#hopefully you can see her biceps

[ashasdiary]

Vitamins

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Synopsis: Husband!Nanami being super domestic, encouraging you to take vitamins, and taking care of you in all ways. 

CW: pet names, going to the doctors, established relationship, smut — dirty talking, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, brief edging, breeding kink if you squint, pregnancy (MDNI) WC: 4.6k A/N: I’m not religious but I need him biblically. 

“You’re not anaemic, but your iron levels were shown to be at 4, where we would like to see them at 6, so they’re low,” the doctor informs you. 

You nod in acceptance and Nanami, sat beside you, leans in as he listens intently, elbows on his knees and hands joined together. He’d been the one who recommended you get your blood tested, so of course he was here to support. 

“I’ll be prescribing you some iron tablets for that and hopefully we can see some results after a couple of months. Further, it was found that you were deficient in vitamin A, B12, and D. Your vitamin K levels looked to be normal, however,” the doctor goes on and you nod again. 

“That’s good, honey. You were concerned about bruises and wound recovery but your vitamin K is fine. Right, doctor?” Nanami gazes at you before looking back to the doctor. You blush a little at the mention of bruises, a flashback of a couple nights ago popping up in your head. 

His big hands, roaming your body, coming to rest on your hips and squeezing them tightly as he pulled you onto his cock desperately. 

The doctor’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts immediately. 

“Correct, vitamin K deficiency does increase risk of bleeding and bruising but the levels were healthy so nothing of concern there. I would recommend taking supplements for the time being for your vitamin A, B12 and D as well as your prescribed iron tablets. Overall, everything else was at healthy levels.”

You nod once again, “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll be sure to stay on top of that.”

Nanami leans back and slides his arm around your shoulders before you both stand, taking the report and prescription note and leave the doctor’s office, bidding her goodbye. 

You slip your hand into your husband’s as you walk through the hallway towards the exit. “I have something else you can stay on top of,” he whispers and bumps his hips with yours. 

“Kento!” You whisper at him and lightly smack his firm bicep. 

He lets out a chuckle at your reaction, getting so flustered so easily, “On a serious note, I’m glad that we know now how everything’s going with your vitamin intake. It’s definitely peace of mind,” he says as he guides you outside and towards the pharmacy next door. 

“It is. I wouldn’t have really thought to pursue it myself but I’m grateful you suggested it,” you interlace your fingers through his as you feel gratitude for having him in your life. He’s so caring and also such an adult. Though you laugh about his seriousness sometimes, you’re also grateful that he’s so mindful of things like vitamin intake. 

He ushers you to step inside the pharmacy first — as he always does, ever the gentleman — and you lead the way to the vitamin aisle. Stopping at one section of the many shelves, you peruse the array of vitamins before you, and Nanami is quick to pick one of each that you needed, up. “These have the highest milligrams, so they’ll be the most effective.”

“You’re right,” you nod, and you spot a little pill box, segmented for each day of the week. “Would it make me a total grandma if I got one of these?” You ask your husband, looking to him attentively.  

“Not at all. They can certainly help with keeping a routine of…” a little smirk curls at the corner of his lips, lowering his voice to a hush, “staying on top of things.”

You try not to smile but you can’t help it so you pout instead to hide it, “You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?” You ask rhetorically and he laughs softly. You both grab the appropriate vitamin bottles and carry them to the counter where you also pick up your prescription iron tablets. 

When you get home, you both wash up and change into your comfy home clothes and get started on making lunch together. You sauté some onions as the base of the soup you were making while he chops up some fresh herbs for a tasty couscous salad. “Can you pass me the chilli flakes, my love?” 

He grabs the little spice container and steps over, holding it out for you. You try to take it but he holds onto it and dips his head to kiss your knuckles. It’s a small act but one that makes your heart flutter and your lips curl into a smile. 

Once lunch is had and you’re cleaning up together, he finishes washing up while you put away the leftovers, dancing to the soft music you had playing. 

“I could do with a nap right now,” you yawn, feeling full from lunch. 

He lets out a small laugh, “You definitely need to take those vitamins, darling.“

“I know, I know, doctor’s orders. I will. But I also want to have a little siesta,” you tell him while he dries off his hands, “come nap with me for like 20 minutes. You know how effective it is for our bodies to have a nap midday?”

“I’m well aware, yes,” he smiles and lets you drag him into the bedroom where you crawl into the bed and hold up the comforter. You climb in together and you burrow yourself against him, pushing your leg between his, eyes fluttering shut. 

He rubs your back gently as he settles down himself, fingers starting to trace lazy patterns across your back. “I love you so much, Ken,” you murmur, eyes still closed, “you’re so good to me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I love you more, honey. You deserve the world, so I’m going to do my best to give it to you,” his soft voice and kind words makes your bottom lip tremble a bit. 

“You do. I want to give you the world too,” you whisper. 

“You are my world,” he affirms. 

“Ugh, stop trying to out-romance me,” you whine quietly and you both laugh softly. 

Sleep overcomes you and you have what was probably one of the top 5 best naps of your life. You wake up to find the sun setting slowly, creating a beautiful orange hue through the room. You stretch like a cat and roll over, finding Nanami sat up and reading a book about Malaysia. 

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Hi, Mr. Redbull,” you quip and he chuckles. You tap the book, “You want to go back again?”

“Yes, at some point, I would love that,” he nods and smiles to himself as he reminisces about your honeymoon together there, from which you’d returned 6 months ago. It was incredible there, a truly dreamy place which couldn’t be described as you’d have to see it in person to grasp the beauty. 

“We’ll definitely visit again someday,” you promise and he hums in agreement. 

“Maybe next time, we’ll have children to take there. I bet they’d love the beach,” he says casually, setting the book aside. 

You’d talked about children plenty of times — the suggestion to get blood tests being a preparation for taking that step — but it was the softness of his suggestion, of taking your hypothetical children to one of his favourite places on the planet…it warmed your heart. 

“Definitely. When we have children, we will absolutely take them to Malaysia.”

Later that evening, you find Nanami stood at  the kitchen counter, carefully putting the vitamins into your new pill box. 

You walk over and lean your elbows onto the counter as you watch him. 

Once he’s satisfied that you have one of each vitamin in each segment, he closes it up. A thought clouds your mind and you bite your lip. “Baby, I think I need some more vitamin D,” you tell him with a serious face. 

His brows furrow a little as he looks to you, “I put one vitamin D in each day, honey, that should be more than enough.”

You shake your head. “No, I definitely need more vitamin D,” you sigh exasperatedly and he watches you carefully. 

“Sweetheart, you really don’t need more than one a day,” he explains gently. You almost break character to laugh but you manage to keep a straight face. 

“But what if I want it multiple times a day?” You ask him, eyes glinting with mischief. 

He catches on at this and his face relaxes, eyes becoming hooded, pulling you closer to him. “I see. You do know the risks of taking so much vitamin D, don’t you?” 

“Of course. I’ll turn into the sun,” you muse and he lets out a laugh, lips ghosting over yours. 

“You will certainly be glowing like the sun once I put a baby in you,” he murmurs and you feel a shiver go through your body, straight to your core. 

“Ken…” you sigh softly, hands trailing up his big arms and grasping his triceps as he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. You hum against him as he crowds you against the counter, one hand planted on it and the other coming up to cup your jaw while his lips are locked with yours. 

His thumb gently caresses your cheek, letting out a soft moan against you as you press your tongue against the seam of his lips and push your hips into his. “Hm…turn around, honey.”

Oh. 

You feel your clit throb at the lowness of his voice, his direct order, and how your wetness pools at your core. You break the kiss and he immediately grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head, revealing your bare breasts. He connects your lips briefly again, not being able to help himself from cupping your breast in his hand and teasing your nipple. Reluctantly, he breaks away and guides your hips to turn you around. 

With you bent over the counter, he steps up behind you, his lips trailing over your cheek, down your jaw, and over your shoulder while his hands roam your body, thumbs hooking inside the waistband of your pants and underwear and slowly dragging them down, down, down.  

You feel the air hitting your bare ass and thighs as he pushes your clothing off, letting the bunched fabric fall down the rest of the way from your knees. 

He continues to kiss his way over your back, hands massaging your hips and up your sides to cup both your breasts. The feeling of his hot breath fanning over your skin, and his lips tenderly pressing kisses down your back makes your insides tingle with electricity. “My pretty wife,” he hums as he kisses your lower back and crouches down on the floor behind you, sliding his hands down your sides and hips, over your outer thighs and finally coming to rest on your ass.

He grasps the flesh with a grunt, the sound making you clench. You can’t help but let out soft mewls at the feeling of his large, strong hands groping your ass, his hot lips blazing a trail of fire all the way down. You push your hips back against his hands and he hums appreciatively, spreading your ass and groaning deeply at the sight of the wetness waiting for him. 

“S’this all for me, sweetheart?” He sighs, deciding not to waste another moment and plants his lips onto your lower ones. You let out a gasp at the suddenness of it, being thrown into the deep end, but this — his beautiful, skilled mouth on you — was absolutely not something you’d protest against. 

“O-Oh! Y…mmm…yes, all for you, Ken,” you mewl as you hold onto the counter, feeling his hot tongue lap at your puffy folds. He drags his tongue up and down, gathering your juices and teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

He fucking loves this. Loves having his face buried against you, eating you out from behind. 

You find your hips rocking slowly on their own accord, back to meet his sinful tongue, when he sucks on your clit and pulls a lewd moan from you. “A-ah, mmh…” the sound of which makes his cock throb with need. 

The man is a multitasker, you know this. While he’s busy pushing his tongue into your entrance, making you grip the counter tighter, you hear him fumbling with opening his pants. You turn your head to look back and are met with the delicious sight of him fisting his thick cock. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet, honey,” he sighs before he’s pushing his tongue into you again. Your head falls forward as the pleasure takes over your body. He’s tongue fucking you like his life depends on it, groaning against you while he’s fucking his fist at the same time. 

He buries his face against you with a low groan, squeezing his dick, darting his tongue in and out of you before he drags it up over your clit and licks a thick stripe along the cut of you. 

Your legs quake a little at how he’s tending to your body so attentively, but you manage to keep yourself steady. He slides his free hand around you, his fingers locating your clit with expert precision within milliseconds. This action turns you on even more, the arousal rushing through your body and your pussy gushing with wetness because of how well he could map your body. 

He notes the extra wetness on his tongue and he lets out a low hum of approval, slowly circling your throbbing clit with the pads of his fingers. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” He croons against you, taking his fingers away to wrap his lips on your clit and suck attentively. Your gasp and your back arches, one hand automatically going back to thread into his hair. 

“Hhhh…mmph…” you keen, your ability to form proper sentences compromised from your husband’s ministrations on your body. 

“Use your words for me, honey,” he smirks against you as he continues to devour you, lapping, sucking, fucking, and enjoying the delicious taste of you, inching you closer to the edge. 

“Ken…” you whine, “I’m— I’m gonna cum...” You tug on his hair, mussing it up, pushing your hips against him desperately. He becomes sloppier then, and you pant, feeling the mess trickling down your inner thighs. 

He fucks his tongue into you a few more times, and then suddenly the waves of pleasure wash over your body, overwhelming your senses. Your inner walls clench, wetness leaking from you, as you let out dirty moans of Kento’s name. 

He jerks himself off at the sound of you, the feeling of you cumming, but he stops before he can reach his peak. His moans reverberate through you, the vibrations of them only adding to your pleasure; you lean over the counter, catching your breath as he laps your juices up eagerly, not sparing a drop. 

When he’s cleaned you up with his tongue, he kisses his way back up your body, hands roaming over your shorter frame, coming to rest on the softness of your breasts. It’s like he can’t touch you enough, like he wants to touch you everywhere, all at once. You stand back up and lean into him, head falling onto his shoulder so you can kiss him. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your neglected ones sparks the fire in you once again, the butterflies in your tummy stirring to life. 

He slowly turns you to face him while you share deep, long kisses. You grip the hem of his t-shirt and pull it up over his head, his arms lifting to accommodate the swift movement. Your arms slide around his waist and you cling to him as he holds you. “You’d better give me that vitamin D now,” you tell him with a warning tone. 

He releases a soft chuckle, breaking away from you to stretch over the counter and grab your pill box, “They’re right here, hon.”

You flick his nipple in response and he feigns being hurt before both of you laugh. Your joined laughter quietens down however when you wrap your hand around his thick, leaking cock, and pump him slowly while you gaze into his eyes. 

He’d been with you for years, married for half of one, but he knew that he’d never, ever, get tired of that salacious look that you gave him when you wanted him. 

He wets his lips as he returns your longing gaze, and he lets out a quiet, “Fuck, sweetheart…” while you thumb his slit and tease the sensitive underside of his tip. 

Your hand falls away when he crouches down a few inches and lifts you easily, placing you on the kitchen counter. You watch as his cock bobs up and down from this swift movement. Instantly, your legs fall open and you use the heels of your feet to pull him towards you; the need to have him inside you was becoming unbearable. 

You felt the emptiness within you, the deep, carnal desire to have him fill you and stretch you out. 

He crushes his lips against yours again, sighing, “You keep looking at me like that, baby, and I’ll cum too soon.”

You whimper against his lips, feeling him nudging the fat head of his cock along your folds, teasing your swollen bud before trailing down to your quivering entrance that was desperate to be filled. 

His tongue tangles with yours, your hands gripping onto his broad shoulders as he presses his tip into you and slowly pushes his hips forward. 

You bite on his lip, breath catching when he pushes past the ring of resistance. He doesn’t go far before he’s drawing his hips back and then thrusting into you again shallowly. A whine escapes you while he’s working you open on his delicious cock, taking his time to make sure you’re adjusted to his girth. 

He rolls his hips steadily, dipping his head and wrapping his lips around the taut peak of your nipple, sucking eagerly. At this, your cunt greedily sucks him in more and he moans to your skin, fucking into you more, and then he slides all the way home, bottoming out inside your snug walls. Your face twists in pleasure, eyes rolling back in your head. He stays there for a moment, his pubic bone flush against yours. 

“So damn perfect,” he murmurs, and your walls flutter around him in response. This earns a deep groan from him and he draws his hips back and starts to fuck into you harder.

You brows knit together and you inhale sharply as you feel the heavy drag of him inside you, how he pulls out so that only the fat head of him stays inside, and how he thrusts back into you completely, feeding you every inch of his delicious cock.

Your legs are locked around his hips but with each deep thrust from him, your mind becomes hazy and your legs loosen up a little. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he noses your neck and keeps a steady pace, the wet thump, thump, thump of his hips hitting yours filling the kitchen. 

Your mouth falls open and your body becomes a little lax, your breaths coming out shakily as you focus on the pleasure coursing through your body while he impales you on his cock repeatedly. “Feels s-so…so good, baby…making me feel s-so good,” your voice comes out breathy and high pitched, to which his dick twitches while he’s fucking into you. 

He’s thorough in his approach while you hold onto his neck for balance, and he’s stimulating every part of your beautiful body: lips locked, tongues tangled, fingers rolling your hard nipple between them, his other fingers teasing circles on your throbbing clit, and his cock stretching you out so delightfully that you can only let out pornographic moans.

You’re both panting against each other’s lips as he picks up the pace and thrusts into you faster, with abandon. He rests his forehead against yours, cheeks flushed. “God— I fucking love you… n’ I love fucking you…” his low voice, his words, they go straight to your cunt. 

He takes his hands from your nipple and clit, sliding one arm under your waist as he bows over you more, the other hand gripping your hip in a bruising hold. “Ken…” you moan, “you’re gonna m…make me bruise…”

It’s not so much a protest but more a statement. “Damn right I am…you n’ I both know you love when I mark you up,” he husks, his lips connecting to your neck and sucking a dark mark onto your pulse point, bucking his hips into yours harder, eager to make you cum on his cock. 

Your tits bounce from the force of his thrusts, a sight which he goes crazy for. He’s getting closer to the edge, his mind hazy from how your pussy is greedily sucking him in, enveloping him in your tight warmth every time he slides home. 

You mewl, holding onto his shoulder as he ravages your cunt, letting out shaky breaths while you bring your gaze down to watch the  sensuous way his cock would sink into your wet cunt over and over again. You both love watching because it adds to the pleasure, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge from it. 

“Ken…” you moan, bringing your gaze to his at the same time he looks up to meet yours. He almost cums from that so far gone, cockdrunk look in your eyes, but he manages to keep it at bay for a little longer. 

“Look so damn beautiful taking me like this, sweetheart,” he croons, “give it to me, baby. Cum for me.” A few more pounds of his hips and you’re pushed over the edge, like your body was waiting for his instruction. 

You cry out when your orgasm hits you, walls pulsing so tightly around him that he slows down to feel every clench properly. Your legs quake, and you lock them higher up his hips as your body convulses from the strength of your orgasm. 

Wetness coats his lower abdomen— he lives for getting messy with you like so— and he fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own release while he guides you through yours. 

He grabs one of your legs and pushes it up, using it as leverage to fuck into your heat faster. “Cum in me, Ken…wanna make a baby with you,” you sigh, eyes hooded as he pounds into you. 

He felt like an animal in that moment but your breathy voice, your words, the tight grip of your cunt on him suddenly all overwhelms his senses and he falls into the throes of bliss with a loud groan, crashing his lips to yours as he releases his hot ropes inside you, painting your walls white. 

You cling to each other, sharing open mouthed, dirty kisses. Your plush walls milk him dry, and he stays inside you, your juices and his cum seeping out around him as you both catch your breaths. 

“Wanna make a baby, huh…” he pecks your lips a few more times before gazing down at you properly. 

“Mmhmm,” you hum and nod, kissing him again. 

“Hm…we better get more practice in, then.”

You squeal when he picks you up all of a sudden, still inside you, and carries you into your bathroom, quickly turning on the water in the shower and stepping inside with you.  

“Wh— Kent—oh!” You moan the second syllable of his name as he presses you up against the wall and starts to fuck into you again. 

There was something so dirty, so sinful about how he was fucking his cum into you, how insatiable he was from the mere mention of getting you pregnant. 

It’s like a switch had been flipped; you gasp when he takes your legs and pushes them up, pinning you by dangling your legs over the hinge of his arms and holding you in that bent position against the wall with his strong arms. 

The water runs over both of your sweaty bodies, the small enclosure of the shower only accentuating his low grunts and the loud smacks of your hips colliding. He is truly animalistic, rutting his hips into yours, pounding into your cunt desperately, because nothing made him harder, nothing made him more feral for you than the idea of making a family with you. 

You hadn’t had much time to come down from the high of your first orgasm — neither had he — so it’s not long again before another orgasm is creeping up on the both of you. 

“I’m close, Ken, mm…” you clutch onto his broad frame, bringing your lips to his in a needy kiss. 

“Me too, honey,” he pants against your lips, “cum with me.”

The base of his cock grazes your clit and his balls slap against your ass with each punishing thrust into you, and you let out a cry from the sudden intensity of the orgasm that overcomes you. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” Kento’s voice is strained as he keeps fucking into you but his hips stutter because your pussy is gripping him so tightly he can’t even think straight. 

Tears sting at your eyes because you’ve cum so hard, and when he sees this, he feels himself start to cum again. This time, he slows down, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he buries his face into your neck and releases his hot load into your waiting cunt. 

“Honey…” he breathes out, and you run your nails gently over his muscled back, kissing his temple. “I love you so much,” he mumbles tiredly, spent, but knowing he couldn’t put you down yet because you wouldn’t be able to stand. 

You cup his face in your hands as you sigh contently, and bring his face to yours to kiss him once again, “I love you more, you animal.”

He lets out a quiet laugh to your lips, “Can you blame me?”

*

It’s about 6 weeks later that you find yourself sat on the toilet, peeing on a couple of tests. There had been a noticeable change in your body, you felt with certainty that something was different. That and, of course, your period being late. 

You finish peeing and clean up after putting the tests on the counter. You dry your hands and inhale a deep breath while you wait, peeking but not expecting anything because the time hadn’t finished yet. 

But there it was. Two lines in BOLD, on the cheap one, and an affirmative ‘Pregnant’ on the other. You blink at the confirmation and let out a laugh; you’d heard about this before, how tests can show up quicker than expected if the pregnancy hormone is extremely high. He had knocked you up, alright. 

You’re elated. His dream, your dream, of having a family, it was becoming reality. You slip out of the bathroom and into the living room, where he was reading. 

 “I think I need to get some other vitamins, my love,” you tell him as you sit next to him and slide your arms around his neck, kissing his shoulder over his shirt. 

He brings his gaze to you. “But the doctor said that your levels for everything else were healthy, sweetheart…?”

He sees the way that your eyes sparkle and he relaxes a little. “Well…I think we need to revisit the doctor. I’m going to need some folic acid.”

He blinks at you; it clicks immediately. The joy that spreads across his expression is undeniable, “Honey…you’re…you’re pregnant?” 

Read the sequel, Pumpkin, here <3

Do not copy or translate my work. © ashasdiary, all rights reserved.

Divider by cafekitsune

[scarletlizzard]

Inked Desires - Part 2

Read Part 1 right here

Summary: After your one night stand with a stranger turns into a regular hookup, feelings begin to develop between you and Natasha. A night out at the bar with your friends has her begging wanting more with you.

Pairing: gp!Natasha x fem!Reader

Tags MINORS DNI: natasha has a dick, buff out this world & covered with tats and piercings, little bit of yearning and pining, mentions of alcohol, smut, blowjob, unprotected sex, breeding, begging, miscommunication

Masterlist

A/N: Part 1 blew up like crazy! I never ever thought I would EVER get that many notes. Especially for, essentially, a smut piece I wasn't used to writing. After being asked a few times, I agreed to make a part 2, buuut I've been in a (bad) writing rut lately. So I wanna shout out the person who gave me so many good ideas and an actual plot to work with. Y'all can thank just her for there actually being a part 2 cause there almost wasn't one 🙏 Thanks for helping, kisses for your big brilliant brain.

Hopefully, she and y'all like it? It's a bit longer. Let me know what you think, please, and thank you thank you so much for reading 💞

That being said, there will be a part 3 😄

"Split? Like down the middle?" Kate asks with a look of shock on her face. You walk in step beside her along the concrete path on campus.

"Right down the middle," you laugh and adjust the bag on your shoulder, thinking back to just a few days ago when Natashas skillful tongue worked its magic on your body. Your cheeks heat up at the memory.

That first night you met, Natasha had given you a kiss goodbye and gave you her number before you took a very drunk Kate Bishop home. Since then you had seen the redhead multiple times over the course of the last few weeks. Neither of you seemed to be able to keep your hands off of each other. Each time you met it was for sex, and even the time she had taken you to dinner it ended with you getting fucked into her mattress again.

You knew the basics about each other, where you lived, eachothers jobs... the more you thought about it the more it upset you. The physical level the two of you were on was heavenly, but really, well, you barely knew her.

Kates voice interrupts your thoughts as you enter the English building, and you stop walking as she does.

"What was that?" You ask, looking to the smirk plastered on her face with curiosity.

"I said, speak of the devil," she chuckles and nods her head in the direction of a very tall Natasha striding your way. "See you in there," Kate says and walks into the classroom, leaving you in the hallway.

You want to drown in the sight of her, wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt with old, dirty vans on her feet. You smile, trying not to drool at the way you can see the pops of color show from underneath her shirt or the way the sleeves seem too tight against her biceps as she grips the strap of her backpack.

"Hey there..." Natasha greets you with a smile, head pointing down as she stills before you. "Been a few days, haven't heard from you," she adds, her eyes baring into yours. You want to slap yourself for not replying to her text by the almost hurt look in her eyes.

"Well it hasn't even been a week, you miss me already?" You ask her with a little tilt of your head up at her, biting your lip as you see a blush spread across her cheeks. Her hand moves to the side of her neck, scratching at the ink awkwardly.

"No, no. Wait, I mean -" She lets out a sigh and shakes her head as you giggle at her. It was interesting, the difference in her appearance verses this nervous demeanor. "Maybe I did?" Natasha raises an eyebrow, the silver ring lifting higher.

"I might have missed you too," you shrug casually and watch as her face eases back into a smile. "I'm sorry I haven't texted, I've just been so busy with school and work." You point to the classroom next to you that Kate had entered. She follows the direction and nods.

"No worries, you're a busy lady. I actually took Mr. Furys class last year. Maybe I could take you for a coffee and give you some tips? Or maybe just um, talk?" Natasha asks, her tone quiet as she looks down to you.

You smile at the sincerity in her eyes. "I'm free after this class?" You take a step back, towards the room and match the wide smile on her lips.

"Sounds perfect," Natasha nods, and you can't ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest. Instead of taking another step away you walk forward, leaning up on your tip toes to press a soft kiss to her cheek.

Natasha can feel the burn on her cheeks, the affect you had on her drove her wild. You lean back and smile at her flustered state, leaving her alone in the now empty hallway.

An hour and a half later, you emerge from the classroom, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around at the sight of Natasha sitting on the floor. She had a book in her hand, closing it the moment she saw you and Kate walking towards her.

"Have you been sitting there this whole time?" You ask and tilt your head, watching the way her muscles flex as she runs a hand through her auburn hair.

"Uh, maybe?" A small blush hints on her cheeks, and she smiles at you and your friend. "I'm Natasha, by the way," she says and holds out her hand in front of Kate.

Kate chuckles at the formality, and you hit her arm, giving her a look. She shakes Natashas hand, "Kate... nice to finally meet you," She smiles back and looks next to her at you. "I'll see you tomorrow night, you should invite your friend."

You roll your eyes at Kates tease but nod and tell her you'll see her later.

"Coffee?" Natasha asks, and the ridiculous grin on her face is enough for you to agree to just about anything.

As you walk side by side, you can't help but admire her gentle personality. This woman, covered in tattoos and piercings with an intimidating gaze, was the complete opposite. She spoke to you about her schedule and that she was in school for sports medicine with a glint in her eyes.

"Like physical therapy?" You ask her curiously. You watched the way her face lit up at your interest, and she beamed down to you.

"Yeah, exactly that. If all else fails, I'll just be a personal trainer," she lets out a small chuckle, and you take the second she holds the door open for you to admire her toned body.

"How do I sign up? I need a good workout partner," you say with a flirtatious tone, brushing against her as you walk inside. You relish the blush on her cheeks and the small smirk on her lips as the smell of fresh coffee hits you.

"Didn't get a good enough workout last week?" Natasha replies.

"Oh, I had a great workout... but if I had a personal trainer, I'm sure I could get a good workout in at least a few times a week. Isn't that recommended?" You look up to her, seeing her neck redden and her eyes darken.

"I would definitely recommend that," Natasha mumbles as the two of you walk up to the counter.

As Natasha orders, you can't help but notice the change in her posture and attitude. Suddenly, she was standing straight, an impassive and series look on her face. Her tone was low as she talked to the woman at the counter. Natasha turns to you and nods for you to order. You do, and as she hands the woman her card, you smile up at her.

"Thank you for getting this for me," you say gratefully, watching her melt under your gaze. The smile was back, and her eyes came to life again. It seemed she had a soft spot for you.

"Of course, it's my treat," she says and walks you to a small table in the corner.

From there, you spend the entire rest of the evening actually talking and getting to know Natasha. As you already knew, she works out religiously, and you told her how lucky you felt that she had skipped her workout today just to sit down with you. She got her first tattoo at 18 and loved it, so she just never stopped getting them. The first piercing she got was on her eyebrow, and the same there, she just kept going.

It felt as if you were sitting in front of a whole new person than the one you met just weeks ago. The one who pile drived you into the mattress at a party and left you weak in the legs and sore the next day. Natasha was kind and sweet, funny, and surprisingly shy. Any time you made an attempt to flirt or give an innuendo, she would chuckle shyly and blush the slightest.

There were a few times you even had to squeeze your thighs as you thought back to that night. Any time her tongue would wet her lower lip or her eyes would travel to your neck. She loved your neck, you noticed. Every time you had hooked up her lips would go straight for the skin there, nipping at the few small freckles that adorned the area.

"That's a long time to be friends with someone," Natasha states as you finish telling her about yours and Kates relationship. Best friends since the fourth grade, completely inseparable.

"It's nice to have someone so close, who knows me so well. Especially since I'm an only child," you reply and watch her brow lift.

"Oh really? I have a sister, Yelena. She bugs the hell out of me, but I love her to death. She goes to the college just a couple of hours from here. Actually," Natasha looks at her phone, checking the time. "I'm supposed to meet her soon... she came home for the weekend."

You nod slowly and look around, realizing everyone had left and the two baristas were cleaning up. As the two of you stand, Natasha suddenly towering over at you, you feel a little disappointment in your chest. You were having more fun with her than you thought, and you found yourself not wanting to part.

"Hey, Kate and I are going to this bar tomorrow night. A few of our friends are getting together. Joes?" You say to her, smiling to yourself as she once again holds the door open for you.

"Yeah, I've been there a few times before," Natasha says with a grin, standing outside the coffee shop with you.

"If you want, maybe you and Yelena can meet us? You don't have to, of course, but..." You trail off.

"I will definitely be there. Text me a time?" She asks, and you nod happily. Natasha leans down, and you think for a second she's going to kiss you, but her lips land on the soft skin of your cheek. You put your hand on her arm as she does, feeling the tattooed skin burn underneath your touch.

****

Joes Bar is crowded, but that's to be expected on a Saturday night near a college campus. A local alternative band plays loudly on the small stage on one side of the room, and you find yourself on the opposite side sitting at the bar. Kate is nearby talking to friends and a few strangers, but you only had one person in mind.

You glance at your phone again, seeing no notifications. With a sigh, you finish your second drink, ordering a third as you contemplated the possibility she wasn't going to show up. This is why you didn't do this type of thing. You don't hook up with hot strangers. You don't get coffee with gorgeous, sweet women. You stayed to yourself, guarded your heart, and let yourself be safe from any type of rejection or heartbreak.

But God Natasha was worth breaking your rules.

You found your way back to reality as the bartender handed you a drink and said thank you before grabbing it and removing yourself from the bar stool. As you turn, you bump into someone, almost spilling your drink on them.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry!" You apologize, shaking the liquor off your hand as you had spilled a little on yourself.

"It's okay, I was just trying to squeeze in next to you," the woman says, and in your tipsy state, you raise an eyebrow. She seemed about your age, dirty blonde hair, and a familiar grin on her lips. You definitely hadn't seen her in here before.

"I was just getting up, actually. You can have my seat. Is that an accent I hear?" You ask curiously, moving out of the way so she could take your place.

"Yeah, I still have a bit of an accent, I was born in Russia. Lived there for a while," she says and nods. She then orders two drinks before turning back to you.

"Wow, you're a long way from there. You go to school here?" You ask her and sip your drink, feeling Kate stand behind you.

"No, but my sister does, though," the blonde smiles and grabs the two bottles of beer from the bartender. She looks at you and extends her arm towards Kate to hand her a bottle. You give her a confused look.

It's only then you realize, as an inked hand reaches over you to take the beer, that it's not Kate standing there, but Natasha. You turn instantly and look up, a habit your neck was quickly getting used to doing.

"Well, well, look who showed up," you say and take your bottom lip between your teeth. Natasha smiles at your words, noticing the way you take in her appearance.

If it was possible, Natasha looked hotter than ever. She wore a black t shirt underneath a leather jacket. Her flaming hair was behind her in a braid with a few loose strands framing her face.

"I see you've met my sister, Yelena," Natasha chuckles and nods in the direction of the blonde woman.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Natty here hasn't been able to shut up abou-" Yelena is cut off by Natasha flicking the bottle cap at her face, a stern expression on the older woman's face.

You smile at the siblings' banter, watching Yelena laugh and shrug innocently. Whether it be the alcohol flowing in your bloodstream or the way Natasha looked at you, you slide your hand into hers. She tenses at first, not used to the public display of affection from you, but quickly relaxes as you intertwine your fingers with hers.

"Come on, come meet everyone," you say and tug on her hand in the direction of Kate.

You find them huddled around a pool table, watching as Kate lines up the pool tip to the cue ball with one eye closed. Carol stands leaning against her own stick, shaking her head and putting out the cigarette she smokes into the ashtray on the edge of the table.

"Anyday, Bishop..." Carol groans, earning a laugh from the group.

"Seriously, how long are you going to take?" Peter chimes in.

Kate ignores them and continues to stare intensely at the 8 ball. Her arm begins to pull back to take the shot, but as Yelena comes into focus on the opposite side of the table, Kate is finally distracted by the beautiful blonde. The cue ball misses her target completely, rolling across the table and sinking into the pocket.

"Scratch!" Carol cheers and high fives Monica. Kate looked up at Yelena, her lips parted as if she was going to speak, but no words came out. Carol then steps up to the table and sinks the 8 ball, ending the game with a dramatic bow.

You smile at the group, raising an eyebrow at the silent state of your best friend. "Guys, this is Natasha and her sister Yelena," you say, receiving waves and friendly greetings from everyone. You introduce them to the Romanoffs a little more before they rack up for another game.

"You any good?" Carol nods to Natasha, who gives a humble shrug.

"I'm decent," she replies with a smirk on her face as she brings the bottle to her lips. Carol hands the pool stick over before going to get drinks for the group.

"Hope you're good, Romanoff. We still haven't beat Y/N," Peter says begrudgingly. You only hum in response as Kate hands you her stick, positioning yourself across the table.

"Is that so?" Natasha watches with playful eyes as you skillfully break, the balls rolling in different directions along the table and a few of them sinking into the pockets.

When you lean up, you smile and reach your hand up to pat her cheek. "Good thing you didn't bet anything," you chuckle.

After a few back and forth turns, Carol returns with shots, to which you all cheer and take at the same time. The alcohol was definitely settling its way into your system now, and you were hot to the touch each time Natasha had to lean down to take her shot. Between the focused look on her face and the way the pool stick slid between her fingers, it was enough for you to want her right there.

You step forward next to her, looking at the direction of the shot she was trying to take. "That's a tough one, baby," you say to her, the term of endearment catching Natasha off guard.

Her body visibly tenses as she looks to you with a visceral reaction and swallows hard. You feign an innocent smile, taking a mental note to call her that again just to see her reaction. Natasha misses the shot and curses under her breath.

"That's not fair," she says and shakes her head as she stands tall. The red head removes her jacket, finding that the room was getting hotter.

You shrug and easily pocket two more balls on your turn. When you look to Kate to make a comment about the shot, you realize she's strayed from the group, chatting up Yelena. With your friends being in their own worlds at the moment, you decide to have a little fun with Natasha.

"You're not so bad, you know. The others have a hard time keeping up with me," you smile as she leans down, and your hand rests on her back, rubbing over her shirt.

"Y/n," Natasha mumbles, the blush on her cheeks evident she enjoyed your touch.

"Yes, Nat?" You pur, watching the muscles flex understand the fabric. Knowing you had this type of effect on her gave you a sense of power that only made you hungry for more. Your hand slithers underneath the bottom of her shirt, nails scratching at her back. She misses. You smile.

"You're a cheater, you know that?" Natasha says in a playful tone, her body naturally leaning towards you.

Your hands rest on her stomach, "I don't know what you're talking about." You lean up and plant a soft kiss on her lips, smirking as she leans down and melts against your mouth. "I'm just having fun," you whisper.

At that, you step away from her, crossing over to the opposite side of the table. You lean down more than you need to, and you don't miss the way Natashas eyes dart back and forth from your breasts to your neck. She finishes another bottle, and you can tell you've stressed her out by the way her hand grips the glass.

You continue to do the same thing for the remainder of the game, teasing her with every shot she took and making sure to bend in front of her any chance you could. It came down to the 8 ball, and you had to admit, you were dragging the game on longer than you needed to.

"Last one," you sigh and put your hand on the back of her neck as she leans down. Your fingers squeeze gently as she clears her throat, trying to ignore the shivers that run down her spine every time you touch her. You lean down with her, your lips brushing against her ear. "Good luck, baby," you whisper and kiss her cheek.

Her neck gets red at your words, and her grip on the stick only tightens. You think it'll snap in half with how hard she holds it. Natasha quickly shoots and misses, causing you to raise an eyebrow with just how quick she took the shot. Instead of stepping back, she continues to stand pressed against the table. "All yours," she mumbles and holds her hand out to the table, shifting uncomfortably as she stands.

You line up the shot and sink the black ball easily, looking up at her with a wide smile. She only gives you a small smile back with a nod. "Aren't you going to give me a victory kiss?" You ask as you step back to her.

Natasha hesitates for a moment but finally turns to face you. Your hands move up to wrap around her neck, your body pressing against her front as she leans in. Before your lips can touch your eyes, widen the slightest. You now realize the reason for the sudden uncomfortable physical shift she had taken when you felt her bulge pressing hard against you.

"Oh... was I teasing you too much?" You ask with a smirk on your lips. She rolls her eyes and moves to pull away, but you don't let her. "What was it?" You ask her.

"What was what?" She replies, her hands moving to your waist. You press your body further into her and relish the hiss that leaves her mouth.

You search her eyes, thinking to the moment her demeanor had changed. Suddenly, there was that power-hungry feeling again when you realized the reasoning. The fact that you could get her hot and bothered by a simple word leaving your lips, by your voice alone, and the thought of you driving someone like her mad. Natasha was weak in the knees for you, and she struggled internally with the way you made her feel. She wasn't used to it.

"Why don't you let me help you take care of your little problem... baby, " you whisper to her, feeling her shoulders tense above you. "Come on." You slide back and take her hand in yours, leading her away from the pool table and towards the bathroom.

As soon as both of you are inside and you lock the door, the two of you are on top of each other just like the first night you met her. Natasha kisses you feverishly, like she'd never been kissed before, with your back hard against the door. You welcomed her tongue into your mouth, moaning as the two halves wrap around your own.

With one hand, you hold onto the front of her shirt, gripping tightly, with the other you slide it in between your bodies, letting yourself grope the hard bulge in her jeans. Natasha lets a hint of a whimper leave her lips, one you hadn't heard since the first time with her, and you smirk into the kiss.

"What's the matter, baby? Do you need some help?" You ask innocently, lips ghosting hers. She breathes heavily and nods as your hands move to undo her belt.

"Sweetheart... please," she says, and you decide in that moment that you need her to say that again. Just the idea that this strong, formidable woman could so easily melt in your presence made you thrilled.

Her hands rest on either side above your head, pressed flat against the door as you slide her pants down. You can see the precum dampening a spot on her underwear, and you feel yourself get wet at the sight of it. She needed you, bad.

"Please, what?" You ask, your hand moves to grab her through her boxers, and you stroke her length through the thin fabric.

"Fu-fuck," she barely breathes out, eyes searching yours. Natasha hadn't begged a day in her life, but she would happily beg for you. She was at the point right now that she was willing to get down on her knees and beg for you. You made her desperate.

"Please touch me, please. You feel how hard I am for you? Just -" You squeezing a little harder makes her gasp before continuing. "I need you to touch me. Please, sweetheart... please, " she begs. You smile at her words, enjoying the way her body melts at your touch and the way she begs for you.

At her words you slide down her boxers, and her cock twitches at the feeling of finally being released. She lets out a sigh of relief as your delicate fingers wrap around her. "Is this what you wanted?" You hum, beginning to move your hand up and down. Natasha nods, chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly at your movements.

When you stop, she looks at you with a disoriented look, eyebrows lifting as she watches you drop to your knees. You take her cock in your hand, letting your other rest on her thick, toned thigh. From here you can see her happy trail peaking from underneath her shirt, making your panties wetter. The way she looks down at you with a breathless expression and parted lips makes you want to live your life on your knees for her. Your lips kiss along the side of her length, teasing slowly with your tongue licking up it. Natasha groans with pleasure at the feeling and her hips instinctively buck towards you.

You give in, not wanting to tease her anymore tonight, and take her cock into your mouth. The moan that leaves her mouth is outright sinful, and her fist hits the door with a thud as you begin to bob your head. Your cheeks hollow out when you begin moving faster, taking as much of her as you could. When the tip hits the back of your throat your eyes sting, tears threatening to leave your ducts. Natasha pants heavily above you, savoring the moment of you on your knees for her, sucking her off.

"Look at you, such a pretty girl with my cock in your mouth- fuck," Natasha speaks low to you, her eyes dark as she watches her cock disappear against your lips. Your fingers on her thigh dig in, your nails digging into her skin to leave crescent shaped marks, at her words. "All night you've been teasing me... this is the only way to shut you up, isn't it?" She says and you moan against her, the vibrations sending her close to the edge.

Her breathing gets heavier and you can tell she's about to cum, but before she can you quickly remove your mouth, your saliva coating her as you release with a pop. You stand, not ignoring the frustrated look on her face.

"Baby, I think you're confused," you say, your hands moving to the top of your dress. "You're not in charge right now," You let out a small laugh and pull down on the fabric, letting your breasts spill out. Natashas face reddens in response, and she immediately moves to kiss your chest. You can feel the marks she leaves as her lips trail across your breasts, her skillful tongue pleasuring your sensitive nipples.

Natashas' large hands move to the bottom of your dress as her kisses begin to litter up your neck. You let her move the material above and over your hips, but stop her as she reaches your panties. "I wanna hear you," you mumble out. She lets out a huff and pulls away from your neck.

"Y/n... please." Natasha says. You only continue to look at her with innocent eyes. The fact that she would beg for you - is begging for you, made you feel instant gratification.

"Please, pretty girl? Please let me make you feel good. I want to fuck you, want to make you feel good so bad..." She begs, and you let her slide your panties down your legs. Natasha slides her tip between your closed thighs, her cock now being coated from the wetness that spread between your legs.

She slips in between your folds, waiting for your words. Her fingers dig into your hips. "You drive me so fucking insane," Natasha whispers as her head ducks to your neck again. "I could cum from just looking at you. Just hearing you say my name. You know how much control you have over me?" Her hips continue rocking against you, your thighs squeezing her hard cock. She begins to pant again, her neck red and hot to the touch as you wrap your arms around it, interlocking your fingers behind her head.

"Please," Natasha whimpers, and the sound is enough to make you moan. You needed to feel her inside you immediately, hear more of those moans leave her lips.

"Show me how bad you want me, how insane I make you feel," you finally say and lean forward to bite her lower lip. She wastes no time lifting you up, helping you wrap your legs around her hips. Your back presses against the door again and with one hand she guides her cock inside of your warm velvet walls, easily ,with how wet you were for her.

Natasha begins to thrust up into you, a feeling you had become accustomed to these past few weeks, although you weren't sure you'd ever get used to her size. She groans against your chest, nipping at the skin. The small bathroom fills with the sounds of her pounding into you, both of you moaning practically in sync with every thrust.

"So good, pretty girl, feel so good wrapped around my cock. I love fucking this pretty pussy," she breathes heavy against your skin as she speaks. You hold on tightly to her, only breathless moans escape your lips in response.

Suddenly, from the outside, someone bangs on the door, Natasha doesn't halt her descent on you. "Can you hurry the fuck up in there?" A stranger yells from the other side. Your eyes widen, a little bit of adrenaline rushing into your chest as she continues fucking into you.

Natasha smiles, now at your flustered state. "Occupied," is all she replies before her thrust picks up the pace. "You better keep quiet, sweetheart. You don't want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me, letting me fuck you in the bathroom."

You squeeze your eyes closed as she fucks herself into you, trying your best to keep quiet. Each thrust was now hitting that special spot inside of you and drawing you closer to an orgasm. The feeling of her muscles flexing around you only intensified that feeling.

"Fuck I-I can't I'm-" Natasha stutters out as she groans into your neck, feeling your hot cunt tighten around her cock.

"Me too, Nat," you moan along with her, and your legs squeeze around her waist. "Let go, baby... wanna feel you fill me up." You watch her face twist in pleasure at your words, and the fact that it was enough to make her cum only added to your ego in the moment. Natasha grunts against your skin as she does just what you say, filling you up completely.

The sensation alone is enough to make you follow right behind her, the burn in your lower stomach blazing as you scream out her name.

"That's it, sweetheart, that's it... such a good girl for me," she coos as you fall apart in her arms, kissing your face as you breathe heavily. Your head falls against her shoulder, face panting in the crook of her neck as she holds you tightly, letting you come down off your high.

After a few moments she pulls out slowly, and you can feel the mixture of both your arousal dripping down your thighs. Natasha carries you to the sink, letting you rest on the hard surface while she pulls her pants back up and you fix the top of your dress.

"Hi," she says with a smile. You giggle, remembering she said the same thing afterward on the first night at her party.

"Hi," is all you reply, grabbing her shirt in your hand and pulling her closer to kiss you again.

****

"They have eight legs and eight eyes. How are they not scary?" Peter drunkenly speaks to Monica, who sits next to him with an amused look.

After your time in the bathroom with Natasha, the two of you had rejoined the group, and over the course of two hours, you had become increasingly wasted with the rest of your friends. As Yelena joined in on the topic of spiders, you feel Natasha rest her head back against your front.

She sat slouched back in one of the chairs that scattered near the table while you stood behind her, hands stroking her neck and massaging her shoulders. You can't help but smile down at her.

"You're so cute," you giggle and watch her brow raise. Your finger traces the dark lines on her neck.

"Anything but cute," Natasha groans, with a playful smirk on her face. "Why do you say that?"

"You're different than you look, you know? Why are you so nervous around me?" Your words slur, and she chuckles at your drunken state with a shrug, looking at the beer bottle she held in her hand.

"Must be the alcohol?" She says. You shake your head and poke her nose.

"You were drinking when I first met you, and you weren't like this," you point out and watch her swallow. You decide to move in front of her, settling yourself between her muscled thighs. As you stand in front of her, she sits up straighter, the two of you now practically the same height.

You take her hand in yours, playing with her fingers. She smiles a little as she looks at your intertwined hands.

"Maybe I was drinking that night to get enough courage to talk to you... and maybe I- maybe I'm drinking tonight to get enough courage to say I want more with you. More than... the hookups," she says and finally looks back up at you. Your heart races in your chest at her words, panic written on your face as you freeze in front of her.

That was exactly what you wanted. More of her, more of this beautiful person who was even more beautiful inside. To get to know what makes her really tick, what makes her happy, how her day was, how she likes her coffee. She wanted more, too, so why were you not speaking out loud?

"What?" Is all that comes out of your mouth.

Natashas face falls completely, misinterpreting your flustered state for a sign of rejection. She had hoped this wouldn't happen. Part of her wondered if this had just been a hook up, but the other part of her desperately hoped it wasn't.

Before the words could leave your parted lips, Kate calls over to you, taking the attention of both you and Natasha.

"Y/N, you ready to go? You can stay if you want, I'm gonna take Pete home, though," she nods to the direction of where he sat drunk rambling to Yelena.

"No, not -"

"Actually, Yelena and I have a lot to do tomorrow. We should head out too," Natasha interrupts you and stands, her hand moving to your lower back as you stare up at her with a pout.

"Are you sure?" You ask her, your hand reaching out to her side. She tenses under your grasp.

"Yeah, I'll text you later," She smiles at you, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes this time.

You nod anyways and smile back, leaning up to kiss her lips softly. "Thank you for tonight.. Hopefully, we can do it again soon?"

And while you were talking about hanging out with her, Natasha assumes you were talking about her fucking you.

"Yeah, soon," she lets out a breath and grabs her jacket, not taking a second look back at you as her and Yelena exit the bar.

***

A smile fills your face as your head hits the pillow, the soft comforter pulled over you as you lie on your warm bed and mull over tonights events. You wondered why Natasha had left in such a hurry before you could say anything, but you decided not to think too hard on it. She probably did have to go. It was early in the morning by the time you left, and besides, you would hear from her later.

Every morning, she texted you a quick and sweet text, telling you to have a good day.

Your chest swelled at the thought of it, how sweet it was that such a small, simple thing could brighten your entire day. What you assumed would happen tomorrow is that the two of you would talk about wanting more and how desperately you agreed with her about it.

But when the late morning came and the sunshine streamed through the windows, no text came with it.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

chew toy

words: 600

warnings: biting/oral fixation? but its not done in a kinky way

rafe is tough. rafe is strong. he’s the one you call for when you can’t open a can, or need something heavy moved. when you think about it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him in any sort of pain, so its a shock when you’re sitting cuddled against his side and he shouts out in pain.

“what is it?” you ask suddenly, eyes widening when the arm you’re resting against flinches.

“what is it?” rafe mocks you. “baby, you just bit me!”

“oh!” you look at rafes bicep, and sure enough theres bite marks on his skin. “oh my god, i didn’t even notice!” “you didn’t notice biting me?” rafe laughs, the shock of the sudden bite wearing off quickly upon seeing your innocent pout, feeling bad about hurting your boyfriend.

“are you mad?” “no.” rafe shakes his head, placing his thumb under your chin to raise your face up to look at him, pressing a kiss to your nose and then your lips. “just be gentle, baby.”

“mmkay.” you nod, wondering if that means you have permission to bite him again in the future, just not as hard.

--

as soon as you did it, you can’t stop thinking about biting rafe again. you know what its like to feel attracted to your boyfriend, that you find him delicious looking, but you didn’t expect to suddenly feel the urge to sink your teeth into his soft flesh.

“rafey?” you ask, only able to resist about a week.

“mmm, what is it?” rafe asks, eyes moving away from the tv to look at you.

“can i bite you again?” rafe is shocked for a moment, shocked that you clearly aren’t watching the tv show you put on, too distracted about thinking about biting him.

“yeah, of course. just gently, like i said.” rafe turns back to the tv when you grab his arm, pulling your knees into his chest as you place his arm on top of them, smiling at his tanned forearm right in front of you like its your favorite snack.

you lean forward, teeth sinking into his flesh, your tongue flicking over his arm, making sure to keep your bite gentle enough to not cause rafe to flinch.

by the time the episode is over, rafes arms are both covered in light bite marks.

--

“what is it baby?” rafe asks, rubbing his hand over your back.

“tummy hurts so bad.” you whine, the cramping from your period hopefully going to settle now that you’ve taken a midol and curled up in bed.

“what can i do to make you feel better? want me to get your heating pad?” rafe asks, but you shake your head no, your body already overheating.

“just come lay down with me?” you pout, grabby hands reaching for rafe.

“of course.” rafe shuffles your bodies around so you can remain in your scrunched up position but still be close to rafe.

“here, baby.” rafe extends his hand to you, the delicate soft part of skin between his thumb and forefinger looking like the perfect fit for your mouth. you look to rafe to make sure you understand what he means, and when he gives you a gentle nod, you lean forward, immediately letting out a sigh of relief when you have your teeth against his skin.

--

“what is she doing to you, bro?” kelce asks, his eyebrows scrunched together as you sit next to rafe, mouth open on his shoulder, leaving little nips and bites against his tanned skin.

“don’t mind her. she just likes having something in her mouth.” rafe smirks. sure, it’s not the normal kind of oral fixation, but he doesn’t mind it, liking the way it feels when your canines press into him, a reminder, albeit a slightly painful one, that you’re right there next to him.

“you’re like her chew toy.” kelce says, making you frown and pull away, big eyes looking to rafe.

“shh, he’s just being a dick, babygirl. you can keep going.” rafe talks so gently to you, coaxing you back into his side.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl

[probablyintensemuses]

how wwould armando react if he is in love with the reader, but she shows no sign of feeling the same way, (he's so devoted when it comes to the reader) And he'd like to know if she feels the same way, I wish it would end in a passionate way (you know what I mean) 🔥

Te amo 🌸💗

Wait For Your Love-

Armando Aretas

summary: Armando doesn’t wish you a happy birthday so you’re day is basically ruined, up until it isn’t.

themes: angst, fluff, smut.

warnings: smut 18+

authors note: I know this isn’t exactly like the request, but genuinely I tried. I hope y’all like it 🥹. Not edited btw, I wrote this on my lunch break.

Happy birthday to you,’ kelly sang, walking a candlelight cupcake over to your desk, Dorn, Mike, and Marcus following behind her. “Happy birthday to you.”

“Happy birthday, our sweet girl, happy birthday to you.” Kelly gives you a hug from behind and you lean into her.

“Thanks guys,’ you smile big, blowing out the candle on your cupcake.

“What your young ass wish for?” Mike asks, slinging a birthday girl sash over your shoulders.

Marcus slaps his chest. “You know she can’t tell you, that’ll ruin it.”

Mike smacks his lips. “Man, shut your superstitious ass up. Seriously, what you wish for.”

You laugh. “I wished for the second day at my cafe to run smoothly for my employees.’ Everyone shakes their heads, happily, saying your wish was a great one.

“Speaking of,” you dig into your bag, pulling out pink envelopes with hearts on their seals. “If you guys can make time I’d love to have you over there for small party. It’s nothing big, just a new cake recipe I was working on, some drinks, and food if you guys want to bring any.”

They all accept your invite, taking their cards with them and back to their desks.

You sit back down with a smile and continue to unencrypte the harddrive they’d found at a crime scene. Mike had told you it was very important they get it open with everything on it.

So that was the goal today before your party, so you could get as drunk as you wanted to and cry as much as you wanted too.

Hopefully not the latter, though.

The compound door swings open with a shriek before slamming shut, echoing through the whole place.

You turn and your heart stops in your chest as Armando Aretas makes his way through.

It was no secret, to the team anyway, that you had a mild crush on Armando. Despite knowing the things of his past, some desperate part of your self truly liked him. And corny enough, you saw the goodness and potential within him.

It’s why you went with Mike to the D.A’s office and fought for him to serve out his tenured in AMMO instead of prison. You knew he wasn’t all bad, he could be reformed, you’d seen it multiple times.

Like when he took all those stab wounds for Callie, the daughter of the woman actively hunting him. Or how he tried constantly, despite his past and his own convictions, to have a relationship with Mike. Even how kind he was to you at times, especially when you know it’s hard for him, training his mind to know that kindness isn’t a weakness after years of being a product to the cartel.

So you couldn’t help but smile when you see him walk down the stairs and take a seat at his desk across from yours.

“Armando,’ Mike says. “You’re late, we’re about to start debriefing in ten.”

Armando shrugs, slinging off his leather jacket and exposing his bulging, biceps and veiny forearms.

You check the glare in your computer, checking for drool, before eyeing his torso, the skin tight black shirt doing nothing for your unquenched thirst.

“Had to pick something up.” He says, eyeing you.

You turn, looking over your shoulder. Was he actually staring at you?

Everyone else must have noticed too, because before you know it, you have eight pairs of hungry eyes watching you both.

“Anything you want to say to her?” Kelly practically nudges Armando with her voice.

Armando eyes you up in down, taking in your typical appearance of a cardigan and jeans, your curls pulled high in a puff on your head.

His eyes pull away from you as he stands and walks over to the room where the team debriefs. “Nah,” he says.

You fell your heart crash to your feet.

Did he just?

Now, you could understand if he forgot it was your birthday, but you have a cupcake with a candle on it sitting on your desk not to mention the fucking sash that says “birthday girl,” no way he thought you were just wearing it for convenience.

You thought, just for once, Armando would show you even a slither of the same kind of affections you held for him…especially on your birthday.

But you were wrong.

Your heart chips a little at that realization, you feel pathetic like Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles as you ball up the invitation you had stored away for Armando, it yellow and bright unlike the others.

You were pathetic to think the man you liked would even consider you an option, let alone come to some dumb birthday party of yours. He was too busy for that, and you were too desperate.

Another year older, yet never wiser. It was clear in your delusions of Armando as you wait for his love.

###

You’re careful to not drop your cake as you push it through the swinging doors of your new cafe.

You decided to get this cafe as a side shop because you always loved pastries, and making cakes and sweet treats got you through the stress of school and the police force.

So now that you’re older, why not have a cafe for fun and passive income? Was it more stress, yes, but it was totally worth it.

“Wow, that looks amazing!” Dorn’s eyes light up as your bring the cake over to the booths and tables your friends occupy.

“You think so?” You smile.

“Oh hell yeah,’ Marcus likes his lips, clapping his hands together. “You know I’m for anything sweet so.”

You chuckle. “Forewarning. It’s a teramassu cake, so you old dogs might be up all night if you eat too much.”

“Damn! It’s like that!” Mike laughs.

You smile and begin cutting into the cake and passing out pieces. “Yeah, it’s like that.”

“And to think we basically raised you.” Marcus says. “I’m going to let you slide though. One because it’s your birthday. And two, because this cake is fire.”

You clap and squeal. “I’m so glad you like it. I didn’t want to mess it up, but it’s pretty difficult.”

“Mhm,’ kelly says, taking a sip of her wine. “So what’s harder, cake baking? Or admitting your crush to Armando?”

Your smile drops in an instant and you send an icy glare Kelly’s way. “Seriously?”

Kelly hiccups. “I’m sorry, but the way your face looked when he didn’t tell you happy birthday, I mean how can you like a guy like that? No offense, Mike.”

Mikes eyebrows rise. “I mean, it was a jerk move. But it’s Armando. Who knows, he might say happy birthday tomorrow.”

You shake your head. “Yeah, but it won’t be worth anything tomorrow when he knew today. I mean, I’m really pathetic to wish he was here when he couldn’t even do the bare minimum for me.” Your eyes well with tears.

“Hey, no.’ Dorn wipes your eyes. “Don’t cry on your birthday about him. Cry tomorrow, and then come see my therapist.”

You sniffle. “What?”

“Sorry, she’s just amazing, I always like to shout her out.”

You sigh. “Thanks, Dorn.”

Even with all this smiling faces around you, you couldn’t shake the anchor pulling at your ankle. You wished Armando would have just told you happy birthday, even pretended to care. That would have meant more to you than what you got.

But here you were, with all your friends who actually cared about you, about to cry over a guy who couldn’t even be bothered.

A tear streaks down your face and you look away. “You guys should go,’ you say. “I’m sorry.”

Mike pats your shoulder. “I’ll try talking to him.”

You grip his wrist. “Don’t. I don’t want him to know about this, he’ll think I’m insane.”

“Don’t sweat it too hard,’ kelly kisses your head. “I know plenty of guys at the department that would fall to their knees right now over you.”

“Thanks,’ you half smile, watching as your friends leave before you break down completely.

Tears streaked into your palm as you cried out. It didn’t hit you until this morning just how deeply you cared for Armando.

You truly liked him, and his blatant rejection had set all your emotions flaring.

Sniffling into your hands, the soft chime of your cafes door catches your attention.

“We’re closed.” You grumble, not bothering to look up.

“Even for me, ¿dulce niña?” Armando says.

Your head shoots up and the air is nearly knocked out of your lungs as you take him in.

He’s dapper in a black button up not all the way buttoned, exposing some of his tone chest and a silver St. Christopher necklace. His pants are the right amount of tightness, highlighting his muscular thighs, and his hair is dark and trimmed, just like his beard.

Armando, as always, is hard to look away from. But still, resist and play it cool, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, crossing your hands over your small chest.

Armando walks towards you, hands behind his back as he observes your cafe, like some kind of museum tourist. “The cafe came together nice.” He says, stepping a bit too close to you.

For air, you take a step back, Armando notices and smirks. “Stop avoiding the question. What are you doing here?”

“I heard you had a party I wasn’t invited to. That’s not very nice, bebita.” He smirks.

“Yeah, it was invite only.”

“I don’t qualify?”

You scoff. “You didn’t even know it was my birthday.”

“I knew.”

“Oh, you knew, so you just didn’t care.”

“I cared.’ Armando gets close, pulling at the tule fabric of your pink mini dress. He lets out a shaky breath. “This is beautiful on you, by the way.”

You push him away at the chest, he hardly moves. “Stop it.” You whine.

“Stop what?”

“Stop acting like you like me!” You shout. “You don’t! And it’s fucking embarrassing, Armando!”

Armando swallows, and even in the darkness you can see the shame painted into the little creases of his face and the fast lifts of his chest.

Armando’s hands finally fall to his sides and you see now what he has done. In his hands are a large bouquet of flowers and a blue bag.

“No,” You say.

He steps forward. “This is why I was late to work, princesa, because I got this for you.”

“Armando.”

“Open it.” He says.

Reluctantly you take the bag from his hands, sharp rods of electricity swirling up your arm when your fingers meet.

Slowly, you open the bag and look inside. There, a small velvet box awaits you. Hesitant, you pick it up and open it.

You gasp at what you see. A necklace, tiny diamonds all the way around. It shimmers in the moonlight that peaks into the cafe as you hold it up.

“You bought this for me?’ You gasp. “How can you even afford this?”

Armando rolls his eyes. “I use to be a drug dealer, baby.”

You sigh and put the necklace, as pretty as it is, back into the box. “I can’t take this.” You hand it back.

Armando frowns. “Why not?”

You turn, holding yourself. “Because how do I know if you even like me?”

Armando’s eyes hidden and he holds the bag on display. “Baby, I just dropped bands on this necklace for you. I think that shows alot.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You step back, walking away from him.

He catches your arm, gently pulling you back. “Maybe?” He scoffs offended. “You didn’t even invite me tonight, yet I got you a gift, and you say maybe.”

You snatch out of his grip. “I didn’t invite you tonight because you’re an asshole!”

“I’m not!” Armando shouts back.

“Then prove it,’ you square into his space. “Stop making me wait for your love and tell me what you know I want to hear.”

Armando opens his mouth to speak, but the words are lost when he leans in, his mouth crashing onto yours.

Your shocked, your lips are still against his until something burst inside of you, everything you’ve been craving sealed in this one kiss.

This causes you to moan against his lips. Armando swallows it, slipping his hands into your curls and tilting your head to the side, turning the kiss hot and fierce.

You wrap your arms around the nape of his neck, scratching at his faded low cut, deepening your kiss.

Armando’s hands trail down the fluff of your dress until they reach the hem. He flips it upward and finds your underwear, growling as he feels the thin layer of cotton. You shudder at his touch, your pussy throbbing at the thought of him making contact.

“Fuck,’ he moans, slipping two fingers into your thongs, rolling his thick fingers over your clit.

Your head falls back as you let out a low, moan. “Fuck, baby.”

“You like that?’ He strokes his fingers up and down your soaking wet slit. “Tan mojado, maldita sea.” He growls in your ear.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Oh, yes.”

Armando grabs you by your waist flipping you around, the rounds of your ass pressed against the swells of his cock.

You gasp as Armando pushes you against his hard on, you imagine how it will feel once he’s deep inside your soaking, needy cunt.

Armando nibbles at the bottom of your ear. “You feel that baby. You feel what you do to me?”

“Y—yes,” you sputter.

He grinds against you, his face deep in your hair, taking a whiff.

“God I need to be inside you.” Armando whines. “I’ve always needed it.”

“Then do it. Stop holding back.” You moan out.

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say because in a flash Armando’s got your dress up, your thong to the side, and you bent over the counter of your cafe.

God you hoped no one walked past, because if they did, they get an eyeful of your ass and Armando’s bulging cock.

“Fuck,” Armando moans, rubbing the leaking pink tip of his cock against you sleek folds, shuddering as he pulls back, your slick dripping off his tip. “You ready, baby?”

“Yes, oh yes.” You moan, digging your head into the cold marble of the counter.

Armando strokes your entrance one last time before pushing into slowly. You both let out loud, pornagraphic moans finally being full of each other.

The strokes start of slow and deep, each smack creating friction between the top of your dress and your skin. The deeper and harder Armando fucks you, the lower your dress falls until eventually your boobs spill out.

Armando’s pace picks up and he begins to fuck you with speed that causes you to cry out. He reaches in front of you, grabbing your boobs and holding onto them, circling your nipples between his fingers, pounding deeper and harder into you.

“God, mama, you’re incredible.’ Armando growls. “I’ve dreamt of this moment.”

“More!” You moan.

Armando flips you over, lifting you up by your ass and slamming you onto the counter. He waste no time shoving into you and fucking you, your boobs bouncing up and down equivalent to his rhythm.

You reach down, rubbing your clit in circles, you’re desperate to come on Armando’s cock and have him come inside of you.

You can feel the knot in your stomach build and you know you’re close. The sounds of skin slapping and heavy moans echos off the walls of the cafe.

Your pussy leaks, leaving a white ring Armando’s cock as he drills into you, using one lifted leg as leverage.

Your knot builds, expanding, and you know you’re close to the edge.

You pull Armando close. “I want you to finish me, then I need your come inside of me.” You cry out.

Armando doesn’t even question your requests before obliterating you with speed and strokes.

Your knot unfurls and you moan out, shuttering as you

Come on his cock. Armando does the same, pumping all of him inside of you.

Sweaty and breathing hard, he pulls out, lifting you up bridal style.

He carries you to one of the larger booths at the back of the cafe, using his jacket as a blanket for you both.

“Are you on birth control?” He asks.

You shake your head no. “It’s okay. We’re fine. I’ll just get a plan B.”

Armando nods kissing your forehead. “And by the way,’ he pulls you into his strong arms. “Happy birthday.”

You snicker, eyelids heavy. “Thank you.”

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

lips of an angel

pairing: married! leon x marriage counselor! reader

cw: infidelity, p in v, oral, over-usage of 'good girl', regret, leon is an asshole (like, he's really a dick), reader is also not a good person (so, hopefully it's ooc for u lol), not proofread enough

summary: leon is married to ashley (she deserves better) and he cheats on her with reader who is the marriage counselor

a/n: based on a reddit post lol. also, it's time for us to admit that lips of an angel is such a fucking good song and leon would listen to it. (imagining this is id! leon and that song came out around that time so actually it's perfect. anyway, bye)

wc: 2.7k

[edit] taglist

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@dollita-fawn

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

It starts like many horror stories do: with a knock at the door. He's tall, dark, and handsome, standing in the doorframe. Except not that dark, not very tall at all, but incredibly handsome and you've come to find over the sessions you've spent together that his looks are your weakness. His weakness is you. And many other women. Including his wife, who usually attends these sessions, but tonight, he comes alone. Maybe it's the rain that's beating down on the windows - thought it should sound like a warning - that makes you feel sympathetic enough to let him in when you know you shouldn't.

You let him sit on your couch, but make him hang up his leather jacket on the coat rack so he doesn't ruin the furniture. So you can see his biceps better. And his forearms when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The first two buttons are already undone, but that's how he always dresses. You know this because you spend too much time looking at him. What does his wife wear? Skirts? Dresses? Pantsuits? She could wear a goddamn clown costume to every session and you'd be none the wiser because you're staring at her husband like he's a piece of meat.

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but why are you here?" you ask him. "Your appointment isn't until Wednesday."

"I'm having marriage troubles. I thought you might be able to help."

It's in the job title: marriage counselor.

"Where's Ashley?" It's a loaded question, and the gun is pointed at your entire fucking career.

"She couldn't come. Plus, I don't think she'd like to know about these problems I'm having."

You take a deep breath, contemplating absolutely nothing because you've already made your choice. You made your choice months ago when you had your first appointment with the Kennedys.

“Remember when I said I had a history of cheating?”

“I do. Has this become a problem again?”

“Not exactly,” he says with a slight chuckle that you later find is ironic in nature. “But I’ve been having thoughts…”

“Are these thoughts sexual?”

“Very.”

“Have you tried taking care of it yourself?” You make a hand gesture to signal ‘if you know what I mean’ and pray he knows what you mean so you don’t have to say the words ‘jerk off’ explicitly.

“Yes, but it hasn’t worked.” He looks directly into your eyes when he says it.

"Are these thoughts about a specific person?"

"Yes." 

His answers, which are limited to only a few words at a time, make you feel like you're shaking up a magic 8 ball, and the blue goop reveals a die that has little to say beyond 'It is certain', 'My sources say no', and 'Try again later'. 

“Is there a way you could distance yourself from this person so you don’t have any potential ‘slip ups’?” you ask.

“Sure, but I’d have to stop counseling if I did.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Kennedy-”

“Leon.”

“Right. Leon, I’m not trying to be presumptuous, but are you insinuating that these thoughts are about me?”

“That they are.” His smile gives you a golden star-shaped sticker for guessing correctly.

You give him a scowl. "I'll set you up with a new therapist, then."

“Let me ask you something,” he says, leaning forward, staring right into your soul. “Are you attracted to me too?”

“I’m not comfortable answering-”

“That’s not a ‘no’. Is it?”

You try to wipe the look of shock arousal off your face.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to admit it. I remember you asking a lot of questions about my sex life, especially the parts that don’t involve my wife, and getting visibly flustered when I answered them.”

“Of course I asked questions like that. I’m a therapist. It’s what I do. I’m sorry if you-” 

You should ask him to leave, separate yourself before you explode in frustration. Getting defensive is not a healthy way to argue. You know this. You've told him this.

“If I remember correctly you asked me about how I touch myself, when I do it, if I watch anything.” He doesn't wait for a response from you, but it wouldn't have come anyway. “And, the whole time you were sitting there chewing on your pen, pretending not to imagine it. And then writing it down in a hurry, making sure you got down every little detail.” He taps on your pad of paper.

“Can I see this for a moment?” He snags it from the table beside you and flips through the pages. Without thinking, you leap forward and try to snatch it from him, falling into his lap.

The embarrassing part is when he lifts you off of him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s highly confidential!”

“Mr and Mrs. Kennedy,” he begins to read imitating your voice.

“Enough.” You use your sternest voice with him - which is far from stern.

“It says right here that Mr. Kennedy is 'a total dick’ but ‘totally fuckable’.”

“It does not!”

“You’re right. It doesn’t. But you were thinking it. Weren’t you?” He looks up with a smile on his face that’s both charming and cruel.

"I'm not playing whatever game you're trying to play with me right now, Leon."

It's the devil's edition of 20 questions, it seems.

He flips the pad closed, and says, “I’ll leave right now if you answer one question truthfully.”

“Fine," you huff, snatching the pad of paper and stashing it out of his reach.

“Did you go home and touch yourself while thinking about me?”

You shake your head vehemently. "No. Absolutely not."

“You couldn’t even make it home, huh? You did it right here, didn’t you?”

You don't have to answer - the look on your face gives it away.

“Was it on the couch? Right where I was sitting? Where I'm sitting right now."

“Fine. You win, you got it right. Are you happy now?” You concede because you want to end this conversation as quickly as possible, so you can go hide your face and die. 

You want him to fuck you within an inch of your life and then you'll die happily. La petite mort? That's what they call it, right? You want that.

Leon just hums in response, giving you no insight into his thoughts. Though it doesn't take a therapist to guess that he's mentally fucking you. To your surprise, he slaps his hands on his thighs and stands up.

When he gets to the door, you say, “Wait-”

“What?” He asks, nonchalant to such a degree that one might believe the events of the previous few minutes never transpired at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving. Like I said I would.”

“You’re just gonna leave? Do you get off on embarrassing people? Is that it?”

“No. I get off to you, and you know that." He's oddly defensive despite having the upper hand. "I also know that a large part of you despises me, but it’s because there’s a part of you that wants to fuck me.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He shrugs. “You’re the therapist, not me.”

“I’m telling your wife.”

“You’re going to tattle on me?" He laughs. “That wouldn’t be very HIPAA-compliant of you, would it?”

“Why are you doing this?" It feels like a nightmare that you can't escape where a terrifying shadowy figure is chasing you while you're screaming out for help and no one's listening. Except, this is more horrific due to the fact that you like it. Your thoughts about the man in front of you are downright depraved. You are both the monster, mirrors of each other. 

"I thought you wanted to fix your marriage," you say.

“My wife wants to fix our marriage. You and I both know it’s doomed. But you’re not allowed to say that, are you?”

You shouldn't be saying half the things you are right now, but it's too late to turn back now. You are the sunk cost. And the ship that was the concept of 'fixing Leon's marriage' has already sailed.

“You want the truth? I’ve known since the moment you opened your mouth that your marriage was done.”

“Then why did you keep having sessions? Was it for the money?” He pauses. “I doubt it. You’re a good therapist. You could get other clients. There was another reason. And, we both know what that reason is, but I won’t make you say it. I’m not that mean.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And that’s what you like most about me.”

“It is not.”

“Then what is it?”

“Fuck you!”

“Do you want to? I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Convince me.”

“Haven’t I already?”

“No.”

“Then why are you asking me to convince you instead of telling me to fuck off? You just want me to come up with a reason that doesn’t make you feel bad about doing it.”

“And there isn’t one.”

“No, there isn’t," he says with a bit of pity, knowing he's dragging you down into the second circle of Hell with him.

“You have to swear to tell your wife.”

“Is that a yes?”

He did not swear to tell his wife, but Leon is a cheater and a liar already. If he swore to tell his wife, you'd only be an idiot to believe him. 

“Lock the door.”

He turns around and flicks the lock. “Done.”

You stand up and his mouth is on yours. He’s the best kisser. Silver-tongued, you should've known it. You can fucking taste it too. Metallic. No, that's blood. You bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

You’re the one who starts undressing him first but he doesn’t make fun of you. He helps you out of your top instead.

“Goddamn you have perfect tits. It’s a shame you always keep ‘em hidden.”

“It’s a professional environment.”

“Yeah, it’s so professional that you fuck your clients in it.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

"Don't worry. You’re not the first therapist I’ve fucked. I’ll lead.” Leon lays you down on the couch  - roughly, but cradling your head so you don’t knock it on anything. 

You gasp. "Leon, the couch is damp from your wet clothes," you whine.

"I promise it'll be soaked by the time I leave."

Before you can open your mouth, he’s kissing down your chest, making his way to your panties. His tongue is good at more than just talking. He has you unraveling within minutes, moaning obscenely.

“As much as love your pretty moans, baby, we’ve gotta be quiet. Don’t want you to get fired.”

“I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t. You’re a good therapist, and a good girl.”

“You think I’m a good girl?”

“So good. And you taste amazing.” He places a kiss on your clit and you nearly cry, having forgotten the feeling of his tongue in the mere seconds you spent without it. “I want you to come in my mouth.” He sucks on your clit until you do.

Leon's lips are dark and puffy when they meet yours - the ones on your face. He asks, “How did you imagine us doing it?”.

“Mostly me on top of you.”

“It’s a good idea, isn’t it?” he says, placing featherlight kisses from your jaw down your neck.

You shake your head. “None of this is.”

“I know. You've got morals. You’re a good girl.” He pauses before whispering into the shell of your ear, “That’s why you deserve to have me however you want me.”

His right hand is busy holding you steady so he fingers you with his left. You watch as his wedding band slips in and out of your pussy along with his middle finger, giving a double fuck you to his wife with each movement.

He seems fascinated by the squelching sounds, no longer focused on getting his dick inside you. The heavy rain outside covers up some of the noise but not enough to save you the embarrassment.

"Jesus. Just fuck me already." You try desperately to avoid sounding desperate, praying he takes your irritation at face value.

But you're too obvious, you wear your sick, sick heart on your sleeve. 

"You want my dick that bad and you haven't even seen it yet."

"I hope it's as big as your ego."

"No you don't. That'd be painful, medically concerning probably."

You want to laugh because he manages to be funny and charming as hell despite being an absolute dick, but that fact makes you hate him more. And the blood that courses through you has nowhere to go but south.

All the while, his fingers refuse to leave your aching center. "Leon," you whine, pushing his hand away, "you're gonna make me cum again."

"I know," he purrs. "I wanna make up for all the months you've spent here by yourself, with your fingers inside you instead of mine."

"I was pretending they were yours." There's no point in saving the confession anymore.

"I'm sure you were, but I've got somethin' better for you, baby."

And, abruptly, he removes his fingers. You watch him unbuckle his belt, and despite this being your fantasy, you look at him like he's betrayed you.

"What?" he says, coyly, "I thought you wanted this."

"I do, but I was about to cum, and you just took your fingers away. You're such an asshole!" You pout like a bratty child.

"Yeah, I know I am," he says - his words are muffled by the square packet he tears with his teeth. He slides on the rubber barrier before he picks you up and sits you down on his cock, disregarding the obscene noises you make as he shoves himself inside you all at once.

You're wet but there's a stretch. His dick is big, maybe not as big as his ego, but bigger than any you've taken before. This is how he gets away with it, you think.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans. His hands have an iron grip on your hips. "You've gotta learn to loosen up and relax. You're too high strung. This is probably good for you."

It's not, you'll find when the orgasm wears off, but right now it feels really fucking good.

His thumb circles your clit while you bounce up and down, working well in tandem. Ironic, as you've made so little progress in your weekly sessions. As expected, the dual stimulation makes you slick with arousal, opening you up for him.

His voice sounds distant, droned out by your own moans which get even louder as his words get filthier. "Bet all your advice didn't work 'cause your brain was all fuzzy thinking about what my cock would feel like inside you. Or maybe you did it on purpose 'cause you wanted me all to yourself."

"No… n-no-" you say, voice trembling just as your thighs do.

"S'okay, baby. Girls with messy pussies like you can't help it. Just need to get some dick in you and then you can go back to being a good girl."

Can you? Maybe you can a 'good girl' in the bedroom, but a morally-upstanding woman? Even in your own eyes, he's corrupted you.

Still, you call out for him, "Leon," you cry, the singular syllable drawn out. You are lucky that the thunder from the storm is louder than your voice could ever be.

"I know," he says, "I'm close too."

The way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. 

You are oddly dissatisfied at the fact that he spills into the condom, not into you. It feels so impersonal. Because it is. It doesn't escape you that he didn't say your name - not even a pet name - just a simple 'fuck' when he came.

You point him in the direction of the trashcan where he can throw away the physical evidence of the mess you've made.

His pants are back on in a second while you remain naked on the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," he says. "Ashley's making dinner. Don't wanna keep her waiting."

"You're gonna go home to her?" you say, more disappointed than surprised.

"Yeah. What did you think I was going to do?"

Truly, you weren't thinking. If you were, you would not have had sex with Leon. 

"I'm surprised you're not happy. I'm gonna go spend some quality time with my wife. That was your advice - wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But what? You're our marriage counselor. I'm just trying to fix my marriage."

"You're doing an awful job."

"I know," he says, with his hand on the doorknob. "See you on Wednesday."

[willowsnook]

Gin and juice (orange Gatorade) in a tall glass. Ft. Jealous orange Gatorade if you catch my drift 😉

joe burrow x bsf!reader

watch your fucking mouth

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

"Cheers to another Bengals win led by our guy Joey B!" your friend Mike called out, raising his shot glass as everyone joined in. You tapped the table and downed the tequila, wincing as the burn settled in your throat. Joe took your empty glass from you and set it back on the bar.

"Want another drink? Vodka water?" he asked knowingly. You pretended to think about it before nodding in agreement.

"You know me so well," you exclaimed dramatically, and he chuckled.

"Considering it's the only thing I’ve ever seen you order in the four years we've known each other, it's pretty easy to remember," he shot back, a playful smile on his face. You accepted the drink he held out to you, feeling grateful for his presence.

You had been one of Joe's academic tutors back when he was at Ohio State, and you’d managed to stay in touch after he transferred to LSU. When you landed a job in Cincinnati, you brought him into your friend group, ensuring he had a life outside of football—though Jamar, who always seemed to be around, was the only exception since he had a thing for your friend Jaelen.

You watched the two of them now, Jamar animatedly telling Jaelen something as you sipped your drink.

"When are they finally going to get together?" Joe mused, pulling your attention back to him.

"Hopefully soon," you replied, and he nodded in agreement.

As the night progressed, the crowd began moving to the dance floor, and you happily joined in. Your hips swayed to the music, and you felt hands on your waist from behind you. You turned to find a guy you had noticed at the bar earlier, his dark shaggy hair framing a handsome smile. Oblivious to Joe's growing tension, you began dancing with him, fully caught up in the moment.

"You alright, man?" Jamar asked Joe, who was glaring out at the dance floor. Following his gaze, Jamar snorted. "Ahh, I see."

Joe didn’t respond, seething quietly as he watched the guy’s hands roam lower and lower. He gripped his beer tightly, trying to keep his cool.

You had turned around with your hands around the guy's neck, accepting it when his lips met yours.

"Come home with me," he whispered in your ear. You looked up at him, surprised.

"I want to stay a little longer, though. I can't ditch my friends yet," you replied.

"I don’t care about your friends," he said, his tone making you squirm. "Let’s go."

Not liking this sudden switch from charming to demanding, you pulled back.

"No, I don’t think I want to," you said, crossing your arms defiantly.

"Don’t be such a cunt," he shot back. "You've been throwing yourself at me all night like a little whore."

"Watch your fucking mouth."

You didn’t even know where Joe had come from, but he was suddenly in the guy's face, shaking with rage. You reached for his bicep, trying to pull him back, but he shook you off.

"Who are you, tough guy?" the guy sneered at Joe. "She’s not going to suck you off for defending her. She’s just a tease."

Something snapped in Joe that you had never seen before. With a fierce shove, he sent the guy stumbling back before his fist flew, connecting with the guy's face. He didn’t stop until Jamar pulled him off, the guy now bloodied on the ground. Jamar dragged Joe outside while you explained the situation to security, assuring them that police involvement wasn’t necessary.

As you stepped outside, you saw Jamar looking panicked, watching Joe walk away from him.

"I've never seen him snap like that," Jamar said, his voice full of disbelief. "Not even in college; he’s always Mr. Cool. I need to find Jaelen. Can you deal with him?"

You nodded and pulled out your keys, the alcohol having worn off hours ago. As you drove up beside Joe, he climbed into the passenger seat, silent and brooding.

His hands were bloodied, and he cradled them in his lap to avoid staining your car. Once home, he followed you through the garage into the kitchen. You turned on the faucet, running his hands under the water to clean off the blood before bandaging him up.

"You scared me," you said softly, avoiding his gaze as you fiddled with your hands. "I've never seen you like that."

"I'm sorry," he said gently, his eyes reflecting genuine remorse. "I don't know what came over me."

You looked up and met his gaze, sensing his nervousness as he fidgeted.

"Why, then?" you whispered.

"He was hurting you," he replied, his voice steady. "I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."

"I don’t understand how you could get angry so fast like that," you said, thinking it over. "I thought you were in a good mood."

"I was, until I saw you dancing with him," he admitted, and your heart raced. "I didn’t like his hands on you like that."

"Joe, I’m 25 years old," you said firmly. "I’m allowed to dance with people at a bar."

"I’m not saying you can’t," he countered, his gaze intense. "But..."

"But what?" you urged him to continue.

"But it should only be with me," he finished, and your breath caught in your throat. "I want to be the only one you dance with like that."

"You know you could have just told me this instead of... well, committing assault," you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"It wasn’t assault," he grumbled, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"I like you too, Joe," you confessed, lifting your chin to press your lips against his. "But no more fights, okay?"

[adventuringblind]

Entitled To You (3.6K words)

Norstaptri x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.

Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.

Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T

Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay. 

“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!

“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”

“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.” 

She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s. 

To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.” 

The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining. 

She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert. 

The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her. 

They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner. 

If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy. 

“Not so confident now, huh?” 

The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?” 

“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”

“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy. 

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening. 

“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.” 

“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.

“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her. 

It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be. 

And then nothing. 

A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for. 

His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy? 

“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before. 

She blacks out. 

~~~♡~~~

Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes. 

When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound. 

Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her. 

Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry. 

She can't move. 

It's dark again. 

~~~♡~~~

The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot. 

The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute. 

“Max, she always responds.” 

“I know Lando.” 

“She always calls if she's going to be longer.” 

“Lando?”

“Yes?”

“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?” 

The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet. 

Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered. 

They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now. 

Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes. 

“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features. 

“What the fuck?” 

Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.” 

Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help. 

“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears. 

It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that. 

“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable. 

The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely. 

Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help. 

It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian. 

He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?

“When will they let us see her?”

“When she wakes up, most likely.”

He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name. 

“-She’s asking for us.” 

He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall. 

Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?” 

She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando. 

Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing. 

She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”  

“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one.  Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her. 

“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?” 

“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead. 

“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?” 

“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.

“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.” 

“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck” 

Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep. 

~~~♡~~~

Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained. 

On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated. 

The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution. 

Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort. 

Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off. 

“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.” 

The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”

“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.” 

“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment. 

It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?” 

“And what if I am?” 

She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible. 

They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.

Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’. 

Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.” 

“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.” 

“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes. 

Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”

“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”

“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.” 

He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble. 

“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?” 

“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him. 

Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.” 

~~~♡~~~

It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.

He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something. 

Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now. 

Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times. 

Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here. 

“Get out!” 

“We were just talking-” 

“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room. 

He’s not prone to violence. 

Really, he’s not. 

Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good. 

The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming. 

Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.  

“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.” 

“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”

Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.” 

“Equilibrium.” 

“Yeah that!” 

He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline. 

They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits. 

The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point? 

“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.” 

“Christian said-”

“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”

lando Can’t help but share her feelings.

~~~♡~~~

She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet. 

At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart. 

The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance. 

They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.  

She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her. 

She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see. 

Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say. 

She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.

The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage. 

Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.

The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been. 

She wins the next race. 

“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.” 

“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.

“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence. 

“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…” 

“You’re a genius Oscar!”

She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they’ve been so patient. 

“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her. 

She smiles back.

[cyberpunkgyu]

SERIES: The Sun and the Sunflower / P. Sunghoon

genre: fluff, romance

introduction: these series include random one shots of tsundere! sunghoon and bubbly! reader’s relationship, more chapters/parts will follow in the future! this part shows the softer side of sunghoon but next chapters/parts will show his more ���tsundere” side

a/n: i decided to make it one shots because i realized i suck at making long stories so hopefully this turns out alright! let me know what you think :D

warnings: suggestive, and not proofread cause i’m lazy

I. Jealousy *ੈ✩‧₊˚ — when you get jealous

Sunghoon is someone who doesn’t show a lot of affection when there are other people around you both. If a stranger saw the two of you, they might not even think you both are in a relationship because of how casual he is around you in public. You didn’t mind, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in anyway, and you respected that (though there were times where he would peck your lips when no one is looking).

But there were times you wish you could just kiss him to show others that he is yours. Like right now.

You always thought you weren’t a jealousy person. What’s there to be jealous about? You know Sunghoon is a loyal person and would never do anything to hurt you. He is a whole green flag, a green forest even.

But you can’t help it when you see girls flirting with him out in the open.

He has asked you out for a night out in a nearby art museum that just opened. Of course you agreed, making sure you were free and don’t have anything else planned, you definitely wouldn’t pass any opportunity to spend time with him.

The night has been going well so far. You two went around to see different exhibitions, taking photos of one another (you even secretly took photos of him when he wasn’t looking because he looked so dreamy).

He was wearing a suit and tie with his glasses on, which you have always told him how handsome he looks with it on. Sunghoon is very handsome in general, but when he wears his glasses on, it just hits different. There’s just something about it that makes your stomach flutter ten times more.

You have also dressed up quite nicely, wearing the dress Sunghoon gifted you for your birthday which wasn’t too long ago. It was a pretty long white dress, and you felt very confident in it. Spending almost two hours doing your hair and makeup, your craft not going unnoticed by your boyfriend.

He is quick to notice your appearance, staring at you in awe when he picked you up from your apartment. He had literal heart eyes for you, a soft smile on his face.

For a quick moment you have left him outside to use the bathroom, to freshen up and all that. Once you got out, you didn’t expect to see him talk to someone, and a woman. And he was smiling?

What caught you off guard is when the girl placed her hand by his bicep, though Sunghoon didn’t seem bothered by it, just nodding to what she was saying. Does she really have to be touchy?

You pouted to yourself, watching the scene in front of you, not knowing if you should let them be or approach them. Before you could even decide, Sunghoon has already spotted you, excusing himself.

“You ready to go and see more exhibits? There’s more upstairs.”

“Hmm, sure.”

Your voice came out soft and quiet, something out of the ordinary as you often talked with such excitement. His thick brows furrowed, but he pushed it off, nodding at you. Maybe you were just getting tired? He thought.

Crossing your arms, you began to walk to the escalator, Sunghoon following by your side. Who was that girl? Is that someone he knows? Or did they just met? Why were they smiling? They looked so happy together. Is that his ex? He never told you about an ex…

You shook your head to yourself, feeling yourself overthink. Stop it, yn.

“Hey… you alright? I can take you home if you’re feeling tired.” Sunghoon looked at you with such concern, both of you getting off the escalator as you got to the next floor up.

You looked up at him, quickly shaking your head. “No! Uh, I’m alright. Don’t worry. I want to see more of the exhibits.” You forced a grin, though it came out so fake that Sunghoon can sense something was definitely wrong.

You got startled when he took your hand, pulling you to the side. Your back was suddenly pressed on a wall, gasping softly as his hand found your hips, looking at him with wide eyes. Your cheeks reddened so quickly, heart beating hastily.

“Is something wrong? You can tell me.”

His eyes stayed on you, waiting for your response, though you felt your throat dry during to how close the two of you are. When you opened your lips, nothing came out.

“Nothing! I just- I…”

“You can tell me what’s wrong. I don’t like seeing you so quiet. It’s weird.”

That made your heart flutter, blinking up at him. He was so close that you could smell his sweet scent, making you feel fuzzy inside.

"I would rather hear you talk non-stop than be quiet. I like hearing you," he whispered softly, feeling his fingers run through your hair, making you feel giddy.

"It's just... it's nothing. It's stupid." you felt yourself pout softly, looking away from him, but you felt his hand grip your chin gently, making you look up at him. "Well it's not stupid if it's bothering you right?"

"The woman earlier. You know her? Is she-"

"She's a childhood friend during my ice skating years. We just quickly catched up, that's all."

Ah, right. You nodded, feeling yourself embarrassed.

"Were you… jealous?"

"What? Why would you ask that." you huffed, suddenly getting defensive. He found it cute how pouty you got, feeling himself smile down at you. Gosh, you're cute.

"You can be friends with anyone you want, I don't care. It's the same with me, I can be friends with whoever, talk to whoever I want. And also, why did she have to be touchy-"

Sunghoon looks at you with adoration, his eyes flickering between your eyes down to your lips. He loves it when you ramble, pouting your lips whenever you do. Your voice was going in from one of his ear to the other, everything in the background becoming a blur.

You were suddenly cut off by Sunghoon's soft lips, your eyes widening before they fluttered shut, putting your hands into a fist as you didn’t know what to do with it.

His lips were hot and plump, his hands going up to your waist, pulling you slightly up, causing you to go on your tippy toes.

You wish you could kiss him for longer, though he definitely took your breath away, pulling away from to the kiss to catch your breath. Your cheeks flushed, as well as your lips, and definitely swollen.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it… you were talking too much.”

A giggle escaped your lips, looking up at him shyly. “I thought you weren’t a fan of PDA.” you teased, smiling shyly up at him.

“I could do much more if we weren’t in public.”

“Hoon!”

He grinned cheekily, his fangs on display, chuckling lowly. “Cute…”

Your cheeks felt as if they were on fire. He really knew how to make you fold, huh? His eyes never left yours, caressing your waist ever so gently, eyes full of love.

“Why don’t we just go back to my apartment?”

“Hm, are you tired?”

“No.”

“Then why? Aren’t we going to see more exhibits?”

“I did. But now all I want is to able to kiss my pretty girlfriend longer.”

[skulla-rxcks]

Gaping guns

Paring: ot8 x afab reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: gun fucking, face fucking, PIV, unprotected, group s3x

Day 12 of ktober - You wake up in a random house and agree to have sex with a group of men, not knowing that it would be the most pleasurable experience of your entire life.

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @fun-fanfics @iwannabangchan @linosluver

Please dm me or use my inbox if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

I’m walking back my car after doing my weekly grocery shopping, all the heavy bags I’m carrying hurting my arms, they’re definitely going to leave marks. As I continue walking I can’t help but wonder why I parked so far away, yeah sure the parking lot was full but could I at least have found a spot closer? my feet move along the concrete dragging myself along. Suddenly I feel someone or something grab me from behind. I fall onto the concrete behind me and hit my head, completely blacking out.

I wake up on a rich velvet covered house in what seems like a fancy dining room, I rub my eyes and sit up, looking around. there’s eight men sitting around the room I’m in, are they the ones who brought me here? I wonder. “you’re awake. finally.” one of them says in a deep Australian accent; his hairs blonde with a strong but petite build. “what happened..?

where am I? who are you guys?” I ask him, my eyes scanning the other men in the room as I wait for an answer.

“don’t worry about that now,” another man replies to me, he also has a similar accent to the guy who woke me up, but a bit more buffness in this build, his biceps popping out of his tank top.

“we’ll take you home if you let us fuck you, yeah?” fuck me? hopefully not all eight of them,, right? “would you let us use you, bunny?” one of the eight says. “I.. okay. but what are your names so I know what to.. scream?” I ask, crossing my legs as I sink into the couch. “Chan, Felix, Han, Seungmin, Jeongin call him I.n if easier, Hyunjin and Minho, oh and I’m Changbin.” the one who called me bunny says, Changbin. “okay.. I’ll try remembering all of your names.” I respond. “good girl.. take off your clothes for us.” Chan says with his thick accent, walking behind me and putting a gun to my head, threatening to pull the trigger if I don’t. the gun intimidating me enough to make me strip right then and there. “undergarments too.” Han giggles, walking up to me with a knife, cutting my underwear and bra off with a quick swipe before pulling the ripped material from my body.

“legs open. princess.” He adds, his strong hands forcefully pulling my thighs open to reveal my already wet pinkish cunt.

Chan kneels down infront of me, licking a stripe down my soaked folds. “what are you.. nngh..” I moan out, the sensation of being touched by his tongue making me whimper already. “I’m tasting you baby girl.” He chuckles, spreading my folds open and thrusting 2 fingers inside of me, curling them up and finding my g spot almost immediately.

“Fuck!” I gasp. “We’ll do that soon enough baby.” He replies, making a joke out of my moans.

“Who wants her first? And which hole?” He asks the rest of the boys; Changbin says he wants my ass, Felix says my pussy and Jeongin says my mouth. I thought they’d all use me separately but I was wrong as I see the three men walk towards me while taking their pants and boxers off as well as their shirts. All of them seem to have amazing bodies, abs, muscles and perfectly fit, you can tell they work out quite a bit.

Chan moves away and stands behind me again, watching as the three boys position themselves at the entrance of my holes. I moan in a mixture of pleasure and pain as all of their dicks impale me at once; Changbin’s making me whimper the most,

I’ve never had anything in my ass before so it feels like he’s ripping me open. “Fuckk..~” I cry, my words muffled from Jeongin’s cock in my mouth, I hear him gasp as my words send vibrations throughout his length. Felix starts moving inside of my pussy, his cock rubbing slightly against Changbin’s through the small barrier of skin. “Dick… so much… mmgh!” My eyes roll back as all three of them start penetrating my holes, my entire body shuddering at the sensation.

The rest of the boys are watching, staring at the scene with lust filled eyes stroking their own dicks as they watch my body get absolutely destroyed.

Chan leans over and takes out his gun again, rubbing it against my clit, adding to the pleasure these strange men are giving me. Minho comes over, tired off waiting he rubs himself against my breasts, beginning to leak all over my chest, his groans adding to the noise we all are making as he rubs his dick against the soft skin repeatedly.

“I’m gonna fucking cum!” Felix blurts out “can I fill you up?” He asks, I shake my head in response. No. What If I get pregnant? As much as I’d love my womb being filled up with Felix’s seed I sadly have to say no. He ends up pulling out and cumming all over my stomach, leaving my pussy gaping while Jeongin and Changbin are still going at my mouth and ass.

Hyunjin begins to walk over, taking Felix’s place and beginning to penetrate my pussy, thrusting way harder than Felix did, making the sound of skin against skin echo in the room. Jeongin fills up my mouth with his warm salty semen, not pulling out until I swallow it all; Seungmin pushing him aside and using my mouth now.

“So pretty..” Chan giggles, slapping his cock against my face as he watches me get violated by his friends, watching and paying attention to every thrust filling up my holes, and every groan and moan that we all are making, as well as the noises of Changbin’s and Hyunjin’s balls slapping against me. “Stay still..” Changbin Groans, wrapping his hand around my neck as he fills up my asshole with his thick seed, the feeling of his cum in my ass making me feel all warm inside. in the meantime Minho stops rubbing against my breasts and takes my ass instead now, thrusting harder and harder until he releases his load inside of me, Hyunjin follows after and then not soon after Seungmin does too.

Everyone’s Either filled me up or their cums stained on my skin, just as I thought we were done Chan pushes the boys away and commands for them to sit down - as if he’s their leader or something. “I’m not done with you yet.” He says, standing in front of me, kneeling down before shoving his gun into my vagina thrusting it in and out of me. “C..chan..? That’s a gun not a.. a dildo..” I tell him, earning a chuckle from him in response. “I know that, but I’m going to use it as one.” He shoves it in me deeper and deeper making me squirm until I cum all over the gun, hopefully not ruining it.

“Bend over the couch, get into doggy. He demands, I do as he says, bending myself over the arm of the chair, arching my back as my ass sticks out for him. “Good girl” he smirks before pushing into my vagina, thrusting himself in and out of me at a rapid pace. Using one of his hands to squeeze and play with my ass, while using the other one to slowly finger my ass before bringing up the speed to match it with the pace of his thrusting. I moan in pleasure, tears forming in my eyes as he uses me; fucking me harder and faster than any of the guys did. It could just be that he’s extremely fucking horny or that his dicks bigger than the others. Either way, I don’t care. “Chan..!” I cry, tears running down my face, wetting my cheeks with a hint of a glistening sparkle from my makeup as my mascara and eye shadow runs down my cheeks with them.

“You feel so fucking good. I’m going to cum inside this little tight cunt.” He says, growling into my ear.

“No.. I’ll get pregnant!” I call out. “So? I’ll get you plan b pills after this. Just need this right now, need to cum inside this slutty cunt of yours it’s the only part of you that hasn’t been filled up yet.” Chan groans, pushing his cock deeper into my pussy. “A-ah. But.. b-b-but..” I try to reason with him but I can’t he’s too deep inside me for me to complain about it, I look over at the rest of the guys who are now pleasuring each other; sucking and jerking each other. Some of them even kissing. But I can’t seem to focus on that now, all I can take in and focus on his dick penetrating my pussy, Chan’s dick to be exact.

“God you’re so cute.. can’t even talk! Fuck I’m gonna.. I’m gonna fill you up with my seed, take it, take it all you slutty bitch!” He screams out as he releases himself inside my cunt. When he pulls out I moan, feeling empty again.

“Gonna go get the pills now.. if you’re still horny maybe have another round with the boys..” Chan chuckles as he walks out the door to get the contraceptives. I nod and walk over to the rest of the boys, wanting to. No. Needing to be fucked one last time.

[cumikering]

F1 John Price x reader 3

2.8k | fluff, suggestive John Price was not jealous of a lap dog (part 1) (part 4)

“So let me get this straight,” you said, plating the sliced loaf on the counter. “You love berries.”

John hummed as he stepped closer, turning you to him by the hips.

“You love to nap and you’re crazy about salmon.”

Crazy about you too.

You scratched his bearded jaw. “You’re a bear, aren’t you?”

He laughed as he leaned in. You smiled against his lips.

The both of you made breakfast. You thanked him again for the loaf, saying it paired wonderfully with tea. In the sunlight, you gazed at him with those pretty eyes, smile sweet, that his heart skipped a beat.

There was something about you, or your place, or the quiet morning that was like a warm embrace to him. Safe. Serene. It was easy to be with you, like there was nothing that could go wrong when you were with him.

You looked out the window and he revelled in the way the diffused light caressed your skin. The sun had grown warmer.

“Need to go to the shops later today,” you muttered.

“I can take you.”

You turned to him, beaming. “There’s a small park I like nearby.”

When he pulled up, it was then he realised he’d forgotten his cap at your place. He reached for the pocket behind your seat, lucky to have kept a spare team cap there.

“Orange looks good on you.” Your fingers curled over the crook of his arm.

He turned to you smiling up at him. I think it would look even better on you. “Yeah? We call it papaya at McLaren.”

You let out a small laugh. “That’s adorable.”

You took a short stroll at the quiet park, his strong hand engulfed yours, and headed to the shops before it got too cold. He hauled the shopping to and from his car, and he swore he fully intended to get out of your hair after he helped you put away your shopping, but when you pulled out two mugs for tea… Well, maybe you didn’t mind if he tarried a little.

At the end of the night, John gathered his toiletries and zipped his luggage up.

“You always come to me, John. Let me return the favour,” you said at the door.

“My place is a bit far.”

“All the more reason why I should, no?”

“I really don’t mind.” He brought your hand to his lips. “Maybe next time when we're in the area?”

You gave him a quick kiss and he pulled his cap on before walking away. He hoped you didn’t mind that he left the orange one on your dining table. You’d look better in it.

January days crawled into a pattern. John picked you up from work for dinner two, three times a week, staying over on the weekends. Seeing you, no matter how short always made him smile.

John, you don’t have to pick me up. I’m closing today. Sophie’s ill so I sent her home. See you tomorrow?

No. See you later

You poor thing. You’d be too tired to cook dinner. He could buy you something instead, guaranteed to taste good – you deserved it after a long day, but he wanted to show his appreciation too. You’d taught him how to cook upon his request, and it was his time to show you what he’d learnt (hopefully). But as he was swinging by the shops for your favourite protein, an idea struck.

When he pushed the door of your shop open, you were wiping down the counters. He pulled his mask down and greeted you with a kiss. His beard had grown full, and he found himself addicted to the way you nails scratched his jaw when your lips met.

He insisted on helping you with the washing – it was the least he could do for his favourite lady, but not before cornering you against the counter, lifting you by the waist onto it and savouring your glossy lips a little longer. You tasted even better when you giggled, your fingers digging into his biceps, making him hum.

In the car, he pulled out the Tupperware of sub sandwiches from his backseat. “Eat up, love. I’m taking you somewhere.”

“You made these?”

He nodded, glancing at you. “I hope you like it.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The streets had simmered down and the drive to the other side of town was shorter than expected. The doorman greeted you warmly, swinging the door open to a vast lobby with a classic grand chandelier, accentuating the lustrous marble floors. He picked up a small bag from the concierge and pulled out an access card.

“Oh, it’s such a nice place, John,” you said as you stepped into the lift.

He pressed the button to the top floor and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his side. “My manager lives here. I like the view.”

John had called her earlier as he drove to you.

“Kate, do you mind if I borrow your spotting scope tonight?”

“Let me guess.” She let out an amused chuckle. “You’re at the coffee shop and you need me to deliver it in half an hour?”

Kate had started teasing John ever since the GTI favour. Always self-sufficient, he wasn’t one to bother anyone unless it was necessary. Someone had to make him act that way, for him to go out of his way to ask for favours, especially something so trivial.

It might be off season and they didn’t have to talk about work nearly as often, but they’d always meet for a meal once or twice a month with Kate’s wife. Not this time though. She didn’t miss the way he only responded during working hours. Kate didn’t press, but it was a slip of the tongue when he said he’d made plans with you when she suggested dinner one weekend.

“I’d like to go to your rooftop actually.”

“Your balcony has a far better view.”

“Well, your building is quieter.”

“You can’t hear anything from the 30th floor.”

A beat. “Can I borrow the scope, please, Kate?”

“Yeah, alright, sure. What time are you swinging by? We’re going out for dinner.”

“Yeah, no worries. Could you leave it at the concierge for John Sloane?”

She chuckled. “Sloane? Like your mum’s maiden name? They know who-“ There was a pause. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

John could imagine Kate’s pitying look. They’d been working closely for years, even before he got into F1. A karting champion in her younger days, she was his mentor before becoming his manager. Naturally, she was privy to his relationships, especially the one which was flaunted all over the media.

She had encouraged him to play along, stomach it. You can’t run from this if you’re in the business, she’d said, and she was right. It was evidently favourable for his career, until it wasn’t for his feelings anymore.

Perhaps Kate had been callous to his discomfort, something she had apologised for numerous times. She had since said nothing about his personal relationships, not like there was much to say though. He couldn’t be too cautious of who to let in.

He sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“It’s none of my business, John, but that doesn’t sound right.”

“I know, I know. I’m just… Taking it slow. I’m telling her before the season starts.”

John pulled the beanbag chairs from under the canopy. He plopped down, tugging on your wrist to sit between his thighs. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you lose to his chest before you looked through the scope.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Someone came in in a McLaren polo today, said he was getting cookies for his boss. It was my first time seeing someone with a mohawk in real life, but he definitely pulled it off.”

He laughed. “Wait, let me guess. He’s Scottish?”

“Yes! You know him?”

“His name is John too, but we call him Johnny or Soap.”

“Soap? Like a bar of soap?”

“Yeah. One time, someone got a box of decorative soaps – I think it was macaron? He mistakenly took a bite out of it.”

You laughed and lowered the scope, turning to him. “Are you serious?”

“To be fair they did look hyper-realistic and smelled wonderful. But I like to think I wouldn’t have been fooled.”

You held the scope back up, the smile still on your lips. “I didn’t think you’d know him. I said a friend works there.”

“A friend, huh.” He kissed the top of your head. “I hope I’ll be more than that one day.”

“You are.”

He heard the tease in your voice. “You are to me too. I like you a lot.” Too much.

It had only been two months since the day you made him his double-shot Americano, but it felt much longer. Seeing you the past weeks had been the highlight of his time off, allowing him a glimpse of your everyday life.

Despite disliking driving outside the track, with London’s dreadful traffic at that, he didn’t mind at all dropping you off work and picking you up again. It was rude how soon he daydreamed about being a part of your life, but kissing you at your door at the end of the night was the best part of his day.

“John, you live around here, right? Should we just go to yours?”

“Not tonight, love. Place is a mess.”

“I don’t mind. You said we’d go when we’re in the area.”

Shit, he’d forgotten. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a guest. Next time?”

You hummed, pulling his arms tighter around yourself.

John, once more, breathed a sigh of relief. But he’d meant it – he would tell you soon. He just needed some more time.

You started wearing his papaya cap on rainy days, and on that gloomy Friday, John decided on kebab for dinner. You were supposed to sit at the park, but the cloudy sky didn’t look promising. Instead, you ate in the car before heading home.

Before he exited his car, he placed the cap over your head, making you smile. The colour really looked wonderful on you.

Near the building entrance, you stopped in your tracks.

“John, do you hear that?”

“What?”

“Like a puppy whining- There!”

The noise was faint but he heard it then. You followed it to the SUV at the end of the lot with John trailing. Under the bonnet, a small dog was curled up, soaked and trembling in the cold.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said, stooping down and inching your hand out. “You must be lost.”

The brown pooch whined louder and made the slightest hint of a scoot towards you amidst the shivers of its body. It was all it took for you to scoop it into your arms.

“I’ll get you warm-” You inspected the glinting tag on his collar, flipping it over. “Holden,” you muttered. “John, could you help me call his owner while I dry him?”

“Of course.”

You rushed to the bathroom to dry the pup off. Later, with the collar and his phone in hand, John cracked open the door.

“They’re not picking up, but I sent a text. Hopefully I’ll get a reply soon.”

Holden stood on the toilet lid as you knelt down to blow dry him. John sat next to you, watching how gentle you were to the strange dog as you fluffed him up, muttering reassuring words at him. He stopped shaking.

You switched off the hairdryer.

“Wow, it’s like he put on a few pounds.” John stroked his now blond-grey fur. He looked up at him with doe eyes and licked his hand. “What breed is he?”

You laughed, rising to your feet and scooping him into your arms. You scratched the back of his ear and his tail swayed at the attention. “Yorkshire Terrier. He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

Just like you are. He followed you out to the living room. “I’ll get him water.”

You and John lounged on the couch, Holden napping on your chest, finally warm and cosy wrapped up in one of your old towels. You caressed him mindlessly as you watched the telly.

John Price was not jealous of a fluffy lap dog. It was silly to think so far, but he thought he’d love a pet with you, something to take care of together. Your tenderness made him fuzzy.

It was then his phone rang on the coffee table. It was the owner.

You headed to the address given, just a few minutes away from your place. As you walked up to the door, Holden’s tail went wild. You cooed at him and a woman answered the door.

A little girl rushed past and gave your midriff a big hug. “You found him! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You stroked her hair and stooped to hand the pup to her.

“Thanks so much for bringing him back, love,” the woman said to you before nodding at John. “It was my fault, I left the door open and he slipped away yesterday. We were worried sick.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I found him. He must have been so scared.”

“Here, please accept this.” She took your hand and clasped it over a wad of bills.

“Oh- No, no, I can’t accept that. It was my pleasure. I’m just happy he’s alright now.”

The woman smiled. “Thank you so much, love, really.”

“You be good now, Holden.” You patted his head, and he let out an excited bark before you turned.

At the end of the night, John climbed in bed with you, pressing his chest against your back.

He planted a few kisses on your neck as he mumbled, “I got you this.” He reached over, presenting you a small, custom bear plush wearing an orange cap.

You turned to him, beaming. “Is that supposed to be you?” You ran a finger over the cookie on the bear’s paw.

“Maybe.” He smiled.

“I love it.” You gave him a peck. “What should I call him?

“What about JP?” He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“I never got to ask what that stands for,” you whispered against his lips.

“Jean Pierre. You got it right the first time.” He laughed. “My mates call me that sometimes.”

“Have you all got nicknames?”

“Some of us, yes. There’s Gaz, Ghost, and you already know Soap. My manager gets called Watcher.”

“They all sound so fun. Would love to meet them one day.”

“They are. They’re good people.” They’d love you.

Seeing his teammate’s recent obsession with cookies, Kyle didn’t take long to connect the dots. While John was initially reluctant to show your photos to Kyle and the others, he couldn’t hide his grin when Johnny said you looked even better in real life.

“She gave me a free coffee, said she’s got a mate who works at McLaren. So it was you, Cap. How modest of her to say,” he’d said.

They asked when they’d get to meet you, the mystery cookie lady John Price couldn’t stop talking about. Except Kate, the only one who knew why you hadn’t met his closest people yet.

A pause. Your warm breath tickled his skin in the silence.

“Thanks for JP. Now I’ll have you with me every night.”

“You can always ask,” he grunted.

“What if I never want you to leave?”

“Then I won’t, love.”

“You promise?” you murmured.

“I promise.”

It was stupid, really, to let himself feel so much, so fast. But he couldn’t help but want more and more. He felt enough with you, for you, like he didn’t have to be anybody else but some bloke from Liverpool.

He couldn’t keep doing this to you, someone so special to him.

You pulled him close, the small puffs of breath he knocked out of you warm against his shoulder, nails raking deliciously down his back. Just like in his daydreams, the beautiful sounds you let out made his skin tingle and sear. Was he the one making you feel this way?

He dipped his head, breath hot and heavy, grunting into your ear. You made his head spin. He’d never get tired of the way his name slipped past your soft lips, the way you caressed his face, or the way you planted wet kisses on his neck.

He knew it right then. You wouldn’t break his heart.

John sighed, the thin layer of sweat almost gone from his skin. On his bare chest, you slept soundly in his shirt and the smile wouldn’t leave his lips as he buried his nose in your hair. He wanted this with you, always.

He’d tell you in the morning. But tonight, with lungs full of your sweet scent, he’d sleep in peace knowing nothing would change tomorrow.

Masterlist Ex bf John Price

@tiredmetalenthusiast @le16erc @kyletogaz @ohtobehappy @yikes077

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @juicyjujuuu @alleycc @lahniu @hungrycrazy

@nocturnalreader106 @oceantornadoo @strong-bronze-or-regal-black @dahlia-reads @shinymriver

@sadcowboyhours @the-darling-fishy @rowanyaboats @two-autumns @princessdaniiiii

@eve-lie @hope69world @asbestos-n-asbesties

[thetriumphantpanda]

nobody sees, nobody knows

Alright, here we are, me adding my two cents into the dbf!Joel trope which we all love so much. I've read so many incredible fics like this so hopefully mine can stand up with them all. This will be a series, so strap in for more of our favourite neighbourhood DILF.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Back to Texas with a degree under your belt and a school girl fantasy to fuck your dad's best friend. What could go wrong?

Warnings | I mean, dbf!Joel comes with his own warning right? Other than that, swearing, alcohol consumption, age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), dirty talk, and fingering.

Word Count | 3.3K

PART 2 | MAIN MASTERLIST

There was something about summer in Texas that just hit differently. The way the heat crawled on your skin from the moment you woke up to the moment you tried to sleep at night. The way your father used it as an excuse to cook primarily on the grill, regardless of the food, and the way your mother always made sure the fridge was stocked with cold drinks. The way traffic seemed to cease to exist during the high points of the day, meaning you went to the store every day at midday to buy ice cream. The haze you got from sipping cold beer by your parents’ pool which made you want to do reckless things like you’d done in New York before you realized that the beady eyes of your parents would be all over you if you tried. Reckless things like tell Joel Miller you’d wanted to fuck him for years. 

Every time you’d come home from school, and he’d be there you could have sworn he’d just gotten more and more attractive. The last time you were home, for Christmas and New Year’s, you could have sworn he’d started at the gym, his biceps bulging in the arms of his fitted t-shirt, when your dad commented on it, he's chalked it down to particularly heavy lifting on the job he was working then. He’d had his hair cut in a way that made his face even more handsome and you’re pretty sure the last few times you’d been home he’d noticed how you’d flourished too. 

There were moments where you’d catch his eyes as they drew themselves up your legs, or the time you decided to test your theory and wear a low-cut top and your best bra to a dinner party. His eyes had trained on your chest for most of the night, there was a moment where you’d stood up and leaned over the table to pick up the salt instead of asking him to pass it. He’d choked on his drink and your dad had slapped his back to try and help him. At least you knew he was thinking like you. 

Neither of you had tried crossing the line though. Past the point of no return. You wanted him to make the first move, save yourself the embarrassment of rejection if it came, but it felt like waiting for Joel Miller to kiss you was like waiting for rain in the drought Texas was currently experiencing. Useless and disappointing. You wished sometimes that you could burrow into his brain and figure out what it was that he was really thinking about you. You suspected there would be some code of honour he was sticking to because you were his best friend’s daughter – sure it might complicate things, but you weren’t going to be back in Texas forever – what was the worst that could happen during the secret, torrid affair you’d been cooking up in your head since you arrived back from college a week ago? 

 “Did you hear me when I spoke to you?” Your mother’s voice pulled you from the daydream you were having whilst polishing the cutlery. 

“Sorry mom, I was miles away.” 

“I know!” She exclaims, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you since you came back, you’ve been away with the fairies,” She sighs, “I said, once you’ve set the cutlery out back can you help your dad with filling the fridge with the beer, please?” 

You hum in agreement which is enough to send her back to the endless chopping she seems to be doing at the kitchen counter. It was just a cookout with the Millers and few other family friends to celebrate your return, but you think your mother thinks she’s catering for a garden party at the White House with the number of sides she’s preparing. 

You make quick work of the rest of the cutlery, wanting to avoid any more questions about why you seem miles away all the time – you can’t exactly tell your mother it’s because you’re thinking about how Joel might eat your pussy.

“Need any help, old man?” You greet your dad in the garage, he’s on his knee’s pulling out bottles of Budweiser to stack in the fridge. 

“Here, grab these and start putting them in,” He’s smiling, he’s always been an overly happy and laid-back man, “I hope we’ve got enough in.” 

“How many people are you expecting?” You chuckle, taking a bottle from him to add to the growing number already stacked on the shelves. 

“Probably ten or so,” Hu shrugs, “But one of those people is Tommy Miller and he’s not changed a bit since you’ve been away.” 

“Between your drinks and mom’s sides we could host the entire neighborhood.” You joke. 

You continue to fill the fridge up with drinks until there’s no room left. Your dad stores the leftover crates next to it for refilling throughout the evening, “Now, go and make yourself look nice, everyone’ll be here soon.” 

*

You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t picked your shortest and lowest cut dress for the evening. It was a pale blue colour, with pink flowers dotted about the material. It fell to your mid-thigh and you had to keep reminded yourself to kneel down instead of bending over, in case people who you didn’t want to look caught an eyeful of the scant lace covering your ass. 

There are a few people milling around already, cold beers in hand, mainly some of your dad’s older friends, who have all congratulated you on graduating and then moved on to talk about mundane neighborhood gossip. 

“Now, where is that smartass?” You hear from the sliding doors; it’s Tommy and he’s bounding over to you to give you a hug. 

He scoops you up into a bone breaking hug, “Congratulation’s girl, your dad said you graduated top of the class!” 

He’s set you down and you can see Joel standing awkwardly next to him, “He’s exaggerating, I wasn’t top, although pretty close to it,” You turn to Joel, “Hey there.” He bends down to give you a one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek. 

“Good to see you back, sweetheart.” 

“Good to see you too, Joel,” You chirp in response, “Where’s Sarah?” 

“She’s at camp for the first part of the summer,” He explains, “Back in a couple’a weeks, she’ll be thrilled to see you again.” 

“Boys!” Your dad’s booming voice interrupts your conversation, “Good to see you both!” He turns to you, “Why don’t you go and get these two some beers, I need to speak to them about fixin’ up the attic.” 

You turn quietly and head for the garage. Of course, you’d become waitress at your own welcome home party. It takes no time at all for you to come back with three beers, two for the Miller brothers and one for yourself. You hand them off wordlessly, but you don’t miss how Joel grips the bottle just above your fingers, brushing against them. Of all the places for him to grab the bottle, that couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? 

The rest of the evening goes by as expected. You spend most of it running around helping your mom set the food out, fetching more beers for everyone and trying to field questions from everyone about what you’re going to do in Texas with an MA in Archival Studies. You bite your tongue every time, and reply with something like, “I think I’ll probably work in an archive.” 

The night is winding down, your mom already in bed having finished her wine too quickly, your dad sat outside in the quickly fading sunlight with Joel and Tommy and a few other stragglers. It fell to you to make aa start on the dishes, which is what you were currently doing. Rinsing them off over the sink before stacking them in the dishwasher, pausing long enough each time to take a sip of lukewarm beer. 

“They got you tidyin’ up your own party?” You hear from behind you. It’s Joel. 

“I’m the only one sober enough not to break anything.” You shrug without turning around to face him. 

“Seems a little unfair if you ask me, sweetheart.” 

“Well, why don’t you make yourself useful and help?” You counter, “Then I can be sat outside drinkin’ beer with you all.” 

You hear his boots on the floor and then he’s next to you, reaching around to grab the pile of cutlery on the side, he opens the dishwasher further to put the cutlery in their designated tray and then stop, “Has no-one ever taught you how to stack a dishwasher?” 

You pause in your rinsing to look up at him for the first time, “What do you mean?” 

“This is awful sweetheart,” He chuckles, “You’ve got the bowls and plates in the wrong place – you’ll be doing three washes if you carry on like this.” 

“Well, go on then, maestro, show me how to stack it.” 

He’s unloading everything you’ve put in so far, apart from what you suspect he thinks was his expertly placed cutlery, and you’re watching as he’s stacking in completely differently to you. Annoyingly he’s not wrong, the way he’s doing it means you’ll likely fit everything in at once, “Can’t believe you’ve lived on your own for five years and didn’t learn how to stack a dishwasher.” 

“Joel, I was in a dingy studio apartment in the ass end of New York, you think I had a dishwasher?” 

“Well, consider yourself taught now, I don’t ever wanna see a dishwasher looking anything less than perfect, you hear me?” 

“Loud and clear, Mr Miller.” You watch as his eyebrows raise at your new greeting, oh. He liked that. 

He picks up your almost empty beer bottle and hands it to you, “Go on, down the rest,” He’s grinning, “Then go and sit down and I’ll get you a fresh one.” 

You decide to push it a little further, “Yes, sir.” You watch as he swallows deeply at your words before you’re brushing past him, far too close than necessary to go and sit down. 

It’s another hour of sitting around in the garden before everyone else is gone – Tommy is finishing off his beer and telling Joel he’ll be heading to his to crash. 

“I’m going to call it a night too,” Your dad says, “Stay and finish your drink though Joel, there’s no rush, I’m sure this one can keep you company with her stories from New York.” 

And then you’re alone with him, finally. He’s taking a long drink from his beer bottle, which you mirror, realizing suddenly that you didn’t eat much, and you’ve drunk far more than you probably should. You’re not drunk, but there’s a pleasant buzz through your body that’s making your eyelids a little heavy. 

When the light goes off in your parents’ room, you figure it’s safe, “I’ve seen you staring at me, you know.” 

He doesn’t miss a beat, “You make it hard not to, sweetheart.” 

“Do you want me, Joel?” You don’t know where you’ve come from all of a sudden, but this confident girl isn’t someone you recognize. 

“It ain’t a question of wantin’ you sweetheart, it’s a question of doin’ the right thing.” You watch as he rubs his hand over his forehead in frustration. 

“But you do,” You push him, “Want me?” 

“Course I do,” He’s swallowing thickly again, just like he did in the kitchen, “But I can’t have you.” 

“Says who?” You pry. 

“Says the fact that I’m one’a your dad’s best friends, not to mention far too old for you.” He’s looking at you and taking another big drink from his bottle, like if he finishes, he can leave you alone. 

“No-one has to know,” You shrug, “Could be our little secret?” 

“You been readin’ too many of them romance novels,” He snorts, “It don’t work like that, if they find out they’ll fucking kill me.” He’s tilting his head to the window of your parents’ room.

You stand from your seat opposite him, walking around the table to stop just in front of Joel, “Come on Joel, have a little fun for once.” 

There’s a moment where you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, trying to weigh up being shot for touching his best friend’s little girl and finally satisfying the craving he’d wanted for a while now. Then, he’s putting his bottle down on the floor next to the chair he’s sat in. You watch closely as he shifts his position to sit more towards the edge of the chair, before one of his hands reaches out to grip the back of your thigh, just above the crease of your knee.

“You’ll be the death of me,” He mumbles before he looks up at you, “C’mere.” 

He’s pulling gently on your leg as he shifts back in the seat, guiding you so your hips are straddling his. You try not to press yourself too fully into him just yet, letting your clothed heat rest above his lap. One of his arms comes to wrap around the back of your waist, the other tangling in your hair at the back of your head whilst he looks at you with eyes that say he wants to devour you. 

“You gonna kiss me, Mr Miller?” You ask, innocently. 

“Oh darlin’, I’m gonna do so much more than that.” 

His head is tilting to the side and looking up at you from your higher ground, perched on his lap. Then his lips are on yours and God all those years of longing were worth it. They’re pressed tentatively against your own, but you can feel they’re slightly chapped. His hand resting in your hair grips a little tighter and he’s moving your head slightly so that when he opens his mouth against yours it’s the easiest thing for you to open yours right back and let his tongue into your mouth. 

You let out a gasp, swallowed into his own mouth when his hands drop back to your thighs before they’re trailing up the small skirt of your dress to cup the cheeks of your ass, “You wear this for me?” He pulls away, speaking before he’s trailing his lips along your jawline, “Thought you’d get me worked up in this tiny little thing, naughty girl?” 

“It worked, didn’t it?” 

He huffs a breath out of his nose as if to say, of course it did. He’s trailing his hot mouth down your neck now, dragging his teeth along your skin before licking with his tongue to soothe any red marks he might leave. Your head is thrown back as his hands drag you down so you’re sitting flush against him. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his jeans when your clothed pussy makes contact with him. 

You’re whining as his hands are on your hips under your dress, the hot skin of his hands setting fire to you, “What do you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his tongue trailing down to the valley between your tits. 

“Fingers,” You rasp, “Make me come with your fingers Joel.” 

He lets out a low chuckle against your skin, “Needy little thing, already beggin’ me to finger fuck her.” 

But he’s already obliging your request, one of his hands is moving down from your hip to the front of your panties, running his thumb over the material from top to bottom, “God, I can feel how wet you are already,” You look down and he’s grinning, “I’m gonna take these off, sweetheart, but you gotta promise to keep quiet okay?” 

You nod in agreement before you’re lifting your hips up, just enough for Joel to hook his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pull them down enough so his hands can touch you. He mimics the same movement he’d done over the material, this time his fingers touching the bare skin of you seam and he’s groaning when he feels the slick gathered near your tight hole. 

“God, you really are wet, aren’t ya?” He chuckles, a flush creeping over your cheeks, “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about sweetheart,” He reassures, “Means I’m doin’ somethin’ right.” 

You feel one of his thick fingers slip inside you, just a little, before he’s dragging the slick he’s gathered up to run light touches over your clit. You bite down on your lip to keep you from crying out into the dark, hips bucking into his hand to try and get more friction from his fingers. He takes the hint and is pressing his finger more firmly into your bundle of nerves and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to keep quiet. 

When Joel’s hand drops from your clit you almost cry from frustration, put then he’s sinking two of his fingers straight into your soaking pussy and the relief is palpable. He’s moving them in and out of you, curling them in just the right way that has your hips moving in time with him, literally fucking yourself on his fingers. You let your head fall into the crook of his neck, placing kisses to his skin as you ride his fingers. 

“This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks, his free hand coming to cup the back of your head against his neck, at least this way you could make some noise – testing out your theory you let out a throaty moan, listening carefully as his skin muffles most of the sound. 

“I need… god Joel, my clit, please.” 

With his fingers still buried inside you, working you to the edge, his thumb moves to your clit, resuming the circles his finger had been drawing over it before, “I can feel your pussy gettin’ tight around my fingers,” He’s turned his head so it’s buried in the hair at the side of your head, “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” 

You push back from him a little, looking down between your bodies where you can see his hand working you and that’s really all it takes. Your legs are shaking and you’re biting down on your lip hard enough that you can taste blood as pleasure bursts through you – not even you had made yourself come like this. Ever. Joel’s fingers have stilled inside you, but he’s still tracing your clit with gentle movements of his thumb, reveling in the way you jerk through the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Did so well for me, pretty girl.” He coos at you once he’s pulled his hand from your pussy. 

You’ve collapsed onto his chest to catch your breath, but you’re already subconsciously grinding your hips into his, God you want more. You’re about to reach for his belt when you can feel something vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. 

He’s mumbling an apology, lifting you just enough to fish his phone from his pocket. He answers without looking at who is calling. You can hear Tommy’s voice through the phone from your place, draped over Joel’s lap. 

“You just turn it to the side, jackass,” Joel is mumbling in answer to Tommy’s question on how to work his shower, “You’ve used it a million times,” Tommy say’s something you can quite make out, “No, not that one, the one underneath it,” Joel is sighing, “You were not this drunk when you left, if I find you’ve finished the good whiskey I’m gonna kill you,” Another sigh to a question you couldn’t quite hear, “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Disappointment is pooling in your stomach. You don’t want him to go, not when there’s so much unfinished business here, “I gotta go, sweetheart.” He’s mumbling, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“But what about this?” You ask, reaching between you to cup his cock through his jeans, “Let me help you.” 

His hand is gripping your wrist, “I would love nothin’ more, but I gotta go before Tommy floods my house,” Another kiss to your lips, “Next time.” 

“You want to do this again?” You ask, almost surprised. 

He takes the hand that had been buried in your pussy not minutes before, lifting the fingers he’d fucked you with to his mouth before sucking them right in front of your face, “Now I’ve gotta taste for you, sweetheart?” He raises an eyebrow, “Of course I wanna do this again.” 

[luciopioid]

main guitarist!ryujin showing her shameless groupie girlfriend that playing the guitar isn’t the only thing her fingers are good at 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

ryujin x f!reader

guitarist ryujin. public sex (kinda) (do not recommend). fingering. dry humping a lil. ryujin is a sweetheart.

note: THX FOR REQUESTING AHHHH. hopefully you enjoy, anon. sorry this took me so long too LMAOOO

-

You remember it like it was yesterday. Probably quite literally because it was yesterday.

As you and your friend entered the venue, you remembered how she told you that she knew the drummer and got a couple tickets for free. You ducked away to the bar while she trickled to the front to find a good spot. Walking towards the bar, you bump into someone, their ice cold drink spilling on your chest making you yelp in response. You look up at them, in unexpected shock, “Dude, what the hell?” You sigh, shaking the ice out of your shirt.

“You bumped into me.” The person says, matter of factly. You look at them to get a good look, greeted with deep brown eyes on the most gorgeous woman you’ve probably ever seen. Unfortunately her being hot didn’t take the red stain out of your shirt, but before you could complain any further she already walked away. You huff, grabbing napkins tv from the bar, forgetting the drink you initially had came for.

You walk back to where your friend is standing. Her eyes widen “What happened?” She asks. You roll your eyes, still making fruitless efforts to take the stain away. “Someone fucking spilled their drink on me,” You complain. “I just bought this shirt too.”

Before your friend can respond, she realizes the band trickling on stage and begins to cheer for them. You look up from your shirt, beginning to cheer too before immediately recognizing the guitarist.

“That’s her.” You say, leaning over to your friend.

“Who?” She asks.

“The one who bumped into me!”

“Holy shit. Ryujin?” She asks surprisingly.

You sigh. Of course she knew who she was.

“And she didn’t say sorry?” Your friend asks, rhetorically. “Huh. She’s usually super sweet.”

You just inhale in annoyance, not particularly caring anymore. You remember repeating her name to yourself in your head.

Ryujin.

During the entire set, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. You were almost certain she caught you staring a few times. You eyed the way she shook her head up and down, her shaggy hair getting in her face and sticking to her with sweat. You eyed the muscles in her biceps and forearms. The way they pulsed when she’d hit a certain chord. Particularly, you couldn’t help but notice her veiny hands. The speed at which her fingers moved every time she played a riff. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think she was blatantly attractive.

Ryujin.

At the end of the show, the band says their thanks and walks off stage, everyone else in the venue walking out as well. You weren’t sure why you and your friend stuck around until a shorter girl in all black holding drumsticks came up to the two of you.

“Jisu! It’s so good to see you!” Your friend exclaimed as she hugged what you assumed was the drummer friend she told you about. They catch up briefly after your friend introduces you to her. You don’t know how she met her or how she knows the band, but for a very fleeting second you thought about asking if they could introduce you to the guitarist too. Just for fun.

“You guys should come around back! We might get drinks later.” Jisu exclaims. You and your friend nod, following the drummer backstage.

You stand off to the side when your friend sees the band, but in a quick glimpse you see the guitarist in a corner. She’s wiping her guitar down and putting it back in the case. She catches your gaze and you immediately avert your eyes, turning your head.

“Hey.” She says getting up. She points, “It’s you!” She’s standing directly in front of you now, smiling.

“And it’s you who messed up an extremely cute top and walked away.”

“You didn’t hear me.” She says, realization in her voice. You shoot her a puzzled look.

“What are you talking about?”

She smiles and you feel a butterfly or two. Maybe three.

“I told you to hold on! I went to grab a shirt for you but you already walked away.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Well you still–”

“Ruined an extremely cute top. Yes I know.” She sighs.

You fake a pout. She walks away for a split second and returns with a t-shirt. She holds it out with a smirk.

“It’s not as cute, but…” She trails off.

You hold it up in front of you, “No, this is sick.” You say in awe. The shirt had a drawing on the front of with the band’s name plastered on it.

“You think so?” The guitarist gasps. “I designed it! This was the first time we did tour shirts and I wanted it to be special.” She says, heartfully.

“No, I really like it. Thanks.” You say, genuinely.

The stain will probably come out in the wash anyway.

Having yet to stop smiling, she holds out her hand. “I’m Ryujin by the way.” You nod your head. Contemplating for a split second telling her if you knew that already. You decided to just tell her yours instead.

“Look uh… I think our drummer— Jisu was talking about going out later. Are you coming?” Ryujin asks. You didn’t want to lie, but an evening around your friend’s friends seemed like it would suck the life out of you– even if they did seem cool as hell.

“I see your face so I’m gonna take that as a no.” She giggles. “I planned on staying for the next band while they went out. You’re more than welcome to join me.”

You groan internally, not wanting to turn this gorgeous… beautiful woman down, but not really wanting to stay here either.

“And stand for another hour?” You joke, hoping to let her down easy. Ryujin persists.

“There’s a room upstairs.” She retorts, nonchalantly.

Before you can even refute, she's pulling you gently by the arm, “Come on. It’ll be fun. Their musics so good.” Ryujin pulls you towards your friend and the rest of the band.

You felt like a bit of a groupie, but the band didn’t shoot any knowing looks your direction when she told them she was staying behind with her “new friend” tonight. Your friend, however, smirks at you. You choose to ignore it, but also hoping it means something. Something. Anything.

They make their way out, going opposite of the way you were following Ryujin. Pass the bar, there’s stairs which to your dismay, had no clue about. She leads you to a room that looks down on almost the entire venue, you join her on the couch.

“How long have you been playing the guitar?” You ask. Out of nervousness, but genuine curiosity simultaneously.

She chuckles, probably reading your body language to a T. “Ouu. About ten years now I think.” Ryujin says, looking off to nowhere. You nod in impressment, “Yeah. I first picked it up in middle school!” She recalls.

You don’t know how much small talk you have left in you, but you remind yourself that you just met this girl and cannot throw yourself at her yet. Unfortunately.

“Why you sitting so far away, girl?” She smirks.

You fold your arms. “Don’t know if I trust you with that drink again yet.” You joke and she lets out a genuine laugh. You definitely felt more than a couple butterflies. Maybe in more place than one. She scoots closer to you, keeping a slightly respective distance but still draping her arm over the piece of couch that you're leaning against.

“Anyone ever tell you how gorgeous you are?” Ryujin asks and you roll your eyes involuntarily. She’s lucky she’s hot. You thought.

“You tell that to all the girls you get alone up here?” You retort. She scoots closer to you.

“Just the pretty ones.”

You scoff and she lets out another laugh. “I’m joking!” She says through a chuckle.

“I’ll have you know this is my first time here as well.” Ryujin adds.

Her leg brushes against yours and you felt your face and neck go hot. You can feel her eyes on you, studying your face intently.

“I meant it y’know,” She whispers, her voice coating the shell of your ear. “You’re beautiful.”

The feeling of her breath in your ear made your entire body shiver in reaction, your shameless arousal growing exponentially. You turn to face her, your face inches from hers. “Likewise.” You say, truly meaning it.

There’s a few moments of silence, Ryujin’s face so close to yours, her eyes lidded and visible even in the dim room. You decide to rip off the bandaid.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, voice low and wanting. She smiles, nodding her head as she presses her lips against yours smoothly.

Her lips are soft like you imagined. Plump and sweet with a hint of liquor, her mouth slightly cold from the ice. For a while it’s a tangle of lips together, wet velvety tongues brushing against each other with light gasps from the both of you. Ryujin licks into your mouth confidently, her hand wrapping around your throat as you moan in response.

She pulls back momentarily, her chest heaving and her forehead resting against yours. “Can I tell you something?” She smirks, her breath warm on your lips, just centimeters away. You nod.

“Jisu showed me a pic of you and your friend a couple days ago,” Ryujin whispers, “I thought you were so fine.” She places a light feathery kiss to your lips, one hand still on your throat and the other on your thigh. “Had to have you.”

You wanted nothing more than to sit on her face right now, but alas.

She grips both of your hips and the feeling sends shivers through the rest of your body. She pulls you gently by the hips, signaling for you to sit on her lap as she spreads her legs, all in one swift movement. You sit with your back against her chest, her hand trailing up and down your thigh.

“You okay with this?” Ryujin asks, her hands coming off of you briefly.

“God, yes.”

You have never been more okay with anything ever.

She bunches up your skirt so that your lower half is accessible. She rubs at your inner thigh, entirely too close to your core, making you whine and grind against her mindlessly. Ryujin decides to bring her other hand up to your chest, kneading your tit through your shirt. You moan incessantly as she finally slips her hand into your panties.

You lean, falling limp against her warm chest. Her long middle fingers drag from your entrance to your clit, slugging your wetness as she gasps softly. “So wet.” She murmurs.

You cover your mouth to stifle a moan and she almost immediately reaches up and gently moves your hand away.

“We’re all alone, baby.” She whispers, “I want to hear you.”

With her two slicked middle fingers, she presses gently against your entrance slowly to make sure that you were ready first. Your breath gets caught as she inserts her fingers into you, smooth and slick. You clench around Ryujin’s fingers involuntarily, but that feeling too made you mew out loud.

Her free hand goes to hold your hip in place against her, the contact making you grind against her, giving her the signal to move her fingers. She pushes them in and out of you slowly as she kisses your neck from behind, you tilt your head to give her more access. “You’re such a good girl.” She whispers, low, only for you to hear. You whimper as you rut against her.

You feel her fingers pull apart slightly, stretching you out more. She pumps you deeper now, doing anything to get you to make those sweet noises again. “F-fuck Ryujin…” You whisper. She smiles against your neck as she mindlessly picks up the pace.

“You sound so pretty when you say my name.” She mumbles against your skin, the contact from your ass grinding against her making her breathless too. You probably weren’t going to last long, being extremely on edge given that you’ve been resisting throwing yourself at her all night and because it’s been weeks since you’ve got some. You weren’t entirely sure if you were imagining this or not.

Ryujin fucks her fingers into you a little more firmly now, still keeping her pace. Her fingers curving a little once she reaches the base of her palm. You definitely weren’t going to last long like this. You felt your stomach tighten and your walls clench again. The only sounds apparent to you being the muffled music from outside the room, Ryujin’s light pants and the squelching from her fucking you. It was all too much, but so, so good. She bites down on your neck when she felt your walls squeeze her, “You close, baby?” She breathes. You manage to let out a strained “Mmhm.” Not nearly being able to form a coherent word right now.

She bucks her hips into you as she speeds her fingers up slightly, still curving them into you however. Your head falls back against her shoulder and you could hear her gasps so clearly in your ear. It only turns you on more. With a final pump into your pussy, you’re clenching her fingers with a death grip and whimpering like you were in heat. You squirm under her touch as you moan out entirely too loud. Ryujin’s hand never left your hip, her grip just tightening as she fucked you. You knew there’d probably be a mark there later, but the thought just made you more excited.

You catch your breath as she slowly pulls her fingers out of you. She grabs your hips and moves you up so she can move from under you. She helps fixes your shirt, “Are you okay?” She asks, gently. You nod in response, letting out a breathy yes.

“Can I return the favor?” You ask, moving your hands to her thighs. She catches your hands, holding them.

“No need.” Ryujin says, her eyes never leaving yours. “I uh… came already.” You blink. You’d be lying if you said that too didn’t turn you on.

“It’s been a while.” She said bashfully. You smile involuntarily.

“Shit. Me too.” You both let out a chuckle as the two of you fix yourselves up.

You sit in comfortable silence as the band finishes their set, her arm around you as you lean against her comfortably.

Once the set is over and people begin to pour out, she turns to look at you. “Give me your phone.” She says and you reach over and grab it from the table next to the couch, unlocking it. She goes to your contacts and puts in a number. She hands the phone back to you and you see her number with the name ryu:) attached to it. You save it immediately.

“I have to get going,” She starts, her tone unfortunate. “If you call or text me sometime, though… I’d love to see you again, yeah?” She says, bending down to kiss your cheek softly as she grabs her jacket.

You look up at her, a smile on your face.

“Yeah. I’d like that…”

[iloveavatar]

Inseparable

neteyam x fem!reader

warnings: soft smut? but not smut??

friends to lovers (this was a request by @roxxy !)

hopefully this is ok🤞🤞

neteyam and y/n have known each other for as long as anyone can remember. neytiri once found neteyam babbling with another na’vi child when he wondered off. she noticed right away how the two were holding hands as if they were to disappear if they let go. neytiri tried to get neteyam to follow her back home, however the two children would start whining as if they were about to break into full sobs whenever their hands let go.

neytiri had the strangest feeling about this na’vi child. she looked around to see if there was a mother or father that was looking for her. however, the more she looked the more she realized this baby didn’t have anyone.

‘who would leave a poor child alone?’ she thought. she then scooped the two into her arms and slowly made her way home.

———————-timeskip to age 12————————

neteyam and y/n we’re running through the woods to see which one of them were faster. the end of the race was at the Tree of Voices.

neteyam and y/n caught sight of the glow the tree emitted and sped up. the two were pumping their legs as fast as they could make them go. y/n was more focused on her speed compared to where her feet were actually stepping. her foot hit a twig and sent her falling into the soft ground below.

neteyam however,was still caught in the running. he was getting closer to the tree! he was going to win! he touched the tree and turned out to brag until he noticed y/n sitting on the ground a little ways away with her ears dropped and sniffling slightly.

neteyam gasped and quickly ran back to help her.

“i’m so sorry y/n! i- i didn’t see you fall i swear! i would’ve stopped if i saw you i promise!” he stuttered out.

he hoped she wasn’t upset with him. he checked her over for any injuries, only to find a little scrape on her arm. it would leave a small scar, one that you could only find if you were purposely looking for it.

“it’s ok neteyam.. i wasn’t watching where i was going.” she sniffled. she saw the guilt filled look ok neteyams face and tried to lift the mood “apparently eywa has favorites and wanted a certain someone to win the race.” she joked

a small smile came across neteyams face. he then helped her stand and walked over to the Tree of Voices. they both stared at the tree with glints of admiration in their eyes.

“when we’re older, we’re going to have to have a rematch race. we’ll be stronger and faster,so it will be a fair race this time! no cheating!” y/n declared with a determined face.

neteyam then stuck his hand out towards her and said “deal! only let’s hope that next time you don’t eat the ground again…” he smirked.

“hey! i did not eat the ground! i just admired it… closely!” she tried to defend

neteyam laughed and then stayed it was time to head on home. the two walked hand in hand knowing that soon one day they would have a rematch.

———————-timeskip to age 17————————

y/n and neteyam had both grown into mature young adults. neteyam was a mighty warrior, taking after his father. while y/n trained with neytiri during hunts. the two were still competitive as ever. however the more they grew up, the more they realized there was some type of feeling they had for one another.

neteyam was coming back from a recent raid from the sky people. he had a split lip and a couple of scratches on his chest and upper arms. he already received a lecture from his father, now he had to prepare himself for the lecture he was about to receive from you.

he slowly made his way to your tent hut with his ears drooping on the side of his head. he took a deep breath and slowly continued his walk.

you didn’t need to turn around to know it was neteyam who had entered your tent. you knew his footsteps by now. you got the medicine that you already knew he needed and turned around.

you slowly started to patch up his scratches on his biceps and his chest. as you were applying the paste onto his chest you felt his heartbeat quicken due to how close you were to him. he looked at you with this unknown glint in his eyes. he looked at you as if you were the only na’vi left on the entire planet of pandora.

you slowly made your way up to his face. you gently traced your fingers along his lips to place the past onto them. his lips were warm and made you want to lean in to close the gap between you two, but you were scared he didn’t feel the same.

“you know… you really should try to be more careful out there.” you started. he started to roll his eyes and turn his head but you cupped his face in between your hands.

“i mean it neteyam. you worry me whenever you come back injured. just knowing you get injured, makes me worry you are not going to come back to me at all.” you explained. you didn’t break the eye contact at all. you wanted him to know how you felt.

“i-“ he started to say but was interrupted by you.

“no. i need you to listen to me… because i’m only going to say this once. i care for you deeply, and you have always known that. however, the way i feel now about you… it’s.. i- i don’t know how to describe it. it’s deeper than how i felt before .” you struggled to say.

“I see you neteyam. and if you don’t see me that’s ok! but I need to tell you now before you get severely injured and don’t come back to me. i needed to tell you before i lost my chance.” you stated as you maintained eye contact with him. a small grin on your face knowing you had finally said how you felt.

neteyam was speechless. he didn’t know how to put how he was feeling into words, so he did the next best thing. he used actions instead of words.

he gently cupped your jaw and brought you into a passionate yet soft kiss. all of the emotions he struggled to come to terms to, finally bubbled to the surface and declared themselves into the kiss.

you kiss him back with an equal amount of passion. as the two of you parted, your foreheads are touching, slightly panting due to lack of air.

“I see you y/n.” he says. he sighed softly and smiled “it feels amazing to finally say that.” y/n laughed a little under her breath.

“this might be random, but do you remember that desk we made a few years back… about a race to the Tree of Voices” she questioned.

“….yes. why..? are you saying you want to race now?” neteyam wondered with wide eyes.

“i’m saying that we should go visit the Tree of Voices. if someone gets there first than i guess that’s good for them! i’m just saying… we should go see it again.” she said as she gently ran her hands down his chest.

neteyam shuttered as a chill ran up his tail to the back of his spine. he then slowly looked into her eyes with a small smirk on his face. “are trying to get me alone y/n?” he smugly questioned.

“maybe…” she smirked as she slowly stood up to make her way towards the exit of her tent. her tail flickering back and forth to show her playfulness.

neteyam sat in shock as he watched his long time crush leave her tent. his eyes still wide as can be when he realized he might’ve found his mate that eywa has sent to him.

——————skip to the Tree of Voices——————

the two walked hand in hand towards the glowing bioluminescent tree. y/n then reached behind her to connect her queue to the tree. as she did she closed her eyes to focus on the voices, not noticing neteyam admiring her.

“you know, this is where eywa tells most na’vi who they’re destined to be with..” she started with her eyes still closed. “do you think she would tell us now..?”

neteyam softly disconnected her queue and grasped her shoulders. he slowly turned her to face him and cupped her jaw with a hand on her waist. “i don’t need eywa to tell me who my mate is” he started to say “i already found someone for me.. if she’ll have me?” he whispered.

y/n had a giant smile break out on her face as she slightly leaned in towards him. “she already chose you a while ago” she stated

his ears twitched in anticipation as she leaned in closer to his lips. the two then closed the gap with y/n’s hands running up and down his chest as his tightened on her waist.

neteyam than kneeled down, brining her into his lap as he softly broke the kiss. he then made eye contact with her, reaching his hand around his head to grab his queue, slowly bringing it around to where the two met. y/n then grabbed her queue and gently brought the two together. the moment the two connect, their pupils dilated as they let out a heavy breath as if they have been underwater for weeks upon end.

neteyam then crashed their lips together in a fiery moment of passion. the two spent the night relishing in the emotions the two now shared as one.

the two were no longer separate halves of souls trying to find their other half. they were now mated as one. and one they shall be forever until eywa decided it would be their time. the two made their love known before the Tree of Voices.

the two that could never be separated when they were younger, cannot be separated ever again. for the two we’re now one soul, one being, one love that shall be shared for the end of time.

————————————————————————

hopefully this was ok for everyone! i’m going to take my time and go back through everything i’ve written so far and edit it, just because i feel like they look as if they have been rushed? idek. if anyone finds a mistake in my writing pls let me know so i can fix it ASAP!!~S

[webslingingslasher]

thinking about getting jealous of someone flirting with frat!peter at a party and just going to sit on his lap in a “silently marking my territory” way

i just know he loves when you get jealous, he totally thinks it’s hot.

You couldn’t decide who you hated more, Peter, or the tall blonde talking to him. 

Flipping her hair back as she laughed, bending towards him as she smiled, her hand reached down to grab his arm, you almost seized. Almost like he knew her plan, Peter raised his arm at the last minute to adjust his snapback. 

You don’t know what’s so funny but apparently, Peter is. Downing the rest of your drink you lean against the wall and watch, something tugging at your stomach when your boy smiles at something she says. He’s not supposed to react, he’s supposed to be bored and push her away to come find you. 

The third time she tried to touch him she made contact, her hand rubbing and squeezing at his bicep. Trying to read his face, to see if he liked it or was trying to escape. He looked like he tolerated it, more focusing on his drink. You clenched your jaw the longer she lingered, she stepped closer and her hand drifted to his forearm. 

You felt pure rage, doesn’t she know he’s yours? 

If she doesn’t, you’ll make it known. 

The very second her hip bumped the edge of the couch and she rested her weight you stomped right over, approaching Peter and seeing red you tugged his right arm up and sat right down on his lap. Your quick movements caught him off guard for a moment, but when he saw that you were the one sitting on him his whole face lit up. The dim half sided conversation with the blonde falling flat, you however, couldn’t let it go. 

“Hey, trou-” His words cut short by you grabbing his face and pressing your mouth to his. A surprised hum pulled from his throat, neither one of you the type to make out on the couch. You opened your mouth into his and pulled at his shirt collar. 

Peter gripped your hip and cupped your face, pulling away slightly to breathe, you wouldn’t allow him. You’re going to make it abundantly clear he was yours and yours only, you tugged him back back to you, giving a bruising kiss and trialing to his jaw and the spot right where his jawline and neck met. 

“Trouble,” Peter's hand placed on your ribcage, he’s never seen you so willingly affectionate in the middle of a party and you weren’t even drunk. You won’t stop your attack, ghosting your lips down his neck and lightly sucking at his collarbone. A hum escapes Peter as he gives you more access, then he remembers where he is, he’s quick to stop it. 

Physically moving your mouth off his he breathes deeply, “you gotta stop.” 

You look to the side of the couch, the girl long gone. A satisfied smile rested over your lips, hopefully you made it extremely clear he was yours, and she should really keep her hands to herself. 

Peter follows your eyes and clicks his tongue, his hand cups your face, making you look at him. 

“Were you jealous?” A cocky grin, like he caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.

You scoff, “of her? No way.” He didn’t miss your shifty eyes, bringing his hands down to intertwine yours together. 

“No, I think you were. Throwing yourself on me and marking your territory.” 

Huffing you whine at him, “she should know you’re mine! You’ve made it clear to every guy in here I’m off limits, can’t I do the same?” 

“Oh, you can, and you absolutely just did.” 

You’re not sure if he finds it cringy or cute, you feel shy and look around the room. Focusing on a couple against the wall, sometimes when you see a couple look at each other like that, it makes your stomach tighten and your heart lurch. What you and Peter have is special, but more than anything you want the label and commitment, the joy of him opening up to you and sharing his heart. 

Something you’re not sure you’d ever get, he keeps dodging the ‘do you ever think about us being more?’ question. Too scared to push it, you didn’t want to lose him entirely. That’s why it’s so important for other girls to stay away, he can’t know what else is out there, what he’s missing by being with you. It’s too easy for him to leave you. 

Peter follows your gaze and feels his heart tug, he can almost hear your thoughts. Without second thought he pulls you so you’re right against his chest, arms wrapping around your waist. 

“I think it’s cute you’re so possessive, it makes me feel very wanted.” 

You rest your palms on the back of his hands and dig your fingertips into the spaces between his fingers, resting your head on his shoulder and turning your neck to look up at him when you talk. 

Sighing, “what happens when you have a hotter, funnier, better than me in every way girl walk up to you, I mean, there’s nothing tethering us together.” 

Peter knows what you want him to say. 

“I know it’s not the kind you want, but I am one hundred percent committed to you.” 

It’s the same dodging he always does, what if you flip the script, what if you leave him? 

“But what does that mean?” Groaning the words. Peter throws his head back on the couch, he whines out a ‘no’, it’s like pulling teeth. 

“I know you hate the ‘B’ word but c’mon, at least give me something. Anything, a crumb even.” 

Taking a deep breath and pulling his head up he places a kiss on your shoulder. He brings your arms up to cross them over your chest, he can give you something, he just needs to get the words out his mouth. 

“C’mon, trouble. You should know by now you get everything you want.” 

A promise of commitment, suddenly you’re very thankful for the blonde, she pushed forward more in one night than you have in two months. 

You hum happily, “but do I?” 

“Got me, didn’t you?” 

Nuzzling into his neck you press a kiss, your words come out sing-songy, “if you say so.” 

“I know so.” 

[amourdyke]

𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟎 ✷ 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐄

pjo fanfiction 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ i just wanna know who broke your nose, figure out where they live so i can kick their teeth in, if it isn’t love then what the fuck is it? ✷ part one?

A ragged lilac cloth sucked in the warm water into its particles, twisted excess over a half empty bowl before being placed delicately by the tanned girl’s injured bicep, carefulness met with a flinch “Clarisse, if I don’t clean the cuts it gets infected” you reason softly, reaching a hand towards her head, tangling fingertips amidst dark curls and pulling them at a pattern for caress. She doesn’t want to relax, but it is a pull stronger than her, to feel her own shoulders fall and lighten at your presence. Clarisse wants to blame your mother, Aphrodite, for it.

To be the daughter of War and find peace within the hold of a Love offspring seemed in itself a heresy she was committing against the one true figure she aspired to gain approval from, and it twisted at her insides like poison.

“Who beat you up this bad?” You questioned innocently, holding her fevered skin with the care of one who held a secret. It was your ritual. To stitch up your best friend after quests and sparring matches. Intimacy. You lift your head in a swift movement as to motion her an echo and Clarisse understands, removing the bright orange t-shirt blood stained by the ribcage to reveal her bare skin and a bra. She misses how your breath hitches.

“Your little girlfriend was playing dirty”

“Thalia?” Your eyebrows furrow, and it is your turn to miss how she scoffs at the way you immediately name the Zeus daughter despite the nickname, or yet, hence it. Clarisse was glad to had struck her with her spear well enough to bruise a face you’d hopefully no longer recognize as pretty even if for a few weeks. Because she had remembered all too well a year prior your puckered lips and nervous fidgeting, the taste of your lipgloss and fluttered eyelashes against her cheeks. You had asked her to practice kissing. Your stupidest thought, in hindsight. And when Clarisse felt ready to confess, she remembered the words out of your mouth: Do you think Thalia will like it?

“I don’t know what you see in her”

You giggle lightly, not noticing her seriousness “Clar-”

“What does she have that I don’t?”

[winstonsns]

hello!!! I was wondering if I could request a Dallas Winston x reader story based off of the song "she's a fool" by Lesley Gore. The song reminds me a lot of Sylvia and Dallas and so maybe the story can be based around how reader is a better gf than Sylvia and such. Hopefully this makes sense LOL

she’s a fool (request)

authors note: this was super fun to write so i hope you like it 💗

dally x reader

word count: 2.0k

warnings: cussing, slightly suggestive, joking threats

you and your boyfriend, dally, are in your kitchen, both of you sitting on the barstools made for the island. the two of you are talking when you decide to take some cherries out of the fridge, you wanted a little snack to satisfy your hunger.

as you get up from the stool and walk to the fridge, dally asks, “heard that new elvis movie’s out, you wanna come see it with me? it’d be jus’ the two of us.” giving you a certain look and winking at the end.

you blushed, rolling your eyes and stating, “i want to go but i’m gonna ask my parents first. don’t wanna make them worried when they don’t see me at home.” you open up the fridge and take the cherry bag out, turning around and taking a bowl out of the cupboard.

you then take some cherries out of the bag and head towards the sink, rinsing them. dally gives you a confused look, “what— why are you rinsing them?”

looking back at him, you answer, “i dunno, my mom always told me to rinse fruits and vegetables because you never know what kind of bugs can be on them. just tryin’ to stay safe.” your boyfriend finally understands your answer and shrugs it off.

once you were done rinsing them, you put them in a bowl and put it in front of you and dally. your dad then comes down the stairs and says, “almost late for work, honey. i’ll be back around… probably six.”

you nod, grabbing his lunch out of the fridge while he thanks you, you ask, “hey, dad, do you think i could go to the drive in with dally today? it’d probably be around… um…”

looking to your boyfriend for the answer, he looks back at you then to your dad, finishing, “oh, probably around seven or so. we’d be back around nine, i’m guessing. right, baby?”

you blush and look at him, nodding. you stand next to him while he’s sitting, your dad eyes him suspiciously. you put your arms around dally’s shoulder, your chest to his back as you look over his shoulder.

“please, dad? we’ll be safe, dally can protect me, you know him! so strong, so good at fighting and so amazing…” you look at dally, dropping your arm to his bicep, smiling at him sweetly as he eats a cherry, a wide grin on his face.

your dad sighs, “fine. you better keep her safe, winston. and you better not,” he paused, “and i mean better not do anything bad or inappropriate.” you tried to hold back a laugh, a smile evident on both you and your boyfriends faces. your dad made a serious face at you, crossing his arms.

you walked over to your dad and thanked him, “thank you dad! i think you should be heading to work now though, love you!” while you’re giving him a hug, he glares at dally, causing your boyfriend to put his hands up in a mocking surrendering pose.

when you let go of the hug, your dad replies, “love you, kid.” and walks out of the door, you walk behind him to lock the door. you then go back to dally, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and once again kissing him.

after pulling away, he looks at you with so much love in his eyes, anyone would know you are the only one he loves if someone saw him like this. he knows he loves you although it’s difficult for him to express it, he doesn’t directly voice it to you.

the two of you stay at your house for the next nine hours, consisting of you talking, sleeping or reading while he looks around your room. by the time it’s 6:30, the both of you decide to drive to the drive in.

when you get into the drivers seat and your boyfriend is in the passengers seat, he asks, “why ain’t i drivin’?” you chuckle, looking at him to see if he was serious.

you answer, “i love you, dal, but i am not lettin’ you drive my car.” he rolls his eyes as you begin to drive, “i’m a perfectly good driver, don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout…” he mumbles.

you laugh, the only laugh he loves so much, the one he’d notice even if so many others were laughing at the same time. he grins, looking back at your concentrated face, focusing on the road.

when you both arrive at the drive in, you find a good place to park before getting out and sitting on the hood. dally sits next to you, you then hear a loud scream in your ear, causing you to lean towards your boyfriend and look to him for help as you scream back.

you look behind you to see two-bit laughing his ass off, a bottle of alcohol in his hands as you give him a pissed off look. your boyfriend laughs as your side is pressed into his, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and kissing your forehead.

“i’m gonna get us some snacks. you want anything?” you stated, asking your boyfriend too. he thought for a moment before responding, “just a coke, thanks doll.”

as you walk away, he grabs a cigarette from the box in hispocket, he got into the habit of avoiding smoking near you. he grabs a lighter from his pocket, lighting the cigarette and putting it in his mouth.

your boyfriend and two-bit are both talking when keith interrupts, “looks like you got company, dallas. you’re so fucked, i’ll be back when sylvia’s gone.”

dally groans, hearing sylvia’s voice behind him, “hey, dal, you wanna come back to my place after the movie’s done?” the nickname feels so wrong coming from her. he doesn’t even look at her, doesn’t turn around and focuses on the car, your car.

“get the fuck away, i have a girlfriend.” he responds, clearly agitated as he doesn’t want you to see him angry. he doesn’t look to see where you are, he knows you’ll be back soon.

she responds, “so? she doesn’t have to know…” as she puts her hand on his arm, he loses his temper.

“god, don’t you ever know when to fucking stop, sylvia? we broke up because you fucking cheated on me while i was in the cooler, man. there’s no way i could even be with you after that. you’re a piece of shit, you’re a bad person and you deserve nothing but the worst for the rest of your life. i have a girlfriend, she never treats me how you did. she’s way better than you, better than all the girls i’ve dated, and you can go cry about it to someone else for all i care. she treats me like she actually loves me, she treats me like she knows my fucking worth. she does more than you ever could, and she is the one i want. you can piss off, sylvia, you’re dead to me, you fucking get that?” he pauses, still angry as he sees tears in her eyes, “oh, now you’re crying, huh? maybe you should’ve thought first before cheating on me, before treated me like shit! get fucking lost.”

she runs away at the last sentence, dally rolling his eyes and leaning against the car, going back to smoking. two-bit walks back to him, asking, “damn, you do care about y/n. never heard you talk about her like that, is it true?”

your boyfriend stares at him, nodding slightly and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, “you tell anyone about this, i’ll cut your damn head off.” his friend chuckles at the threat, stating, “your girl’s back, put it out before she sees.” referring to the cigarette.

he drops it and puts it out with his heel, walking over to you and putting his arm around your shoulder, taking his soda out of your hands, thanking you.

the both of you sat down on the hood of your car, you scoot closer to him and give him a kiss on the cheek. he smiles at you, returning the favor except on your forehead.

as the movie plays, the soda cups begin to become less filled, the chip bags only being filled with crumbs. the silence of you and dally are occasionally interrupted with little comments about the movie.

once the movie is done, the two of you look at each other and smile. you grab his trash and walk to a trash can, him following you, for protection, he says. he then follows you back to the car, grabbing your hand and staying close to you.

the both of you get into the car, driving in the direction of your house. the drive there is filled with silence, dally looks at you, not being able to see your face well because of the dark. he places his hand on your thigh, looking out the window once you turn your head to him.

when you arrive at your house, you open the door to see your dad in the living room, sitting on the couch. he reads the newspaper and looks up, asking, “how was the movie, you two?”

you respond, “oh, it was good!” and summarize the whole movie for him, as he wasn’t planning to see it anytime soon.

you then look nervously at the ground, your boyfriend still behind you at the entrance, standing awkwardly. you ask, “hey, um, dad?”

he sighs, putting down his newspaper as you smile, “can dally stay over tonight? he’s already here and it would take him a while to get back to his own place…”

your dad sighs once again as your boyfriend is silent, “yeah. go to bed.” you exclaim and walk to your dad, hugging him and thanking him.

you then walk to your boyfriend, leading him upstairs as he grabs your hand once again. you notice and ask, “dal, you seem awfully close today, did something happen? i’m not complaining, just wondering.”

he looks at you, stating, “sylvia came up to me at the drive in. asked me if i wanted to go back to her place, i said no and told her i gotta girlfriend, that you’re way better than her and i’d never want her again, not even to save my life. told her to piss off.”

as the two of you walk into your bedroom and you close the door, you beam, “aww, that’s so cute, dal! thank you for telling her to piss off and stuff.”

“yeah, no problem, doll.” he replies, letting go of your hand for a brief moment to take his shirt off, changing his pants into more comfortable ones he had left at your house.

you walked into your bathroom, doing your nightly routine before changing into your pajamas. you pull the sheets down, curling up as you look at your boyfriend.

he smiles, scoffing and pulling down the sheets on the other side of the bed, laying down. you cuddle up next to him as he puts his arm around your waist in a protective manner.

“love you, dal… thanks for being the best boyfriend ever…” you mumble into his chest, falling asleep quickly after.

he pauses before kissing your forehead gently, your head on his chest. he realizes he wants to be cherished, to be loved, you make him feel that way. he can’t find a single flaw in you, and realizes he should treat you like he loves you. you are a better girlfriend than sylvia ever was, than all of his girlfriends combined. you make him feel like someone, make him feel like he has someone to live for.

“sweet dreams, baby.” he mumbles into your hair, falling asleep not long after. your dad quietly opens the door, light coming in as he saw you and your boyfriend cuddling.

he chuckles softly, closing the door and walking into his own bedroom, knowing you were truly loved by dallas winston.