#had to come back and add this tag but I went to check and see if this ask posted and tell me why there’s a fucking Spotify ad for that wack

[silurisanguine]

Sunday Snippet - Veilguard

Open tag to anyone who wants to add a snippet of their writing!

This is from an up coming vignette into Teleri De Riva and Lucanis Dellamorte's relationship.

Spoilers obviously for the game story -

“Teia warned me that he might try something if he decided to grace us with his presence at the formality.”

Lucanis had to bark a mirthless laugh at that. If Illario went to any of the formal Crow presentation events it was to check out the Fledglings and see who caught his fancy. “Teia is smart. But I take it he did go and did try.” “Yeah he pulled all his….charm on me, badly flirting in regards to my Dalishness and how a wild flower such as myself was a rare thing in Treviso….Mar harel ena ma din!” Rook’s nose scrunched up again at the memory as she muttered in Dalish, making Lucanis wince at Illario’s frankly insulting casual racism. “He didn’t like it when I insulted him in Dalish, though I was still dealing with what had happened to my clan back then so maybe I was a little too snarky. But it’s why Viago kept me away from any joint missions with House Dellamorte because of what Illario insinuated he might do to me for rejecting his advances.” Lucanis’s blood went cold. His cousin had threatened a member of House De Riva over a failed conquest? His voice dropped an octave as anger bubbled under the surface. “What did he say?”

[puthyflapps]

A new low for swifties. https://new.reddit.com/r/facepalm/comments/1cbwvf3/victim_complex/

Neither shocked nor surprised

[cloudystevie]

scary my god you're divine

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pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 3235

summary || he would do anything for you.

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, possessive! bucky, a little bit of subspace, choking, little bit of exhibitionism kink, minor pain play, daddy kink (only three times okay i'm sorry i am who i am), degradation, unprotected sex

author's note || 18+ ONLY. not proofread yet. my very first request in a very long time! Anonymous asked: Could you write a Dombucky x Subreader? And if you wouldn't mind jealous!bucky, already established relationship and his dog tags on reader? hope you enjoy nonnie! as always feel free to send in requests or any asks! feel free to reblog! enjoy!

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

Today, a select few from the team are supposed to train the new agents, preparing them for the physical aspect of being an agent. Some made it fun or tolerable, like Steve and Sam, who were born leaders and charismatic. Natasha and Wanda enjoyed supervising the sparring sessions. Tony and Bruce enjoyed using technology to throw new obstacles at the agents.

Sometimes literally.

Unfortunately, your grumpy boyfriend, Bucky, just did not find any joy in training days. He didn’t like giving out instructions and praise unless it was you who was under him. He didn’t like supervising weak punches and miscalculated throws. And technology was just a straight-up no for him.

Usually, he could make himself useful with Steve, throwing out no-nonsense orders without making himself a massive part of the effort.

You were taking the elevator down to the gym floor. Fury had instructed you to check everything out and ensure everything went according to the itinerary. 

The doors open, and you glance around to ensure no immediate problems before letting your gaze fall on Bucky; his eyes are already on you. You offer him a bright smile, which he returns with a smirk, and your stomach flutters like it does every time you see him. You’re about 7 feet away from your boyfriend before you feel a hand on your lower back. You startle and turn around to face the newest agent. He has quickly climbed through all of SHIELD’s tests and proven himself to be of great value. He chatted you up last week at Tony’s charity ball, and you tried to let him down gently since you were already happily taken. Bucky was on a mission that day, and you didn’t want to add to his mental load by telling him about some punk who wouldn’t leave you alone.

Apparently, said punk, cannot take no for an answer.

“Back for more, cutie? You finally break up with your imaginary boyfriend?” Marcus teases, but really, he sounds more taunting than playful. You glance over your shoulder as you move away from his grip, and you already see Bucky glaring directly at the spot where Marcus’ hand was on your back. The stopwatch he was holding in his flesh hand shatters, and he doesn’t even flinch when Steve and Sam apologize for him, asking what was wrong as discreetly as they could but one glance over to where you were uncomfortably held hostage by the lean brunet man told them everything they needed to know. 

Bucky cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders up as he stalks towards you two. His looming presence is felt before you can see him in your peripheral vision. You glance up at him and take an instinctive step back toward his hulking body, breathing a sigh of relief because Marcus has to let up now.

He doesn’t.

“Oh hey, Sergeant Barnes, if you don’t mind I’m actually trying to talk to this chick so…” 

The way he talks about you as if you’re not right there makes you physically recoil. Bucky’s eyes harden; he’s not even squaring up to his full stature, and he already easily dwarfs Marcus. Bucky takes a step forward, and everyone in the room comes to a standstill. Everyone shuddering at the sheer anger rolling off of Bucky and the stupidity of Marcus.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. Maybe he gets a little pasty when he’s nervous because he seems to be digging himself a deeper hole when he says something about how many girls fall at his feet and Sarge, you've got to calm down. She’s not worth all that.

In an instant, Steve and Sam command everyone to return to their tasks, and the room begins to bustle again, but with a specific weary energy that was not there before. The very next second, Marcus is picked up by the collar of his black t-shirt and slammed against the wall, the room rattling with the force of it as all the recruits try to ignore the spectacle before them. 

“Touch her again, and I will kill you,” Bucky promises. “If you look at her, I will kill you. If you even think about her, I will fucking kill you. Understand?” His voice is a low grumble, the words resounding and reverberating as you watch Marcus sputter out panicked apologies and his flailing body while Bucky still looks so self-assured and composed. It's as if he’s not scaring a man to death while simultaneously making you drool.

You call out Bucky’s name, and he looks at you over his shoulder, pinning Marcus with one final glare and shove before letting him go as the agent does the walk of shame to the washroom. It’s almost like you’re frozen in your spot. You’ve seen Bucky get aggressive on missions before, but watching him be so willing to defend you, stand up for you when you couldn’t, not even hesitating for a second when he threatened to kill for you. And the worst part is, you were confident he was dead serious. 

Even worse, something about the principle of the situation was really doing it for you.

On the outside, it might have seemed like you were in shock or panic due to the agents’ actions, so Bucky whisked you away to a private interrogation room on the floor above the gym. The whole elevator ride there, his hand is protectively on your lower back, and you just watch the rigid set of his jaw and the anger and possessiveness written all over his features with unmistakable doe eyes. The air in the elevator is thick, and neither of you says a word. Before you know it, Bucky is easily lifting you and placing you on the metal table in the middle of the dull room, and his eyes are scanning yours for any hint of panic or if you’re upset. His hands cup your face gently, the cool vibranium soothing against your heated skin, and he finally breaks the silence. “You’ve gotta say something, baby. Are you okay? After this, that idiot’s going to be gone. I’m sorry if seeing me like that upset you, sweetheart-” Your rushed words cut off his ramble, “I thought that was really hot.” You say quietly and watch as Bucky’s face contorts from one of worry to one of confusion. 

“The way you stood up for me, you were so nonchalant about killing for me. I can’t lie, James. That kind of did something for me.” You continue, biting your lip and scanning him for his reaction, hoping he didn’t take your words in the wrong way. 

He’s silent for a moment. His chest moving steadily with each breath against yours. 

The next moment, his lips are pressed against yours, and you let a surprised squeak out. Your mouth slots open when his wandering hands roughly squeeze your thigh through your satin pants, getting dangerously close to the heat pulsing between your thighs. Taking advantage of your open mouth, Bucky slips his tongue inside your mouth and you buck your hips to seek some friction against your needy core. The kiss is passionate and renders your breathless as he consumes all of your senses. All you can think, see, smell, hear, and feel is James. 

His name falls from your lips in a gasp, you reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, letting your head lull to the side when he peppers sloppy kisses all over your jaw, trailing down your neck and biting and licking on your sweet spot. You swat at his firm bicep, “You’re gonna leave a mark James, stop it.” Your attempt at scolding him is weak, even to your own ears.

You feel Bucky smirk against your sensitive neck, his wandering hands cupping your ass and shamelessly groping and swatting at you. “Oh really? That’s too bad baby. Gonna be a pain to cover up.” He remarks, voice dripping in cockiness.

You scoff and bite back a whimper when he grinds his undoubtedly hard length against your clothed center. Your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders, a shiver crawling up your spine when a particularly slow grind nudges your aching clit. “You’re such a bad influence you know that?” Your voice lacks any real conviction. Your hips move in tandem with his, both of you sharing messy kisses and your bodies thrumming with lust and pent up energy. 

“I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about looking at you.” Bucky says assuredly, and you can’t help the mewl that escapes your lips at his words. Your hands shakily going to undo his black jeans as he messily pulls yours pants down, being considerate enough not to rip them considering there was still a little more than an hour until the SHIELD training day was over. “Bucky I need you, need you to please-” Your voice is shaky and desperate, as you struggle to unbutton his jeans. He shushes you gently, cooing at you sweetly as he easily unbuttons his jeans, just enough for you to promptly pull out his erect cock. Your mouth practically waters at his length and girth, and you spit onto your hand and begin rubbing his length, swiping your thumb gently over the tip making him hiss and push his hips into your hand. 

You bite your lip and look up at him through hooded eyes, and he slaps your hand away before tearing your panties in half, the top half covering your swollen clit and the bottom scrap of fabric falling limply against the cool table. You barely have time to scold him for ripping your panties before he’s shoving his whole length inside you in one fluid thrust. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around his waist as your buddy erupts in a shiver, a short scream escaping your lips. He swallows the noise with his mouth pressed against yours as he grunts into your mouth, waiting only a short second before he begins to thrust inside you. His thrusts are slow but hard, making the heavy metal table scrape against the floor with the force of each pass of his hips into yours. 

“You’re mine, mine to touch. Mine to have. Mine to take care of.” Bucky grunts out, his movements picking up in pace as emotion swirls in his voice, his metal hand covering your neck, forcing you to stay upright in a position that allowed you to feel all of him. You sob out, digging your nails into his bicep and nodding your head, already succumbing to that foggy feeling you felt when you were so close to your boyfriend. He tuts at you, swatting your face with his flesh hand with enough force to make you moan out and clench around his length. 

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you’re not going dumb on me that quick. Use your words, tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m yours.” His voice is commanding and you force yourself to look at him, pulling on his shirt and tugging on his dog tugs to get him closer, your foreheads pressing against each other as his thrusts continue to get faster. “I’m yours James, only yours. You’re only mine. No one else. Just you.” Your words are slurred as he groans out a good girl in approval and decides that he wants your shirt off. He skillfully manages to slip your navy blue long-sleeve off and unhooks your bra in one motion, freeing your tits to the cold air of the room, forcing the buds into sensitive peaks which Bucky is quick to take advantage of. His hands squeeze and pull at your tits, tugging and pinching cruelly at your nipples making you whine. 

Your bodies are pressed so close to one another, each pull of his hips making his pelvis rub against your aching clit, stray tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving and pushed up against Bucky.

If anyone were to walk in right now the picture would be nothing short of debauched. You completely bare on the table, Bucky completely clothed. Getting absolutely plowed if the screech of the metal against the floor was anything to go by. Your moans get higher in pitch and volume making Bucky grunt, another swat to your cheek making your brain foggy. “Shut the fuck up slut. You want everyone to see you getting fucked like the bitch in heat you are?” But if your moans and increasing wetness are anything to go by, yes, a deep and dark part of you does want that. Bucky laughs at you, shaking his head in faux disbelief and you wrap your lips around his dog tags, enjoying the soothing sensation brought by the cool metal. Bucky looks down at your lips wrapped around the dog tags he never seemed to take off and he let out a wrecked sound. You clench around him at the sound making his rhythm falter.

Before you can even process the loss of his proximity, your back is flat against the table and his dog tags are now around your neck, landing on your chest and glimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the room. Bucky slams himself back inside of you, the unmistakable squelch of your wetness filling up the room alongside both of your noises of pleasure. Your high-pitched and pornographic mewls and his low grunts and deep groans. You cry out his name as your head lulls to the side, eyes shutting in bliss as your fingers move to give your aching clit some attention. But Bucky lets out a disappointed grunt, grabbing your jaw in his hand and forcing you to maintain eye contact. “Look away from me again and I won’t let you cum for a fucking week stupid baby.” Bucky threatens. “You better fucking pay attention to who’s fucking you dumb. No need to close your eyes and imagine when you’ve got the real thing right here.”

Each of his words ignites a newfound purpose in Bucky as he pounds into you impossibly harder, his hand swatting against your cheek again and wrapping around your neck, keeping you in place to take all of his thrusts. He knows you always struggle to keep your eyes open and you don’t doubt that he will follow through on his threat. He has always enjoyed testing your weakness and pushing your limits. 

“Feels s’good. You’re so big Jamie. S’big, so good s’too good.” Your words are breathy and frail, your fingers rubbing quick circles around your aching button. A mean laugh rumbles in his chest as he watches the way his dog tags move with your tits, the sight is intoxicating and fuels Bucky to continue his torment. “There she is my dumb little baby. Couldn’t help yourself huh? Can’t help the way your brain goes quiet when I have my dick inside you.” His words should be humiliating but they only spur you on, your fingers on the verge of cramping but the jolts of pleasure are so overwhelming you can’t stop. “Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 

“That’s it baby, I know, I know it feels so good huh. Daddy’s here baby, Daddy’s gonna take care of his needy baby.” Bucky’s head falls back on a moan when you clench around him, your walls pulsing and a ring of cream forming around the base of his cock. Your orgasm was surely just a few moments away and Bucky’s lips curled up in a smirk.

He folds your legs at the knee, sliding you closer to him with the pressure he has on your throat, the angle making him rub against your sweet spot with each deliriously pleasurable thrust. You squeal out his name, getting even louder than before and he shoves his dog tags into your mouth, muffling your garble out unintelligeble pleads to cum. With one hand Bucky squeezes your throat, and with the other he pinches at your nipples, tugging the sensitive flesh before trailing his hand down your body and slapping your hand away from your clit, he moves his lips down to your ears, licking up your earlobe before whispering his command, “Cum. Cum right fucking now or you don’t get to cum at all.” His fingers pinch your clit and the sudden burst of pain has you tensing your legs up, squealing out nonsense around the dog tags in your mouth and reaching your peak. Your body shakes against the table as Bucky pounds you through your high, his words of encouragement falling on deaf ears as you teeter between consciousness and unconsciouness. His body overwhelming your mind and soul. 

His fingers release your throat and you look up at him with watery eyes, bringing him down to rest your foreheads against each other as he nears his own high. Your lips are pressing against each other, “There isn’t a single person in the world I wouldn’t kill for you. I would do anything for you. You are everything to me.” Bucky murmurs in a pussy-drunk stupor. But the words are true, he has said them to you before and will say them a thousand times again. You taught him how to live again, not just survive. 

A broken cry falls from your lips from sensitivity and Bucky’s impassioned thrusts turn sloppy as he moans out your name, pulling you impossibly closer as he fills you with his cum. At the feeling of being completely stuffed by him, your second release is triggered and you shake in his hold as he comes down from his high. He presses lazy kisses against your lips and rubs his hands soothingly up and down your body, easing you out of your submissive state. He gently pulls himself out, using the handkerchief he carries around to wipe your thighs clean, but letting his cum keep your pussy messy. He quickly wipes himself off and helps you dress yourself. 

A few more giggly kisses and you’re pretty much ready to go back down to the gym. Just in time to catch the final thing on today’s agenda: sparring. Bucky walks one step behind you, his hand back again on your lower back protectively as a path is cleared to the front of the ring where your friends are supervising Marcus and another recruit preparing for the second round of their match. Natasha and Wanda offer you knowing smirks and you roll your eyes with heat creeping up cheeks as you shyly glance up at Bucky through your eyelashes to find him already looking at you with a stupid smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and watches with intent as Steve and Sam coach their respective agents. 

“Looking strong, Marcus!” Bucky calls out and you swat his chest making him laugh. Marcus takes one look at you, Bucky’s dog tags now around your neck and falling on your shirt, teeth imprints on your neck, and swollen lips. Poor Marcus falters, and the other recruit takes advantage of his distraction and easily tackles him to the ground, winning the second round. Bucky takes a single step closer to the ring where Sam is helping Marcus up, and the smirk on your arrogant boyfriend’s face is adorable. “Better luck next time buddy,” he says supportively. Sam flicks Bucky in the forehead, unable to hide the smile on his face, “Dumbass.”

[flowersforbucky]

moth to a flame

bucky barnes x reader / winter soldier x reader

"I know you. even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

word count: 4.9k

summary: bucky is triggered into the winter soldier during a mission and then goes MIA, until he seeks you out in the middle of the night.

warnings/tags: SMUT, canon divergence (bucky hasn't been successfully deprogrammed in this), kind of dub-con, language, some violence, reader is afab, no use of y/n, friends with benefits situation, angst with a happy ending, 18+ only

“You've reached Bucky. I can't answer the phone right now but leave me a mess–”

You hang up before the voicemail recording finishes. You already knew he wasn't going to answer, just as he hasn't answered any of the other thirty-something times you've dialed his number over the course of the last few days. Or read any of the two dozen text messages.

The messages had stopped delivering and the calls had started going straight to voicemail almost two days ago at this point. And yet you still got your hopes up every time you checked your phone, only to be met with gut-wrenching, nauseating disappointment.

It had now been three days of this - not to mention picking your cuticles until they bleed, flipping back and forth between every news station on your TV in hopes (and fear) of seeing his name, a few collective hours of sleep each night, and too much Red Bull.

Just when you were thinking about trying to kick your caffeine addiction, too.

Three days of feeling completely and utterly helpless.

You place the phone back down on your coffee table, staring down at the thick, white cast encasing your left leg from your foot to just under your knee.

Useless.

You knew you were doing what you physically could - the spread of laptops and tablets on the table in front of you continuously supplying data from facial recognition programs across the United States.

Realistically, you knew he could be on the other side of the world by now, but that didn't stop you from checking. It was the only thing that you felt you had any control over right now.

But it wasn't enough. Not when Steve, Sam, Natasha, Sharon, and every other currently able-bodied team member are out scouring every safehouse and known former HYDRA base in the tri-state area while you're holed up in your apartment with a fractured fibula and a brain that won't let you stop reliving the moments before he went missing.

“This is as straightforward as it gets,” Steve re-assures you both for what felt like the dozenth time that day. “You'll be in and out in no time.”

“So straight-forward that you're going to hang back here while we do all the dirty work?” You joke as you make the final adjustments to your parachute.

“We've been monitoring this base for months,” he reminds you. “This place is as abandoned as they come. Get in, get the intel from the database, and get back to the jet.”

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Bucky adds with a devious grin.

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Steve agrees.

If only things had been as simple as he had expected.

You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach from the moment that you and Bucky landed on the ground outside of the HYDRA base. You told yourself that you were being irrational - but you couldn't shake the looming feeling that something was going to go wrong.

“See?” Bucky says after removing the USB drive from the computer. He sticks the device in the breast pocket of his tactical vest before edging you towards the desk. “Easy-peasy. You've been worried for nothing.”

“I have not been worried,” you deny, leaning against the edge of the desk. “This place is just old, and smelly, and creepy.”

Bucky takes a step closer to you so that there's no space left between you. He places his hands on the desk on either side of you, enclosing you.

“You think that I can't tell when you're nervous?” He says quietly, studying your face. You can smell a lingering hint of cool mint from his mouthwash. “That I haven't spent enough time learning your body to read you like an open book?”

Your thighs clench together and your nipples pebble at his words. You're almost embarrassed at how easily his voice, his scent, his closeness elicits a physical response from your body. Almost.

“What I think,” you murmur against his mouth. His hands come to grip your hips as he nudges your thighs open, standing between your legs. “Is you're crazy if you're thinking about trying to fuck me in an abandoned HYDRA warehouse.”

He exhales a dramatic sigh. “You can't blame me for trying.”

“I am relieved to know that you'd even want to do that here,” you say, hopping down from where you're perched on the desk. “I really think that shows you've processed your trauma–”

You're cut off by the room going completely dark. Every light, every computer, turns to black.

Bucky's flesh hand instinctively reaches to grab your wrist in the dark, tugging you to him.

“What the fuck,” he groans under his breath.

“We need to get out of–” you start to state the obvious but close your mouth when the computer that you and Bucky had retrieved the data from turns back on.

And then a computer to the right - and then across the room - and another to the right - and one to left - until every computer is on and showing the exact same screen. Bucky's hand grips yours so tightly that it borders on being painful.

Displayed on dozens of screens throughout the room is the face of a man. A man who you've never met, but recognize immediately.

“Zola,” Bucky whispers almost inaudibly.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Zola addresses him with a perverted smile. “Welcome home,” his voice pours from every computer speaker throughout the room and echoes off the walls.

“Steve?” You whisper urgently, clicking on the communication device hidden in your ear. “Steve, we've got a prob–”

“There's no use in that,” Zola interrupts you. “It's too late. They're almost here.”

The following sixty seconds were a jumbled blur that you were still trying to piece together in your mind.

You remember hearing the stream of words spoken in Russian.

Longing. Rusted. Seventeen.

You remember Bucky screaming at you to run, the sound of Steve's voice in your ear telling you that back-up was on the way and asking a dozen questions that you were too overwhelmed to respond to.

Daybreak. Furnace. Nine.

You remember begging Steve to hurry. You remember pleading with Bucky to come with you to try to get away; pleading with him to just look at you, just stay with you, help is coming -

Benign. Homecoming. One.

You remember the moment that Bucky went completely still as the room was infiltrated by HYDRA agents.

Freight car.

You knew that Bucky wasn't there anymore. You could sense it in his stance, in the way he wouldn't meet your eyes, in his silence.

Before you could say anything else to him, close to a dozen HYDRA agents came barreling towards you both. He charged through them, taking down one after the next with ease, until there were just a few left standing.

It was a side of Bucky you'd never seen. You thought that you had witnessed his strength, his agility, his determination, his ruthlessness working beside him in this field - but you then saw just how much he had been holding back.

He fled past the remaining few, out the door and down the hallway of the warehouse. The agents turned to follow him, forgetting about you - until you threw a knife directly into one's neck from behind.

Another agent shot at you, the blow hitting your bulletproof vest and sending you flying backwards onto hard cement.

Before you could catch your breath, there was a sharp cracking noise and a blinding pain radiating from your lower leg - but it was short lived.

The last thing you recall is the man's boot swinging towards your face.

You woke up some number of hours later, in a hospital bed with your temple throbbing and leg elevated in a cast.

“Hey,” a soft voice calls from your right. Natasha stands up from the singular chair in the room, both concern and relief evident across her features. “You're okay,” she begins to assure you. “You have a concussion and a fractured–”

“Where's Bucky?” You interrupt her, your voice scratchy. You clear your throat. “Is he okay? Did Steve find him? Did HYDRA get–”

“HYDRA didn't get him. Steve took care of the last of the agents after him,” she stops you from rambling. There's an immediate sense of relief wash over you.

“But we haven't found him yet,” she adds carefully. “Everyone is out searching for him now. You know we won't stop until–”

A gentle knock on your apartment door snaps you back to reality.

You freeze, your heart jumping to your throat. You stand as quickly as you can manage, grabbing your crutches propped up next to you on the couch.

“It's just me,” a feminine voice calls from the other side of the door. Your heart goes from your throat to your stomach. Not him.

“I'm sorry, I should have text you first,” Natasha continues. “But I brought you food. Street tacos from–”

You turn the deadbolt and unhook the chain lock before swinging the door open.

“You look–”

“Like hammered shit?” You finish for her, nodding your head towards the inside of the apartment as indication for her to come in.

“I was going to say exhausted,” she says, walking past you with a large paper sack of take-out food. Your stomach growls at the aroma - when was the last time you ate something more than a bowl of cereal or granola bar?

“Your favorite,” she tells you, placing the bag on the kitchen counter. “Extra salsa verde and lime wedges. Have you gotten any sleep recently?” Her eyes skim across the empty energy drink cans littered around the kitchen.

You maneuver yourself onto one of the barstools at the kitchen's small island, leaning your crutches on the edge of the counter.

“Yes,” you mumble. “For forty-five minutes from 2:30 to 3:15 today.”

She lets out a long groan, rolling her eyes at you.

“You're supposed to be healing from a concussion,” she reminds you, taking a seat for herself. “Which generally doesn't include sleep deprivation and excessive use of computer screens.” She stares in the direction of the array of laptops that overcrowd the limited space of your coffee table.

“Did you find anything in Connecticut? What about Sam, is he back from New Jersey?” You ask, ignoring her concerns as you unbox your food.

“Connecticut was a dead-end,” she sighs. “We're still waiting to hear back from Sam. There's a safehouse up in Vermont that Steve wants to head to tomorrow–”

“You don't think there's a chance of him letting me tag along for that, do you?” You tap the edge of your cast against the base of the island with your foot.

Her eyes soften as she looks at you. You already knew the answer.

“I know this is really hard for you,” she says delicately. “I may not know exactly what has been going on between you and Barnes these last few months, but it's obvious you care a lot for him. We all do. We are going to find him and bring him home,” she assures you.

You nod at her in agreement, not quite trusting your voice enough to speak.

Your eyes sting as you attempt to blink away the tears that threaten to spill over. You had yet to allow yourself to spend any time crying these last few days and you didn't wish to start now.

Her words remind you that no one knows exactly why you are taking Bucky's disappearance so harshly. You assume that your friends have their suspicions about your and Bucky's arrangement but the two of you had agreed to keep it between yourselves.

They didn't know it had started off being a weekly occurrence - late Sunday evenings, your apartment. Or how it had quickly escalated from once a week to twice, and then from two times a week to three - and instead of just your apartment, it would happen anywhere the two of you had a private (and sometimes public) moment - up against the wall of the communal showers at the compound's gym, in the back of the Quinjet after missions while everyone else would be sleeping on the flight back home, even during team meetings with his hand creeping between your thighs while you try to stay quiet enough to not draw any attention to yourselves.

They didn't know you were supposed to be friends with benefits but that at some point during the days and nights spent underneath one another, the line between friends and something more became blurry for you.

You had just been too chickenshit to tell him.

Natasha sits across from you as you inhale the Mexican food that she brought you. She doesn't say anything else, just keeps you company in a comfortable silence as you eat your first legitimate meal in days.

“Thank you,” you tell her as you're finishing your food. “I appreciate you. I've been going a little crazy here by myself,” you add meekly.

“Of course.” She stands back up. “I would stay longer, but I've got to prepare for Vermont. We're leaving early in the morning.”

“Be safe. All of you,” you remind her. “Let me know if you guys find anything. Just tell me if there's anything at all I can do. And please let me know when you hear from Sam–”

“You'll be the first to know when there's anything to know,” she assures you gently.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You just try to get some rest, okay?” She requests as she walks toward the door. “Maybe drink some water, possibly consider taking a nice, long shower…”

“Goodbye, Natasha.”

She's chuckling as she closes the door behind her.

You lower your nose to your armpit as soon as the door clicks shut, inhaling.

Maybe she makes a valid point about showering.

Half an hour later, there's a heavy rain beating against the windows of your apartment when you finish bathing. You secure a towel around your chest before yanking off the garbage bag that you had wrapped around your cast well enough for you to rinse off.

Belly full and body clean, you felt somewhat better; at least physically.

You listen to the rain pound down as you sit on the edge of the bathtub, massaging lotion into your skin, and wonder where Bucky is right now - if he's safe, if it's raining wherever he's at, if he's somewhere dry -

You come to a sudden halt in the middle of brushing your teeth. It's hard to tell over the deafening roar of the rain and your bathroom fan, but you could have sworn you heard the creaking of a door or window from your living room.

I double checked the door locks after Nat left, you rationalize to yourself. This apartment is on the fourth floor, no one is going to climb the fire escapes to–

There's an unmistakable shadow visible through the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. It's gone as quickly as it appears.

Shit. You start to panic as you realize you left your cell phone in the kitchen. As quietly as you can, you look around the small room for something to defend yourself with. A hair dryer, dental floss, a few week’s worth of dirty laundry..

You hear the creaking of floorboards as footsteps seem to creep closer and closer to the bathroom door.

Crutches. You have two crutches. You can clobber them with your crutches.

“I can hear you,” you call to whoever is just beyond the door. “I know you’re out there.”

Silence. No hint of any further movement.

You place one crutch under your left armpit for support, keeping the other one ready to wield as a weapon. “You have ten seconds to get out of my apartment,” you say a bit louder, willing your voice not to waver. “I have a weapon.”

Yeah, a weapon. If you can call it that.

Ten seconds come and go, followed by another ten seconds.

You weren’t going to let someone play this game with you in your own home.

Taking one last deep breath and tightening your grip on the defense crutch, you sling the bathroom door open quickly.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, immediately relaxing your weight against the crutches, releasing the death grip that you had on your uninjured side.

It’s dark in your bedroom save for a few pale orange string lights hung around your bed frame and the light that spills in from the bathroom, but you would recognize his broad frame anywhere.

“Thank fuck you’re okay,” you exhale, swinging yourself over to where he stands at the foot of your bed. When you’re a little over a foot away from him, you realize he’s sopping wet - his hair dripping water droplets and his skin dewy. His clothing, the same clothing that you last saw him in three days ago, clings to his body like a second skin.

He remains still as a statue, and as silent as one.

“Are you okay?” You ask him apprehensively. You give him a once over, from head to toe. You don't see any noticeable injuries, but he is trembling.

“Bucky?” You ask in a small voice.

His lips are set in a hard line. He doesn't answer, just stares at you. Stares at you like he’s trying to figure out why he’s here.

Stares at you like he’s trying to decide if he knows you or not.

The immense relief that you had felt at knowing he's alive is washed away by a sinking feeling.

His eyes trail from your face and slowly down your towel-clad body. He pauses when he gets to your foot, glancing back and forth from your cast to the crutches on either side. His brows furrow together - almost like he's in pain.

“I'm okay,” you assure him in a shaky voice. “It's just a fracture,” you explain. “I'll be healed in no time.”

You notice that his features relax a bit at your words - just enough to give you hope that Bucky, your Bucky, is in there and he's listening to you.

Do whatever you have to do to keep him here. Don't let him out of your sight. Help him remember who he is, your inner monologue screams at you. Just don't let him run away again.

“Are you cold?” You ask him. You're not necessarily expecting him to answer, you're just trying to put him at ease. “How about we get you some dry clothes?” You add, nodding towards his drenched henley.

You retreat into the bathroom, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he'd left over the last time he had stayed the night - the night before he went missing. They were at the top of the laundry basket - maybe not the cleanest, but better that the wet, dirty clothing he's in currently.

You limp your way back over to where he stands at your bed, leaning against the mattress for support. You set your crutches down and hand him the shirt and pants, which he hesitantly accepts. He makes no move to remove the wet clothes from his body, instead gently places the dry clothes onto the mattress beside him.

“Would you like some help?” you offer cautiously, terrified of doing anything that could cause him to run. You slowly reach towards the clothing that he had just placed on the bed, but he stops you before you can pick the t-shirt back up - grasping your wrist in his vibranium hand.

You can’t stop the small gasp that escapes past your lips. His hold on you is firm, but not painful. You could rip your hand from him if you wanted to - but you don’t.

Instead, you let him hold your hand as he begins to rub his metal thumb in a circular motion next to yours. You’re frozen; watching him carefully as he examines the movements his metal digit makes on your skin.

The goosebumps that appear in the wake of his touch don’t go unnoticed by him. His eyes trail from where his hand holds yours and up the expanse of your arm, until they land on your exposed neck. The towel covering your midsection has started to come loose, hanging low enough to reveal the top of your breasts.

He drops your hand, taking a step closer to you. You have to remind yourself to breathe - your Bucky is in there. Your Bucky, who is gentle, and soft, and would never do anything to cause you harm.

You have to trust that.

He brings his vibranium fingers up to the edge of the towel, trailing them across the mounds of your breasts. Your nipples harden right away, visible through the thin material of the towel.

You would let this play out however he wants it to. However he needs it to.

When his index finger stops where the towel is tucked into itself at your side, you forget how to breathe. He pauses for a split-second before unhooking the cloth and letting it fall to your feet.

He drinks in the sight of you bare before him, his jaw clenched and pupils dilated.

Dozens of times he has seen you like this, and never have you felt so completely vulnerable under his gaze.

And still there's a slickness gathering at the apex of your thighs.

He brings his flesh hand to your waist, putting the faintest bit of pressure against your skin. You close your eyes at the sensation - he's barely fucking touching you and you could melt into him.

Your name falls off of his lips - it's barely even a whisper, nearly inaudible but unmistakable. Your name. He remembers your name.

“Bucky,” your voice cracks when you whisper his own name back to him. His eyes snap up to yours, a mix of realization and hesitation brewing in them.

You bring both of your hands to the tail of his wet shirt, giving him time to pull away before you start to tug the shirt upwards. He doesn't stop you - in fact, he raises his own arms to help you tug the soaked fabric off of him. You toss the shirt in the general direction of your bathroom.

You didn't think there would ever come a time that the sight of him getting naked for you wouldn't make you want to drool.

You unsnap the button of his tactical pants, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time, hyper-analyzing his expression for any sign of reluctance.

You dip your fingers past the waistband of his boxers, his eyes fluttering closed as your hand travels lower.

He's already fully hard as you hold him, stroking him as best you can from inside the confines of his underwear and pants. You pump him in your hand and his head rolls back so that he's looking up at your ceiling.

Fuck, it takes all the restraint you possess to resist leaning forward and sucking on his neck.

Another time, you tell yourself, anxious about overwhelming him.

He curses under his breath - something in Russian that you don't recognize but the expression on his face indicates it to be a praise. There's a shift in his initially reserved, unsure demeanor when you begin to pump him faster.

His head snaps back down, his eyes raking up and down your body once more before he brings his hands to your lower back, maneuvering you against the bed.

You scoot until your back comes in contact with the cool satin of your pillows, relaxing into the bedding. At last Bucky begins to shed the layers of wet clothing covering his lower half, not taking his eyes off of your body as he removes his boots, followed by his pants and boxers.

He kneels on the mattress, crawling above where you lay. You want nothing more than to grab him by the shoulders and pull his mouth to yours, but you are going to let him call the shots.

He nudges your thighs apart with his knee, nestling himself between your legs. He grasps your breast in his vibranium hand, giving it a firm squeeze before rolling your nipple between his icy fingers.

He lowers himself so that he's belly down on your mattress, his face inches away from your pussy. He removes his hand from your breast and you let out a small whimper of disappointment at the abrupt lack of sensation. He uses that same hand to hike your uninjured leg over his shoulder, securing his head between the soft interior of your thighs.

He kisses you, starting at your belly button and working his way to your center. His lips feel like fire against your skin. You keep your hips planted firmly on the bed, fighting the urge to thrust your pussy up to his face.

“Please,” you whine. “Bucky, please.” You swear you can see the faintest trace of a smirk that looks so undeniably Bucky.

You clench your thighs around his face and he lets out a low, guttural groan as his mouth makes contact with you.

Normally, Bucky closes his eyes while he's going down on you - gets completely lost in it. Right now, his eyes are wide open - making sure he doesn't miss the way your mouth gapes when he rolls his tongue around your clit and the way your chest heaves when he nudges his tongue inside you.

You don't know which you find hotter.

You can already feel the tightening of a coil in your lower belly, making it impossible to resist rolling your hips to meet the torturous pace he's set with his tongue. You grind against his face, the thin layer of stubble that's grown across his jaw since you last saw him scratching against the sensitive flesh around your cunt.

You're approaching your climax when he pulls away, making you mewl at the loss of contact. His face glistens with your slick.

He flips you onto your side, placing you on your left side so that your injured leg rests against the mattress. You prop your head up with your hand as he slides in behind you.

His chest presses against your back, the heat of his body warming you all over. His flesh hand juts between your thighs, raising your right leg high enough for him to slap his cock against your pussy.

He strokes himself in his hand while he teases your folds - lubricating himself with your juices.

You turn your head to look at him right as he sheaths himself inside you, filling you entirely in one swift motion.

Fuck, you have to taste yourself on him. You can't handle not having his mouth on yours for another second.

You tilt your head back enough to connect your mouth to his - every worry you once had about coming on too strong and overwhelming him melts away as he opens his mouth for you, moving his lips against yours in an effortless rhythm.

He starts slow, quickly working up to a rapid pace as he repeatedly slams into your cervix from the sweetest angle. The sounds that you're making for him are pornographic - moaning into his mouth as his flesh hand comes around your front, landing on your engorged clitoris. He rubs languid circles while he continues to pound into you from behind.

You pull your lips away from his when you feel your orgasm building. “You always make me feel so good, you know that?” You ask him breathily, your mouth now right next to his ear.

“Every time you fuck me, I'm more sure that no one could ever compare to you. You've ruined me for everyone else. There’s only you for me.”

“Fuck,” he curses and groans your name again - it's the closest he's sounded to his normal self, which only spurs you on.

“I’ve become so fucking addicted to you in such a short amount of time,” you say in between moans as the head of his cock hits your sweet spot just right. “Think about you anytime you're not near me, drives me fucking crazy.”

He flips you - doesn't pull out - so that you're now underneath him. He goes right back to the same brutal pace, bringing his flesh hand to cradle your face as he stares down at you.

Clarity - you recognize it plain as day on his features.

He gives you a few more fast, hard thrusts before you're milking his cock through your orgasm. You crash your lips to his and he's coming - filling you up with his warm seed as he kisses you senseless.

He gradually stills inside you, his body going limp on top of yours as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around him, peppering kisses across his scarred shoulder, where flesh meets metal.

“I'm so sorry if I scared you,” he murmurs against the sweat-slicked skin of your throat after a moment. “I wasn't myself. Not even entirely sure how I ended up here - it's like I was pulled in this direction - to you,” he sighs.

You're overcome with such an immense relief at hearing him speak that you could cry. You tighten your hold around him, rubbing your hands up and down his back.

“You could never scare me, Bucky,” you assure him. He pulls out of you, rolling off of you onto the bed beside you and tugging you to his chest. Your cheek rests just over his heart.

"I know you. Even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks for reading! as always comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated!

[hannieehaee]

HOT TO GO! (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: moving into a quiet apartment complex you expected to find nothing but solace, not your most entertaining situationship to date OR the three times you kept it casual with your new neighbor vs the one time he made things serious.

content: neighbor!jungkook, strangers2lovers, situationship (kind of), fwb, jk's a lil bit of a himbo in this fic, afab reader, smut, three smut scenes lol, penetrative sex, dry humping, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 461 (teaser); 7.1k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: september 12th

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a/n: this is mostly word vomit but i enjoyed writing jk's character for this one<3

masterlist

"Oh, wow, uh, hey."

"Hi?", you looked at the stranger in curiosity, though still very shocked by the adonis of a man who had suddenly knocked on your door.

He cleared his throat and shook his head as if rebuffing himself to speak again, "Fuck, okay, that was such an uncool first impression. What I meant to say was 'Welcome to the neighborhood,' but you just caught me off guard. Sorry."

"I caught you off guard? You're the one who knocked on my door."

"Yeah, not gonna elaborate on that," he chuckled sheepishly, extending his hand, "Hi, I'm Jungkook, your neighbor," he introduced himself.

You chuckled in return, letting his ambiguity slide as you briefly shook his hand, providing him with your name, "Hi, Jungkook. I'm new here, if that wasn't obvious."

"No, yeah, you can really tell the difference between you and the old lady who used to live here. She was- wait, fuck. Did she-"

"No, Jungkook, she's not dead. The landlord told me she just moved into some retirement home," you clarified.

"Thank god," the boy sighed in relief, "Me and Mrs. Louis go way back. She used to bake me cookies on Sundays."

"Oh really? Well, you won't be getting any cookies from me. Sorry," you joked.

Cocking his head to the side, he lifted his eyebrows, "We'll see about that."

"What does that even mean?"

"I can be very convincing."

Was he flirting? Through a cookie euphemism?

"Are you-"

"Anyways, if you need any help with moving in, let me know. Maybe coming over to help build some furniture?", he suggested, "I like to be on a friendly standing with all my neighbors," he smiled as he disregarded his prior flirting, almost as if it had never happened.

"I'm your only neighbor. There's only two apartments per floor," you recalled, still amused by his oddity.

"Exactly," he winked, and with that, he turned to leave, heading back to his own apartment, "See you around."

It was through that very short interaction that you first met your neighbor, Jungkook. Despite how odd he had seemed, he carried a charm that intrigued you (though his pretty appearance also drew you in).

Closing your door, you went back to what you had been doing previously, a smile of disbelief on your face as you tried to come up with some believable reason to scout him for help – as he had offered – just to see him again.

Unfortunately, most of your stuff had not arrived yet, so you truly had nothing you could possibly use as an excuse to get him to come into your apartment so soon. It was nice, though, to know that your new neighbor was as friendly as he was (and as attractive, might you add).

...

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reply if you'd like to be tagged!

[coryndoll]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: cute silly little gesture from drewseph 😋 progress progress

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authors note: this is just part 2 of day 2 so i’ll incorporate the movie night in the next part fs. let me know if u still want to be added to the tag list through replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

you’re awoken by the light coming in through the blinds. it’s subtle, but it’s there. it bothers you and causes you to stir awake.

you can hear drew snoring—a habit you know all too well, but you ignore it. your eyes flutter open as you look around the room, then you look at him.

he’s dead asleep, but he’s on his stomach, his face parallel to yours. his mouth is a little open and one of his arms is underneath his pillow, hoisting him slightly higher, while his other is reaching toward your side of the bed.

you yawn as you twist your body and grab your phone off the nightstand, then check the time. it’s already noon. the others must be up and awake by now.

you drop your phone on your lap and use that hand to shake drew awake gently, but when he doesn’t wake up the first time is when you get a little rougher.

“star,” you tell him, in hopes that he gets up at least now or soon. you don’t want either of you to miss any of the plans going on that day. “wake up, come on,” you say, and drew’s eyes open once before he closes them again, and his legs move underneath the blanket slowly. he’s waking up.

“mmh,” he moans, and because his eyes are closed you know that he’s trying to fall back asleep. you retract your arm and get up from the bed. you figure he’ll wake up anyway, he knows he has to.

you walk over to the door and open it, then peek your head out into the hall. you look around for anyone, but all you find is theo walking upstairs to his and leila’s room with two plates of food.

“hey,” you say, then pause to clear your throat. you’ve already caught theo’s attention. “what are we doing today?”

theo shakes his head, his mouth full of his piece of toast. “not today,” his words are difficult to understand so he drops the piece of toast on one of the plates. “tonight. leila has this checklist that’s guiding our everyday, and she said she’s been wanting to just stay in one night, relax, watch some movies. it’s gonna be chill, but it’s only that.”

you nod, patting the doorframe twice. “thank you,” you say, then pull back into your room as you add, “and good morning!”

“‘morning,” theo says, and you close the door gently.

when you turn around you see that drew’s awake. or at least he’s changed positions. he’s lying on his side now, facing you again. you watch him as you return to your side of the bed. he has to flip onto his other side again when you even leave his sight.

“free day until movie night tonight. leila’s orders,” you say, and there’s a small smile on his face before he rubs his eyes with his palm. you look around the bed for your phone with a frown, “could sleep in ‘til tonight if we wanted to.”

“we?” he asks, and it’s like he’s caught you already suggesting plans for the both of you.

“if i . . . wanted to,” you correct yourself, then pause for a moment while you rub the back of your neck, looking away. “libby did say she could help me with some audition tapes today though.”

drew groans, stuffing his head back into his pillow. “why are you working during the two weeks we’re supposed to do anything but that?” he whines, as if you’re dragging him along to do it too.

you shrug, “some people are expected to book their next role as soon as possible. now that tempest is over, i want to start working on my next big thing.”

“tempest was the next big thing, you won an mtv award for it,” drew reminds you.

you think back to your tv series that had went on for six years, a good chunk of your life, before it ended just recently with its final season. tempest is the reason why you met drew in the first place—he shared his praise for your lead role at one of his movie premieres years and years ago.

you shake your head at him. “okay,” you say, deciding to get up and out of bed.

“where are you going?”

“i’m not gonna work but i’m not just gonna lay around in bed all day,” you tell him, and you leave the room to freshen up in the bathroom.

you hear a few footsteps that descend the staircase and you can’t help but peer over your shoulder to see who it is. it’s oscar. you’re seated at the kitchen island, and he’s just minding his own business as he retrieves something from his backpack it seems like, then he looks to you.

he’s kind. there’s a genuine smile on his face as he nods his head at you. “good morning,” he says.

he turns to leave and you try to return it, “good morning.” you clear your throat as you continue to watch him head upstairs. from there, you can see someone walking across the hall, just from their feet.

you can recognize his patterned socks. it’s drew.

“hey!” leila’s voice is a jumpscare and you can’t help but react quickly, facing forward like you’re a child getting caught stealing candy. leila laughs when she realizes she scared you. “sorry . . . i thought you heard me come in. are you ready?”

you’re dressed to go out to town, as leila said earlier that she wanted to visit the local market nearby. you nod your head at her and shuffle off of the chair.

“who’s driving?” drew asks as he jogs down the stairs and pulls his crewneck over his head. you barely cast a glance at his body before you look into his eyes, and he walks over. “am i?”

“yes—” leila tries to say before you cut in.

“you’re coming with us?” you ask. you don’t necessarily have a problem with it, it’s just why was it kept from you?

“problem?”

“i don’t know. is there one?” you furrow your eyebrows at him and tilt your head to the side, but you realize the way you’re talking to him.

he squints his eyes at you in question, then glances up at leila. he’s not sure whether you're teasing him or not, but he lets out a short, awkward laugh. “okay, let’s not get dramatic,” he says lightly.

leila, sensing the unease, smiles as she steps in. “i figured we could all go together! it’s a trio outing now! plus, you two are joined at the hip anyway.” she says it like it's the most natural thing, blissfully unaware of how the statement lands between you and drew.

you swallow the discomfort and force a smile as you get off the chair, grabbing your bag. drew’s eyes linger on you for a moment before he turns and follows you both out the door.

“careful,” he warns you about your blatant attitude.

you know he’s right, and you mutter out, “sorry.”

the car hums as you’re driven down to the beach market, then get out to enter. it’s not a huge deal being seen out in public together—you’ve done this before. but of course it’s different now. there’s something strange about holding drew’s hand when you know, deep down, it’s all for show. but you don't pull away.

when you reach the town, you spot a few people recognizing you—actors always catch eyes, even in quieter towns like this one. drew stays close, his hand still gripping yours, a comfortable smile playing on his lips as the three of you wander around.

a couple of fans approach you, their faces lighting up at the sight of you and drew together. “oh my god, i loved you two in hellraiser! this feels like a dream," one of them gushes, and for a split second, you feel drew’s hand squeeze yours tighter.

you try to play it off, laughing softly as you and him pose for a quick picture with the younger girl.

after, drew steps beside you, leaning forward with his hands behind his back as a few record him. “we’re glad you enjoyed it,” he says, flashing his grin. you feel a familiar flutter in your stomach, a reminder of all those moments you used to share during press events like this.

another girl beams, and what seems like her mother is standing there with her, “you look even prettier in person! can we take another photo?”

“of course!” you laugh, and you part from drew to tend to the few of them.

drew is just standing a few feet away, his gaze locked on you. his expression is unreadable—something between admiration and something deeper, something heavier.

leila catches onto his lingering stare, and she approaches him with a smirk, nudging his arm. “you’re staring,” she teases, her tone light. drew blinks and breaks his gaze, glancing down at leila like he’s been caught.

“was not,” he mutters. his eyes flick back to you for a second, but he quickly looks away again.

leila’s inspecting a few trinkets before glancing back at him, a knowing look on her face. “you’re a terrible liar, you know,” she says. “you’re staring, and don’t think i didn’t notice at the firepit either.”

drew shifts uncomfortably, trying to find a way to defend himself. “okay, well yeah, because she’s my girlfriend!” he says a little too loud, and even you look up at him and furrow your eyebrows before returning to what you’re doing.

“okay, i’m joking. god, please lighten up. you can stare at your girlfriend all you want. who cares?” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “is everything good with you two?”

drew hesitates, glancing over at you as you smile politely at another fan. “yeah, everything’s fine,” he says, the words coming out too quickly. “why wouldn’t it be?”

leila narrows her eyes, watching him closely. “i don’t know, you’re acting a little . . . weird. normally, you’re more laid-back when she’s off and doing stuff on her own. but lately, you’ve been all . . . protective. intense, even.” she pauses, studying his face. “is something going on?”

he rubs the back of his neck. “no, we’re good. we’re good.”

leila hums, her fingers tracing one of the bracelets on a stall table. “you know, i talked to y/n last night,” she says carefully, her voice soft. “she said you guys have been stressed with work lately, but that everything’s good between you. still . . . i don’t know, something feels off. you both seem a little . . . distant.” she gives him a gentle nudge. “i’m not trying to pry, but i just want to make sure you’re okay. i already asked her, so now i’m asking you.”

drew stiffens slightly, but forces a small laugh, trying to brush it off. “yeah, work has been a lot lately. it’s probably just that—stress, you know? juggling schedules, auditions, appearances . . . it’s hard to get time for ourselves.”

“i get that. trust me, theo and i have been there too with our careers. it can get messy, but...” she trails off, giving him a sincere look. “you and y/n have always had something really special. and i know it’s not my business, but if something’s really bothering you—or her—you guys should talk it out. don’t let it fester.”

he shifts on his feet, the words striking closer than he’d like. he nods, though, appreciating her concern. “yeah, you’re right. i know we need to talk more, make time for that.”

leila smiles, “good. i’m here for both of you, okay? if you need to blow off steam or talk, don’t hesitate. i can tell there’s more going on than just ‘work stress,’ but i trust you’ll figure it out.”

drew forces a grin, trying to play it cool. “thanks, lei. we’ll be fine.”

leila holds his gaze for a moment longer, then nods as she steps back toward the vendor. “you better be. you guys are a strong power couple around here,” she jokes lightly.

as she glances over drew’s shoulder, her gaze settles on a nearby flower shop across the street. she doesn’t say anything, but her eyes linger, then shift back to him. there’s a soft smile playing on her lips, and she raises her brows in a silent suggestion.

he follows her line of sight, his eyes landing on the shop. it takes him a second, but he gets it. leila doesn’t need to say the words. he knows exactly what she’s trying to tell him.

“really?” he asks, dropping his smile. “you’re playing wingman?”

“wingwoman, but you know.” she gives a small, almost teasing shrug. “i mean, they’re her favorite, right? might not fix everything, but it’s a start. little things, drew.”

his eyes flick back to the shop, an old habit of buying you flowers bubbling up in his chest. “yeah, she always liked those kinds of flowers,” he murmurs, half to himself.

he nods, muttering a quiet “thanks” under his breath, as leila gives him a knowing smile before turning back to browse a nearby stall.

drew makes his way over to the flower shop, eyes scanning for your favorite blooms. the vendor helps him put together a simple yet thoughtful bouquet, and drew can't help but feel anxious but hopeful.

a few minutes later, he looks for you amongst everyone. you’ve already found leila, as you two inspect something on a stand just a few stalls down. you must not have seen drew when he was handling the flowers.

he makes his way over, and his presence is warm behind you that causes you to peer over your shoulder. you’re startled when you realize there’s actually someone there, and he’s so close. you immediately notice the flowers.

your eyebrows lift in amusement as he grins. “oh, what’s this?” you ask, your tone teasing, though there's a flicker of surprise behind your eyes.

drew holds the bouquet out, his voice soft. “for you,” he says. “maybe to make the day a little better.”

you look at the flowers, hesitating for a second before taking them. there’s a small warmth in your chest that you try to suppress, but it shows in the way your lips twitch upward into a faint smile. “thank you,” you say quietly, studying the flowers briefly before your gaze shifts back to him.

you can’t help but wrap your open arm around his neck and pull him close. his gesture is sweet and unexpected. drew’s arms finds your waist before he’s hugging you back, even tighter, but trying to be polite with how long he squeezes you.

you feel bold, and you lean away from him before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. it’s brief, almost hesitant, but enough to make drew’s breath get caught in his throat for a second.

as you pull away, you notice his glance toward leila, who's standing just a few feet away, pretending to be deeply engrossed in whatever she's holding. but she can’t hide the small wink she throws his way when he meets her gaze, a playful, silent “you're welcome” before she turns back around.

you catch it at the very last second and your mouth gapes open, so you take a step back. “are you two conspiring now?” you ask, in fake shock.

he chuckles softly. “just trying to be a good boyfriend.”

“mhm,” you murmur, but your smile lingers, and you look up at him to mumble a small “thank you” again, to which he waves it off like it’s nothing. even though you're hesitant, you can't deny that the gesture worked—at least a little.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains

[imaginesig]

Left my heart in SoCal

Arthur Leclerc x Surfer!reader

What happens when you add surfer + racer?? Oh and Danny Ricc is there too

Doesnt line up with reality, whoops

yourusername

liked by outerknown, bff_username, user5, and 374,839 others

yourusername: Outerknown not only has my back for the summer, but warm SoCal winters as well #sponsored

tagged outerknown

outerknown stunning!!

yourusername 🫶☀️

user1 girl as much as I wanna shop this collection I cannot afford

user2 fr fr

bff_username get that bank girlie!!

yourusername gotta afford competition somehow

user3 ugh she's drop dead gorgeous

user4 loml

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yourusername

liked by bff_username, user45, user94, and 443,948 others

yourusername: quick solo trip to the Netherlands before winter 🇳🇱 let's all thank the nice stranger who offered to take my photo at the beach and didn't kidnap me

tagged: no one

bff_username you had me stressing on the phone

yourusername thats why I didn't tell you til after

user1 LMAO GIRLIE YOU'RE IN A FOREIGN PLACE ALONE AND LET A STRANGER NOT ONLY TAKE YOUR PHONE (where they could've easily run away with it) BUT ALSO TURN YOUR BACK

yourusername he had a cute French accent it was fine

bff_username Y/N NO

user2 omg did you go to the GP??

user3 imagine if she was ever a celebrity guest

user4 I'd cry but also the chances an American surfer (despite the fact she's pro) is on F1's radar

user5 why am I not surprised that you went to another country entirely and still managed to find and post a beach

youusername 🤭

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arthurleclerc posted a story!

caption: 📍 Zandvoort

yourusername

liked by user54, user4, Arthur_leclerc, and 283,849 others

yourusername: California Christmas, 1954

tagged: bff_username

bff_username our apartment has never looked better

yourusername ugh the laughter from our party still echos!!

user1 I love that you guys went with retro aesthtic

user2 im in love with the tinsel tree!!!

user3 it still throws me off every time you post and there's no snow

user4 am I seeing that right?? Arthur leclerc in the likes??

Charles_leclerc @/maxverstappen1 @/carlossainz55 @/lorenzotl this is her I'm sure of it

maxverstappen1 everything else checks out

carlossainz55 updating the gc right now

yourusername oh hello! can I help you?

Charles_leclerc check your dms

lorenzotl please

user5 lmao who are these guys?? Y/n blink twice if you need help

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arthur_leclerc

liked by yourusername, user45, lorenzotl

Arthur_leclerc: Joyeux Noël🎄

tagged: Charles_leclerc, lorenzotl

lorenzotl I See you were in the sprit of family Arthur

Charles_leclerc so glad to know our short time together was spent disappearing for a girl

Arthur_leclerc so dramatic, both of you!!

user1 not Arthur soft launching

user2 awww baby Charles and Arthur

user3 what are the possibilities its that surfer user was talking about on twitter

user4 what?

user5 who?

user6 OMG WHAT IF???

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yourusername

liked by bff_username, Danielriccardo, lorenzotl, and 673,838 others

yourusername I could get used to this ✈️🇦🇺🇲🇨

tagged danielriccardo

visacashapprb what a social offseason!!

yourusername give me a seat next year 🙏

visacashapp only if you teach me to surf

user1 soft launch??

user6 how do you know Danny ricc??

yourusername I have connections

user2 maybe we were wrong and somethings happening with Daniel and not Arthur

user5 but she put Australia and Monaco

danielriccardo hope the Aussie oceans didn't disappoint 🤙

yourusername never ever!! 🤙

bff_username no you don't get to get used to this- stop galavanting across the world with drivers and come home!! The kids miss you!!

yourusername otw 🏃‍♀️💨

user3 drivers?? as in plural?? this soft launch is getting more and more confusing as we go

user4 girlies has a busy off season

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yourusername

liked by danielriccardo, sexwax, user4, and 623,838 others

yourusername: back to Cali and I'm proud to announce my newest sponsor Sex Wax!! My favorite brand for keeping my board grippy 🫶🤙

tagged: sexwax

sexwax lookin bitchin'

yourusername 🤭🤭

Arthur_leclerc 😳🥵

yourusername 💋💋

Charles_leclerc Arthur Leclerc.

yourusername oop

user1 what is happening

user2 im so confused

user3 right girlie we need clear signs as to who you're dating

user3 my timeline has been blessed

bff_username well hey there

yourusername heyyyyyyyy

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Arthur_leclerc

liked by yourusername, Charles_leclerc, user2, and 271,823 others

Arthur_leclerc: Left my heart in SoCal 🩷

tagged: no one

yourusername bit obvious no??

Arthur_leclerc I was sick of assumptions 🤷‍♂️

user1 Arthur said Daniel?? Really??

user2 ok soft (hard) launch

user3 no way ive officially lost Arthur

Charles_leclerc glad to see its been a nice trip

Arthur_leclerc bringing you back a seashell

user4 LMAO WHAT

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yourusername

liked by Arthur_leclerc, bff_username, user4, and 823,983 others

yourusername: preseasons going great!!

tagged no one

Arthur_leclerc "bit obvious no??"

yourusername dont make me delete this Leclerc

user1 OMG OMG STOP

user2 you're telling me this actually went somewhere

bff_username still not happy you trusted him in a foreign country alone

yourusername but the accent ☺️

user3 after todays results I can't wait for how the first competitions gonna go

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yourusername

liked by Charles_leclerc, user5, Arthur_leclerc, and 748,384 others

yourusername Ferrari is my red flag

tagged: Arthur_leclerc

Arthur_leclerc im very much a green flag thank you

yourusername that jealousy streak says otherwise but ok...

Arthur_leclerc doest exist

user1 Y/N IN THE PADDOCK!!!!!

bff_user bring me home a hot driver

yourusername yes ma'am 🫡🫡

user2 ditto

user3 not Arthur roping her into a lifetime of disappointment and false hope

user4 Forza Ferrari ✊😔

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Arthur_leclerc

liked by yourusername, user3, danielriccardo, and 839,938 others

Arthur_leclerc: no need for Red Bulls of any form here

tagged: Charles_leclerc, yourusername

danielriccardo "and I was like what he'd say fuck me for"

user1 lmao Arthur said "fuck the rumors"

yourusername "doesn't exist" my ass

Arthur_leclerc 🙄

user2 the matching jackets 😭

user3 as a long time Y/n fan, its been nice to see how their relationship has brought her out of her shell and out of the small bubble that is SoCal

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yourusername

liked by user5, bff_username, user66, and 883,739 others

yourusername: I love you more than a California sunset 💛

tagged: Arthur_leclerc

bff_username more than a cali sunset?? what spell are you under

bff_username @/Arthur_leclerc I need to know your secret

Arthur_leclerc 🤫

user1 not her teaching him to surf 😭😭

scudaraferrari please keep out driver safe!!

yourusername always admin 🫶

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Arthur_leclerc

liked by user4, yourusername, Lorenzotl, and 803,938 others

Arthur_leclerc: I take my job as a wag very seriously

tagged: yourusername

yourusername and what a wonderful job you've do!!

Arthur_leclerc ❤️❤️

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yourusername

liked by bff_username, user89, Arthur_leclerc, and 837,847 others

yourusername: my good luck charm has brought me so much support, confidence, and many wins!! I'm so sad I have to give him back to @/scuderiaferrari. Arthur, je t'aime

tagged: Arthur_leclerc

Arthur_leclerc Je t'aime aussi

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[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 8 continuation of your little date, I hope you enjoy! Also haven't proofread it because I didn't want to make you all wait another week for it. Sorry. You're welcome to point out errors to me. English words were hard this time, sorry if some of it is redundant. Part 7 | COD Masterlist | Part 9

Simon watches you from the corner of his eyes while you two walk alongside each other through the park. You’re tossing a ball for Wraith and the guard dog basically turned into an overgrown puppy at the sight of the toy.

It’s gotten late and after you spent the entire afternoon in the Café talking, Wraith needed a walk. Instead of saying goodbye you invited Simon to tag along. That’s a win, right? It’s a big step. You voluntarily decided to spend more time with him and Simon can feel himself vibrate with excitement.

“So an ex-soldier. What exactly did you do?”, you ask him while you toss Wraith’s ball for the thousandth time. You turn your pretty face towards him and he meets your eyes, puts his hands into his pockets and slightly shrugs his shoulders.

“Spec Ops.”, is his simple answer and you furrow your brows.

“Spe- what?” The confusion in your voice is adorable and Simon balls his fists, stuffs them deeper into his pockets so he doesn’t do something stupid (like pull you in and kiss you breathless).

“Special Operations. We weren’t really deployed somewhere permanently, instead they sent us wherever we were needed. Lots of stuff I am not allowed to talk about.”, he explains and wonders if you’ll be scared of him again.

When he looks at you, your eyes are wide. “Oh.”, you mutter and seem to think hard. It grows quiet for a minute and a small smile finds its way onto Simon’s lips. You’re chewing your lips again, seemingly troubled and who the fuck allowed you to look so adorable doing that.

“What is it, sweetheart.”, he asks, his voice warm and soft. He really hopes you can’t hear the lovesick undertone.

“I don’t know what I’m allowed to ask.”, you explain and grin self-conscious. He wants to lick the awkwardness off your lips (whoa okay, he really needs to get his thoughts in check).

Instead of doing that like a total creep, he tells you: “You can ask whatever you want, sweetheart. We’ll see what I can answer.”

You nod and think again. So far you haven’t protested his continued use of petnames. He enjoys it, enjoys claiming you with words in a subtle way. The only thing he’d enjoy even more would be you claiming him back. With words, marks, a collar, anything as long as he gets to be yours.

By now you’re walking closely besides him, and every now and then your arms brush against each other. It sends a shock up his arm every time, makes his neck tingle and his jaw clench in an effort to hold back, to not overwhelm you. The last thing he wants is to fuck up with you. As much as he wants to hold you he’d rather endure torture again than make you uncomfortable by coming on too strong.

“Why did you retire?”, you finally ask. “You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not!”, you immediately add in the same breath and Simon chuckles a bit at that.

The way you’re glancing at him seems nervous. It’s oddly endearing, like you’re nervous of misstepping with him. He quite enjoys that look on your face. Making you nervous in a way that doesn’t stem from fear is weirdly thrilling and he wants to keep doing it (would you be nervous if he pushed you up against a tree? If he used his height to his advantage and had you at his mercy? Would you be nervous if you had him at your mercy? God, he wants to be at your mercy).

“’s alright, sweets. Had a mission that went south, can’t really go into details. After that they set us up with a comfortable new life and told us to start over.” He can see the curiousness plain as day in your eyes and he wants to kick the officials who’re keeping him from just telling you everything.

Maybe someday he’ll do it anyway. Fuck if anyone can dictate him what to talk about. He’ll definitely tell you someday. Once he’s yours and sure you won’t run from him for revealing his past.

You cock your head at that. “Can you tell me about your team?”, you ask instead of prying and he could kiss you for that alone (he’s not sure he could have denied you, had you asked with your sweet voice and big curious eyes).

He nods at you and your face practically lights up with a big smile at the opportunity to finally get more info. He’s tempted to tell you every single confidential thing he knows, just to see you light up like that again.

“The lads are all in town. We’re four. Johnny, the fucker, owns a bakery. Flirts with everyone that comes in. People dig the accent.”, he begins and you perk up.

“Accent? It’s not the Scottish one, is it? What was his name…”, you seem to wrack your brain for it. “Mac…. Mac…”

“MacTavish.”, Simon supplies and you beam at him.

“I know that guy! His bread is to die for.”, you claim and Simon can’t really tell you that he already knows you frequent his friends bakery (he might have seen you there when he went to visit Johnny at work; might have worked out the times you go to Johnny’s and visited him more often around that time).

“He seems really nice but…”, you trail off and when you don’t continue Simon gently nudges you with his elbow to go on (you don't seem bothered by the contact, and he's surprised by himself for daring to do that so casually), curious what you might have to say about Johnny. You hesitate.

“Go on, sweetheart.”, he urges gently.

 “… he kinda intimidates me.”, you finally admit and suddenly Simon is grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Johnny intimidates you. Who would have ever guessed.

Johnny, who only recently teased him that ‘the cutie’ would never warm up to him because of his scary mask, intimidates you. Yet scary Simon is the one you’re taking a stroll in the park with. He desperately wants to rub it in Johnny’s face.

“Don’t tell your friend about it, but I can’t ever seem to remember his name. My friends and I refer to him as MacFlurry.”, you add, blushing but grinning mischievously.

Simon stares at you for a second and he can see the smile slowly drop and the apology forming on your lips when he starts laughing. He clutches his ribs, doubling over. Oh he’s gonna have so much fun with this information.

After a few seconds your laughter joins his as you’re helplessly giggling along, his booming laughter infectious.

“That…”, he laughs. “That’s great. Fucking MacFlurry.” He practically wheezes in laughter. Shit, he wants to marry you. Right here, right now.

Your giggle is beautiful and slightly bashful. Simon wishes he could catch it in a jar so he might listen to the heavenly sound again and again.

Finally he catches his breath and straightens up a bit, his eyes are twinkling, creases all around them from smiling so widely. He wants to tug you in close and thank you for existing.

“You know, sweetheart, I could always introduce you to MacFlurry and the others. We’re meeting up this evening. Wanna tag along?”, he blurts out before he can reconsider and your eyes grow wide and alarmed.

[pretzel-box]

I need Sebastian's reaction to some divers flashing little octo boy🙏🏼🙏🏼

SQUIDDLE ME THAT

words: 2,1k

tags: octopus hybrid reader, platonic relationship with sebastian, sebastian gets protective

authors note: I wrote the part before the flashing scene yesterday and had to add your request at the end, hope you don't mind some extra content!

Having a little octopus hybrid running loose was a challenge on its own. God forbid that Sebastian take his three eyes off you for even a second—you'd either wilt from loneliness or start creating a mess in a bid to reclaim his attention.

One such instance involved you folding his newly sorted files into funny little paper boats, which you then gently rocked over a random puddle that had started to develop in the corner of his shop. The first time you did this, Sebastian was initially impressed that you'd found something to do on your own. He even joined in, taking a sheet of printed paper and folding it into a rather shoddy boat, chuckling until he realized—these were his important assets!

Sebastian learned quickly from that incident. He made it his mission to keep you occupied, providing you with paper and pencils to draw pictures instead. Soon, his shop was filled with your artwork, pinned up on every wall. He couldn’t help but find your efforts endearing—most of your drawings were of the two of you, and they filled his heart with a warmth he wasn't accustomed to feeling.

“You know, I think you're starting to develop an eye for ar—” Sebastian began to say, but as he turned around, you were gone. You had simply vanished from sight. However, the trail of suction-cup marks on the floor was a clear indicator that you'd slipped through the vent and were now somewhere outside the shop.

Panic surged through him as he quickly made his way out, calling your name and checking every room. You were small and had a short attention span—surely, you couldn’t have gotten far.

And then he saw it. You were standing face-to-face with a Squiddle. The scene was bizarre: the Squid Monster hovered slightly above the ground, its ‘eyes’ locked onto you with what could only be described as confusion. You, on the other hand, were trying to mimic the creature, leaping up and attempting to hover in the air, only to be defeated by gravity each time.

Sebastian froze for a moment, his panic shifting to a mix of concern and disbelief. The Squiddle seemed more perplexed than hostile, perhaps unsure of what to make of this smaller, more enthusiastic "squid" that was now mimicking its every move. You, in your innocent curiosity, were completely absorbed in your game of imitation, oblivious to the potential danger.

Sebastian approached cautiously, not wanting to startle either of you. “Hey, buddy,” he called softly, trying to get your attention without alarming the Squiddle. “What are you doing over there?”

You turned to him, eyes wide and full of excitement, as if proud of your new friend. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat seeing how happy you were, but he knew he had to get you away from the creature before anything went wrong.

“Come on,” he coaxed, holding out his hand. “Let’s leave the big guy alone, okay? We’ve got plenty of drawing to do back at the shop.”

Reluctantly, you took his hand, casting one last curious glance at the Squiddle before allowing Sebastian to lead you away. The creature watched you go, still floating in place, before it finally drifted off, no longer interested in the odd encounter.

Back at the shop, Sebastian let out a deep sigh of relief. He knelt down to your level, ruffling the top of your head gently. “You’ve really got a knack for finding trouble, you know that?”

You gave him a sheepish grin, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Alright, how about we stick to drawing for a while, huh? Maybe we can work on some more pictures of us. Just... let’s keep the paper boats on hold for now, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, and Sebastian led you back inside, silently vowing to keep an even closer eye on you from now on.

Sebastian! You there?” a male voice called out as a customer clambered through the vent. Sebastian, already familiar with the type of people who usually wandered into his shop—rude pricks deserving their prison sentences—acted quickly. Without a second thought, he wrapped you in a blanket and gently but hurriedly stuffed you into a spacious locker, hiding you from the potentially mean human.

“Ah, welcome~” he greeted the customer with an air of nonchalance, shifting into his usual role as a shopkeeper. He led the man through a small conversation, maintaining his outward calm even though his thoughts were with you.

Meanwhile, inside the locker, you pressed your arms and tentacles against the metal walls, trying to push your way back to Sebastian. The dark, cramped space fueled a growing sense of anxiety. You didn’t understand why he’d suddenly hidden you away like this. Did you do something wrong? Did he stop liking you?

Fear and confusion spiraled in your little head until they became too much to bear. The only logical response, as far as you were concerned, was to scream. Tears streamed down your face as you wailed loudly, feeling abandoned and terrified. The darkness was cold, and being alone felt like the worst punishment imaginable.

Sebastian, who was busy trying to offload some junk onto the prisoner, froze when your piercing scream cut through the conversation. The customer blinked in surprise, glancing toward the sound. “What the hell was that?”

Sebastian’s mind raced as he tried to think of a plausible excuse. “Uh, faulty alarm system,” he lied, forcing a smile. “This place is falling apart, you know? I’ll get it fixed. Now, about that flashlight you were interested in…”

But the scream came again, louder this time, filled with pure distress. Sebastian’s heart clenched with guilt. The customer raised an eyebrow but seemed more annoyed than concerned. “You might want to take care of that. Sounds like something’s dying in there.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll handle it,” Sebastian muttered, barely containing his irritation as he hurried the man toward the exit. “Thanks for stopping by, and don’t forget to tell your non-existing friends about the shop!”

As soon as the customer was out of sight, Sebastian practically “sprinted” back to the locker. Your cries were breaking his heart—he hadn’t meant to scare you, but in his haste to protect you, he’d overlooked how you’d feel being stuffed in there.

He flung the locker door open and immediately pulled you out, wrapping you in his arms. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, holding you close as you continued to sob. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You clung to him desperately, burying your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. Sebastian felt like the worst person in the world for making you feel this way. “I was just trying to keep you safe,” he explained softly, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I didn’t want that guy to see you. But I shouldn’t have locked you up like that. I’m sorry.”

Gradually, your sobs began to quiet, though you still held onto him tightly, afraid he might push you away again. Sebastian continued to whisper apologies and reassurances, promising that he would never do something like that again.

Finally, you lifted your head, looking at him with tear-streaked eyes. “You’re okay,” he said gently, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

Your grip on him tightened, and Sebastian could feel the tremble in your small body slowly subside. He stood there for a long moment, holding you close, letting you know through his actions that you were safe and loved.

After a while, he carried you over to a cushioned seat, sitting down with you still wrapped in his arms. “You’re my little partner, okay?” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I’m always going to take care of you. Just… no more screaming like that, alright? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You nodded weakly, sniffling but feeling a bit better now that you were back in his comforting embrace. Sebastian gave a small, relieved smile, brushing your hair away from your face. “That’s better,” he said, rocking you gently. “Let’s just stay here for a while. No more hiding, I promise.”

——

It was an unusually busy day in the shop, with a steady stream of prisoners coming through the vents, all of them more obnoxious than the last. Sebastian had been on edge, keeping a close eye on you as you busied yourself with drawing on a scrap of paper behind some boxes to hide you out of the sight from the visitors. He didn’t want a repeat of the locker incident, so he made sure you were always within arm’s reach.

But even Sebastian couldn’t anticipate everything.

As a particularly rough-looking prisoner stomped into the shop, his eyes darting around suspiciously, you instinctively curled a little closer to Sebastian. The man was big, with a scarred face and a sneer that made your skin crawl. Sebastian noticed your discomfort and subtly shifted his body to block the prisoner’s view of you.

“What do you want?” Sebastian asked, his tone curt and to the point.

The prisoner didn’t answer right away, his gaze flicking over the various items on the shelves. “Just browsing,” he muttered, though there was a malicious glint in his eyes that set off alarm bells in Sebastian’s head.

Sebastian’s grip tightened on the counter. “We don’t have all day. Either buy something or get out.”

The prisoner’s sneer widened, clearly enjoying the tension he was causing. As if on a whim, he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device—a flashbeacon. Before Sebastian could react, the prisoner activated it, directing the blinding flash of light straight at you.

You let out a terrified yelp, your sensitive eyes overwhelmed by the sudden burst of light. Instinctively, you tried to shield yourself, curling up and covering your eyes with your tentacles as best as you could. But the damage was done—the intense flash had disoriented you, leaving you scared and vulnerable.

Sebastian’s protective instincts kicked in instantly. Without a second thought, he lunged forward, shoving the prisoner hard against the nearest wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he snarled, his voice dripping with fury.

The prisoner barely had time to register what was happening before Sebastian’s hand was around his throat, pinning him to the wall with a strength that belied his usually calm demeanor. “You think you can just walk in here and pull something like that?” Sebastian growled, his three eyes narrowing dangerously. “You’ve got some nerve.”

The prisoner, now realizing he’d severely miscalculated, struggled to speak, his face turning red as he choked out, “It… it was just a joke!”

Sebastian’s grip tightened, making it clear he wasn’t amused. “That ‘joke’ could have seriously hurt them,” he spat, nodding toward you. “You don’t mess with my shop, and you sure as hell don’t mess with them.”

With a final shove, Sebastian released the prisoner, who staggered back, clutching his throat and gasping for air. “Get out,” Sebastian ordered, his voice low and menacing. “And if I ever see you here again, you’ll regret it.”

The prisoner didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled for the vent, shooting one last fearful glance at Sebastian before disappearing as quickly as he’d come.

Sebastian took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger still coursing through his veins. Then he turned to you, his expression softening as he saw you huddled on the floor, still reeling from the flash.

He rushed over to you, kneeling down and gently pulling your tentacles away from your eyes. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his heart aching at the sight of you trembling. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry, but you could see the concern etched on his face. Slowly, you uncurled from your protective ball, reaching out for him. Sebastian didn’t hesitate—he scooped you up into his arms, holding you close against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I should’ve protected you better. But I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You clung to him, your small body still trembling slightly, but his warmth and the steady beat of his heart began to calm you down. You knew Sebastian was strong, and as long as you were with him, you felt safe.

[revelboo]

Just dropping by to compliment your writing. Seriously, at this point your posts have basically adopted me. I LOVE everything you write! (Especially because you It made me obsessed with transformers again.) .... anyway, kisses from a Brazilian 😈😘😔💗👍👍

Aww! Thank you so much!

I felt bad and went ahead to type up the second half. The tags you guys add when you reblogged the last bit were making me feel a bit guilty.

Everything is Alright Pt 32

Starscream x Reader-guardian

• Hidden among the clouds, he circles. Can’t make himself leave you there alone, tethered to his own worries. To you. Still watching over you, because you’re so small down there standing right where he left you. Like you’re waiting on him to come back for you. Finally, you begin to walk. But you keep looking up, looking for him and it hurts more than he’d thought it would. Breaks him wide open as he wonders what you’re thinking. That he doesn’t want you anymore? That you’re not needed? He knows that feeling all too well. Hates it.

• You have no idea how far it is to town walking, but you’re already soaking wet and cold. Moving at least might keep you warm since you’re still in that stupid, thin dress. He’s not coming back. You weren’t sure what was going to become of you with him, but just being let go? Maybe to him it’s been like rehabilitating a wild animal and he’d finally decided you could be released back into the wild. Maybe he just really had gotten bored with you. Those maybes are driving you crazy. Because you’re hurt that he just threw you away.

• Because you cared about him. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you shudder as lightning crackles across the sky, the wind whipping your soaking hair across your cheek in little, stinging lashes. When exactly had it stopped being a game you were playing to survive? Agreeing with him, pretending interest in his day at first, but when had you genuinely started to care? The same time you’d started smiling when he returned from his duties, because you were really happy to see him and being greeted made him happy. Made his wings lift up higher at being acknowledged. Making him happy had made you happy.

• There’s a truck approaching on the road below as he rolls through the clouds, condensation slicking him. Too high above to hear what’s said when that truck slows beside you. When you turn. Tension winding him tight when you don’t keep walking, but pull open the door and get in. Someone you know? Someone looking for you? To take you home? A friend or something else to you? It doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t care, but he does.

• Shivering, you reach to angle the vents on the passenger side more directly on you as the driver cranks the heat. He’s older than you, old enough to be your dad and he’s frowning at you. Not buying that you’re okay. “Everyone thinks you’re dead. It’s been a month,” he says, tone clearly saying that he knows you haven’t just been wandering through the woods that long. That lie isn’t going to work. Apparently you’re famous in town, your face on missing persons flyers and they’d even swept the woods and had divers checking the small lake for your body.

• “I’m okay.” You’re not, but you just want to go home. Not to the police station or the hospital. Home. Your empty home. That fact has never bothered you before, but now it does. There’s no one waiting there, no one to talk to. He’s frowning at you, but he agrees to drive you home after making a call to the police, making you let them know you’re alive and found. Making you agree to go in tomorrow to explain what happened. Where you were. You don’t even have the energy to think up a lie right then.

• The guy even walks you up the drive and watches as you root around in the dirt of a very dead hanging basket of what had been impatiens a month ago to find the spare key and let yourself in. Only then does he relent and leave. You never think to ask his name, too numb and oddly empty. Around you the house is achingly silent.

• The intruder leaves and he still circles. No other vehicles. Does that mean you’re alone? No. How could you be? He transforms and lands a safe distance away, keeping low as the lights come on in the house, watching your shadow pass the windows as a dark smudge. And eventually the lights go back out. No one coming for you, because there is no one. His spark aches. He doesn’t mean to stay all night, but he can’t leave you there alone. Unwanted.

• Even if you believe he’s abandoned you, he can watch over you. Knows it’s not safe for you, but can’t make himself go. If he keeps returning here it’ll be noticed and questioned. You’ll still be in danger because of him. He knows this. And he still can’t force himself to leave you, because he is selfish. You don’t need him. But he does need you.

• Wrapping your robe around yourself as you head into the kitchen to get some coffee going, you stop short as the house creaks on its foundation. Eyes lifting to see something blocking the window. Familiar colors. Chest tight, you head outside and stare up at Starscream. He’s leaning against the house, wings drooping and optics shuttered in recharge. Like he’d spent all night outside watching over you. “You big idiot,” you sigh affectionately, your eyes burning as you reach out to touch the back of his huge hand. He hadn’t left you.

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[scoonsaliciousupdates]

5.3 Lily

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 500

Previously On...: Bucky got a call from Lily, wanting to know where he was. He lied to her, of course. That definitely won't come back to bite him in the ass.

A/N: Sorry this is so late going up! Had a last-minute Mother's Day dinner with the family, and then some quality time with @cazellen, and when you add on an hour+ drive each way, it ended up eating my entire evening. But! I wouldn't leave you hanging, so here is today's update, just... six hours late :(

Also, PLEASE NOTE: There is one more section of Chapter 5 to go up tomorrow, and then I will be taking a one-week break from posting so I can focus on writing. So, Chapter 6 will start on Sunday, May 19th. I probably will not be as active on here as I normally am, so if you send me a message and I don't respond right away, it's because I'm busy making more content for you!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Lily clutched her phone to her chest, shocked. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. He had lied to her. She couldn’t believe it. Her best friend had lied to her about what he was doing and who he was with. 

She hadn’t planned on coming to the Compound that night– she’d realized she’d forgotten some files in her office that she needed to look over before she went back to work on Monday, and had just stopped in to pick them up. She figured, since she was there, she might as well go see what Bucky and Sam were up to. She didn’t want to crash their boys’ night, per se, but if they happened to invite her to join them? Well, how could she refuse such an invitation?

That’s why it came as such a shock when she rounded the corner to the rec room and saw Sam and Steve, in front of the large television, watching football together, and Bucky nowhere in sight. She hung back for a few moments, giving him the benefit of the doubt, that maybe he’d been in the bathroom, or in the kitchen grabbing snacks. But when fifteen minutes went by, then thirty, and Bucky still hadn’t shown himself, she began to worry.

She was about to barge into the room and demand answers from Sam and Steve, when she heard them talking during a commercial break.

“So, how do you think the date’s going?” Steve asked Sam.

“Knowing Tin Man, I’d usually say ‘terribly,’” Sam said with a laugh, “but this girl seems to actually like him, so who the hell knows? I guess it depends on what time he comes home tonight… or tomorrow morning, doesn’t it?” 

Lily brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp as she backed away from the entrance to the rec room. 

No. No, no, no, no, no, she thought. He wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t just start seeing someone without telling her, warning her, would he? 

So, she’d called him. 

“I promised Sam we’d do guys’ night,” he’d told her at brunch, the lie coming so smoothly off his lips. But she’d heard a woman’s voice on the line with him.

Lies.

And then, he’d snapped “I already told you what I was doing… You don’t have to keep checking up on me.” He’d never used that exasperated tone with her before. Never. And to just hang up on her, without even a proper goodbye?

She felt hurt. She felt betrayed. In their years of friendship, Bucky had never lied to her before, had he? And why? Why now? Who was this girl, and what was so fucking special about her that Bucky felt the need to lie to his best friend about her? 

Lily felt like she was going to be sick.

She needed to find out who this mystery woman was, immediately. And she needed to do everything in her power to make sure Bucky never saw her again.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[readsaboutreid]

Permanent Solution (part II) | S.R.

contains: lots of discussion of suicide, other typical criminal minds violence, heavy heavy angst but a happy ending (i promise!), MORGAN GETS REDEEMED

look i'm sorry to put spencer and reader through so much pain T-T but also i wanted to use my own negative thoughts in a better way than just stewing in them so i adapted them to fit this

i also had someone request that i tag them so i guess if you'd like for me to tag you in future posts lmk and i'll add you onto a taglist! when you request just specify if you want to be tagged for a specific part 2 (or continuation of a specific story) or tagged for any future fics :)

Spencer jolted awake, the faint ringing of his alarm clock dragging him out of sleep. He sat up and rubbed his sore neck, wondering why his alarm sounded like it was in a different room. And then the memories from the previous night came rushing back to him, and he realized that it sounded that way because it was, in fact, coming from a different room. He had fallen asleep on the couch, Dr. Mewshroom taking up (Y/N)’s usual place wrapped in his arms. He checked his phone, no missed calls from her (but about 20 from Garcia, and only one voicemail, also from Garcia), and the clock on its little digital screen told him it was 6:30 AM. He got up and went into the bedroom, checking to see if maybe she had decided against waking him. Anxiety rushed through his veins when he saw the empty bed, and he called her phone again, which rang four times before going to voicemail.

“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Dr. (Y/L/N), I can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number, I’ll return your call as soon as I am able. Thanks!” Beep.

He swallowed, struggling around the lump forming in his throat. He got a call from Hotch right as he started getting dressed for a day off (much earned after their last case). “I’m sorry, Reid, but I need you and (Y/L/N) here immediately. We have a new case, local, and we need all hands on deck for this one. I need you two in the briefing room in 20 minutes.” Spencer groaned internally at the prospect of back-to-back cases but confirmed that he’d be there. Then, he covered for (Y/N)’s absence. He said that she was sick and couldn’t leave the bathroom for longer than five minutes at a time and that seemed to be all the convincing Hotch would need. “Since the case is local that’s fine, she can join us when she recovers. But get here ASAP, Reid.” Click.

Spencer took a deep breath to calm the anxiety bubbling in his gut and chest. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it hadn’t happened since they had moved in together five months ago. Since she had stopped taking The Walk. He took a deep breath and assured himself that the chances of (Y?N) being missing were slim-to-none.

Spencer walked through the glass doors of the BAU and hurried to the round table, the last one of the team to enter. He nodded to Garcia, Prentiss (who looked like she had a very fun mystery date the previous night), Hotch, and Rossi. He pointedly ignored the greetings of both JJ and Morgan, the latter rolling his eyes slightly at the passive aggressive behavior.

“Reid, glad you could make it. Okay JJ, fill us in,” Hotch nodded to JJ, who stepped forward and placed a file in front of each of them.

"Where's (Y/N)?" Penelope asked Spencer, giving him a confused and worried look. He avoided her gaze as he muttered something about her having a stomach bug while he took his seat.

“Last night, a body turned up in the Anacostia River, near the 11th Street bridge,” JJ began as she placed files in front of each of them. Spencer’s blood ran cold, and his stomach dropped at her words. Not there, anywhere but there.

“It’s the third body they’ve found this month, and the timeframe between bodies seems to be around the same each time, one week. All the victims are female, mid-to-late 20s, and all three had a history of multiple suicide attempts," she explained, pulling up some of the crime scene photos on the projector in front of them.

“Hold up, JJ,” Morgan interjected, “if all three victims have a history of suicidal tendencies, how do we know these aren’t just run-of-the-mill suicides?”

“Each body was disposed of in a large black trash bag,” Hotch explained.

“That and they found evidence of torture as well as ligature marks on the wrist and ankle of each of the victims,” she elaborated, switching the slide to show some of the coroner’s photos. Electrical burns littered the torso of the victim on the slide, and Spencer's stomach churned at the sight. She looked so much like (Y/N) it was uncanny.

“Each victim has a similar build and they've all got the same hair cut and color,” Prentiss observed, “maybe a surrogate for the Unsub’s real target?” Please, no.

"Could be a mother or girlfriend," Rossi speculated. "Do the DC police have any idea of where he's taking his victims from, or is it just the dump site that they know? And are there any witnesses?"

"Until last night, the victims had all been taken from their homes with no witnesses on what the police assume were the same nights the previous victims' bodies had been dumped," JJ answered, "but last night he seems to have escalated and abducted someone straight from the bridge itself according to a nearby eyewitness, a man who had been out for a late night jog. They found this—" she clicked to the next slide, "at the scene, along with the victim's cell phone, both of which have been bagged as evidence and are at the local precinct."

Spencer’s world came to a crashing, burning halt. In the image on the screen was a rather generic looking, but still all too familiar, green knit cardigan and black cell phone with a cracked screen. No one else had seemed to put it together yet, except perhaps Rossi, who had shifted his gaze to Spencer.

"Do we know the identity of the most recent abductee—" Prentiss had started to ask before Spencer had to stand and run to the trash can to vomit.

"That's some stomach virus," Rossi mused, giving Spencer a concerned and knowing look.

"Reid? Are you alri—" Prentiss was cut off again, this time by Hotch.

"Prentiss, Morgan, go to the location where the bodies were found, and the most recent victim abducted. Track down the eye witness through any means possible and interview him. Rossi and JJ, you two head to the precinct. Reid, my office. Now." Hotch issued the orders with a deeper sense of urgency than usual. Spencer stood and shakily walked to Hotch's office after the rest of the team had hurried off, and as soon as Hotch entered and closed the door behind him Spencer’s legs gave out, leaving him to collapse onto his knees.

"Talk,” Hotch said, his tone dangerously quiet.

"(Y/N)'s not sick," he managed to choke out between the gasping sobs that now wracked his chest. "Di-didn't— come home— last night," his words were punctuated by gasping breaths. "M-my sweater— wearing my sweater—" he couldn't breathe, and his vision was like looking through a tunnel, the edges getting darker and pushing in more and more with each second, he struggled to inhale. He shouldn't have gone home last night. He should have gone after her.

"And you have reason to believe she was at the 11th Street bridge?" Hotch questioned.

"She used to walk there every night," Spencer jumped at the sound of Garcia's hollow voice coming from behind him. He hadn't even noticed her come in through his panicked haze. "When she first started here. It's why she always looked so tired those first five months, because she'd barely sleep. She'd walk there and pace back and forth along the bridge. Sometimes she'd just sit on the railing."

"Sh-she hasn't been there in months," Spencer's voice was hoarse, "but last night she— something happened that upset her and she walked off—" another round of sobs forced their way out. "Hotch, he's gonna—" Spencer reached for the trash can next to Hotch's desk and vomited again, and again.

"Spencer," Hotch knelt in front of the young agent, gently moving the trash can to the side. "Deep breaths. I know you're terrified. If you need to take yourself off the case, don't worry. We'll find her."

"Off the case?" He panted, trying to steady his breathing.

"Well you're clearly in no state to be doing much of anything. I don't think anyone on the team would blame you for having to step back on this one," Hotch reasoned.

"What? No, no I've got to find her!" He felt his head clearing a bit as his breathing finally returned to a normal rhythm, his vision slowly returning until he could see the full room properly.

"Reid, are you sure that’s a good idea—"

"Hotch," Spencer interrupted, "I can't just do nothing while he tor—" he reached for the trashcan and vomited yet again at the thought of what the Unsub was going to do to her, what he probably already was doing to her; he was honestly surprised there was anything left for his stomach to throw up at this point. “I can’t just sit by and watch, knowing that every second she’s there with him she’s being subjected to one sort of torture or another.”

Hotch paused and observed Spencer briefly before he rose to his feet and offered Spencer a hand to help him stand, as well. “Take a few minutes to compose yourself and then meet me at the SUV downstairs. We’ll head to the precinct together and you can fill me in on what happened that upset her last night. It might help with the victimology, which you’re going to be working on with me for now since you know (Y/N) better than anyone else.”

“Thank you, Hotch,” Spencer managed to force out, the words quiet and trembling. Hotch left the office and Garcia lingered, giving Spencer a look of pure sorrow.

“I— I’m so sorry, Spencer,” she began, an echo of their conversation outside of the bar last night.

“Garcia, this isn’t your fault,” he responded, continuing the reprisal.

“When you didn’t call me last night I—I just figured that you two had—I don't know—kissed and made up and fallen asleep, I didn’t realize that she never even made it home,” her voice broke on the very last word, and her hand shot up to her mouth as sobs began to escape. Spencer’s legs were still shaky, but he managed to cross the room to her and give her a tight embrace. “I—no, you shouldn’t have to comfort me right now, Spencer, I’m sorry!”

“Consider this me returning the favor from yesterday,” he muttered, his own voice tearful while he kept holding on to her. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Spencer, you have to find her before he can—”

“I know. I will,” he said, trying his very best to sound determined. Instead, his voice came out sounding more like that of a frightened boy than a grown FBI agent.

“What’s going on with Reid?” Emily asked Derek, giving him a quizzical look from the passenger seat of the SUV.

“Last night I sort of went off on (Y/N) after one too many glasses of whiskey and I may have told her nobody wanted her there,” he confessed, shame swirling in his head as he drove. He didn’t really dislike her; he found her demeanor slightly off-putting, but he had felt the same way about Reid when he first joined the team, and she was an excellent profiler, so the least he could do was give (Y/N) the same benefit of the doubt he had given Reid. “Garcia tore me a new one after he had come back into the bar and told us that she had broken things off between them because of my...outburst.”

“Damn it, Morgan,” Emily muttered, flipping through the file in her hands. “You see, this is why we can’t have nice things!”

“Look, look, I know I was wrong about what I said to her, but I can’t turn back the clock. I’ll just have to find her and apologize once she’s feeling better.” They approached the 11th Street bridge, and he stopped the car and put it in park. They both stepped out into the crisp morning air, a light fog slightly obscuring their vision.

“According to the witness statement, this guy was out for a late-night jog when he called the non-emergency police line after seeing a man toss what the was presumed to be trash into the river in a giant black trash bag,” Emily recited what she had read from the file on the drive there. “But he called 911 when he said he heard what sounded like the start of a scream and then saw the struggle before saying the woman went entirely limp. Report says he tried to catch up with the Unsub, who then got into an unmarked black van and drove away.”

"Looks like the CSI team may have missed something," Derek called out to Emily as he caught a glimpse of what looked like an earring and some dried blood under some fallen leaves on the bridge. He snapped a glove onto his hand, and when he pushed the leaves aside he felt his blood run cold. He'd recognize this earring anywhere. "Oh, no."

"I-I like your earrings," a soft, small voice spoke from behind Derek and Penelope as they did their morning flirting routine. They both turned and saw the newest member of the team looking shyly at Penelope.

"Oh these? Thanks! You know, I could make you a pair if you'd like," Garcia smiled at (Y/N), whose eyes widened in panic.

"O-oh! No, don't worry, y-you don't n-n-need to trouble yourself like that!" The young agent hurried off in a panic.

"That was...weird," Derek mused to himself as he walked to his desk.

"I guess she decided to take up Garcia's offer on a pair of her own after all," he muttered, his voice sorrowful.

"What'd you find, Morgan?" Emily asked as she made her way over. "Is that one of Garcia's earrings? How'd that get here?"

"She had offered to make a pair for (Y/N) right around the time she joined the team," Derek explained before looking up to find Emily's face falling at the realization.

"Oh, god," she gasped, her hand covering her mouth. "Bag that, I'll call Hotch and let him know what we found."

"I'll also call Garcia, ask her to get the address of the witness. We got to get (Y/N) out of there ASAP." Derek pulled out his phone and dialed Garcia.

"What, Derek?" She snapped, and Derek had to fight every urge in his body to playfully argue with her to try to lessen her anger with him. There were more pressing things he had to talk about right now.

"Hey, Garcia, we found something at the scene," he began, "it was, uh, an earring you had made for (Y/L/N) from the looks of it. Got a little bit of dried blood on the post." He took in a deep breath before adding on, "I'm sorry." The line was silent for a minute before she finally spoke again.

"Poor Reid," she whispered, her voice tearful. He could hear her take a shaky breath before she asked, "what, uh, what do you need me to do?"

"I need the address of the witness, a man named Jonathan Levi," he he explained.

"Yeah, uh, yeah I can get that for you right now," she said, her voice growing stronger. He could almost see her wiping her tears from her cheeks as he heard her sniffle on the other end. "I'm sending it to your phone now. And Derek?"

"Yeah, baby girl?"

"You find this son of a bitch," she said before the line disconnected.

"We will," he said to himself.

"Prentiss," Hotch's voice came through Emily's cell phone, "what have you been able to learn from the crime scene?"

"Uh, well not very much, yet. Morgan's calling Garcia to get the address of the witness so we can interview him," she answered, trying to keep her voice from sounding shaky. She failed.

''But?" Hotch pressed.

"...but we did find an earring with some dried blood on the post that was missed under some leaves," she added, swallowing nearly audibly. "Earrings that—that Morgan thinks Garcia had made for (Y/L/N) a little while back."

"Thanks, Prentiss. I've got Reid with me, I'll let him know what you've found," Hotch said before the line disconnected.

"—yeah, baby girl?" She heard from where Morgan stood, followed by a determined, "We will."

"Prentiss!" He called out, heading to the black SUV. "Garcia sent me the address, can you drive?" He tossed her the keys and she caught them, jogging over to the drivers' seat.

"Reid, you doing okay?" Rossi asked him as they rushed to the home they had finally tracked the Unsub to.

"I—I just—," he stammered, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I just hope we get to her in time." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"We know he keeps them for a week. It's only been three days," Spencer felt Rossi's hand land on his shoulder. "She's a fighter, Spencer. You know that better than anyone else here."

The address Garcia had tracked down for them led them to the fairly large but still dilapidated house of a man named Andrew Warren, a CNA at a local mental facility who lost his parents in a double suicide as a child, and then his older sister to suicide a month ago after she had gone through multiple rounds of ECT as a teenager in the 1990s.

The other SUV containing Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan arrived at the house slightly before theirs and Spencer could see as his coworkers stopped the car and raced towards the door of the house. Morgan kicked down the door and raced inside right as Hotch put their vehicle in park and Spencer was out of the door before he could hear any of Hotch's orders. He didn't care about orders, right now. All he cared about was getting the love of his life to safety.

As he ran over the threshold of the house, he heard shouting coming from up a bunch of old stairs. He took the steps two at a time and he went up each floor until he finally reached what seemed to be the third floor landing. The shouting became more distinct as he approached and he could make out Morgan negotiating with the Unsub.

"She's weak," the Unsub spat, followed by a whimper from (Y/N) that sent a stab of pure fear through his gut. "Weak members of our species like her need to be removed from the gene pool."

"Drop the knife, Andrew," Spencer heard Morgan say in a calm voice as he rounded the final corner and the entire situation came into his view. The Unsub had (Y/N) in front of him with a knife held to her throat, both of them standing before a large, open window. She was in nothing but her underwear and bra and had multiple electrical burns marring her skin. (Y/N) made eye contact with Spencer and tears started streaking down her cheeks as she mouthed I'm sorry to him, sending a crack through his chest.

"Don't come any closer!" The Unsub screamed as he finally noticed Spencer approaching with his gun drawn. Spencer's eyes widened as he slowly put his gun back into the holster and then raised his hands just as slowly. He halted his steps and took a deep breath.

"It's okay, Andrew," Spencer attempted to sound calm and collected through his panic. "I'm just trying to help."

Spencer looked around the room at JJ and Prentiss who were flanking Morgan in the center, both with their guns drawn. He could hear Hotch and Rossi approaching behind him and he turned and softly told them, "stay back." He then started slowly approaching again as he turned to the Unsub. "I know what you've been through, Andrew," he said, his voice steadier than he thought it would be.

"You lost your parents in a double suicide when you and your sister were little. Your foster parents would torment you and your sister and blamed you both for the way you reacted to the trauma you had been through and your sister ended up institutionalized after a suicide attempt at 17. Once she got out and took custody of you when she turned 18 and you were 16, she had trouble being able to keep up with everything. She started harming herself," Spencer took another shaky breath as he slowly continued forward, watching as tears welled in Andrew's eyes. "And then you lost her, too, when she jumped from the 11th Street bridge a month ago."

"Sh-she was weak, just like my mom and dad." Andrew responded, but his voice cracked and faltered.

"No, Andrew, they weren't weak. They were sick," Spencer reasoned with him. "Your sister was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, just like your parents. She was sick and in pain. She wasn't weak."

"She was weak," Andrew said. "She left me here all alone!"

"I know," Spencer said, the slightest amount of relief sparking within him as the knife at (Y/N)'s throat began to lower. "I know she did. You can't blame yourself, though, Andrew. It's not your fault. They needed help that you couldn't give by yourself, and that's not your fault. Just let her go and we can get you the help that you need." He pleaded with him, his voice wavering slightly as he looked (Y/N) in the eye again and saw all of the fear and pain radiating from them.

"No," Andrew responded as tears streaked down his face. "I can't—" As he raised the knife back to (Y/N)'s neck, Spencer heard the sound of gunfire and watched in terror as Andrew started to fall backward with his arms still around (Y/N). Spencer tried to run to her but didn't make it before they fell through the open window.

"No!" Morgan shouted as he lunged forward, grabbing (Y/N)'s hand right as she fell backward out the window. Andrew's lifeless body plummeted to the ground beneath them, landing with a crunch. "Hold on, (Y/L/N), I've got you!" He called to her as she dangled from the window, his hand her only lifeline.

Spencer rushed forward to his side before reaching his own hand out the window toward (Y/N), and together they pulled her back up through the window. They moved back and Morgan closed the window as Spencer wrapped (Y/N) into his arms while she sobbed in relief.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered into his chest over and over. Spencer just held her close and kept assuring her that she had nothing to apologize for.

I sat on the back lip of the ambulance, a blanket around my shoulders in some borrowed clothes. Spencer refused to leave my side until he was called away by Hotch. "I'll be right back, okay, love?" He looked at me before giving my forehead a soft, gentle kiss and then walked over to our boss.

"(Y/N)," I heard from a few feet away. I turned and was faced with Derek Morgan.

"M-Morgan," I stammered as my eyes widened. "I-I'm so sorry—"

"Stop, (Y/N). You don't have to apologize to me for anything," he started, "I'm the one who needs to be apologizing for my behavior."

"I—you just kept me from being dragged out of a window and likely breaking my neck. You don't owe me anything. I owe you my life." I muttered, looking at the ground.

"You don't owe me anything. I did the same thing for you that I would have done for any other member of this team," he looked at me while I kept my gaze on the ground in front of me. "Look at me, (Y/N)." I looked at him and he looked me right in the eye as he said, "my behavior the other night was uncalled for. "This team is a family, and you are a vital part of that family. We need you, Spencer needs you, and I'm so, so sorry. I hope that you'll let me try to make it up to you in the future."

Vital. He called me vital. That word clanged through me and I broke down crying again. He wrapped me in a bear hug and apologized again. "Th-thank you, Derek." I said, my voice small as I hesitantly wrapped my arms around him in return.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he said one more time before releasing me. The paramedics approached and asked if anyone was going to accompany me to the hospital.

"Reid!" Morgan called to Spencer, who had just finished up with Hotch. Spencer raced back to us, his eyes widening and growing concerned when he saw my fresh tears.

"What's wrong?! Is everything okay?" He asked as he gently grabbed me by the shoulders and looked into my eyes. I closed my eyes and nodded, unable to form any words. Vital. I'd never felt that I was wanted or needed anywhere I'd been in my life, much less vital to anyone or anything.

"Paramedics wanna know if you're gonna accompany her to the hospital," Morgan explained, and Spencer agreed in a heartbeat. I was then loaded onto a gurney and into the ambulance, one of the paramedics and Spencer following behind.

Vital. As I looked at Spencer, he grabbed by hand and pulled it up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back. "I'm so happy you're alive," Spencer whispered to me, his hand moving to stroke some of my hair out of my face. "I love you, (Y/N)."

@busy-buzzing here's part 2 sorry it took so long!

[everythingne]

looking in a mirror - click ! take a pic ! (op81)

rhys, daisy, and co's socials leading up to the announcement of them joining f1.

(series masterlist)

fcs: // archie madekwe (rhys) / ruby campbell (y/n / daisy)

oscar piastri x reader series

warnings/notes: no warnings for this other than mentions of a breakup, just something quick to try and get me out of this writing slump i've been in >:0!!!

-

msdaisypearce

🎶 wildflowers - tom petty

liked by oscarpiastri, rhyspearce, hanavettel and 238k others...

msdaisypearce: local german man forces british teen to save the bees ?? again ??

tagged: sebvettel

sebvettel: you literally asked to come with me.

⤷ msdaisypearce: have you ever considered i went with u for @ hannavettel?

⤷ hannavettel: awe!! love you lots dais!!!

⤷ sebvettel: sei nicht so gemein

⤷ msdaisypearce: cant hear u over ur wifes cooking !!

user1: shes basically daisy vettel atp

rhyspearce: girl fucks off to germany and doesn't say anything

user2: SEB NATION WAKE UP DAISY HAS BLESSED US!!!

rhyspearce

📍 the dream life

liked by charlesleclerc, sebvettel, mwebber, and 278k others...

rhyspearce: snippets of life this month...

tagged: hannavettel, msdaisypearce, and two others..

msdaisypearce: casually leaves out him nearly breaking my nose

⤷ sebvettel: ur being dramatic

⤷ rhyspearce: omg ur teaching him abbreviations?

user1: UR SO HOT PLS OH MY GOD

user2: another day another rhys thirst trap to add to the collection

charlesleclerc: maman requests ur visit soon

⤷ rhyspearce: funnily enough im coming back from porsche in stuttgart tn...

user3: PORSCHE HQ???

msdaisypearce posted a story!

sebvettel posted a story!

msdaisypearce

🎶 history of man - maisie peters

liked by rhyspearce, oscarpiastri, sebvettel, and 245k others...

msdaisypeace: 'just a heart broke bitch, high heels, six inch In the back of the nightclub, sippin' champagne' (caption doesnt match the song, post doesn't match the way im feeling. a kind reminder everything u see on socials are hand picked for ur viewing.)

hanavettel: lots of very exciting things coming up in ur life, sending love from home

user1: SHE BROKE UP W HER BOYF??

⤷ user2: tbf she hasn't posted him since the end of last season

sebvettel: my offer still stands, you know. much love.

⤷ msdaisypearce: get off insta and check my texts >:(

user3: is this why she's been with the vettels all week while her brother went back to monaco??

rhyspearce: love u love u love u

oscarpiastri: logan is pacing just so u know

⤷ alexalbon: PACING.

⤷ msdaisypearce: aweee my f2 boyss!!! 🩷 i will call u tmrw

⤷ logansargeant: we're both awake now call me now tf.

rhyspearce posted a new story!

msdaisypearce and rhyspearce

liked by lewishamilton, mwebber, oscarpiastri, and 456k others...

msdaisypearce: something new on the horizons. thank u to @ f1 and @ porsche.motorsport for trusting us. thank u to @ sebvettel for working ur magic as per usual. thank u to all the f1 drivers for welcoming us in. see u all in 2025 !!

comments have been disabled for this post!

porsche.motorsport

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, carlossainz, and 459k others...

porsche.motorsport: welcoming both of the pearce siblings to join our team for 2025!

Rhys has been a reserve for Ferrari these past two seasons while racing in both Formula E for Porsche and Formula 2 for Prema. He has been racing since 2006, and racing in FIA sports since 2014.

Y/N, or Daisy, has been racing with F1 ACADEMY since its maiden season in 2023 and was the first ever F1 ACADEMY Champion. She had been racing since 2009, and racing in FIA sports since 2017.

tagged: rhyspearce, msdaisypearce

comments have been disabled for this post!

[sanjoongie]

Wet for a Villain

ღPairing: Song Mingi x Reader (f) ღGenre/ Au/ Trope: smut, villain au, enemies with benefits ღWord Count: 730 ღRating: +18 MDNI ღSummary: you're a detective in a city where a villain creates havoc for heroes and police alike... but you're fucking him?! ღWarnings: penetrative sex without a barrier, big dick! mingi, breeding kink, corruption kink (?), creampie, overstimulation, dat dick so good you'd ignore your responsibilities to get it from mingi ღDedication: @downtoamagicalland, @mingsolo & @starlitmark my mingi stans that deserve to be fed more! Here’s some instant inspo, I hope you enjoy! @mejuii lowkey for you because you helped urge it on, and i know you like a confident mingi ENJOY @smallfrye honorary suffer with me braincell tag

The world is on fire outside and you bury further into your blankets. The sirens’ wail and you flinch as an explosion lights up the night sky. You knew exactly what that means; Mingi is out causing havoc and soon he’ll show up on your balcony.

You were a detective for the local police force but tonight was your night off. Mingi always made a strike when you weren’t on shift. You hated the mayhem he created, and the people he hurt. You hated that he made you cast aside every moral bone in your body out the window. But you simply could not tell him no when he came to you, covered in blood and soot and ready to fuck. 

The hard rattle of your balcony door brings you back to reality. You look out to your balcony and there’s Mingi. When your eyes meet, he pushes through the glass. There is nothing that stops him from getting where he wants to be, and by the flash of lust in his eyes, he wants to be in between your legs right now.

“Did you see the explosion?” Mingi mentions while he slowly pulls down the covers that you had dug yourself into. You nod as Mingi’s fingers find the waistband of your underwear and nimbly pull them down your legs. 

“The heroes went to go save the ‘innocent’ people caught up in the explosion while I got away. They’re so predictable.” Mingi pokes his tongue into his cheek, staring at your pussy, completely visible for him now that your legs are spread.

“They’ll never find me here, will they, angel?” Mingi smirks.

You shake your head, shame covering every inch of your skin. Mingi simply takes the goosebumps as a compliment. It always seems like the more chaos Mingi creates, the harder his cock is when he comes to you. 

The villain barely pulls his pants down enough to release his very well-endowed cock, gripping it tightly and running it through your folds. You had been wet the moment the explosion went off. Mingi hums, content that you are ready for him.

“So perfect, just for me, aren’t you, angel?” Mingi murmurs under his breath. 

He pushes into your waiting hole and you groan as he pushes until he is all the way in, no stops, no check ins, it is all about him now; his chance to fuck and brag about how he got away once again.

At first, Mingi is more than happy to watch his dick move in and out of your wet pussy, smirking at how well you take him, despite your conflict of interest. He pokes and prods at your pride, speaking on how you should be the one handcuffing him and manhandling him. But he’s the one who’s got your wrists pinned above your head, fucking you so good, you push your legs even wider to receive the pleasure he’s giving you.

The second round involves Mingi bending you in two, attaining an even deeper angle that he loves to torture you with. He speaks on how he’s inside of you so deep, that he’s going to give you little villain babies, to add to your shame. He fucks your cunt so well that your cunt is still experiencing aftershocks and pushes his cum out from the first and second round.

The final round, the one you always despise, involves spooning your body. By now Mingi is done crowing about his accomplishments tonight, done speaking on how stupid the police and the heroes are. Now, he whispers into your ear, while he plays with your nipple, about his next plan of attack. He loves the thrill of telling you everything, hoping that one day you will have the courage to take him down.

You don’t--you’re not sure you ever will. Because then that means these sessions will end. Then your shameful past will come to light. You might even lose your job. You continue to put your needs and wants before the good of the world.

So when Mingi finishes the third time inside of you, lazily rubbing your clit to overstimulate you even more, he always whispers one final jab as you fade to sleep.

“You’re just as bad as me,” He says, the smirk in his voice apparent, also with a dash of admiration, “Perhaps that’s why you’re perfect for me.”

Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @stardragongalaxy @k-pop-ology

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️NINE

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN

When he comes back from his jog turned errand run, he finds her with a bit of a temper - nothing he can't deal with and correct immediately. And the lesson doesn't stop there...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Vaginal sex. Sex toys. Assisted masturbation. Hand job. Thigh humping. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 9k

EIGHT 🟥 NINE 🟥 TEN

When he returns to the apartment, the sun is setting behind the large windows, tinting everything in a bright orange hue. The jog that he had planned to get his mind in order had turned into an errand run. A visit to the club, checking in, to delegate some more things he didn't know he needed two days ago. Many phone calls, arrangements, orders. A stressful ending to a perfect weekend. And after all that, his mind is still in disarray. Full of her.

He shouldn't have left her for so long.

Putting the bags down on the kitchen island, he inhales deeply, runs a hand through his hair and mentally prepares himself for what he may find in his bedroom. Unlocking the door, he isn't sure what he is seeing.

There's a pile of blankets in front of the window, a little mountain of sheets and linens, and by the looks of it, she's stripped almost the entire bed to wrap herself in her little cocoon. He approaches the window slowly, watching how the bundle in front of him moves slightly, barely noticeable, just a little shiver when her deep breaths hit the window pane and fog up the glass.

He crouches down beside her and gently puts his hand on the soft fabric, and she stiffens, holding her breath, before her head slowly emerges from between the blankets, her eyes blinking tiredly as she meets his curious gaze.

“Hey, baby,” he whispers. “What are you doing here? Did you build a fort?”

She huffs a scoff and turns away, staring through the window down at the city that's getting ready for the night. It's already dark on the streets, lamps like little dots that can't disperse the shadows, while the sun sets slowly behind the tall buildings around them.

“Are you hungry, darling?” he asks quietly, both his hands on what he assumes to be her shoulders under the many layers of fabric she's thrown over herself.

Her voice is muffled, but the tone is clear when she repeats his question in a mocking tone. “Are you hungry... what do you think?” she adds, burrowing out of her cocoon to glare at him, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. “The only thing I ate all day is the fucking cum that you pumped into my stomach!” she croaks hoarsely, her voice louder than he's used to hearing. She sounds downright cranky.

He backs away in surprise, not having expected such an outburst. Not from her, his perfect little girl, who's been so submissive from the moment she woke up in his bed. She may have a point, but he doesn't like the way she talks to him.

Straightening up, he grabs the blanket and rips it off her without much resistance. She yelps as she tumbles to her side when he gathers the fabrics in his arms and throws them back onto the bed, then stares down at her darkly. He pauses as she crawls backwards, pulling her knees to her chest. She is wearing one of his hoodies that sits around her tiny body like a potato sack.

He clenches his jaw, meeting her wide eyes. “So you went through my closet, huh?” he says quietly. “After I told you not to?”

The defiance in her eyes wavers, her breath quickening. He's never felt more like a monster as he looks down at the slowly deflating bundle in front of him, the little rabbit sinking into herself as the wolf looms over her, baring his teeth.

“Well?” he snarls, still in a low voice, loaded, dangerous.

She looks away, sinks her fingers into the thick fabric, pulls it closer around herself. She mumbles something he can't understand.

“Speak up!” he says, a notch louder, making her flinch.

“M-missed you,” she repeats quietly, muffled as she presses her chin against her knees, hiding half of her face in the wide neckline of the hoodie.

He narrows his eyes, not sure he heard correctly. Slowly he crouches down in front of her, extending a hand to pull the fabric away from her mouth. She winces, stiffens when he touches her, eyes even wider, full of fear. “Say that again.”

She bites her lip, swallows hard, blinks quickly. “I... I... I've... m-missed you...” she whispers then, her voice that low little hum in the atmosphere, a sweet sound, a fleeting impression. “Y-you were gone so long...”

There's a strange sting to his heart, a little ache, his stomach tensing up as well. He doesn't know what to make of it. But his body reacts before he can think more about it, his big hands hooking under her arms, pulling her to her feet (she looks so fucking adorable, the hoodie is so big it's almost reaching her knees, the sleeves falling over her hands, hanging off her like boneless limbs) – before he unceremoniously throws her over his shoulder, that little bundle of limbs and hair and his hoodie, and she yelps, grips the back of his shirt, struggles a little bit, but ultimately stops fighting him the moment he leaves the bedroom.

Holding her legs, her small body bouncing on his shoulder, he carries her to the kitchen, then carefully puts her down on the counter, as careful as his trembling hands allow, before he grabs her face and stares at her, his breath fanning over her quivering lips. Her big eyes are glistening, fearful, all defiance gone. He's tempted to let it slide, forget about the mocking tone she's had (before she's tried to confuse him with her pitiful confession), but she has to learn her place.

“Next time you talk to me like that,” he whispers darkly, brushing his nose against hers, “I'll spank you so hard you won't be able to sit for a week!” She gasps, shivers, furrows her eyebrows. “And if you wouldn't look so goddamn cute in my hoodie, I'd do the same thing right now. You'll never go through my stuff again, understood?”

She nods frantically into his hands. “Y-yes, sir,” she whimpers. “I... I'm sorry...”

He exhales loudly through his nose, closes his eyes for a moment, then looks at her again, tilting his head to brush his lips against her jaw before he whispers into her ear: “So you missed me, huh? How much?”

She flinches, rapid little puffs of air leaving her flaring nostrils. He grips her throat with one hand while the other slides under the hem of the hoodie and finds her heat, fingers dipping right between her folds. No underwear. And it only takes him a few strokes of his fingertips and she's wet for him again. But it's not enough, he can tell when he presses his finger against her entrance. Her muscles are tense, stiff almost.

“Should have used the toys, baby...” he whispers, watching her closely. “This will probably hurt now...”

Her mouth falls open, her hands reaching out to grip the front of his shirt, to push him back or pull him closer, he's not sure and neither is she. She stares at him, eyes watering, this pure little thing, folding to his threats. The hand on her throat moves up to cup her face, wipes at the wetness under her eyes, while he keeps pushing his finger deeper into her tight warmth. She issues something like a croak, a voiceless little noise of protest or discomfort, but she doesn't squirm, doesn't try to pull away.

She just sits there on the counter, holding onto him, looking at him, and he can't help it, he leans in and captures her quivering lips for a deep kiss. And she moans against him, fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt, leaning into him, moving her lips, her tongue against his own, kissing back as needy as he's ever seen her. She really missed him, huh?

Still kissing her passionately, he slips his finger from the tight grip of her cunt and grabs her waist, pulls her towards the edge, nudges her legs apart, stands between them. Her feet hook around his legs, anchoring him against her. He gives a dark laugh into her mouth, gripping her hair to pull her head back a little. She gasps, lips red and swollen, eyes almost black with how dilated her pupils are.

His hands fumble with the fabric of the hoodie, push it up and around her waist, he's tempted to rip it off her entirely, but the idea to fuck her while she's wearing his clothes fuels his want for her even more. So the hoodie stays on. Her hands fall to her side before she braces herself on them, fingers (hidden under the long sleeves) curling around the edge as she watches him push his pants and underwear down. Holding her hungry gaze with the same hunger, he grips his cock and gives it a few pumps before he presses the tip to her entrance.

No preparation, he's going in raw, he needs it, she deserves it. Her face tenses when he forces the tip in, she's so tight, tighter than usual, and it takes him a few nudges to sink the first inches into her. Her breath quickens, and she fights the pain, he can tell, her eyes watering, her arms shaking as she white-knuckles the counter. His hands find the dip of her waist, and he rolls his hips into her, feeling her resistance, the tense muscles fighting the intruder.

Watching her closely, he pushes deeper, inch by inch, his cock squeezed by her clenching walls. He wants to just slam his pelvis against her, hammer his way into her, bury himself with violence, but she's already on the verge of losing it, face red, lips pressed into a thin line, the first tears rolling from her lashes, body shaking under the sensation of him impaling her raw.

His hand finds the back of her neck, and he pulls her against him, meets her mouth with a smack. She's greedily leaning into him, legs raised, feet digging into his lower back, hands reaching up to grip at his shirt again, as he keeps moving his hips into her, steadily, with so much restraint he feels his legs trembling. She yelps against his lips when he reaches her deepest point, her muscles still tight around him, but he only grips her hip and starts hammering into her more, determined to fully fuck her open.

Her gasps and whines are swallowed by his tongue plunging into her mouth, as he tastes her, absorbs her. She seems a little distracted by the kiss, or too overwhelmed to properly acknowledge the pain anymore. She even wraps her arms around his neck and throws herself against him, and he allows it, holds her in place, lets her bury her face in the crook of his neck while he pistons his cock in and out of her, slowly finding it easier and easier to sink into her warmth.

She's that pliant thing in his arms, perched on the edge of the counter, a tiny body to use for his own needs, and she still seems to lean into it, into him, clinging to him, warm little breaths against his neck. He groans when her walls clench around him, squeezing his cock, in a different way than just protest. It's almost intentional. He wraps both arms around her, holds her pressed to his chest, while his pelvis smacks into her with fervor, need, hunger, back and forth, fast and hard and deep.

He can feel her tears on his skin, hot and wet, but not as hot and wet as when she presses her mouth to his pulse, muffling her noises, a little self-indulgent gesture while he takes what he wants without mercy, her own needs shining through as she starts sucking on his skin. He groans, grips her tighter, moves even faster, it's a whirlwind of sensations, his head spinning, his cock throbbing inside her, her cunt gripping him as needily as she grips him.

It's his rapid heartbeat in his ears, the wet slapping of skin against skin, lewd squelches every time he plunges deep into her, their breaths loud and rough, and he's right on the edge, so close to losing it all, when he rips her off him, grunting animalistically when he pushes her down on her back, her wide eyes glistening, his hand shaking when he grips the hem of the hoodie and pulls it up to expose her fluttering stomach.

He can barely contain himself, he's so fucking close, his balls tight, cock rock hard as he slips it from her warmth, grips it with a force (ignoring the thin layer of blood on it), and it's barely a few seconds before he comes with a deep growl, shooting his load onto her pure skin, watching breathlessly how her fingers sink into the fabric of her (his) hoodie and hold it up, letting him soil her slender torso.

He braces on his arms, head sunken between his shoulders, breathing hard, chest heaving, spent cock resting on her pelvis, twitching, leaking the last drops onto her skin.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees her hand moving, and he freezes when he sees her dragging her finger over her stomach, gathering his cum, before she brings the same finger to her lips, licking it up. He leans back, staring at her, feeling a new wave of excitement rushing down into his groin as he watches her clean herself up, tasting him, taking every single drop he gave her. His head is fully spinning now.

Once she's done, he straightens up fully, steps back, puts his hands under her arms to hoist her off the counter. She immediately goes down on her knees in front of him, and his hoarsely whispered “Clean.” has barely left his mouth when she is already on him, her little tongue lapping around his length. He grips her shoulders, inhales deeply, tries to calm his racing heart. She's so eager to lick up any excess cum, even puts his tip into her mouth and sucks on him hard, and he has to pull her off him when he feels himself twitching.

She stands up, looking at him with her cheeks bright red, that little thing buried in his big hoodie, her hair messy, lips swollen, eyes glowing, pupils still dilated. He knows she didn't come, he finished too quickly, but that doesn't seem to bother her. His hands find her face, rub at the corners of her mouth, before he bends down and kisses her softly. “Good girl,” he whispers, staring into her eyes, watching her reaction to his praise, how she bites her lip, smiles shyly, blushes even more.

He gives her another forehead kiss and straightens up, rolling his shoulders, before he pulls his pants back up and tucks his dick away. Without another word, he grabs her wrist, hidden under the long sleeve, and drags her around the kitchen island, slips onto a bar stool and lifts her up onto his thigh effortlessly.

She leans into him, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie in her lap, while he pulls the bags of takeout closer to him. Upon seeing the food he's putting in front of her (mostly finger food like fries, chicken wings, nuggets, bread sticks, chips, easy things to grab while on the go – he really has to put in more effort to feed her properly in the future), he can hear the low rumble of her stomach, making him smirk.

Poor thing, living the entire day off the cum he made her swallow. A thing she blamed him for, but that's still better than nothing, right? And she clearly seemed to have a hunger for it too, with how she went down on him. Rubbing her back, he feeds her some fries, and she lets him, watching him with curious eyes as she chews.

It's another one of these strange moments, the peace after the storm, little innocent instances of domesticity that he really has to get used to, wants to get used to. It's a nice balance, one he knows she needs, one he didn't know he needed as well.

They keep eating in silence. She always waits for him to offer her a new bite, never takes something herself. This submissive little thing on his lap, big eyes on him, mesmerized, caught in his web. Blushes every time he shoots her a smile. He has her, body and soul, he feels it. His arm wrapped around her waist, hand heavy on her thighs, brushing against her fingers, he watches her, lured in by her innocent beauty. Maybe she has him too...

“So what did you do while I was gone?” he asks quietly, moving his grease covered finger along her bottom lip. Her tongue darts out, hesitant, licking along his fingertip.

“Looked out the window,” she mumbles, focused on his finger. “Watched the cars go by, or tried to. They're so tiny from up here...”

He huffs a laugh, grabbing another fry. “You really had no desire to play around a little?”

She blushes deeply, averts her eyes, shakes her head.

“No? Are you afraid of my toys?”

She purses her lips, shrugs her shoulders. “I... I just don't know how to... use them...”

“Really, baby? After all the sex we've had you don't know how to push a dildo up your cunt?” He shakes his head, exhaling loudly as he shifts her on his lap.

“It... it's not the same,” she mutters under her breath, sinking into herself a little, squirming in embarrassment.

His hand moves along her neck, fingers teasing against her throat, before he grabs her chin and makes her look at him. “You prefer my cock, huh?” he teases with a smirk, meeting her big eyes. She blinks, tries to look away again. He grips her jaw harder. “Come on, don't be coy...”

She inhales sharply when she looks at him, swallowing against his hand. “I... I think so...”

“Say it,” he says, staring her down.

She sucks in another breath in clear discomfort. “I... I prefer... your... your cock...” she whispers barely audible.

He leans down, pulls her chin up, captures her mouth for a short but deep kiss. Sighing contently, he leans back, brushing his lips against her nose. “Flattering, really,” he says and smiles at her as he sits up straighter again. “But you know, I cannot entertain you all the fucking time,” he adds, watching her as she bites her lip. “And you have to learn to prepare yourself for me...”

His hand moves along her neck, slips into her hair, before he twists his fingers around the soft strands. She gasps as he pulls her head back a little.

“I'll teach you how to use them...” he whispers, his eyes wandering over her flushed face, already imagining stuffing her holes, seeing that look of shame and arousal filling her pretty eyes. She'll probably cry too, and he can't wait to see that, hear her little mewls, hold her down as she squirms and fights the sensations he's going to show her.

But he has to wait. Even if patience isn't his strong suit. He lets go of her hair to caress her scalp, licks his lips as he watches her. Then he leans past her and grabs a few more fries, feeding her casually as if not already planning out the rest of the night.

Once most of the food is gone and she's that happily humming thing on his lap, leaning against him, fed and content, he holds her for another moment, before easily picking her up and setting her down on the counter. She watches him curiously when he stands up, he only ruffles her hair and walks to the fridge, grabs two small bottles of water and rummages through the bags he's brought.

She frowns when he returns to her and hands her one of the bottles, sets the other down next to her, before he fidgets with the little box in his hands, then presents the pill to her. “Take this,” he tells her, waiting for her small fingers to scrape over his palm as she picks it up hesitantly. Once she does, he takes a look at his watch, memorizes the time, and watches her put the pill on her tongue before she brings the water to her lips and swallows hard.

Another thing he has to be patient about, for her birth control to take root, even though thinking about filling her up to the brim until she's leaking from her puffy little pussy is occupying a large portion of his mind right now.

He exhales loudly, his hand on her cheek as she parts her lips to show him her empty mouth. “Good girl,” he coos, giving her a strained smile and a quick forehead kiss. “Ready for a little training session?” he then offers with a wink. He knows she isn't, but he picks her up anyway, doesn't wait for her reply, takes what he wants as usual.

Carrying her to the bedroom, she seems to make herself intentionally heavier, molding into his arms, leaning against his chest, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Poor thing. She has to know by now he isn't done with her yet.

“Go make yourself ready for bed,” he tells her once he sets her down and she reluctantly unfurls from his hold. Nodding, she follows the order and vanishes into the bathroom while he slips into his closet and changes out of his work-out clothes into something more comfortable.

She's still washing up when he rummages through the nightstand to gather the tools he'll need. It's a large assortment of different things, but he picks the ones she might not be as intimidated by, even picks the brightest colors for the most part. The quiet tapping of her footsteps sounds behind him, and he turns around, squaring his shoulders before he extends a hand to her. She's still wearing his hoodie.

“Raise your arms,” he whispers after he's pulled her towards him. She does, watches him while chewing on her bottom lip. He holds her gaze as he moves his hands down to the hem of the hoodie and pushes up the fabric, palms slowly rubbing over her bare skin until he pulls it over her head and throws it behind her. She's shivering, instinctively covering herself up.

He lets her, gives her the illusion of safety, allows her some modesty. He's seen every inch of her by now, and she's still shy about being naked in front of him. Cute. Innocent. A smile curls his lips as he leans in and grabs her face, eyes boring into hers, before he closes his lips around hers for a relatively chaste kiss. She kisses back almost immediately, her minty tongue extending to meet his, as she soaks up the gentle touches, her arms relaxing, hands finding his forearms.

Breaking the kiss with a sigh, he leans back, holds her face, watches her closely. Her eyes are big, but not frightful, pupils dilated. Perfectly pliant. His hands move to her shoulders, and he turns her carefully, making her face the bed and the array of sex toys he's lined up for her. He feels the shudder that crashes through her small body at the sight. Holding her upper arms with a firm grip, he leans in, rests his chin on her shoulder. She stiffens.

“I want you to choose,” he tells her quietly, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She's still biting her lip.

When he releases her, he gives her a gentle nudge, and she takes a step towards the bed, staring down at its contents. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he watches her, how her shaking hands move over the smaller and bigger items, before she picks up the smallest toy, a bright pink dildo, barely an inch in diameter, three inches long, thin and barely considered making a difference in his eyes. She's certainly taken way more before.

He scoffs, she flinches at the sound and turns to him, holding up the small item. “That one? Really?” he teases, holding up his pinky finger that has about the same dimensions. “Pick something bigger, sweetheart.”

She inhales deeply, looks back at the items, then chooses the second smallest thing. Of course. He sighs, steps past her and picks up a baby blue dildo, about one and a half inches wide and six inches long, shaped more lifelike than her pick. This'll do nicely, she can handle this for sure. He places the toy in her small hand. She stares at it, hesitantly closes her fingers around it.

“Now pick a butt plug,” he tells her, leaning back, resuming his watching stance behind her.

A tiny little whine escapes her, a mix between a sigh and a scoff or a wail? He isn't too sure. He knows she's not happy about this, but she'll have to learn. She takes her sweet time looking at all the different plugs. He has quite the collection he realizes. Metal ones, silicone ones, glass ones, small and tear-shaped, bigger and more rounded, cute bejeweled bases with thin necks and more practical ones formed like a handle, some are short, some are longer, some ribbed, smooth or made of balls pushed into a line.

She picks up the smallest metal one with a heart-shaped base. He sighs, and she drops it, a shiver running through her tense body. Her fingers glide over the line of toys as if she's waiting for his reaction. He smirks, lets her hand move up the bed towards the longer ones. He exhales loudly, and her hand stops, landing on a smooth silicone one, black, with a round base, thin neck and an elongated body, probably double the length she's had in her cute little butt before (aside from his cock of course). Progress.

He sees her swallowing when she picks it up. “Good choice,” he says with a wink as she turns to look up at him. He takes both toys from her hands and places them on the nightstand, then quickly gathers the rest of the items up and puts them back into the drawer. He considers grabbing the lube from the back of it, but then refrains. No need, he'll want her to remember this...

“Wait here,” he says, holding her gaze for a moment. She nods, frozen to the spot in front of the bed, chest rising and falling faster, arms stiff at her sides, hands balled up into fists, and he walks into the closet and grabs the floor-length mirror that he positions against the wall, facing the side of the bed. He meets her confused expression in the reflection.

Without explaining anything, he steps behind her, hands on her shoulders, before he quickly pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it towards where he discarded the hoodie. Then he sits down on the edge of the bed, far enough to allow her space between his legs, and pulls her towards him, one hand heavy on her stomach as he scoots her closer to him until her bare back meets his bare chest. She inhales deeply, a furrow between her eyebrows, her cheeks burning up.

Their eyes meet in the mirror. “I want you to see everything,” he whispers, leaning closer, brushing his lips against her ear. “Open your legs, baby.”

She stares at him, goosebumps rippling over her skin, but her thighs remain clamped together firmly. He gives her a few seconds, then his hand closes around her leg, long fingers almost completely encircling it as he slips them between her soft thighs. She bites her lip, her hands gripping at his wrist, but she stops protesting eventually, slowly allowing him to have a better view at her cute little cunt.

He kisses her earlobe, moving both his hands to her thighs to hold her wide open. She looks away, breathing harder. “Now show me how you would normally touch yourself...” he whispers, smiling when her breath hitches a little.

She's struggling, visibly struggling to make her hands move down to her sex, her cheeks flushed a deep red, lip worried between her teeth, a deep crease between her eyebrows. “I...” she stammers, breathing a little harder. “I don't –”

“Come on, darling,” he says almost softly, planting kisses along her neck, feeling the heat of her blush and her rapid pulse against his lips. “You can do so many things for me... but not this?”

She still hesitates, and he closes his eyes as his patience runs out. A yelp escapes her when he grips her wrist and forces her hand between her legs, eyes opening slowly as he meets her fearful gaze in the mirror.

“Touch yourself,” he orders, his voice low and quiet, bordering on angry. She whines a little, lips parted and quivering, tears shimmering in her wide eyes. She pushes hard against his hold but ultimately fails when he presses her hand down, his fingers guiding hers towards her folds. “I'm gonna take my hand away now. Show me what you can do...”

He does as he said, watching her closely. Her hand remains cupping her mound, her eyes fixed on her own reflection. He curls his fingers around her thighs, holding her wide open, waiting, trying to be patient, his nostrils flaring as he takes deep breaths to calm himself down.

And slowly she starts moving, bending her middle finger, rubbing slowly up and down her lower lips, a concentrated look on her flushed face. She's slow and uncoordinated, fingers shaking, her breaths labored but not from how she touches herself, more from embarrassment. She clearly has no idea what she's doing.

He inhales deeply, shaking his head. She looks up at the motion, meeting his dark gaze. “I... I'm sorry,” she mumbles, biting her lip. Without replying, he brings his hand back to hers, his long fingers hovering over her smaller ones. He slips them between hers and moves her hand higher, rubbing her palm over her heated skin. She flinches a little when he presses the heel of her hand against her clit, moves it in tight circles until her breaths turn even more frantic.

Then he lets go of her again, watching her. It takes her a few seconds before she repeats the motion he's shown her and another few until she realizes it's easier using her fingers. Two fingertips press against her sensitive nub, and she gasps when her thighs twitch at the sensation. Holding his gaze in the mirror, she rubs herself faster, lips parted, breaths rough. She increases the pace even further when he gives her an encouraging smile.

Soon she's panting between his legs, caged in by his thighs, held by his hands, observed by eager eyes as her small body shivers and convulses slightly. “That's it,” he coos softly. “Keep going... almost there...”

His words spur her on, and she moves her fingers faster, harder, against her clit, rubs through her glistening folds, up and down, teases between them. He feels his own heartbeat accelerating as she presses her back against his chest, anchors herself. He feels her thighs twitching uncontrollably against his hands.

She gasps and mewls, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks burning up, lips quivering. Her hand curls into a claw, thumb pressed to her clit, fingers digging into her soft lips, and he can see the slight hesitation when she pushes two fingers against her entrance. “Go on...” he whispers, watching her shudder when he leans closer. “Put those fingers where they belong...”

A little moan escapes her when she does, tiny fingers slipping deeper into her wet little pussy, and then she's just gone. Her head thrashes back against his shoulder, body spasming hard, thighs fighting against his grip to clamp together, while she slips her fingers in and out fast, as deep as they go, while her thumb prods her nub in frantic little motions. She stiffens when she comes, wailing quietly, squeezing her eyes shut, while he keeps watching her in the reflection, a tiny body overcome by pleasure with her fingers buried deep in her own sex.

“Good girl,” he praises when she comes down slowly, relaxing in his hold, breathing harder. He kisses her neck and feels her rapid heartbeat against his lips.

He gently grabs her wrist and pries her fingers out of herself. Her eyes flutter open, only a little as she turns her head and looks at him directly, licking her lips. He meets her hooded gaze and brings her hand up to her face, her small fingers glistening in her own juices. She freezes slightly when her own smell hits her nostrils, but he only smiles and moves her hand higher until it's hovering in front of his face.

She blushes an even deeper shade of red when he extends his tongue and licks along her middle finger, sucking the tip into his mouth, tasting her sweet essence. A hum escapes him. She watches him closely, curiously. When he brings her hand to her lips, she opens her mouth almost automatically, and he smiles at the submission, before he feels his cock stirring in his pants as she licks up along her own index finger, tasting herself, inhaling deeply as she does so.

He lets go of her hand and grips her chin, turns her head more towards him to capture her glistening lips for a quick but deep kiss. She gasps into it, shifting against him until she drapes her legs over his thigh, her small hands, one of them wet, pressing into his stomach. His arm wraps around her, pulls her closer, before he leans back a little, looking at her with a dark smirk.

“We're not done yet, darling,” he whispers, and while she frowns in confusion, he leans over her and grabs the toys she's chosen earlier. She stiffens immediately when he puts the baby blue dildo into her hands, placing the plug to the side for now. He rearranges her between his legs, facing the mirror, his hands going back to her thighs to pry them open.

She lets out a quiet whine when he exposes her glistening cunt, her hands shaking as they grip the toy harder. He watches her for a moment, observes the struggle as she turns it between her fingers. With how tense his stomach is, there's no more patience within him. Snatching the dildo from her hands, making her wince, he grips her throat with his other hand and leans her back against him, her chin tilted up, eyes wide in the reflection.

“Do you want to be called a good girl again?” he whispers, lips brushing against her ear. She nods frantically. “Then behave like one.” She swallows against his palm, breathing loudly through her nose. “Open your mouth.”

Again, she hesitates, and he closes his hand around her neck until she obliges, parting her lips, tongue out flat, her chest rising and falling faster against his arm. He brings the blue toy to her mouth, prods the lifelike tip against her upper lip, then slips it a little deeper. She lets out a muffled whine, but as soon as his dark eyes land on hers in the mirror, she stiffens, holds his gaze, slowly closes her lips around the object and moves her tongue against it, hollowing her cheeks slightly.

He pushes it deeper, fingers holding it tightly against her, and she flinches when he hits the back of her throat. His hand on her neck holds her in place, ignoring the shudders of her body, as he starts moving it back and forth, in and out, coating it in her own saliva. Her hands shoot up and close around his wrist, fingernails sinking into his skin, but it only fuels him, makes him move the toy faster, deeper, and when she gags around it, he tightens his grip while he watches the tears rolling out of the corners of her eyes.

His cock stirs at the sight. Her head is heavy against his shoulder, her body jerking into him the more he teases the back of her throat. The pleading look in her eyes is mesmerizing. He stops his motions, holds the dildo right at the edge of her throat, squeezes her neck, stares at her. She blinks her tears away, a deep crease between her eyebrows. A smile creeps up his lips.

Pulling the dildo back, he watches her relax immediately, melting into him, taking deep breaths through her nose. A strand of saliva connects her lips and the item when he puts it back into her shaking hand. She uses her free one to wipe at her mouth, then swallows the excess spit and licks her lips. Her small fingers close around the base of the wet toy.

Instead of waiting for her to get her bearings, he hooks his hands under her knees and lifts her legs up, makes her put her feet on his knees, and while he looks closely at her exposed pussy, he notices the deep blush still finding ways to make her skin look even more flushed. He nestles her between his legs, holding her, watching her, a silent “Come on already...” in his impatient gaze.

She brings the blue dildo to her wet folds, hands shaking badly, her whole body tense while faced with a task he really doesn't think is that hard. She never fights him when he puts his cock into her, not much anyway, but seeing this kind of hesitation makes him wonder why she's so shy to use toys.

It's either the humiliation to do it in front of him or she really never felt the urge to seek her own pleasure. Must be her submissive nature to let others do the work for her instead of doing it herself. As if she can't get any more perfect. Well, there is still room for improvement, but he's certain she'll adjust just fine once that first barrier is broken down.

The toy looks bigger in her small hand, but it's nothing compared to his straining erection throbbing in the confines of his underwear. She should be thankful he lets her practice with something smaller. His hands tighten around her thighs, holding them up, his arms caging her in while he looks over her head, so close to completely losing his patience.

But then she pushes the tip of the object against her entrance, and with how he holds her, she's spread wide open, and it slips right in. A little yelp escapes her, but he only smiles. She catches the movement of his lips and stares back at him, eyes wide, still glistening, lips parted and quivering, as if waiting for his praise. But he denies it for now, she's not done yet.

And so she starts moving the toy in and out, slow little nudges, until half of it is covered in her juices. “Deeper,” he growls into her ear, watching her like a hawk. She bites her lip and grips the base harder, pushes it deeper, body jolting against his when she meets a little resistance. “Keep going...” She does, slowly, hesitantly, completely unsure what she's doing. His breaths grow louder, more impatient, the urge to grip the toy and shove it in and out of her himself overwhelmingly strong.

But she has to learn. Slowly, she adjusts, her fingers cramped around the base as she keeps moving it in and out, always a little faster, while her breaths quicken and her thighs twitch in his hold. It's beautiful to watch how the discomfort on her face turns into bliss, how her lips quiver and part more with each flick of her wrist, how her eyebrows furrow before they relax, how her eyes roll back as she frantically plunges the blue toy into her reddened pussy, the squelching sounds telling him how wet she is, how aroused this makes her after all.

Little mewls and moans escape her as she presses her back into his chest, grounds herself against him, feet digging into his knees, toes curling around them. Her legs spasm into his hands, the urge to close them, press them hard together, is the last fight she fights before she succumbs to the sensation and cries out, stilling the toy inside her as she convulses against him, her stomach fluttering as she comes.

His eyes are fixated on her reflection, her small hand relaxes, slowly pulls the toy out of her clenching cunt, her walls clinging to the soft silicone, drenched in her juices. There's a little popping sound when it slips out, her pussy gaping for a moment, her wetness seeping out slowly. She's panting now, meeting his gaze in the mirror. He takes the soaked dildo from her shaking hand and brings his lips to her cheek.

“Well done,” he whispers, watching her shiver at his words, her pupils dilating a little more. “Now let's put this where it belongs,” he says, and she relaxes at first when he leans over her, but then stiffens immediately when he shifts her on his thighs, hooking his arm around her leg as he brings the toy back to her glistening folds.

“Wait... what...” she stammers, but he ignores her and pushes the blue thing right back between her clenching walls. She yelps, squirms against him, he doesn't care. He nudges it in all the way until only the flat base pokes out, and when she tries to grab at it, pull it back, he slaps her hands away and cups his own palm over her mound, holding the toy in place.

“You need to get used to having something inside you, baby,” he tells her, meeting her flustered gaze. “You'll sleep with this tonight.”

She frowns, biting her lip, writhing uncomfortably against him. He leans over her, hand still on her sex, feeling the toy nudging against his palm as she tries to push it back out. His gaze is dark and intense, and she freezes, eyes wide. He opens the bottom drawer of the bedside table and rummages through the contents. The cuffs are clinking against each other, the ropes are soft against his fingers, before he finds what he's looking for.

The leather straps gleam in the dim light. She's fallen silent and still at the sight. “It's a harness,” he explains. “It'll keep the dildo in place overnight.” It's a mixture of a chastity belt and a harness normally used for strap-ons, but he doesn't have a use for either of those, just a means to help her adjust. It's basically a very rigid leather thong, and she already knows those.

She lets out a pathetic whimper when he starts pulling the straps up her legs with one hand before he nudges her to stand, his other hand still pressing between her thighs. She's shaky on her feet, grabs his shoulder for support as she watches him fasten the straps until the contraption sits snug around her hips, the thick leather band between her legs keeping the toy from slipping out, running all the way from below her belly button to between her ass cheeks.

He moves her hips playfully, testing the device. Everything stays in place. Good. “How does it feel?” he asks, looking up at her as she stands between his legs, this tiny thing with her big eyes, overwhelmed yet again.

“Full,” she whispers, and he smiles softly and pats her fluttering stomach.

“You'll get used to it,” he says, his big hands rubbing up and down her sides.

His eyes fall onto the plug still lying beside him, and he hesitates. Both at once might be too much for her right now, so he sighs and puts it back on the nightstand. Her eyes follow the motions, and there's relief on her tear-soaked face.

He looks at her, waits for her to meet his gaze. She licks her lips, the quick motion of her tongue making his stomach tense up. “You can only open this if you have to use the toilet, understood?” he says, his fingers gliding over the buckle sitting a little above her pubic bone. “And the toy goes back in right after. No cheating, or I'll have to punish you, won't I?” She nods, he tilts his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir,” she replies quickly, worrying her lip back between her teeth.

He smiles, pulling her closer until she sits on his thigh, wincing when the toy inside her moves with her motions. Patting her legs, he watches her, then raises a hand to wipe at her wet cheek. “You're doing great, sweetheart,” he says softly, tucking a strand of silky hair behind her ear. Looking at him, she leans against his shoulder, seeking his warmth, his praise. So eager. So innocent.

He wraps his arms around her and holds her, pressing his lips to the top of her head. One moment. He gives her one moment of reprieve, a little bit of comfort, before he can't ignore his own urges anymore. Without another word, he grabs her shoulders and makes her stand again, eyes on her, her surprise evident on her flushed face.

“Kneel,” he says, watching with growing adoration how she flinches, then immediately follows the order and goes down between his legs, hands gripping her own thighs as she bites her lip, shifting a little until she finds a comfortable position. He can only imagine how the hard thing inside her makes her feel right now. Not that he cares.

He grabs her chin, pulls her closer, while his other hand pushes down his pants and underwear to release his throbbing erection. She swallows, her eyes flicking to his groin, before she looks back at him, awaiting the next command. And it's that moment that he realizes he may care after all.

This girl. How she's kneeling there, so obedient despite her own discomfort, her big eyes on him, waiting, ignoring the state of her body, forcing herself to remain calm, breathing through whatever goes on in that pretty head of hers. This fucking girl. After everything he's done to her, took from her, everything she had to endure, everything he made her do, a weekend full of abuse, she is still kneeling there, looking at him, waiting, wanting to please.

She's so fucking perfect...

He inhales deeply, shifts closer to the edge of the bed, one hand on the fabric of his pants, the other moving to caress her face. For a moment he's fighting the quite obvious urges that rage inside him, that make his cock bounce angrily against his lower stomach. It's a primal instinct to force himself on her, a need to be satisfied, a desire to dominate, but as he looks at her, meeting her patient gaze, there's something else rushing through his veins.

A need to protect, to hold, to comfort her. Something he's never felt before. And it's scaring him more than he likes to admit. Because he isn't afraid of anything in this cutthroat world, he's adapted to it, he's become the one to fear. That's the way it's always been, for many years, ever since he discovered this side of himself. To have this girl of all people make him pause in following his desires... it's strange. Unreal.

It's the doubts whirling through his head that make him stand up suddenly, causing her to flinch away, but he just hooks his hands under her arms and pulls her up and against his chest, embracing her tightly, feeling her small body shivering against his, her hesitant hands finding their way to his back as she returns the hug. He presses his lips to her hair, inhaling deeply, taking in her sweet aroma, the innocence oozing out of her like something that's messing with his senses, clouding his mind, a silent death nestling in his bones.

With her in his arms, he steps out of his sweatpants and underwear and climbs onto the bed, turns off the lights before wrapping the covers around their bodies as he lies down with her, pulling her against him when he rolls onto his back. She settles on his chest, a warm wet cheek pressed to his shoulder, a small hand flat on his stomach, her leg automatically hooking over his thigh as she moves closer to him. An instinct, for her to search his warmth, for him to hold her against him.

Despite it all, it feels familiar.

And he would have settled for it, fell asleep like this, but then he feels her moving, pushing off the blanket, slipping from under his arm to place chaste kisses down his torso with her hand slowly inching closer to his groin.

“What are you doing?” he mutters. She's never initiated this before. Only ever did what he told her.

“Y-you... you wanted me to... do this, didn't you?” she whispers into his skin, looking up from under her lashes as she rests her chin on his hipbone.

He considers it, but then he shakes his head. “No,” he replies quietly, grabbing her arm to pull her back up. “Just use your hand...”

She stiffens when he puts her back on his chest, a crease between her eyebrows. Resuming her position, leg hooking around his thigh once more (he can feel the cool leather of her harness pressing into his skin), she moves her hand down his abdomen and blindly fumbles to grab his cock. Her fingers close around it, as best as they can (so fucking small), and start moving up and down his shaft.

He relaxes into the bed, inhaling deeply, one arm behind his head, the other rubbing along her back. She tilts her chin up to look at him, biting her lip, watching him closely. Blushing deeply when he meets her gaze. While she works her hand around him, the pressure of her fist getting stronger the longer she does it, more confident, and he smiles at her which makes the corners of her lips twitch as well.

What a cute little creature.

Exhaling loudly, he leans in, the arm around her pulling her up a little more until he can capture her mouth for a heated kiss. She gasps into it but soon mirrors his movements, kissing him back with the same hunger, her tongue flicking around his, a sensual dance while the grip of her fingers and the flick of her wrist get harder and faster, causing him to groan into her mouth.

He feels the telltale tension settling in his stomach, the tightening of his balls, his cock twitching in her hold, but before he allows himself to tumble over the edge, he angles his leg up, making her flinch when his thigh presses between her legs and against the harness holding the toy inside her.

“Grind on my leg,” he tells her between kisses, voice rough with impending release and the desire to give her something back.

She shifts on top of him as she starts moving her hips back into his leg, whimpers falling from her lips that he tries to swallow with eager flicks of his tongue. She's warm against his skin, warm and wet, her body shuddering, the hand around his cock trying to keep up while her other hand hooks around his arm for support. He holds her while she presses her pelvis into his thigh, over and over again, her breath quickening, mingling with his.

Her eyes are hooded and glistening, cheeks burning, and he pauses his kisses and watches her, pressing his forehead to hers to stabilize her. Little mewls escape her, her thighs clamping down around his as she nears her peak. The thought of her humping his leg with that baby blue dildo stuck inside her while her walls probably clench and unclench around it, the heat gathering inside her with nowhere to go, makes him growl in his throat.

He moves his hand down and closes it around her smaller one, helping her along as she tries to jerk him off. His motions are much rougher, and it doesn't take him long to unload right against her stomach, spurt after hot spurt, grunting loudly as he feels the tension dissolving into pleasure. “Fuck,” he groans and presses his mouth to hers, savoring the warmth of her tongue moving against his, her sweet taste.

His leg jerks against her, and she cries out against his lips, succumbing to the shudders of her small body, uncontrollable little spasms as yet another orgasm crashes through her. The wetness that makes it past the toy stuck inside her seeps into his skin. He lets go of his spent cock and brings her hand with him, rolling her onto her side before he does the same, facing her, holding her hand tightly in his as he watches her.

She has her eyes closed, breathing heavier, slowly coming down from her high. He leans in and kisses her damp forehead. A little mewl escapes her, and he pulls her closer to him, curtly noticing the stickiness on her skin, but he doesn't care about cleaning up now. He's too content. It doesn't matter. Inhaling deeply, he rests his chin on top of her head as she buries her face in his chest. His free arm grabs the covers and pulls them back around them before he lets his hand rest heavy on her lower back, holding her against him.

“My good little girl,” he whispers into her hair, feeling a shiver crashing through her. “Sleep now. You did so good.”

She relaxes against him, deep breaths fanning over his skin. He closes his eyes and leans into her, slowly falling asleep with her hand still braced between his long fingers. He wonders how he was ever able to sleep without this tiny warm thing in his embrace.

48 hours. A chance encounter. A decision on a whim. And he's not regretted a single second. She's perfect, and he knows he did the right thing. He'll never let her go ever again.

EIGHT 🟥 NINE 🟥 TEN

End notes: I don't even wanna try to recap the weekend these two had, it feels unrealistic to be honest, but that's the fun with fiction, isn't it? 48 hours of almost nonstop-fuckery? Sure! Why not? Anything goes!

So. We have one more chapter to seal the deal, so to speak, (for now). Let's look at this as if it's the finale of a season, because there will be more! Sir and Darling's story is not yet done!

(Btw: a little reminder that the whole concept of inches is very foreign to me (give me centimeters >_>), but I tried to keep it universal for you guys, so if the dimensions of these toys feel strange to you, that might be it.)

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN

[1andrys]

invisible string | ethan landry

“all along there was an invisible string tying you to me.”

non gf! ethan x reader

𓏲࣪⋆| warnings: none :)

𓏲࣪⋆| summary: Ethan was a bookshop employee in hopes to gain some cash as a broke college student, it wasn’t the best job but here he was. The only thing keeping him a little motivated was the cute bookshop regular roaming around the store every thursday and friday. As a hopeless romantic, he thought it was fate. (ib: invisible string by taylor swift)

𓏲࣪⋆| a/n: this is my first one on this acc, i hope ygs enjoy. if you are interest in more please add yourself to the taglist

“THAT will be 15.48,” Ethan’s voice spoke as he clicked on the old cash register that should be repaired soon for any other inconveniences in the small bookshop called “Bookmarked.” Ethan always thought the name was corny but here he was, wearing the ugly brown apron over his green knitted sweater and jeans with the name tag in his crappy handwriting. It was just as corny as the name. As a college student, it wasn’t easy to just be stable and independent, so Ethan was working at the bookshop for some cash. At least he ended up getting some employee discount for books.

“I thought there was a 50% discount,” The customer chirped and eyed Ethan while they looked at the stack of books in the check out.

Ethan sighed, this was the third time this afternoon that somebody tried correcting him, “There is, but only if it’s the books with a green sticker.” He explained as he pointed to the poster with the symbols and words saying, GET 50% OFF ON SELECTED BOOKS (LOOK FOR THE GREEN STICKER.)

It ultimately led to an annoyed customer paying full price for the books, unsatisfied. Ethan let out a groan before he went back to the shelves and fix the new arrivals stack. The fresh smell of books infiltrated his senses while he scooted into the thick wooden shelves. He liked color coordinating the books to his satisfaction. One by one, he placed the new books into the shelf. Finally. He looked behind him at the cart full of books he needed to reorganize because people loved to misplace books. Instead, his eyes widened to see one of the bookstore regulars looking through the cart of books, the same pretty face he liked to see walk in every Thursday and Friday. Your face.

He couldn’t help but stand in place and admire the way your eyes moved to read the back of books as a preview. Eventually, those same eyes locked onto his, you gave him a gentle smile. “Hey, I was wondering where the new arrivals were.”

An awkward silence filled the air, Ethan was zoning out and then snapped out of it, his pale cheeks forming a shade of pink, “Oh right! Yeah yeah, they’re right here.” He stepped to the side and showed the display of the shelf. He had this stupid grin that he couldn’t wipe, he took note of the nice sweater you had on. “I like your sweater.”

You seemed pretty busy and just gave him a nod, “Thanks.” You noticed the same grin the bookstore employee had, your instincts couldn’t help but blush at his words. It wasn’t anything that happened everyday. This was your favorite book store for a reason.

In the fall, you began studying at Blackmore University and discovered the variety of shops near the campus. You came across the dimly lit, cozy book shop in August and have been shopping at “Bookmarked” ever since. Time would go by and you’d notice the cute bookstore employee, the same one with the curly brown hair and big brown eyes. He almost stuck out like a sore thumb in the shop due to his height, he always looked quiet so you always refrained from speaking to him. But it was like there was something always leading you to talk to him.

You walked past him to check out the new arrivals, and you felt the employee’s eyes on you, you spun around and held up a book, “Do you have any recommendations?”

“Not really,” Ethan mumbled in embarrassment. He tried to come up with something niche to pique your interest, but failed to do so.

You gave him a subtle smile, “Well you’re one hell of an employee.” You immediately regretted it, damn, you couldn’t flirt for shit. You almost prayed he wouldn’t take offense.

“Oh,” Ethan cleared his throat out of embarrassment, “Well, I guess I could suggest you this,” He picked up a book right above your head that sent you into a flustered state. It was “Betting On You,” a romance book.

“Cheesy,” Was all you could say. You ended up taking the book, Ethan followed you back to the register to ring up your book without saying a word.

“That will be, 6.53,” Ethan said when he looked over at you and your wallet. Sometimes he despised how awkward he was when it came to girls, he wish it came easy like his best friend Chad, a smooth talker.

Your eyes met Ethan’s and your eyebrows furrowed, “Wait a minute, why is it cheaper? Isn’t the book around 14 bucks?”

“Erm, we’re having a sale.”

“And I thought it was only for selected books,” You pointed behind him at the poster with the same words, GET 50% OFF ON SELECTED BOOKS (LOOK FOR THE GREEN STICKER.) “There’s no green sticker.”

“Right..” Ethan was a little flushed, he was just trying to make a kind gesture, but you guessed it was a form of flirting, “Well, I noticed you were a regular employee so, it wouldn’t hurt giving a discount.”

“Right..” You trailed off, almost mocking his words. “I appreciate it.”

—————————————————————————

WEEKS went by since that last interaction and Ethan was in the clouds, he couldn’t help but remember the way you spoke to him and joked with him. Was it flirting? Ethan wouldn’t know. Thursdays and Fridays were the same, your presence was always a welcome to him and he was always so relieved to see you. It would be some light conversations and recommendations, maybe you did like him. Maybe it was fate. He was always one for some corny romance and maybe this was his chance.

If only things were good for him.

It was a normal Thursday night, he was almost counting down for you to come by for your regular visit, only to find out you came way later than usual. 7 pm. Not only that, but you had a guy following you around the bookshop as you spoke to him. Ethan couldn’t help but assume the worst, a boyfriend. Jealously bubbled in Ethan as he stood by the register and watched you with the guy who was tall, blonde, and very good looking.

You roamed around the bookstore with your date, who you just met a week ago and agreed to a small date. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the best, snarky comments here and there about your literature choices.

“I mean who in the world would read this shit?” Your date spoke to you as you roamed around the romance section, “Have you not read actual good literature? Like American Psycho or something?”

A frown formed on your face once your date said that. Of course, he would judge your sense of taste. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you just wanted this to be over. After a while, your date and you went up to the register, you couldn’t help but give Ethan a small wave as he rang up the books from your date. Ethan just smiled back, covering his heartbreak. Of course you dated a good looking guy, who apparently didn’t have a great taste in books.

“That will be 17.80” Ethan muttered as your date paid him the money. Ethan noticed the disinterest in your face as you watched your date grab his books and walk out with you. You looked back to see Ethan with a weak smile, you felt bad.

A small feeling lingered in your heart, this date was a bad idea and now the cute employee felt like he lost his chance. As you and your date exited the bookstore into the cold air, you stopped your date. “You know what? I think let’s just call it a night, I have a few things to care of,” you explained before your date handed you a book and you just parted ways.

You rushed inside the bookstore, that same cute employee was no longer at the register. You skimmed through the bookstore for him until you saw him fixing bookshelves.

“Hey,” You said with a nervous smile as you approached him.

Ethan’s eyes shifted to meet yours and a confused expression was plastered on his face, “Hello. Quite a date huh?”

“Not really, is there any way I can exchange this book for some store credit?” You asked him with a small smile as you held up the book in your hands.

His brown eyes concentrated on the book, bringing a small laugh to his mouth, “Seriously? Diary of An Oxygen Thief?”

“I know! That’s the biggest red flag,” You shook your head as Ethan waved his hand around for you to follow him. Obediently, you followed him back to the register.

“Here, just give me the book and pick something else out,” Ethan said as you handed him the book which he put to the side. For some reason, this conversation was easier for him to talk in. Maybe there was a chance. Luckily, you went ahead and grabbed a book you really wanted. The Secret History. You came back to see Ethan waiting for you. “Good choice. You know, sometimes we should like talk about books.”

You noticed how nervous he looked like, his fingernails tapping on the wooden table and his eyes drifting away from yours.

“Over coffee?” You added on, giving him a small grin. You knew what he was doing and he was doing it in the most nervous way possible. Sure, your date might have been a pretty bad decision, but it led to something better.

All Ethan could do was nod with a wide smile, his heart was jumping in excitement. Finally, in his mind, all he could think about was fate, an invisible string that was probably tying to the two of you. Maybe it was destiny in his head. And he couldn’t help but wait for that date he was going to have with you.