bare to leave you that morning

"Fuck!" You hear Caleb swear along with a thud. You huff, amused at his obscenity, while debating whether you're going to get up now to see what happened or just wait to ask him later. Grumbling, you shift in the bed and curl up, thinking about your options. As you curl up in the comfortable warm of the bed another crash resounds through the house and you sigh.

Groaning you tiredly sit up, clumsily pulling your blanket around your shoulders. With what felt like momentous effort, you haul yourself to your feet, waiting a moment to stabilize yourself before shuffling out of yours and Caleb's bedroom and towards the sound of profanities and the clattering objects.

Standing in the doorway of the bedroom, you look down the hallway before you see Caleb rush haphazardly from one room to the other, a repeating rant of "shit, shit, shit" following behind him. Curious, you glance from the room Caleb just entered to the clock on his nightstand and 'oh, it's 7:40 am' so not only did he miss his morning physical training, but he's going to be late getting to the fleet. You snort and slowly let your tired eye gaze back to the room Caleb is in.

"Pipsqueak?" Caleb's smooth voice calls out in a questioning tone, then a moment later, his head pops out from the side of the door. The moment his eyes lock onto your form, a bright grin slips onto his face.

"Are you...laughing at me being late?" Caleb asks, slowly strolling towards your form in the doorway like he has all the time in the world and isn't incredibly late. You roll your eyes and nod, fighting back a yawn.

"Of course I was, the feet space Coronel of all people is late. Plus as well seeing you skid around the house in a panic is kinda funny. " You explain, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

"Well, if I remember correctly, the only reason I'm late is because someone wouldn't let me go when I tried to get out of bed." Raising an eyebrow, Caleb lets a knowing smirk pull at his features.

"In my defence, I don't need to get up today aaaaand you should've just... got up." You mumble your weak argument as you glance away from Caleb, your eyes naturally falling on the ticking clock.

"Anyway, don't you have to leave, like, right now?" You change the subject, eyes still fixated on those ticking hands. Caleb frowns at the reminder while he lets his hands reach out to hold your hips, thumbs rubbing at the fabric of your sleep clothes.

Then suddenly Caleb clears his throat, causing you to gaze at him inquisitively, before he states in a slightly mirth-filled voice, "I do, but before I rush out the door like a mad man-"

"You are a mad man-" You add on quietly under your breath, but Caleb's pointed expression tells you that he heard that. You grin cheekily.

"...I have one last thing I need to do." He mumbles in a low tone as you feel his fingers flex over your clothing.

Then he leans in, a soft kiss pressed gently against your forehead, warmth immediately spreading from the area, leaving a sense of comfort in its wake. A smile tugs at your face, your eyes slowly shutting as you try to savour this feeling. The feeling of being so loved and cared for on this average, early morning.

Caleb's affectionate arms slide around your back, resting on your waist, and subsequently pulling you closer into his kiss and his warm embrace. Then all too soon, Caleb's lips have pulled away and you can feel the small pout that starts to pull at your face.

However, before you can open your eyes, another kiss is pressed to your cheek, the same amount of love pouring off of the action, then another to your cheek, then your nose, and before you know it, Caleb starts to drown you in his affections. His lips (that are now curled into an adoring smile) press clumsily into any patch of skin it can find, filled with so much burning passion that it almost puts you into a daze. The ticklish feeling of his mouth dragging across your skin (dragging because you both know he hates the idea of parting with you more that anything) causes you to squirm and push against and away from him. His arms only tighten around you.

You laugh, throwing your head back as a result, and try to pull yourself away again. That only leads him to kiss from your shoulder all the way up past your neck and to your jaw, leaving the skin tingling and warm.

"Caleb!" You manage to squeal out while another giggle ripples through your body. This doesn't deter his violent assault in the slightest, though.

"You're gonna be even more late!" You huff out between laughs, then you finally find that his kisses slow to a reluctant stop.

He sighs as he looks at you, his head resting on your shoulder. As you look towards this man's face, you find a smile that holds so much love paired with eyes that glimmer with joy, stare back at you in adoration.

"Fine, I'll go, but just one more before I leave." He mumbles, eyes glancing down to your lips before he leans in again. His mouth pushes gently against your own while his fingers rub tenderly into your back. Then, after a moment passes, he pulls back unwillingly because he knows if he doesn't leave now, he won't leave at all.

Even much later, when he's writing some reports at his desk, his mind will think back to that morning you two spent together and he won't be able to hide that longing smile that tugs at his face.

He was SO late that morning but he didn't care one bit because he got to spend those few moments that he'll cherish forever with you. You think I'm joking but I'm not, he won't ever forget that day because of how domestic and silly that morning was. It was everything he wanted and more

He just loves you

<3

This was supposed to be a short drabble, but then I started writing and now it's a 1k fic. I don't think I've written so much before in my life 😭 Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and if you see any mistake, no you don't (Pls tell me in all seriousness though!!) [:

[phone4pills]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐆

you want Chris’ love. he wants your ass. are you really about to do this ?

“Back up for me.” He didn’t hesitate, fingers drawn to your hip the second your ass hovered over his thigh, getting closer and closer until it hit his lower stomach. Chris groaned, sliding one hand up your body, getting a feel for himself; grasping your throat as though you weren’t out of breath as it was.

He snickered, pulling your head back as far as he could. “What? Y’not gonna get these pants off, baby?” His words lingered with the sinister honey dripping in his voice, sweet but all the same smug. Your arms moved behind your back, hands trying to find his zipper. Chris guided your hand towards it, at a painfully slow pace. You pulled his zipper down, eventually getting his pants down far enough.

There was no hiding his arousal under the thin layer that was his skims boxers. You slowly rolled your hips back, ass moving along his tent with a comfortable ease. Chris’ pelvis pushed into you, urging you to please him already. The man was far from patient.

You blushed, taking the fabric of his boxers between his fingers and pulling them down. His cock spring out, leaving a messy line of precum on your lower back. He hissed, grabbing you swiftly by the waist and pulling you off his thighs, easing you down onto his dick only seconds later. The stretch was unexpected but fuck it felt good.

You began to shift back and forth, a moan tearing through the heat in the room. Chris watched in awe as you moved along him, wanting to feel the rub of every wall, the squeeze into every crevice. Your head fell back, to which Chris sat up slightly, grabbing as much of your hair as he could in one fist. “Fuckin’ harder. I know you can.” You choked a gasp, causing his brows to furrow in disgust.

“Quit being a fuckin’ baby. Cmon, neither of us are leaving before I turn your insides white.” You gradually pushed hard enough, bouncing up and down on his cock. Chris groaned into your ear, his hot breath lingering on your neck for a moment. His tongue made a red, glossy mess of the skin caught between his teeth. You gripped his thighs, trying to persevere.

So much was going on. The sound of your ass slapping his crotch, the jockeys all over your neck. Chris’ possessive but satisfying hold on your hips, giving you the most help he was willing to. His chest against your back, slowly parting ways as he made his head comfortable on the headboard again.

“Chris! I’m gonna~” Your sentence was interrupted by an orgasm coming on hard, completely overriding any kind of thought that you may or may not have harnessed prior. Eyes rolling back, legs shaking: it meant fuck all to Chris. He still needed more. He began you guide you over his dick, hitting him where he needed it.

“Shit, m’doin’ all the work here.” He grunted, forcing you to keep riding him, despite how burnt out you were. But you wanted to make him cum. That’s the most dominance you’d get over him, even though you were already literally on top of him.

Chris bucked his hips into you, head sinking into the pillow beneath him. “Fuck me. Yeah, yeah just like that. Look at her, fuckin’ bouncing all on my dick.” Though he wouldn’t admit it, you looked sexy. It was a divine sight, the fat on your ass taking up most of his view, the cum leaking out of you into the dip between his legs. His blunt fingertips embedded into your skin, deeper and deeper until they couldn’t physically get past your ribs.

“Keep- fuck- keep going.” His cock twitched inside of you, tip aching with desperation. Then it snapped. You whined at the new found heat in your pussy. But Chris’ hand came over your mouth quick, hoisting you down so you lay on top of him, chests rising and falling.

“Shut up, just- jus’ give me a minute.”

— just gonna leave this here … ! divider by @strnilolover

- ©phone4pills

[waynes-multiverse]

Already so in love with the start of this chapter! A girl who can eat is a girl after my heart 🫶 (and apparently Russell's lol)

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room.

Girl, you and I have the same headcanon about this! He needs someone with super weird food habits 😂🫶

And I loved her then suddenly trying to get rid of him and coming up with the lamest excuse in the book before threathening him lol. Glad he saw right through that! And this made me melt 🫠:

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving. “Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

Oh, and it is a mafia thing! 👀 Phew, that's a tough job for Russell (not that I doubt his abilities, but she is right – he's only one man. You're not planning on breaking my heart, are you? 😅)

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.” “You have sauce all over your shirt.”

Oh, he got real lucky there, didn't he? He must've loved this 😂😂

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

I'm so in love with this characterization of him here! Behind all the goofiness and bad flirting still hides that smart killing machine, and you portray that so well throughout their entire conversation 🖤

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy.

I love reading more of her backstory, and obviously Russell can relate since he grew up similarily. I see some romance brewing and bonding happening here 😍

You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

Knowing her, I don't see this working out well for Colter. Poor guy will have his hands full with her 😂

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped.  “Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

I don't mind this at all 😏

The commitment to him being shirtless on this show is for real, tho 🫠 (And PS: I saw you wrote for Colter too! I totally have to check that out! Justin Hartley had me in a chokehold since This Is Us. He rows right into the "lovable and stupidly hot idiot" category that I've fallen victim to lol.)

And not only did she bond with Russell in this part but also with Colter. Seriously loved every minute of their conversation! And considering Russell sent her to his brother, who he hasn't spoken to in so long, speaks volumes how much he trusts Colter. Colter seeing that too was such a precious moment ��🫶

Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…

Agree! The ruggedness and roughness (the beard) certainly adds a few plus points 🔥😏

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down.

I was gonna say, she should be careful with that challenge, and his answer did not disappoint! It was gold 🤣🤣🤣

And I totally didn't expect her to stay with Colter for days, drive across the country, and join him on a case! This is such a cool twists and I'm loving their hangout dynamic 😁 I do have an inkling Russell will be jealous of their bonding and probably scold Colter for taking her on a case lmao

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.”

Ooooh I know you read the books and this reminded me so much of the crew book!Russell worked with!!! 👏

I was so relieved when he came back in one piece! And that little present for her was so sweet and thoughtful 🥹 The note, on the other hand, was hilarious 😂

But why the angst at the end there? No they were supposed to be happy! Sunset, rainbows, unicorns, glitter!!! I will suffer in the next part, won't I? 😅

This was such an amazing chapter from start to finish! I thoroughly enjoyed all their conversations, their dynamics, the humor mixed with seriousness and feelings. Loved every second of this! 🩵

He's My Man (Part 2)

Summary: The reader isn't quite so sure if she can trust Russell with her secrets but he's decided she's going to get his help, whether she wants it or not. Reluctantly she accepts but in the process realizes she might actually be starting to care about him...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, mentions of death, angst, fluff

A/N: Ooooh things are heating up! Please enjoy!

__________

Russell stared at you with what one could only describe as a look of wonder. You didn’t exactly blame him. Eating four large cheese danishes and chugging back a week’s worth of coffee in the span of fifteen minutes was enough to make anyone’s eyes widen.

You tossed your trash in his motel waste bin when you finished and returned to your seat at the tiny corner table. With an obnoxiously loud slurp of even more coffee, Russell titled his head, shaking it slightly.

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room. He straightened in his seat, pausing a beat. “So. What’s this long story?”

Your fingertips rattled against the side of the large styrofoam cup, a small amount of heat radiating through. Now that you’d had some time to think, or rather stress eat, you knew this was a mistake. A big one. You needed to kick Russell out of your life and the sooner the better.

“I think you have the wrong idea about what’s going on and I thought it better we talk in private,” you said. Russell wore a weary expression, his eyes dissecting your every micro-movement. “I’m not interested in a relationship or a date or conversation. I don’t do that considering my line of work and I imagine you keep things casual with yours. So you take your money and consider this a warning. Contact me again and I will have you dealt with, understand?”

Russell leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a clenched jaw. You narrowed your eyes in response, Russell picking at his bandage without realizing. 

“Stop that,” you mumbled when he kept doing it, his lip twitching up in a not so friendly way.

“You threaten me and in the next breath are worried about my damn stitches? I don’t think you realize just how good I am at my job,” he said, placing both hands on the table, folding them together. You swallowed, Russell staring so intently you had to glance away. “Alright. Back at the coffee shop, that was a moment of bravery and now it’s passed? Tough shit. We’re in the weeds now and we ain’t leaving until I know you do your job of your own free will. Understand?”

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving.

“Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

“You’re one guy.” You shook your head. “Drop this or you’ll wind up dead or worse.”

“I made my living doing jobs where if I fucked up I’d wish I were dead over the alternative. I know how to keep a secret. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t. But you opened the box. You can’t just close it again.”

“Yes, I can. Goodbye, Russell.” You grabbed your coffee and headed for the door, pausing when you had a hand on the handle.

But what if he could help…he was ex-special ops…

Russell’s hand slid over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You frowned, a reassuring smile greeting you.

“Do you like your job?” he asked. 

“S’complicated,” you whispered.

“How complicated?”

“Jobs like yours…that’s up to me to do that stuff but I…I work for someone else.” You found Russell’s unreadable green eyes and sighed. “I’m a fixer for the local mafia. It’s not a job you get to quit and stay alive very long.”

Russell contemplated your words, lips forming a thin line before he nodded. “I can take care of that assuming your story checks out.”

“My story?” you asked, Russell humming. “Why would I lie-”

“You could be playing me for any number of reasons. Like I said, I’m going to check your story out and if it’s all kosher, we’ll figure out where to go from there. Capiche?”

“Fine,” you grit out, shaking his hand away. “But do it quietly. You got three days.”

Late Evening

Your eye actually twitched when you answered your front door that night to find not your pizza delivery man before you but Russell fucking Shaw. He wore a deep navy utility jacket that hung loosely around his trim waist and a pair of black jeans. You weren’t sure why but his shift from lighter colored clothing this morning to this dark, edgy look made him look as dangerous as you expected he was.

“Russell,” you said. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, eyes roaming over your body. You glanced down at your soft pale yellow pajama shirt and matching shorts set, huffing when he slipped past you inside.

“You totally are the kind of woman to having matching jammies,” he chuckled. You gripped the door tight, ready to kick him out just as your delivery driver pulled up.

“Just…take off your boots.” Two minutes later you had your pizza and garlic knots on your kitchen counter while Russell leaned back against it, his jacket since removed and tossed on the back of your couch. He wore a black zip up that was undone over a black t-shirt, Russell shifting at your growing unease.

“Listen,” he said, holding up his hands. “You got questions but first off, I’m not here to hurt you. This is just what I wear when I need to go…looking around places I ain’t exactly invited into.”

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.”

“You have sauce all over your shirt.” You glanced down, spotting marinara drops all over your short sleeve button up top from where you’d had the edge of the pizza box pressed against your torso as you’d carried it in. “Thanks for thinking so highly of me, though. Makes a guy feel special.”

“I’m on edge, alright?” you snapped, grabbing a towel and trying to get most of the sauce out. “Plus I just ruined a two hundred dollar shirt.”

“Figured you for a oversized men’s t-shirts kind of gal but little sets from french boutiques suites you.” You froze, Russell dropping his hands. “I know all about your shopping habits. You have high quality taste, much richer than the average suburbanite.”

“And?” you said, tossing the towel down, hands going to your hips. “Are you about to kidnap me and turn me over to the mafia or what?”

Russell approached you slowly, gently picking up the towel from the floor and dabbing it with some dish soap. 

“If I had wanted to hurt you or take you or whatever else is going through your head, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.” He rubbed the towel against the damp spot on your shirt, letting the fabric get soapy. “Let that soak for a few minutes and then after you have some dinner, toss it in the wash. It’ll come out good as new.”

“How do you know that?” you asked, Russell hanging your towel on the oven handle. 

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

You weren’t sure how he’d seen you swipe the knife from the butchers block but figured he had a point. If he’d wanted to screw you over, he would have done it already. After excusing yourself, you returned in a pair of skinny black joggers and a slightly cropped gray AC/DC shirt to find Russell had already plated two sizeable portions for yourselves. 

“See? Now that’s a look more fitting for the princess of darkness,” he chuckled.

“That’s queen of darkness to you,” you said, taking a seat at the island in front of one of the plates. “Do me a favor, lover boy. Grab me a guinness from the fridge.”

“Dark stout. Always a good choice.” He got out two, removing the cap for you before retreating to the other side of the island.

“As much as I love uninvited house guests who welcome themselves to my food and beer, why are you here, Russell?” You took a large bite of pizza, Russell long necking his beer for a moment. 

“Yet I don’t see you kicking me out. It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen for me, Y/N,” he teased. You growled, Russell’s eyebrows raising in amusement. “Hot damn, woman. I love when you get all grr. Tells me you are a force to be reckoned with.”

You rolled your eyes, Russell taking an extra large bite. “Stop flirting and talk.”

“Why can’t I do both?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “But to answer your original question, I’m here because your story checked out and that’s kind of a problem.”

“Excuse me? Why is that an issue?”

He set his plate down and gripped the island, leaning over it slightly. “Y/N. I can call up a few friends and wipe out a local mafia family no problem.”

“Awesome. Then what’s the fucking problem?” Russell tilted his head, like you’d just walked into some kind of trap he’d set.

“Y/N. Despite all the obvious sexual tension brewing between us, you failed to mention that you have a boyfriend. You know, the head of this fucking mafia family. The boyfriend that buys you those fancy french pajama sets? The one that bought that espresso machine over there? Girl, you better explain yourself because I am not a hired gun.”

You chewed quietly for a few moments under the heated scrutiny of Russell’s gaze before you pushed the plate away.

“My dad was an accomplished doctor. He was very well respected. I grew up very comfortably until I was about eight.” Russell loosened his stance and began to eat while you decided what he needed to absolutely know. “My dad unknowingly saved a mobster’s life one night in the ER. Mr. Lauter.”

“The former head of the mafia and this guy, Owen, your supposed boyfriend’s dad?” You nodded before taking a big swig from your bottle.

“Well, that pissed off Mr. Elpine who had almost had a successful hit on Mr. Lauter. Elpine tried to get my dad to kill Lauter. Dad refused and the next morning on the way to school, the brake lines in our car didn’t work. Dad and I walked away. Mom and my brother didn’t. Dad was scared Elpine would come after me again.”

“Your father went to Lauter for protection,” said Russell. You picked up your pizza as he put together the rest of the pieces. “Lauter offers him protection for saving his life but something happens and your dad ends up working for Lauter as his fixer.”

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy. PTSD for sure, a mental break too. I always guessed there was some brain trauma after the accident that never healed. He got real bad when I went to college. Bad enough that Lauter stepped in when my dad attacked me when I came home for the holidays. Lauter killed him and the fucked up part was I wasn’t even upset. My real dad had died when I was a kid. But…when a mob boss kills for you whether you wanted them to or not-”

“They think they own you for life.” You nodded. “So you became the fixer.”

“They let me finish college under the condition I come back and work for the family. They leave me be except for when I need to patch someone in the crew up. It’s honestly not that bad. They gave me a lot of money over the years. I hate to say this but Mr. Lauter was pretty good to me.”

Russell cleared his throat. “You do know how fucked up what he did to you is, right?”

“Of course I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “But compared to my dad and Owen, he was the lesser evil.”

“I came across the fact Mr. Lauter died about three weeks ago from heart disease.” You hummed. “Tell me about this fuckface, Owen.”

“Dude has had a crush on me since he was fucking twelve. He has it in his head that the family owns me, literally. Lauter always reined him in but since he’s been gone, Owen’s been…pushy. Telling the crew I’m his girlfriend, asking them to follow me. Thankfully, and this is why this is so weird, I grew up around a lot of the guys. Making me work and fix people, fine. But some kind of forced romance? They aren’t cool with it, at least they’re kind of ignoring Owen. I’ve kept Owen off my back because he’s grieving and busy trying to take over but he’s going to back on my ass soon. This time, those guys will have to listen to their new boss.”

“So…I take out Owen and you think you’re in the clear. You could have just said that.” He finished off his beer and washed his hands at the sink. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going grab essentials, and I mean essentials, while I pack up your dinner in what I expect is some color coordinated tupperware. Then you’re going to take my car and drive to Elmhurst Camping Grounds. It’s about four hours north of here and no, you will stop for anything so use the bathroom before you go and I’ll pack you a snack. You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

“I feel like if I ask questions you’ll just tell me I don’t want to know.” Russell smirked.

“I love that big brain of yours.” You rolled your eyes but felt a tiny smile on your face. “Warming up to me are we?”

“Fuck no. But uh, who the hell are you sending me to?”

“My baby brother. Don’t worry. His ugly mug will keep you safe.”

Four Hours Later

“Uh, hi,” you said, practically bouncing up and down at midnight in front of a strange tall man at a very nice airstream RV. 

“Y/N,” he said as you forced a smile. “Bathroom is right there-”

You darted past him and into the small cubby bathroom, grateful after the long drive. The man was waiting leaned against a small counter space when you exited, a temporary bed made up behind him in what looked like a breakfast nook.

“Sorry to barge in. Russell said not to stop for anything.” 

“S’alright,” he said. “Bed’s made up if you want to crash. I’m going to stay up a bit longer by the fire. You’re welcome to join if you like.”

“Thanks, uh…” you said, a very brief smile on his face as you tried to remember what Russell had called him.

“Colter. It’s not a problem.” He skirted by you and outside, taking a seat in a foldable camping chair. You had questions but for the moment, all you wanted was to get some rest. 

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped. 

“Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

“Morning,” he said, slowly backing up to the bedroom. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Not a problem,” you said, catching a whiff of coffee. 

“Mug are in the first cabinet if you want a cup. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. He excused himself to his room and slid the divider shut, leaving you to the rest of the airstreamer. 

A moment later you were outside in front of a small fire, sitting in a chair with warm coffee in your hands. It was cool and you wished you’d thought to pack a jacket in your haste last night.

You were rubbing your arms when something was draped over your shoulders, a thick heavy hoodie. 

“Russell got you out of there pretty quick, huh?” asked Colter, taking the mug while you shrugged into the warm fleece.

“Yeah. All I grabbed was my wallet, some cash and my computer. He told me I could buy clothes here,” you said. Colter handed you back the mug and took a seat beside you.

“I checked his car. He had a duffel full of his clothes in there I brought inside. You can use his stuff, or mine, until we can hit a store.”

“Thanks,” you said, smelling Russell’s deodorant on the fabric. Colter saw you tug the hood up, a question on the tip of his tongue but he decided against it. The air was still and quiet apart from the crackle of fire and morning birds. 

“So,” said Colter, not looking at you as he drank. “You and Russell…you like, his girlfriend-”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I just met the guy yesterday. All I did was patch him up.”

“Right.” You sunk lower in your chair, slurping loudly.

“Were you special ops like him?” you asked. Colter shook his head.

“Civilian. Never had any formal training, just what we grew up with.” Well, that was an interesting statement. What the hell did it mean though? “Our father was a survivalist, taught us things.”

“Oh. My dad was a little out there too.” Was that why Russell was so adamant about helping you out of your situation? No. Maybe it played a part, but no. He’d wanted to help before you told him that. “Does Russell do this sort of thing often?”

“No clue. First time I talked to him in years was two days ago. I helped him find a friend of his. I was there when he got that bullet hole in him you fixed.”

Alrighty then. Russell was becoming more and more intriguing by the second. 

“So you don’t know a lot about him then,” you said. Colter shrugged.

“I guess I’m figuring him out too but he’s a good guy. He’s somebody you want as a friend.” You hummed, finishing your coffee off. Colter excused himself to get you more and returned with a fresh cup, steam billowing from within. 

“You trail run?” you asked, Colter’s eyes showing a flash of surprise. “Muddy sneakers by the door. I did cross country in school.”

“I try to get out most mornings. The hot water should be good to go in about five minutes if you want a shower.” 

“Thanks.” You licked your lips as you remembered the sight of him exiting the bathroom not long ago. Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together to try and get a hold of yourself. Colter smirked slightly in his seat. “What?”

“I’m good at reading people is all.”

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down. Colter only smiled as he looked away to the fire.

“You’re wondering if Russell works out and picturing him naked.” You glared at him but it did nothing to hide the heat radiating off your cheeks. “Hey, you’re a grown woman. You can do as you please.”

“I think I will take that shower now.” You stood and set the mug down on the ground, shooting Colter one last look. There’d been no malice or teasing in his voice. He was simply being straight with you. “Listen. I just…I haven’t exactly been around good guys much, or ever. I’m not saying there’s anything there beyond physical attraction, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, looking at you like you were the worst liar in the world. “Whatever you say.”

You grumbled and went inside to take a very cold shower.

Three Days Later - Spokane, Washington

“Hey, Colt,” you said, pushing up the long sleeves of Russell’s gray henley you wore. Colter hummed around the piece of grilled chicken in his mouth as you spun your laptop around from the other side of the airstream’s dining table. “Could she have gone here? Looks like a decommissioned game trail.”

“Yeah, yeah that fits,” he said with his mouth full, chewing and swallowing quickly so he could take a closer look. You returned to your own dinner, Colter mentioning he was going to take a look after dark. 

Things had fallen into an easy pattern with the two of you. Colter was very different than his brother but it wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t talk much and worked as a rewardist. He’d planned on sticking around the east coast for when Russell met up with you again but an urgent case in Washington popped up. You’d spent most of the past three days driving cross-country behind Colter’s truck and the airstreamer, learning what the hell a rewardist was.

Colter had told you about the case at first to keep your mind off of Russell but you’d reluctantly taken an interest and now were deep in the weeds of helping him locate a missing young woman.

“You want to come look with me?” asked Colter, breaking you out of your train of thought. You blinked, a small smile on his face. “Come on. It’ll get you some experience with rewardest work and stop you from doom scrolling.”

“Alright,” you sighed. While you appreciated Colter’s attempts to make you feel better, you were starting to get very concerned. You hadn’t heard from Russell since you left your house a few days ago and there was nothing in the news about the local mafia members being killed. Or him.

Colter rubbed your back when you helped him unhook it from the airstream. He tended to do that when you started to get stressed out. He hadn’t been lying before. He really was good at reading people. 

“Colter,” you said in the dark truck, the hum of the vehicle quiet in the cab as he drove. “What if something happened to him and he needs our help?”

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.” You bit your bottom lip as you stared out the window, trees passing by. 

If only it were that simple.

It was two in the morning by the time you and Colter made it back to the camping grounds. You’d found Martha in not too great of shape but she was alive and the doctors said she’d make a full recovery with time. Colter has tried to give you some of the reward money for helping but you hadn’t done all that much in your opinion. 

“Stay here,” he said when he turned the truck into your lot and you spotted a dark figure sitting by the fire. He took his gun from the back of jeans and got out, pausing halfway out the door. He smiled over at you and you caught the dark figure give an awkward little wave. “Should I tell him how much you’ve been worried?”

“Not. A. Word. Colter,” you said before hopping out and happily rushing over to where Russell rose to his feet. You didn’t realize you were giving him a hug until he was laughing, returning it and lifting you off the ground. 

“I missed my queen of darkness too,” he chuckled, setting you down with a smirk. You scoffed, Russell’s eyebrows raising at your attire. “Is that my jacket? And shirt?”

“Why waste the money on new stuff,” you shrugged, Russell grinning like an idiot. “Stop that.”

“I’m sure that was the reason.” Colter came over, the boys sharing a nod. “You keep my little delinquent out of trouble?”

“She’s a breeze,” said Colter, taking a seat. “Even helped with my latest case. She should try the rewardist thing. She’s good at it.”

“Maybe. All I want to know is am I good?” you asked. Russell took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He nodded, the tension running of out your body. “Thank you, Russell. Thank your friends too. I’ll pay you guys-”

“No payment. This was because you’re my friend, plain and simple. Just knowing you’re safe is more than enough.” You smiled, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. “You should rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“How-”

“In the morning. I need to catch up with my little brother.” You nodded, enjoying the feel of his heavy hand as it ran over your head. “Go sleep, Y/N. You’re exhausted.”

You reluctantly peeled yourself away and went inside to find your makeshift bed had been done up for you already. You didn’t even try to fight the flutters in your stomach when you spotted a yellow pajama shirt and shorts set neatly folded on top. There was a note beside it, a stupid ass smile finding it’s way onto your face.

Brand new. Imported from France. Don’t get used to fancy ass presents like these. I ain’t made of money. Even if these are soft as fuck and I totally wish they made these for men. I still think you’d look better wearing a band tee to bed.

Russ

P.S. They had a sale so I got you something else too. Check your backpack.

You shook your head and grabbed your bag from the floor, taking out a very elegant black bag. You undid the tissue paper and went wide eyed. 

Inside was a very, very, fancy black lace bra and multiple pairs of gorgeous bikini style undies in soft muted colors. There was another note waiting for you inside, your heart stilling.

No strings attached. Hopefully these will cover you for a little while until you can get settled again.

“Oh, Russell,” you said quietly, thumbing over the bag, smiling to yourself as your insides did very happy backflips.

He wasn’t just a pretty and protective face. He was thoughtful too.

And you were starting to fall for a guy that’d most likely be gone by this time tomorrow.

Fuck.

__________

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[dollbrbie]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ track two — what you need ft, sae itoshi

summary. sae doesn’t care if your boyfriend is the one you want, he knows he’s the one you need

sae doesn’t care that you have a boyfriend. he doesn’t care that he’s some high profile lawyer who can give you the life you definitely deserve. he doesn’t care that he’s probably some decent guy that you really care about. because, sae knows he can’t give you what you need. he can’t give you the excitement and chaos that you crave. he can’t give you the unpredictability sae will always carry with him.

and he certainly can’t fuck you the way sae can, the way you need, and the way that always has you gripping his sheets.

that’s why even after trying to cut him off for the millionth time, you still find yourself leaving your boyfriend’s sleeping figure on his own at 2am, sneaking out and unlocking your car door to drive twenty minutes to sae’s penthouse in a matching black lingerie set, just how he likes.

“shit- sae.”, you moan out as you grip onto sae’s grey bedsheets, your face stuffed in his pillow with your ass slapping against his hips, getting the perfect eye view of your recoil he’s so obsessed with.

“hm? what‘s that?”, he asks so condescendingly, a small smirk plastered on his face as he continues to bottom out inside you.

“s-slow down.”, you mewl out, reaching your arm behind while his powerful thrusts take the air from your lungs, dropping your head back into his pillow to muffle the sounds of your cries.

“aren’t you sweet? i thought you wanted this, didn’t you leave your boyfriend just to get fucked by me?”, he chuckles, grabbing the arm you just reached behind as he continues to pound into your abused pussy, the slapping sounds of your bodies colliding echoing against the walls.

“i do- i do want this. needed it sae.”, you cry out, the pleasure building up around your walls and throbbing against sae’s hardened cock.

“ah- shit.”, he winces out, feeling you clench around his cock, how own orgasm gradually building up, “needed it, yeah? you need me to fuck you good?”

you nod mindlessly at his words, giving him your affirmation through muffled, broken moans, “need you so bad, sae. please.”

“please, what? hm? you wanna cum?”, he asks, reaching for your clit and using two fingers to rub quick pasted circles to help build up your orgasm as he continues his rough pace, bottoming out inside of you, kissing your cervix.

“please?”, you beg as the tears build up around your eyes from the intense pleasure you felt creeping up, dying to be released.

“fuck.”, he groans out, feeling his cock pulsate as he grips onto your shoulder, pushing you down even further into his mattress, “cum for me, baby.”

as soon as you hear sae’s go ahead, you feel the intense release of your own pleasure, your thighs shaking and your toes curling, crying out in the euphoria that soared through your body.

you feel sae lean down against you, his warm chest connecting with your back as he places chaste kisses along your upper back and shoulders before leaning his forehead on you, catching his breath with a smile on his face.

your intimacy with sae was something incomparable with your boyfriend who would just get a towel for you to clean up his mess. it was so much more loving and gentle.

and in these moments you knew that you’d never escape sae itoshi no matter how much you tried. there was no one who will ever know you better than him, no one who will ever give you what sae could give you. he was exactly what you needed and there was no one who knew that more than sae himself.

and he wasn’t about to let your stupid boyfriend get in the way of that. so don’t be too surprised when your boyfriend finds an audio message of you and sae fucking on his phone that sae may or may not have sent him!

navigation. series masterlist

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part five)

genre: slow burn fic, fluff with hints of angst, light drama, no explicit smut

kms masterlist | <- part four | part six (soon) ->

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, suggestive language, overthinking, light tension, kelce being kelce

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and y/n is paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week long project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if y/n wasn't awkward as hell and well ... if there wasn't her big fat crush on him. could this be the beginning of a friendship or maybe even more? one thing was certain: rafe cameron's intense, impulsive, and complex in ways that weren't always for the better, and y/n's mind? that shit was even more tangled. but she hadn't spent seven years crushing on him from a distance just to let this chance slip through her fingers ... right?

summary of recent events: starting the day with the struggle to focus after texting rafe the night before, he unexpectedly asks you to sit with him in the back row of economics class. having forgotten his pizza date with his friends, he invites you to join them to work on your project at kelce’s instead of staying in school. despite your hesitation, you agree. feeling out of place as you sit in his car on the way to kelce’s, rafe makes a seemingly casual attempt to ease your nerves along the way.

word count: 4.5k+

a/n: thank you guys sm for the kind words and support on the last one, this always means sm to me <3 i also had sm fun with this one and felt like it’s time for the first little drama highigi. also next part will include a little rafe pov 😈 anyway, hope you enjoy <3

"Yo, what took you so long? Did you two have a quickie in the car or something?" That was the first thing Kelce Statter said as he opened the front door, glancing between you and Rafe with an amused grin, his pupils just a little too wide.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

And here we go.

Like clockwork, heat shot straight to your cheeks, and as usual, whenever you were overwhelmed and didn’t know how to react, that tense, awkward smile appeared on your face.

Not even a minute here, and one dumb comment had already thrown you off balance. This was off to a fantastic start.

Rafe let out an annoyed snort. "Kelce, shut the fuck up."

"Whoa, dude, no need to get your claws out." Kelce raised his hands in mock innocence, tilting his head with a smug smirk. His gaze landed on you—your awkward smile and deep red face more specifically—before flicking back to Rafe. "Aww, you got her all shy and flustered. You must’ve been good."

Okay, that’s it. THIS was officially the most awkward moment of your life, and the worst part? You were too stunned to speak.

Rafe ran a hand down his face, clearly over Kelce’s shit, before shooting him a sharp glare. "Jesus Christ, dude, do me a favor and, just once in your fucking life, pull your head out of your ugly ass."

Wow. What subtlety. You honestly couldn’t tell if Rafe liked or despised him. Probably something in between both.

Before Kelce—still stupidly grinning—could fire back, Rafe stepped into the doorway and shoved him (softly?) aside. "Now move, before I deck you."

"Love you too, bro," Kelce said, throwing a wink in your direction, before disappearing down the hallway.

Well, what an interesting dynamic.

Rafe turned back to you with an exasperated sigh. "I swear I’m gonna kill that idiot one day."

Now would be a good time to SAY SOMETHING.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you smiled awkwardly, blurting out dryly, "He seems… nice."

NICE? Of all the words you could’ve chosen, 'nice' had to be at the very bottom of the list to describe Kelce Statter.

Rafe let out a short, amused breath. "Sure, he’s a sweetheart." He motioned toward the inside of the house with a nod. "C’mon, or we’ll end up with nothing but crust. His appetite’s as big as his mouth."

So you followed him inside like a stupid little duckling.

In the living room, a massive flat tree-stump-and-glass coffee table was already “set”—if you could even call it that. A big, colorful pizza sat on a wooden board in the center, surrounded by a chaotic mess of four plates, a few glasses, cigarette packs, a lighter, car keys, a can of deodorant, an almost empty roll of paper towels, as well as a bag of weed and a used grinder.

In your mind, you titled this condition Kelce Statter core.

A forest-green semicircle couch wrapped around half the table, facing a gigantic flat-screen TV. Family Guy was playing on the screen, the volume low but audible.

Kelce was perched at one end of the couch, hunched forward as he shoved a slice of pepperoni pizza into his mouth. Topper sat somewhere in the middle, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw the two of you—or more specifically, Rafe.

With a casual “Yo, bro,” Topper got up and dapped Rafe up. He shot you a neutral smile, his voice carrying a friendly vibe. “We’re all apologizing in advance for Kelce’s shitty jokes.”

Now that was what you’d call nice.

From the background came a muffled, “Hey!”

A genuine smile tugged at your lips but before you could respond, Rafe made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Okay, okay, let’s just eat. The idiot’s already inhaled half the pizza.”

Topper sat back down next to Kelce while you settled on Rafe’s right—at a comfortably safe distance—at the opposite end of the couch. Still, your heart and mind refused to slow down.

But as your stomach filled, a bit of the tension in your body started to ease. Surprisingly, the pizza tasted amazing—like, really really good.

Was Kelce secretly some kind of passionate hobby chef? Probably. Would make sense, considering he was on his healthy gym grind like Rafe had told you.

As the minutes passed, the guys were deep in their own conversation—which you were thankful for because eating, talking, and not embarrassing yourself was an art you had yet to master.

Kelce was raving about some new protein/creatine/whatever powder he swore by, Topper was hyping up an upcoming surf competition he was planning to enter, and Rafe had some big news about a deal his dad had recently landed.

The only thing remotely interesting to you as a surfer was the tournament Topper had mentioned. The rest you tuned out, peacefully eating your pizza, taking an occasional sip of your Coke, and half-watching some weird Brian-and-Stewie subplot on TV.

This actually almost felt like hanging out with friends.

At some point, Topper mentioned your name, and you snapped out of your little bubble, turning away from the screen in surprise.

Shit, what did he say?

You swallowed the bite of pizza in your mouth and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry, what?”

Kelce jumped in before Topper could repeat himself, seemingly taking your disinterest in the conversation as a win. “Oh shit, you’re into Family Guy?”

Your thumb nervously traced a spot on the edge of your plate. “Yeah, I mean, it's a good show to watch on the side.”

“And South Park, Rick and Morty?”

You felt all three of them staring at you. “They’re good, I guess. I mean, South Park isn’t really my thing but—”

Kelce gasped like you’d just insulted his entire family. “Not your thing?! That’s—”

“Jesus, bro, let her at least finish,” Topper interrupted with a roll of his eyes because well Kelce had just interrupted him.

Rafe nodded in agreement, waving his hand toward the kitchen. “Seriously, go grab more paper towels or some shit.”

Kelce shook his head, clearly unimpressed, but stood up anyway, plate in hand. “Wow, you guys are actual mean girls.”

You smiled because the other two did, but somehow, you still felt a little bad for Kelce. Sure, he was annoying, loud, and way too blunt, but getting shut down by your friends every two minutes had to sting, right?

Wow. Am I seriously feeling sorry for Kelce Statter?

Topper shook his head as Kelce disappeared into the kitchen. “Sometimes I wonder how he manages to pull any girl at all.”

Rafe shrugged, wiping his hands on the last paper towel. “Maybe they’re just hoping his dick’s as big as his mouth.”

That got a laugh out of Topper—one that, in your opinion, was a little too enthusiastic. ��Yeah, probably.”

Okayyy. If you were Rafe Cameron Stan No. 1, then Topper was definitely No. 2.

Rafe seemed to notice your lack of reaction, turning to you with a crooked smile, like he couldn’t quite comprehend why you didn’t find this hilarious. “What? Would you go for a guy like that?”

WHAT KIND OF QUESTION WAS THAT? Better yet, how were you supposed to answer?!

On one hand, you’d never in a million years go for Kelce Statter. On the other, it felt wrong to sit in his house and join in on roasting him.

Your cheeks flushed pink as you gave an awkward smile. “No, I mean… I barely know him.”

God, what a stupid answer.

“That wasn’t a real no,” Topper remarked with a smirk, and you wished the ground would just swallow you whole.

Rafe’s brows twitched just slightly but before he could throw another dumb question your way, you tried to salvage it. “I mean, I just… I wouldn’t want to judge someone based on their looks or, uh, any shallow first impressions.”

Great. Should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

Rafe and Topper stared at you like you’d just announced that you believed in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

OH GOD, they probably thought you liked Kelce now. Worse, RAFE probably did.

AHHH, HELP.

“Okay, you better not tell him that,” Topper said, amused. “His giant ego will rub it in your face forever. Or worse, he’ll actually think he has a shot with you.”

...

You weren’t sure what was worse—how aware you were of your burning cheeks, Rafe’s unreadable look that could mean anything from irritation to amusement to indifference, or the fact that Topper had basically just said you were too good for Kelce. Which was probably supposed to be a compliment, but the way he’d said it with that weird teasing undertone … yeah, no thanks.

Rafe leaned forward with a defiant-yet-amused snort, cutting off your view of Topper, and gathered the last three plates. “Shit, that’s enough talk about Kelce,” he said, shoving the stack of plates into Topper’s hands.

For a moment, Topper just stared at him, then he stood up, casting a brief glance at you before looking back at Rafe. “Sure, yeah, guess we’ll head out to the porch then. Have fun with your… art project work session or whatever.”

And with that, he disappeared in the same direction as Kelce.

Now it was just you and Rafe again. But for some reason, alongside your nervousness, there was this inexplicable tension lingering in the air from the conversation earlier.

This whole thing was SO FUCKING WEIRD anyway.

Yesterday morning, Kelce, Topper, and Rafe had been… well, strangers to you. And now? Now you were sitting in Kelce Statter’s living room, having had lunch with the three of them, and now you were spending your FREE TIME—like, not during class, not during lunch, but your actual free time—working on a school project with Rafe.

This whole cozy setup, this couch, the TV running in the background, the whole environment—it all felt so… intimate. Even though it absolutely wasn’t.

And then all those comments, those questions… This was so far out of your comfort zone, and you had no idea how to deal with such a sudden shift.

And, honestly? You were still stuck on why Rafe had even invited you here in the first place. Yeah, sure, to work on a school project. But at his friend’s house? When you could’ve just done it during lunch. It didn’t make any sense.

And the dangerous part? Somewhere deep down, there was this tiny part of you that thought maybe, just maybe, Rafe wasn’t just after a good grade.

The fact that Rafe didn’t shift over, even though the couch was now completely clear (sure, there was still a decent gap between you two, but still...), didn’t go unnoticed. Quite the opposite, he spread out his legs slightly more, adjusting his position.

You had to seriously focus to avoid accidentally looking at... certain areas.

GIRL PLS.

“Don't tell me you're still nervous after having experienced these idiots firsthand” he said, his tone playful but noticeably more detached than usual.

Could I get one moment—just ONE—in which my face isn’t on fire? PLEASE.

You forced a clumsy smile. “I wasn’t nervous... just curious.”

Oh, yeah. He’s totally going to believe that.

Rafe raised an unimpressed brow, his smirk making it clear he didn’t buy it. “Yeah, anxious curious.” He sank deeper into the couch, putting one leg on the edge of the table, and looked up at you with his pretty blue eyes. “So, you have a thing for Kelce, huh? Is that why you acted so weird when I asked you to come along?” His voice was teasing, almost challenging, but there was something distant in it too, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?? Like, LITERALLY WHAT?? What kind of question was that?

You honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking or being serious. His expression gave absolutely nothing away. Also didn’t he just say to Topper to put the Kelce topic aside?

You shook your head, brows furrowing in irritation (and let’s be real, you probably looked like a sulky tomato while doing so). “What? No! I mean… what? Where is that even coming from?”

Rafe shrugged, his tone maddeningly casual. “He wouldn’t say no, just saying. Kelce would take any gi—”

“But I would!” you shot back, sharper than you intended. “Saying ‘no’, I mean.” You froze for a second, your brows furrowing further as if you’d just misheard yourself. “Wait, what were you gonna say?”

There it was again. That shift in his mood. Barely noticeable but it was there—the way his brows raised just slightly, his eyes focusing on you like he was daring you in some strange way.

“What?” he asked, clearly testing to see if you’d let it slide or push further.

And, of fucking course, you’d push further. Crush or not, no way would you let that audacity slide.

You tilted your head, and honestly, maybe it was the stress of the day catching up to you, but the way he looked so smug, so goddamn full of himself, pissed you off. "You were trying to say that Kelce would go for any girl anyway." You furrowed your brows. "What… how am I supposed to interpret that?"

You couldn’t help but remember the comment he’d made earlier at school—Kelce always brings some random chick to our hangouts.

So, was that how he saw you? Some random, disposable girl for his friend? Was that the point of this? To hook you up with Kelce?

You had no idea why but before this, thinking of hookups in general had been mildly amusing to you. But now that it was somehow in the air, it just pissed you off.

Something flickered in Rafe’s eyes, but he shook his head, his mouth tugging down in mock innocence. “Don’t know.” And then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added, “You didn’t say ‘no’ earlier. You know, all that talk about 'not judging people by surface-level impressions' or whatever.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “What the fuck, I never—... I'm not interested in--” You stopped yourself mid-sentence when you noticed how observant he was eyeing you.

Either he was messing with you—trying to get a reaction out of you by asking these upfront questions—or he was actually being serious.

“This feels like gaslighting", you said dryly, though you couldn’t stop the somehow amused smile from creeping onto your face.

A crooked grin spread across Rafe’s features and the crease between his brows disappeared. “I'm just repeating what you’ve said.”

Seriously, what did he want you to say? “Yes, I like Kelce”??? Did he actually believe your words earlier had hinted at some interest in Kelce? Just the thought of it made your skin crawl.

Your expression shifted back to a frown. Hesitantly you asked, “Is this like... a bro-playing-matchmaker-for-bro thing?”

Did he want you to start something with Kelce? You couldn’t make sense of all the questions—this whole thing with Topper earlier, too. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Kelce secretly had a thing for you and they were both playing his wingmen in a very strange way.

OH. MY. GOD.

That would explain why Rafe had invited you here in the first place. But then again, why were you—just the two of you—about to work on the project?

Even your confusion was confused at this point.

“Shit, no,” Rafe shot back with an amused smirk, crossing his arms. “Like I’d play wingman for Kelce.” He shrugged, his grin lingering. “But you do seem like someone who needs help in this area.”

…

WHAT.

Did he think you were some kind of helpless maiden who needed assistance at courting the other sex? Well, it wasn’t that far from the truth, be for real, but that wasn’t the point. Why would he even say something like this? Was he suggesting to be your wingman or some shit?

God, this was such a painfully awkward situation and he seemed to have fun cornering you like this.

Screw it. You were done with whatever this was.

You nodded slowly, your cheeks still flushed deep pink. “I don’t, thanks. And I feel like we shouldn’t waste any more time and get back to the project.”

Something strange flashed across his face—a mix of disappointment and irritation as if he had enjoyed this back and forth—but he just shrugged. “Back at being a nerd.”

Wow. Okay. Seriously, what the actual fuck was going on inside Rafe Cameron’s head?

Trying to suppress a frown, you leaned toward the side of the couch and pulled your iPad from your bag, tucking your legs up into a comfortable position as you opened yesterday’s notes.

The air felt heavy with a strange tension. Not like yesterday, when you’d had your first real conversation with him. Not like earlier either, when he was pissed off at you mentioning his dad in a conversation. No, this was something else entirely—some kind of irritated restlessness on both sides.

Your heart pounded uneasily in your chest, and you hated that you couldn’t just address whatever this was. If it even was anything.

So, you did what you always did when things started feeling like too much—you disconnected from the situation entirely and focused on the task at hand. Skimming over your notes, you cleared your throat and read out your last update. “Okay, so…” -----------------------------------------------

You washed your hands, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

What am I even doing here?

This was so stupid. You should’ve insisted on rescheduling this whole thing—it would’ve been so much easier.

Grabbing the towel from the rack, you dried your hands and took a deep breath. Screw whatever all of this was—why he’d invited you here, why he’d asked all those weird-ass questions. You just needed to focus on the project.

Art was the only subject you were actually kind of good at and there was no way you were going to mess it up just because your brain was spiraling over this surreal, out-of-nowhere situation.

But as you walked back down the hallway toward the living room, you were hit with another curveball.

Is this guy SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!

There he was, sitting on the couch, your iPad resting on his lap, your Apple Pencil in his hand as his eyes stared at the screen.

Never mind that he looked CUTE AS HELL doing it—he couldn’t just scroll through your sketches like that. THAT WAS AN UNSPOKEN RULE. What if he found your studies of—NOPE.

“What are you doing?”

Rafe looked up, completely unbothered. Before he could even answer, you were already sitting down next to him, hand reaching for your iPad.

And then you saw it.

He wasn’t flipping through your gallery—he was just writing something in the Notes app.

Your face instantly flushed hot. “Oh,” you mumbled, pulling your hand back quickly—only to accidentally brush against the fabric of his jeans.

AKA HIS THIGH.

It was over. Your life was over. Done. Finished. The end. You were officially dead in every language known to man.

The heat in your face burned hotter as your pulse skyrocketed, embarrassment filling every cell in your body.

And his face? Big blue eyes staring at you half-surprised while his lips slowly turned into a crooked smile.

UGHHHH, OH MY GOD.

A sheepish-awkward smile crept across your lips. “Oh, I—oh my God, I’m so sorry, I… I thought you were scrolling through my gallery.”

Brilliant. Truly a top-tier diversion. AS ALWAYS.

Please, please, please, for the love of everything holy, don’t mention the fact that I just touched your leg. PLEASE.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, more amused than irritated. “Why, what would I find? Nudes?”

I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE.

“What? No! I don’t—gallery, I meant my art gallery!” you shot back quickly, your voice a pitch higher than usual as the heat rushed back into your face.

And then, as your gaze flicked to the striking details of his annoyingly pretty eyes, it hit you just how close you were to him.

Too fucking close.

Your overly dramatic attempt to snatch the iPad from him had somehow left your whole body turned toward his, with barely four inches separating you.

Every instinct screamed at you to throw yourself onto the other end of the couch, grab your bag, and leave this house as fast as humanly possible. Move forward another state and start a new life.

But you couldn’t move. It was like you were frozen, completely anchored in place. Because choosing to put space between you now? That would just highlight how ridiculously awkward this whole situation had become.

You felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, unable to move.

And Rafe’s eyes? They were the headlights. He stared at you, his expression teetering somewhere between playful curiosity and deliberation, like he was trying to decide whether to swerve or just run you over.

“Jesus Christ, calm down,” he finally said, a cocky laugh slipping past his lips as he clicked the Apple Pencil back into the iPad case. “I didn’t look at your top-secret drawing gallery. Happy?”

And even if he had looked, would he even admit it? Probably not.

Still, a tiny part of you relaxed. Perfect—now only 99% of you were stuck in full fight-or-flight mode.

“Thanks,” you managed to mumble, taking the iPad from him with painstaking care to avoid even accidentally brushing against him again. That would definitely be the end of you.

Finally seizing the opportunity, you scooted a little further away—not as far as before but just enough to calm your heart rate without making it seem like you were actively trying to escape.

The last thing you wanted was to look like a total creep.

Even though the situation had been painfully awkward, somehow, it had managed to break that weird, unspoken tension that had been hanging between you two entirely.

You had just looked up, ready to comment on the one (1) completely useless bullet point he’d added when he beat you to it. "We should go to my place tomorrow evening. Maybe you’ll relax a little for once”, he said with a teasing yet somehow serious undertone.

...

...

WAIT. WHAT? THIS WAS COMING OUT OF NOWHERE LIKE WHAT?!

You must’ve misheard him. No way. This was too crazy, too fucking surreal to be real. Surely he was messing with you. Yeah, that had to be it.

Your brows furrowed slightly. "Your place?" Good. That was good. This way, you could at least make sure he wasn’t being serious.

Rafe scoffed, amused. "Yeah, unless you’d rather go back to working at school like a real nerd."

HE WAS SERIOUS.

Okay, hold on. But WHY AT EVENING? Evenings were basically the second most intimate time of day, right after actual nighttime. And his whole family would be home—no, absolutely not. That was insane. Way too much, too soon.

There was no way you’d 'relax' there.

You let out a nervous laugh, avoiding his gaze. "I don’t know… your parents—" You hesitated, remembering Rose wasn’t actually his mom. "I mean, your family probably wants their space."

Oh god. You could already feel the shift in his mood—subtle, but definitely there.

But Rafe just shook his head, completely unfazed. "My dad and Rose are at some charity event. Wheezie’s on a school trip this week, and Sarah can do whatever she wants, I don't care."

OH.

That—that changed everything. Shit, no, that changed THE ENTIRE FUCKING SITUATION YOU WERE IN.

An empty house, almost nighttime, and he wanted you to come over just after two days of getting to know each other? Holy shit, every alarm bell in your head was ringing.

Sure, you were inexperienced when it came to dating (NOT that this situation was anything close to being labeled as dating). And yes, you had no clue how to flirt. Plus, the entire concept of the male species lowkey terrified you and you were terrible at picking up hints.

But even you knew what this meant.

You’d heard enough of Cara’s stories, read enough shitty fanfiction, watched enough trashy movies and TV shows, and—unintentionally—overheard enough (deeply uncomfortable) conversations between drunk, horny teenagers at parties to recognize exactly what was happening here:

Rafe Cameron was setting the ground for a hookup.

-----------------------------------------------

kms masterlist | <- part four | part six (soon) ->

-----------------------------------------------

Taglist (open):

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @vvmaybank @ltristessedureratoujours @mia-iltc

[jazzy96scorpio]

Heavy Sets

Description: Gym crush? More like gym smash. When [You] and Pedro Pascal meet, it's less about the reps and more about the raw, undeniable heat between you. Prepare for some seriously sweaty moments.

So, grab a cold drink, get comfy, and get ready for a wild ride. You've been warned! 😉

Pairing: You / Pedro Pascal

Warnings ⚠️: Adult Content, Minors do not interact, dirty and flirty talk, oral sex (m. rec), unprotected sex, rough sex, cream pie, SMUT, age and look of reader is not described.

Word count: 1,680

P.S Pedro works hard, but I'm gonna work even harder for you my beloved readers 💜

The beginning of March. A time of burgeoning energy, mirroring the sudden, fierce heat within you. You enter the gym, a private sanctuary, a place where celebrities can blend in, where anonymity is a courtesy.

You begin your warm-up, a familiar routine, but your focus is fractured. You're doing some ab work, then transitioning to legs, the burn a welcome ache.

Jason, your trainer, approaches, a playful grin on his face. "Come on, [Y/N], you can push harder than that! Feel the burn!" He punctuates his encouragement with a light tap on your leg, a gesture that usually makes you laugh. Today, though, your gaze keeps drifting.

You catch your breath, leaning against the weight bench, the cool metal a welcome contrast to the heat radiating from your skin. It's then that you see him. Pedro.

He's a force of nature, a raw, concentrated power. The heavy weights he pushes seem almost weightless in his hands, his muscles flexing and rippling with each controlled movement. The sweat glistening on his skin only amplifies his magnetism.

You've seen him before, of course—a fleeting glimpse in the gym's mirrored walls, a brief conversation with Jason. But today, something is different.

The air crackles with an undeniable energy, a pull that's impossible to ignore.

His arms, those magnificent arms, strain and flex, and you feel a strange heat spreading through you, a longing that has nothing to do with the workout.

You feel like you’re being drawn into his orbit, a moth to a flame. You’ve seen him from afar, but you haven't chance to meet him.

Fuck, you think, the word a silent prayer. You can’t wait anymore.

Jason's voice snaps you back to the present. "Alright, enough resting! Let's get back to those squats. You need to go harder, [Y/N]. You know what they say, no pain, no gain!" He winks, and you force a smile, but your eyes are drawn back to Pedro.

He finishes his set, wiping his brow with a towel. For a heartbeat, his gaze meets yours. There's a flicker of recognition, a spark of something undeniable, in his brown eyes.

He pauses, just for a moment, and then he starts to walk towards you.

Your heart pounds in your chest. He's coming closer, his presence filling the space around you. He stops in front of you, a slight smile playing on his lips. "You look like you're working hard," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Mind if I join you for a set?"

"Hey, Pedro" you manage, your voice a little breathless, a little shaky. "Sure, join me."

He smiles, a warm, genuine smile that makes your stomach flip. "What's your name?," he asks, extending a hand. His grip is firm, strong.

"I'm [Y/N]," you reply, your own hand trembling slightly as you take his.

Jason, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, steps in, a knowing grin on his face. "Alright, you two," he says, "since you're working out together, I've got a few partner exercises that'll really get those muscles burning."

He demonstrates a series of stretches and lifts, some of which require close contact. And close is an understatement. Pedro's body is a furnace, radiating heat. His hands, when they touch you, are firm and sure, sending shivers down your body.

Shit, shit, you think, your heart pounding. His body is so close, the scent of his sweat and cologne intoxicating. You're sweating too, dripping, your own heart beating faster every time his eyes meet yours, every time his hands brush against your skin.

A strange, pulsing heat starts to build between your legs, a wet ache that grows with each passing moment. His growls, low and guttural as he strains with the exercises, are a symphony of raw masculinity, driving you wild.

If this goes on any longer, I’m going to lose it right here.

Every time his hands touched you during the exercises, your heart had hammered against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that threatened to betray your growing desire. And now, as he stands so close, the heat radiating from his body, you feel like you’re gonna melt.

Finally, Jason calls a halt. "Alright, that's enough for today," he says, his eyes twinkling. "You two worked up a good sweat."

He offers you both protein drinks, and as he walks away, Pedro turns to you, his eyes dark and intense.

"So, [Y/N]," he says, his voice a low rumble, "do you come here often?" The question is casual, but the way he looks at you, the way his gaze lingers on your lips, is anything but that.

He leans in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I haven't seen you around much," he says, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Or maybe I just haven't been paying close enough attention."

"Maybe you haven't," you reply, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"That's a mistake I intend to rectify," he murmurs, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts beneath your workout top. "You have a way of…distracting a man."

He takes a sip of his protein drink, his eyes still fixed on yours. "You know," he says, "I'm always looking for a good workout partner. Someone to push me, to keep me motivated."

He pauses, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Someone as beautiful and determined as you."

"Is that so?" you ask, your heart pounding.

"Absolutely," he says, his voice husky. "And I have a feeling we'd push each other…in more ways than one."

He winks, and a wave of heat washes over you. "Tell me, [Y/N], what do you do when you're not making men sweat?"

You lean in, your breath warm against his ear, and whisper, "I do lot of fun stuff. And I have a few ideas I could do with you." your voice laced with a playful promise.

"But they involve a lot more…sweat." You let your fingers trail lightly down his arm, lingering on the hard muscle beneath his skin. "Unless, of course, you're into that."

He shivers slightly, his smile widening. "I'm into whatever you're into," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Especially when you whisper things like that."

His eyes are dark, intense, and you know he wants you just as much as you want him.

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear, and whisper, "I'm thinking about what those arms could do to me," you murmur, your voice a low, husky purr. You let your gaze drop to his lips, then back to his eyes, a silent invitation. "I have a feeling you'd be very good at making me scream."

"Tell me," he says, his voice rough, "tell me one right now." He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your hand.

The passion and desire in his eyes are almost palpable. He's impatient, eager, and you can see the slight bulge straining against his workout shorts. Your teasing has worked its magic.

A low growl rumbles in his chest, a sound that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "Screaming is music to my ears," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Especially if it's gonna be your voice." He reaches out, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"I want to see if those arms can lift me," you murmur, your fingers tracing the hard line of his bicep. "I have a feeling they're strong enough to do a lot more than just lift weights."

You lean in, your breath ghosting across his ear. "I want to feel them wrapped around me, pulling me close, holding me down. I want to feel them on my skin, everywhere, exploring every inch of me."

You nip at his earlobe, then whisper, "I want to feel them guiding me, lifting me, so I can take you deep inside me, until we're both screaming."

He smiles, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "I'm going to show you," he says, his voice a low growl. "I'm going to show you exactly what these arms can do."

He took your hand, his grip firm and possessive, and led you through the gym, past the empty workout stations, to the secluded shower area. A quick glance confirmed you were alone. He locked the door, the click echoing in the sudden silence.

He turned to you, his eyes dark and hungry, and gently cupped your face in his hands. He leaned in, his lips finding yours in a searing, demanding kiss. He tasted of sweat and raw desire, and you met his passion with equal fervor.

He pulled you closer, his body molding against yours, the heat radiating from him like a furnace. His arms tightened around you, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against his already hard body. You could feel his bulge pressing against your already wet pussy, a delicious friction that sent shivers down your spine.

"Ohh Cariño...you are gorgeous." he groaned against your lips. "I've been wanting to fuck you since the moment I saw you."

He nipped at your neck, then whispered, "I want to taste you, to feel you wrapped around me, to hear you scream my name as I fill you." His hand slid down your back, cupping your ass, pulling you even closer. "I want to bury myself so deep inside you, you won't be able to think of anything else."

He pinned you against the cold tile wall, his right hand holding your face captive as his left hand slipped beneath your workout shorts, finding the slick heat between your legs. He smirked, a predatory gleam in his eyes, as he felt how ready you were for him. He teased you with his fingers, circling your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you, then slipping a finger inside, stretching you, preparing you.

You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily. You kissed him roughly, pulling him closer, your hands roaming over his hard body, desperate to touch him everywhere. You reached down, your fingers closing around his already throbbing cock, and whispered, "I want to suck your cock."

He smiled, a feral grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Impatient," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "I like that." He pulled down his shorts, revealing his magnificent erection, thick and veiny, pulsing with anticipation. You knelt before him, taking him into your hand.

God, it's huge. I hope I can take it all. Don't gag.

You licked the tip, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head, and he cursed, his body tensing. His right hand on the wall, his left hand kneading your shoulder.

You took him deeper, sucking him hard, your saliva slicking his length. He tastes so good, salty and musky. You jerked him off with your right hand, increasing the tempo, driving him wild, your lips working him like a pro. "You like that, don't you?" you purred against his cock. "You like the way I take you deep."

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his voice ragged. "You're so good. So fucking good."

"Wait," he groaned, his voice ragged. "I'm going to...I want to be inside you." He pulled you to your feet, his eyes burning with desire.

As you stood up, slightly wobbly, after taking him deep into your mouth, he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly, and pulled up your workout top. He slid it off your shoulders, his eyes widening as he took in your bare breasts. "Fuck," he breathed, his voice thick with awe. "You are so beautiful." His gaze lingered on your body, his eyes dark with desire.

You quickly pulled down your shorts and panties, and he lifted you up with his huge arms, pinning you against the cold tile. The sudden chill was a stark contrast to the burning heat between your legs. He positioned himself between your thighs, and with one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, stretching you to your limit.

You cried out, your body arching against his.

He's so big, so full. It hurts, but it's a good hurt.

He kissed you roughly, his tongue plunging into your mouth as he began to move, his rhythm slow and deliberate at first, then building in intensity. "You're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "So wet for me. So fucking good."

He gripped your hips, pulling you closer, driving deeper with each thrust.

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't feel your legs," he growled. "Until you beg me to stop."

Your bodies were pressed together, so close you could feel every muscle, every curve, every pulse of heat. It was as if you were one being, two halves finally joined. He moved inside you, slow and deep, then faster, harder, his thrusts powerful and relentless.

His heavy breathing filled the small space, a raw, animal sound that mingled with your own gasps and moans. His dark eyes, intense and focused, never left yours, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of your face. His lips, so sweet and demanding, found yours again and again, each kiss a searing brand.

I don't want this to end, you thought, I wanna feel like this forever.

The feeling of him inside you, the heat, the power, the sheer intensity of the moment—it was intoxicating.

He increased his pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, deeper, each one a brutal, delicious invasion.

He ground his hips against yours, his cock rubbing against your walls, hitting that sweet spot sending waves of pure pleasure through you. "Say it, [Y/ N]. Say you're mine."

His thrusts were relentless, each one pushing you closer to the edge. "I'm going to make you come so hard," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "So fucking hard."

"Fuck yes..I'm gonna be yours..Pedro" you said letting out low moan.

"Tell me you like it," he commanded, his voice rough. "I want to feel you clench around me, milking me dry."

"Fuck yes..I like it," you gasped, your nails digging into his back.

"Pedro...Fuck me harder." You arched your back, meeting his thrusts, desperate for more. "Fill me up," you moaned. "I want to feel you inside me, owning me."

He groaned, his thrusts becoming more frantic.

"I want to leave bruises on your beautiful ass."he growled, his voice thick with lust.

"Fuck yes..." you moaned, your breath heavy, "I want you to mark me..I want everyone to know I'm yours."

I'm going to come. I'm going to come for him.

He gripped your hips, slamming into you with relentless force. He's so hard, so deep. I'm so close.

"You're so fucking perfect. I could fuck you all night."," he says, his voice a low, guttural growl.

"I can feel you milking me, baby. So good." He ground his hips against yours, his cock rubbing against your swollen clit, sending waves of pure pleasure through you. "Say my name," he commanded, his voice rough.

I'm going to come for him. I need him to push me over the edge.

"Come for me, [Y/N]. Come for me, mi pequeña diabla. Let me hear you scream."

"Pedro!" you cried out, your body convulsing as you reached your peak. "Fuck, yes! I'm coming!"

He thrust into you one last time, a powerful, shuddering stroke, and then he was coming too, his hot, thick cum flooding your core.

"Good girl," he groaned, his voice ragged. "That was fucking amazing." He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

He feels so good. I want him to never stop.

He stayed deep inside you, the heat of his body still filling you, the mingled juices of your passion dripping down your thighs.

He kissed you gently, cupping your face in his right hand, his thumb tracing the soft curve of your lips. "I want to taste these lips every day, Muñeca!" he murmured, his voice husky with satisfaction.

"I want to fuck you every day," you replied, your voice a little breathless, "several times a day. Until you pass out."

He smiled, a slow, predatory grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "I want that too," he said.

"There are things I want to do to you," you whispered, your voice laced with a playful promise. "This was just the intro, Papi.."

He kissed you again, a lingering, tender kiss that spoke of unspoken promises. "You've awakened something in me, [Y/N]," he murmured, his voice filled with a raw emotion that made your heart ache. "Something I thought was long gone."

"Let's shower," he said, his voice regaining its playful tone, "and get some coffee. My treat."

Your legs were shaking, a delightful tremor that spoke of the intense workout you'd just received. You were exhausted, not just from the gym, but from the way he'd just thoroughly fucked the your soul out of your body.

Deadly fever, please don't ever break

Be my reliever ’cause I don’t self medicate

And it burns like a gin and I like it

Put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it

Hurts, but I know how to hide it, kinda like it

After a quick shower, where he tenderly washed your back and kissed the bruises he left on your hips "I'm loving every inch of you." He murmured on your ear.

You sneaked out of the gym.

You could barely walk. "I can't drive like this," you said, your voice a little shaky.

"I'll take you home," he said, his eyes filled with concern. He helped you with your bags, then gently assisted you into his car. He picked up coffee for both of you, then drove you to your apartment.

"Would you like to come in?" you asked, your voice laced with a hopeful anticipation.

He smiled, his eyes warm and kind. "I'd love to," he said. He was so kind, so sweet, a stark contrast to the raw, primal man he'd been in the shower.

Inside your apartment, the atmosphere shifted. You ordered a pizza, sharing slices and easy conversation. He listened intently as you talked about your life, your dreams, your passions.

As the evening drew to a close, he pulled out his phone. "Can I have your number?" he asked, his voice soft.

You smiled, your heart fluttering. "Of course."

He entered your number, then looked up at you, his eyes sparkling. "I'd love to take you to dinner tomorrow night," he said, his voice laced with a hopeful anticipation. "Like a real date. If you'd like."

"I'd love that," you replied, your smile widening. "I'd really like that."

He leaned in, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Good," he murmured, his voice husky. "Because I can't wait to see you again." He kissed you softly, a tender, lingering kiss that promised more to come. "I'll pick you up at seven," he said, his eyes filled with a warm light. "get some rest, preciosa." (beautiful)

He kissed your forehead, then turned and walked out the door, leaving you with a lingering warmth and the sweet anticipation of tomorrow night.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Please like,reblog and comment. ❣️

God why did you gave me dirty mind and a kink for an older man with brown eyes, and obsession for Pedro Pascal...Why..???

That gym photo was inspiration for this fic. My mind couldn't stop imagining this 😈🫣

I listened to the Billie Eilish song - My strange addiction while writing this. Fits perfectly 👌

[nodoubtily]

warnings : soft sex, enemies to lovers, bathroom quickie, pet names, happy ending, rushed as hellllll taglist :

@jyikeu

@goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby

@17ericas

Maybe it was because of the half-empty drink in your hand, or maybe the way his clothes fit him perfectly, but you know for a fact that you want him.

You want Lee Heeseung.

If someone told you earlier how bad you wanted— no, needed, him, you would have laughed in their face and called them delusional. But now you were here, you can’t help but feel you’ve been feeling this way for a while.

You ignore this though, and your reach your cup to your lips, letting the liquid fall between inside your mouth, and swallow it all down. Maybe you should get another drink.

“You look…different.” You almost dropped the damn cup. His voice replays in your mind as if it’s a song you can’t get over. You sigh, pretending to be annoyed.

“What do you want, Lee.” You groan.

“I want to know where this body of yours has been. Maybe, it’s just been hiding under all the baggy clothes you drown it in.” He just also be a little under it, as he’d never say that sober.

“Maybe i’m just trying to find someone to use it.” Your words awaken a side he’s been trying to hold chained.

“How so?” He stands next to you now, his drink forgotten next to him.

“I want to be fucked, Heeseung. Absolutely ruined.” Your eyes meet his, and he swears you only said that to him because you want him just as much as he wants you.

“By who?” He just needs to hear it. Hear it from your weakening voice. He stands right in front of you, hands resting on either side of you, palming the counter behind you.

“Whoever—“ you look away, but Heeseung brings his hand to your chin, and he forces you to lock eyes with him.

“Don’t you fucking lie”. His voice is low, you can barely hear it over the music. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Need you to fuck me.” Your fingers fiddle with his party shirt, and that’s all the confirmation he needs, and his hand wraps around your wrist, and he drags you to the closest toilet.

“Oh fuck.” Your voice drips with pleasure, your legs trembling around his waist. “S—so deep.” Your voice wavers, feeling Heeseung reach deeper places you didn’t know to be real as he slowly glides in and out of you.

“Pussy so tight around me, baby.” His voice shakes with need, his tip rearranging your guts as he slowly fucks you. “Doesn’t want me to leave.”

“So don’t.” As much as you don’t want to admit, you don’t want this moment to end, because that means that you have to go back to being enemies. Heeseung can see the thoughts circulating your head, and his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, his hips grinding, his tip abusing your g-spot as desperate whines leave his mouth.

This kiss says a lot, and you can’t help but feel the urge to cum, and so your arms snake around Heeseung’s neck, bringing him closer as your walls spasm around his throbbing cock.

Your eyes roll, mouth gaping as silent moans elicit from your throat. “Shit, you’re getting so tight—fuck.” His hips snap faster as he chases for his needed climax, and his thrusts turn sloppier by the second, before pulling out, cumming over your pussy.

“Feel so good, Hee.” The nickname slips out of your mouth before you could stop it, and Heeseung’s climax continues, more coming out as his hand wraps around the shaft, jerking it. It was the way you said it, needy, eyes glazed with lust as you stared up at him. He couldn’t help it.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna get me horny again.” Heeseung says as if that’s a bad thing. But he slips his jeans on again, zipping them up without saying a word.

“Heeseung.”

He hums in response.

“Do you hate me?” Your question freezes him for a second, before moving again.

“No. Do you hate me?”

“No.” Your response was quicker. “I think I love you.” You added. And before you could even regret it, Heeseung kissed you again.

“I know I love you.” His words swell, and you can’t help but feel weird. But it’s a good weird. A weird you’re gonna have to get used to.

[writeriguess]

So happy to have you back my heart feels complete again. Would you write alpha ghost x omega reader? Lt.Ghost is on base in a meeting with tf141 and they get a call about a break out happening an apocalypse is about to happen and ghost jumps up tells his team how he has a bunker at home but he needs to get home now and they ask follow him home and are surprised to find a shy short curvy American omega

author's note: Glad to be back <3

Beneath the Mask

The tension in the briefing room was thick. Task Force 141 sat around the table, going over the latest intel, the rhythmic tapping of fingers against the wood the only sign of impatience. Ghost sat with his arms crossed, silent as he listened to Price, but his focus was split. Something in his gut itched, an unease clawing at the edges of his mind. He had felt this before—this deep, bone-deep instinct that something was about to go terribly wrong. But this time, it wasn’t just a mission. It was you.

Then the call came.

A prison break. But not just any escape—mass chaos was unfolding. Civilians were fleeing in droves, and every government alert channel blared the same message: An outbreak is happening. The world as they knew it was falling apart.

Ghost shot to his feet so fast his chair nearly toppled.

"I need to go. Now."

"The hell do you mean, mate?" Soap’s brows furrowed. "We need a plan—"

"I have a bunker. At home. Prepped for this kind of thing." His voice was sharp, commanding. "I need to get there."

"Home?" Gaz echoed, exchanging glances with the others. "You actually have a home?"

Ghost ignored the jab and turned to Price. "You lot can come with me or figure your own shit out. But I’m not waiting around for this to get worse."

That was all the convincing they needed. Within minutes, they were in the air, heading straight for Ghost’s home—a place none of them had ever seen or even heard about.

The drive up to the property was tense. The roads were already beginning to empty, the eerie silence only broken by the occasional panicked voice on a radio transmission. The city had been bad, but the countryside was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Ghost barely spoke, gripping the wheel tightly, his entire body locked with urgency. Soap, Gaz, and Price, on the other hand, exchanged silent looks in the back of the vehicle.

They knew Ghost was secretive, but this? A hidden bunker, a home he’d never spoken of? It wasn’t just paranoia—it was preparation. But for what exactly?

And then, they arrived.

Tucked deep into the countryside, the house was unassuming—modest, quiet, surrounded by thick trees that concealed it from view. It looked almost too normal for someone like Ghost, but the moment he stepped out of the car, his posture changed.

The hardened soldier was gone, replaced by something more primal. More urgent.

He strode to the front door and unlocked it, stepping inside as the others followed. The house was warm, cozy even—nothing like what they expected. A fireplace flickered in the corner, the faint scent of home-cooked meals still lingering in the air. The walls were lined with books, photographs, pieces of a life that none of them had imagined Ghost having.

And then, they saw you.

You stood in the middle of the living room, wide-eyed and clutching a thick blanket around your shoulders, your scent blooming in the air—sweet, familiar, uniquely his.

Short. Curvy. Omega.

Ghost exhaled sharply, his instincts settling the moment he saw you safe.

"Simon?" Your voice was soft, tentative, and laced with relief.

He closed the distance between you in two long strides, cupping your face gently, scanning you for any sign of harm. "You okay, love?"

You nodded, eyes flickering behind him to the stunned group of men still standing in the doorway, jaws slack.

"What the fuck…?" Soap muttered under his breath.

Gaz blinked. "You—you have a mate?"

Price let out a breath, rubbing his temple. "Christ, Ghost. You really don’t tell us a damn thing, do you?"

Ghost ignored them, focused solely on you. He ran his thumb along your jaw, his voice softer now. "Pack a bag. We’re going underground. Now."

You didn’t hesitate, nodding as you turned to grab what you needed. The team, however, still looked like they were struggling to process what they were seeing.

Soap let out a low whistle. "An Omega. Your Omega. Bloody hell."

Ghost shot him a warning glare. "Not a word."

Soap held up his hands, smirking. "Didn’t say a thing, mate. But I’ve got questions."

"Not now."

Price sighed, adjusting his vest. "Let’s move before things get worse."

Ghost didn’t let you out of his sight, keeping you tucked close as he led you towards the entrance to the underground bunker. He could already smell your anxiety, the way your body hummed with unease. His arm slipped around your waist, grounding you as he pressed a reassuring kiss to your temple.

"I’ve got you, love."

The entrance to the bunker was hidden beneath a reinforced hatch in the back of the house. Ghost opened it with practiced ease, revealing a well-lit, fully stocked underground shelter—walls lined with supplies, weapons, everything needed to survive for months, even years if necessary.

Soap let out an impressed whistle as he stepped inside. "Damn. You weren’t kidding about being prepared."

"Never am."

You settled onto the bed tucked in the corner, fingers gripping the fabric of Ghost’s sleeve as if to make sure he was really there. He sat beside you, his large frame practically dwarfing you as he pulled you into his arms. He needed to feel you close, to know you were safe.

Above them, the world was descending into chaos. But down here, with you curled against him, Ghost knew one thing for certain—

He would protect you. No matter what it took.

[hyper-fixates]

thinking about logan x reader who fucking haaaate each other 🤭

(specifically x1 logan <3 he may be crazy, but he is free)

tags/warnings: no reader pronouns/descriptions or gendered language, mutant!reader, explicit language, toxic behaviour, biting, descriptions of blood/violence, logan needs to be humbled, nonsexual teasing, freaks are matched (let me know if anything was missed!).

The hard pop of skin breaking under your teeth makes your adrenaline skyrocket at the immediate metallic taste of blood.

The gravelly yell ringing in your ears and the tangy blood filling your mouth just makes you bite down harder—not looking for bone, but looking to unlock as much pain as possible in the man behind you.

Your hands circle tighter around his arm, trying to hold it in its place around your neck as you mar his forearm out of pure hatred.

“Hey—that’s enough!” You hear Jean yell from across the room, her voice echoing in the space.

You open your eyes, ignoring Logan’s desperate attempts to shake your mouth off from behind.

His warm blood has almost completely filled your mouth, so you have to let him go anyway. You drop your hands and feel Logan rip his arm from you with a growl.

A generous amount of blood splatters on the floor with wet pittering sounds, remnants dripping from your lips.

You smile, turning around to see Logan slick with sweat and out of breath, arm already healed from the small punctures of your teeth.

Charles is going to learn that pairing you two together as sparring partners was a mistake, even if you’re the only ones who can match each other’s strength. It’s no longer productive to your training or the morale of the team.

Logan is a lost cause that Charles needs to forget about. There’s no saving him, there’s no fixing him, and there’s no place for him in the X-Men.

He’s made it known he could give less of a fuck about being here or being on the team. He only shows up to training to give you a hard time and push every single one of your buttons, and you’ve had enough.

You take a couple steps closer to Logan, feeling some blood slide down your chin; you want to take whatever’s left in your mouth and spit it in his face.

You come close enough to feel the heat emanating off him. The heat you caused. The heat you made his body work for from getting itself that riled up. You.

You leave only a few inches between you. Anger burns deep in your chest, making your ears ring.

“Don’t ever pull that shit again,” you say quietly so only he can hear, your bloody smile appearing again for a moment. “Or it’ll be your face next time.”

He should know by now that you’re not a bluff.

Logan’s face softens into something more sinister, amused by your threat. He likes knowing he pisses you off this much. He likes knowing he can do it so easily.

Logan leans in to whisper back. “If you can’t get out of a little headlock, you’re probably not fit to be on the team.”

Your eyes are wild—you can feel them darting anywhere they can—every part of Logan’s face, the walls of the Danger Room behind him.

“I’m out, aren’t I?” You swing your arms to the side to show your freedom from his hold.

“Stop. Stop.” Jean comes up from behind you, placing a hand on your chest to pull you away before you can say, or do, something.

“No—no, he knows better,” you hiss. “It’s fucking bullshit. No hard contact. No choking,” you recite the rules Charles has laid out for sparring sessions with a fierce glare at Logan.

“Just leave it,” Jean sighs. “It’ll sort itself out.”

“I believe ‘no biting’ is on that list too, bub. You’re no saint either.” A smug smile pulls at Logan’s lips, and you impulsively spit at him when you finally take a step back.

A dense glob of his blood mixed with your spit splats over his bare chest, missing his face. Too bad.

His eyes meet yours, brows pinched so deeply you think they might become one. You laugh, letting Jean guide you back to the locker room with that crazed look still in your eyes.

“Charles will deal with both of you later,” Jean says loud enough for Logan to hear, cutting him off from whatever insult he was about to hurl at you.

Jean is no doubt already talking to Charles. The question is if Charles will actually do something. You figured drawing blood might catch his attention and encourage him to solve this…nonsense.

Logan needs to learn his place before you end up ripping his claws out of his arms and jamming them into his throat.

You see Logan flip you off as Jean ushers you through the locker room door. You quickly blow him a kiss in return as the door swings shut.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Hey I saw your old post asking which fanfics you should do next. I know it didn’t win but could you please please please do “Tell Me You Love Me Again” with Eddie. Im in dire need of some good angst ❤️

Tell Me You Love Me Again

Sorry this took me so long to write! I have had some massive writer's block. Hopefully, this is okay!

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x reader

Story Type: Angst

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, Eddie's a bit of a greedy ass ngl

Summary: You've been with Eddie since before he was famous. It used to be a loving relationship. As the years have passed, things have changed. Can you save the dying spark between you?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□

"Baby, you wanted to talk. Why are we just sitting here in silence?" Eddie asks with a grin. He casually flips through a music magazine, observing all of the new instruments for sale.

I take a deep breath. How do I even start this conversation? He's been so busy launching his band's new line of merch that I doubt this is a great time to talk about our relationship. Who knows when we'll have another opportunity? This is the first time I've been able to see him privately in weeks. I don't know how long I can keep harboring my frustrations.

"We do need to talk...here goes nothing." I sigh. "It's about our relationship."

Eddie pulls his eyes away from his magazine, his smile fading into a serious expression. "What about it?"

"I've been feeling very frustrated lately. I feel like you're never home, and I never get to see you anymore. I miss you." I reply honestly.

Eddie sets the magazine on top of the coffee table that separates us. "I know it's been busy lately, but it's great for us! Now I can take you anywhere you want to go. Name any place, and I can bring you there." Eddie's playful smile returns.

I let out a tired laugh. "Eddie, that's nice and all, but the problem is you don't have the time to take me anywhere I want to go. I just want you to dial it back a bit, please. Spend more time with me, and I'm sure Wayne would love it if you spent some time with him, too."

I'm not even sure if Eddie has time to call Wayne anymore. I might be the only one talking to him regularly.

"I spend plenty of time with Wayne." Eddie's expression is slightly offended.

"It's just the past year; you've rarely been back. Can't you take some time off? Cancel a few tour dates or reschedule some photoshoots?"

"I can't just abandon my career, Y/N. My band has worked so hard for this." Eddie argues. "It wouldn't be fair to the boys."

"What about what's fair to me, Eddie?" I let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not asking you to abandon anything, Eddie. I just think you should prioritize our relationship a little more. We barely see each other anymore!" My heart pounds. "When you're not on tour, you're constantly doing promotional videos or photoshoots. We haven't gone on a date in almost a month."

My flurry of emotions has caused tears to prick the back of my eyes. Fuck, I can't cry right now.

Eddie's shoulders are tense. His usual animated and playful exterior is replaced with a frustrated and angry one. One I rarely see, especially not when talking to me.

"That's part of the job. I'm a fucking rockstar, Y/N. I can't exactly blow off the world tours and photoshoots. My label and manager expects me to get shit out quickly. You don't understand! The moment I stop making songs and producing new shit, the moment all of this, " He gestures around the room to all of his expensive nicknacks and furniture. "disappears. I'll become irrelevant. My band will become irrelevant. This is my life, Y/N. And you're going to need to learn to accept it."

My frown deepens. "Do you hear yourself? How can you not see how greedy you're becoming? What happened to just loving music? Loving the art of creating, no matter how many people heard. When did this all become about money?" I stand up from my spot on Eddie's couch, needing to put some distance between myself and the man. I avoid making eye contact with him, knowing if I do, I'll burst into tears.

This room suddenly feels so suffocating. "Is this really all you care about? How many shows you can sell out? How deep your pockets can get?"

"For fucks sake, Y/N." Eddie groans as he leans back against his recliner. His head hits the back of the seat, an annoyed expression flashing across his face. "You're being so fucking dramatic."

I shake my head. "This is not what I signed up for. You are not the man I signed up to be with."

Eddie stiffens. Hurt crosses his eyes. His face turns stoic as he looks me dead in the eye. A dark anger replaces his hurt. "Things change. People change. Obviously, I've changed. If you hate me so fucking much, why don't you get the fuck out and find someone new? Someone who better suits your lifestyle since you're not happy with me."

I freeze. My heart drops at his bitter words. He's never spoken to me like this before.

He's so different than the man I fell in love with all those years ago. Life seemed simpler in Hawkins. I'd work the night shift at The Hideout and he'd play with his band. I was able to see him regularly while he was still able to do what he loved. No massive world tours to separate us for months. No partying until early the next day. Just the two of us, supporting each other and doing what we loved.

I feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment and anger. He's right. He's changed, and it's obviously been for the worse. "You know what, you're right."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly in surprise, like he didn't think I'd agree.

"You don't want to work this out like an adult, so I'm going to leave. We're done, Eddie. I can't do this anymore. I deserve someone willing to set aside time for me. I shouldn't be the only one giving 100% to the relationship. I need someone who respects me and what I need. You can't give that to me." I grab my purse from the couch. I pause right before I reach the door. " Eddie, " I turn to look back at the man.

He doesn't meet my gaze. His eyes are trained on his locked hands. He looks like he's in disbelief.

"I hope you find what you're looking for. Just know that you'll never have enough money or fame to please yourself. Materialistic things can only bring you so much happiness. You'll suffer until you realize that. I just hope it isn't too late when you finally do."

With that, I leave the apartment. As soon as the door behind me clicks shut, the tears begin to fall. I lean against the wall near Eddie's door and wrap my arms around myself for some sort of support.

I wish he loved me enough to apologize. I wish he would come out here, tell me he was wrong, and that he was going to try to fix things.

I finally garner the strength to push away from Eddie's wall and make my way downstairs. With every step, I think of new things I wish Eddie would do.

When I take my last step out of the apartment building, disappointment settles in my chest as I realize none of my wishes came true.

Eddie's a rockstar. He'll never love me as much as he loves his lifestyle.

I was stupid to think he'd always be the man I fell in love with in Hawkins, Indiana.

[madebysae]

Work Out | K. Saebyeok pt. 1

♡ pairing: 𝘴𝘢𝘦𝘣𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘬 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

♡ genre: 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

♡ warning(s): 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨

♡ summary: 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮, 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴…

You stepped into the gym, taking in the crowd before walking over to your side of the court. You set your bag down and adjusted your knee pads, then took one last sip of water.

Minjee, one of your closest friends and the best setter on the team, jogged over with a grin. “Finally! I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”

“Me? Not show up to a home game?” you laughed, nudging her shoulder as the other third of your trio, Yoona, ran over.

“Let’s just hope we don’t get absolutely demolished in the first set,” Yoona sighed, “Last game was a disaster.”

Minjee snickered as she reached for a volleyball, tossing it between her hands. “We all know that the only reason we lost was because Y/N decided to get sick the literal day before the game. But we have her now, so we’ll be just fine and dandy! We should probably warm up now though, before Coach gets on our ass about it.”

The three of you joked around and laughed together as you did the usual drills. The nervousness that had been consuming all of you just minutes before were nowhere to be found now, and you let yourself just enjoy the moment without worrying about the game too much.

Then, of course, Eunji had to come over.

“Oh wow. Y/N actually decided to show up? I must be dreaming.” she crossed her arms and gave you an overly exaggerated once-over.

Minjee looked at her incredulously, “You cannot be fucking serious right now. It was one game!! One! Game! Why the hell are you acting like she ditched half the season? She was sick you dumb shit. What, you wanted her to puke all over your shoes?”

Yoona tried in vain to cover up her laugh with a cough, and Eunji rolled her eyes as she walked back to her friends.

You shook your head. “She’s exhausting.”

“Tell me about it,” Minjee huffed. “Last game, literally got, like, 30 seconds max of playing time and she still thinks she’s all that.”

Yoona laughed, “Yeah, she isn’t exaggerating. She literally got subbed out right after the first point and never got subbed back in.”

Just then, you heard your coach calling everyone in for a quick pre-game meeting. All conversation died down as you listened to her last-minute words of encouragement.

The score was currently tied at match point, and the crowd was on the edge of their seat as the ball soared above the net into your team’s court.

You set your stance, never taking your eyes off the ball. Minjee’s fingers barely grazed the ball as she flicked it into the perfect position, just where you needed it. Without hesitation, you leaped and hit the ball with every last bit of energy you had left.

It sailed at a breakneck speed through the air, and everything seemed to go in slow motion. Their libero dove for the ball, desperate to save it. But it was no use. The ball slammed into the floor just a few inches from her fingertips and bounced off into the sidelines.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the gym simultaneously erupted into a mixture of cheers and defeated groans.

You turned just in time to see Minjee charging at you full-speed, then she tackled you into a tight hug.

“Y/N! You did it!” she shrieked loudly, letting go of you almost as quick as she’d grabbed you.

Yoona took your hands in hers, jumping up and down. “That was insane! Best spike of the season!”

You high-fived everyone, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins.

Finally, there was enough room for you to walk towards your coach, who was grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Congratulations, Y/N! You played your heart out tonight,” she said. “That was some of the best I’ve seen from you all season.”

You could still barely catch your breath, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

“You sure impressed the hell outta me…” a sly, knowing smile flashed across her face, “…and that scout over there, too.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked. A scout? No one told you there was gonna be a scout. “There’s a scout here?”

Your coach pointed towards one of the bleachers. You followed her gaze and froze.

It was obvious she was a scout.

Black hat. Clipboard. Jacket with some team logo you couldn’t quite make out from where you were standing.

Then, you blinked in recognition.

No way.

This wasn’t just any scout. This was Kang Saebyeok, one of the most well-known scouts for the national volleyball team. Everyone who knew anything about college volleyball knew her. She was known for being insanely picky, only considering the absolute best of the best of the best of the best. Of the best. And, as the rumor went, it was practically impossible to impress her. Even Kim Soyoung, who graduated last year with 4 MVP awards under her belt, failed to catch her eye.

Your pulse quickened as she approached you. You could feel your palms getting sweaty, and tried to discreetly wipe them on your shorts.

“Nice work,” Saebyeok said, her voice low and husky. She didn’t seem overly impressed, but she didn’t seem uninterested or disappointed in your performance, just… neutral. But she still made your heart race.

“I—Thank you,” you stammered, blinking rapidly as your mind tried to catch up with reality.

“You’ve got a good foundation. I’ll give you that.” she replied matter-of-factly.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. This can’t be real. This can’t be real. This can’t-

“You’ve got some potential,” Saebyeok continued, “But you’re going to need months of one-on-one training if you even want to be considered for the national team.”

You couldn’t believe it. Before you could form a coherent sentence, she added, “I’d like to see more of what you can do. I’ll be looking forward to your next game.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Oh. My. Gosh. She actually might be considering me for the national team. But then, the anxiety began to creep in—What if I mess up next game? What if she comes and watches me on one of my bad days??

“Keep working hard,” Saebyeok said, interrupting your thoughts. “Don’t let this conversation get to your head.” Then, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Your mind spun, the reality of the moment barely sinking in when Minjee grabbed your shoulders, shaking you with giddy excitement.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N! Was that really her? You just got noticed by the Kang Saebyeok!”

“I think… I think she might be considering me for the national team,” you murmured, still stunned.

“Heck yeah!” Yoona cheered. “We’re gonna have one of our very own players on the national team! Make sure you remember me when you get all rich and famous!”

Minjee and Yoona pulled you into a group hug, and you sighed in awestruck disbelief.

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 <𝟯

@saebyeokbliss @we1rdth0ughts

(𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙙!)

[solarmorrigan]

11 & 17 Robin and Steve? Maybe something where one of them thinks they're back under Starcourt for a second 😈

Ask and ye shall receive (like, eventually. this is so late, I'm sorry)

11. Disoriented + 17. Delirious - Robin & Steve

-

Robin pulls her hand back from Steve’s forehead with a hiss. He’s burning up.

She knew this would happen. She knew it.

She should have argued harder to get Steve to go to the hospital. She should have taken one look at him rebandaging his bat bites, which were still bleeding (“Relax,” Steve had said. “They only bleed when I move around too much.”), and called in reinforcements. She shouldn’t have taken no for an answer.

Instead, she’d caved under Steve’s stubborn refusals, under his pleading stare, under his insistence that he’d always taken care of himself and that he would be fine. And now–

“Steve?” Robin tries, patting his cheek.

Steve mumbles something, brows furrowing, but he doesn’t open his eyes. His cheeks are pink, the rest of his face pale, his bangs sticking up at odd angles after being plastered to his forehead with sweat before Robin had pushed them back – he looks fucking awful.

He mumbles again when Robin swears and pulls the sheets down around his hips so she can get at his bandages. They look clean, but when she presses a hand to his side, she can feel the heat radiating from the wounds beneath.

“Shit,” Robin swears again. “Steve. I need you to wake up.”

If he doesn’t wake, if he can’t open his eyes, Robin is going to call Nancy to help haul his ass to the hospital, no matter what Steve wants. He'd been a little feverish last night when Robin had left (her parents are being a little lenient, having heard about Steve’s injuries from the “earthquake,” but she does have to go home sometime), but she’d hoped that if he kept taking Tylenol and drinking water, his temperature would start to go down. Clearly, that hadn’t happened.

Finally, though, he does open his eyes. They’re glassy, fever-bright, and a little unfocused, but they’re open.

“Robin?” Steve rasps, blinking at her in confusion.

“Oh, thank god,” Robin breathes, reaching for Steve’s hand. “Steve, I think your bites are infected. We need to get you to the hospital.”

Steve blinks at her again, before he glances around the room. He doesn’t look like he’s really listening to her – he doesn’t even look aware of what’s going on.

“Steve?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. “No,” he whispers.

Robin bites back a frustrated noise. “You can’t argue with me on this. You need a doctor, Steve,” she says firmly.

Her stern and urgent tone doesn’t seem to be doing anything to calm Steve down, however. In fact, he only seems more agitated, managing to prop himself up on one arm as he looks wildly around the room.

“No, no, no–”

He jerks himself fully upright, trying to scramble off the mattress, entirely heedless of his injuries, and Robin lunges to support him.

“Shit, Steve, be careful–”

But Steve isn’t listening. The moment he’s off the bed, he’s turning to Robin and shoving her towards a corner of the room with a strength Robin wouldn’t have imagined he could muster in his state. She’s so surprised that he manages to get her all the way into the corner, practically mashing her up against the wall, before he turns and places himself in front of her, body held tense and ready.

“Steve, what the hell–” Robin tries, before Steve cuts her off.

“Shh,” he hisses, arms held out like he’s trying to block something. “’m not gonna let them get you.”

Robin’s heart stutters in her chest, a reflexive anxiety rippling out across her body until she can feel it tingling in her fingers and toes.

“Let who get me?” she asks, glancing around the room now, too. “What’s going on?”

“Fucking– fucking Russians,” Steve says, voice low. “Not gonna let them take you.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Okay, Robin thinks. Okay. She can handle this.

“Steve,” she says, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on his arm, careful to avoid the scrapes along the back of it, “we’re not in the bunker. We made it out, we’re home.”

Steve shakes his head, muscles still tense, almost shaking beneath Robin’s palm. “They’re coming,” he says hoarsely. “They’re– they’re gonna– I won’t let them.”

“No. Look around, see where we are. Look at your weird, plaid wallpaper. Look at all the pictures you have pinned up now. Look at that fucking bowling pin you keep on your desk and you won’t ever tell me why.” Robin squeezes his arm. “You’re home. We’re safe.”

Steve shakes his head again, but he seems to be flagging. “’m not gonna… gonna let them hurt you.”

The raw determination, the desperation in his voice makes Robin’s chest ache. “You didn’t. They didn’t lay a hand on me, I’m fine,” she promises (not strictly true, but now isn’t the time to get into that).

Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, Steve’s shoulders start to droop. He relaxes from his stance, swaying a little bit on his feet, and looks around the room again before looking over his shoulder.

“Robin?” he manages, his voice small, a little faint.

“Yeah, Steve, I’m right here,” Robin says, squeezing his arm again.

Steve nods. “Okay,” he murmurs.

He takes two faltering steps forward, lists to one side, and then falls to his knees so quickly that Robin barely has time to catch him.

“God damn it,” Robin hisses, doing her best to keep his uncooperative ass upright. “Steve!”

“’m fine,” Steve mumbles, but says nothing more. His eyes have fallen shut again.

“God damn it,” Robin mutters again.

She does her best to lower him gently to the floor; she isn’t strong enough to haul him back onto the bed on her own, but she at least grabs one of the pillows and puts it under his head before she reaches for the phone—she’s always teased Steve about being spoiled for having his own phone in his room, but she’s grateful for it now—and dials the number she’d forced herself to memorize days ago.

It rings, and rings, but finally someone picks up.

“Nancy,” Robin rushes out, before the other girl has even finished with her ‘Hello?’ “I need a ride, and I need it now.”

[blushsturns]

I literally love all your aus and I need to know what perv Matt, bad boy Matt and mr wrong number are doing rn, please

thank you ml! ♡

*there is some mature content ahead. be aware!*

perv!matt is laying in bed, contemplating on calling you because he's...well, rock hard and all he can think about is your luscious lips wrapped around his cock and taking him as deep as you would be willing to take him down that warm, pretty mouth of yours.

"fuck" matt grunted to himself, his hand wrapped around his cock firmly as he began to stroke his cock at a steady pace, squeezing it each and every time he got to the top. his thumb circled along the shiny tip as it leaked with pre-cum.

he twitched in his hand as he stroked his own cock faster, grunting deeply as he threw his head back against the pillow behind him, his eyes closing, and visions of you in between his thighs and taking him down your pretty throat and swallowing his entire load is what sent him over the edge. he milked himself dry with a stream of his cum oozing from the tip and falling against his abdomen and hand.

his body shook with pleasure, your name falling from his lips, his heart racing rapidly in his chest as he tried to catch his labored breathing.

"fuck. i need to call her."

bad boy!matt sits in his garage on his stool with a perfectly rolled blunt between his lips as he takes a puff, inhaling the smoke in his lungs for a brief moment to let it sit, before exhaling it. the slight burn ached his throat, but was soon gone with a slight cough. next to him was his brother chris who would not shut up about a girl he thinks is hot.

"would you shut up for one god damn second about this bitch?"

chris looks at him with his eyebrow furrowed in a curious manner. "dude, all you do is yap about that librarian of yours, what's the damn difference? have you ever gotten any yet?"

matt shook his head immediately, a soft sigh emitting from his lips. "shut the fuck up before i cut off your dick and you won't be able to get any..ever."

mr. wrong number (player!chris) lays next to the girl he just had sex with, already forgetting her name.

all he remembers is that she was an easy fuck and had alcohol pumping through his bloodstream.

"will you call me?" she slurred as she sits up on his bed, looking over at him with a hopeful smile.

chris let out a laugh, shaking his head immediately. "you? fuck no. what do you even do?"

"excuse me? i just gave you my body and now you're treating me like shit?" she shook her head in disbelief, her face growing hot with anger boiling through her. "screw you, chris. or should i say, fuck boy? i hope the next girl you fuck ends up breaking your heart, you piece of shit."

he laid there, dumbfounded and unable to speak any more words. he immediately shook his head, rolling his eyes in absolute annoyance, practically shooing her out the door, and out of his sight.

damn, was he really that fucked up with attachment issues? if so, why did he think of naive!reader the entire night, wanting to call her to hear how pretty her voice probably sounded in his ear, like a heavenly tune in his ear that he couldn't get enough of?

i miss my favorite au babies. i'll be updating as soon as i can. i'm still going through it, but i'm hanging in there.

as always, if you have any ideas for me, please send them to my inbox or if you just wanna chat. :)

-nessa