#i have been watching it for the past five and half hours and I have been constantly smiling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

romanticintheory · 8 months ago

Note

Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

4K notes · View notes

teaboot · 1 month ago

Text

TOP 10 PERSONAL FAVE MOVIES TO WATCH WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE ASS

I don't like movies that stress me out because life is already stressful but I DO love catharsis comedy found family friendship fantasy and violence so here are my top 10 movies and series to have a good time watching

Numbered for convenience but not in any particular order

John Wick 1 and 2: An ordinary man grieving the loss of his wife gets dragged back into his past as a shadowy, invisible world of international killers for hire is slowly revealed to be living among us. A love note to set design, lighting, and choreography. My favourite part is fixating on the symbolism. DO NOT WATCH 3. 4 is okay. DO NOT WATCH 3. There is a dog death in 1 that will make you cry so skip that part if you have to. DO NOT WATCH 3.

The lord of the Rings, all 3, extended edition best watched if you're on the couch with the flu and expect to fall asleep OR if it's your day off and it's raining outside OR if you have like 5 people lounging around in pajamas

Six Underground: Essentially an hour and a half long car commercial music video with found family and a fresher take on acommon plot. Ryan Reynolds essentially writes and directs a Michael Bay movie where 6 independant criminals gather together to overthrow a violent foreign dictatorship. You show up for a dumb heist and walk out ready to build a guillotine. TW for violence, car crashes, chemical warfare, and genocide. A very cathartic ending. Does unfortunately do the whole "vague, impoverished middle-eastern country" thing but the citizens are actually show as human beings which is a nice change of pace and oh wow that's depressing isn't it

The Princess Diaries 1 and 2: A sort-of-a-loser teenage girl, played by a 2001 Annie Hathaway, learns that her late father was a king of a foreign nation and must become a confident and responsible leader for his people. There is a scene in the rain where you will experience emotions. Best watched with snacks. 2 features an enemies-to-lovers type deal with Chris Pine.

Ella Enchanted: A shrek-style semi-musical fantasy romance in which a young woman is cursed at birth to do everything anyone tells her to do. Features several Queen songs and dance numbers sung by Annie Hathaway and that guy who plays the sad dog guy in Hannibal.

Stardust: A huge loser travels from 1800s England (?) to a magical world in order to fetch a fallen star for the insufferable love of his life before she marries a massive douchebag. The huge loser? Charlie Cox. The star? A living person. Also a whole bunch of princes are ALSO looking for them as a race for the throne while discreetly killing each other off. And also a bunch of witches want to eat her so they can be young and sexy. 11/10. I used to watch this 10 minutes at a time on a YouTube channel that posted it in chunks filmed on a digital camera in their living room

The Last Holiday: Queen Latifah, playing someone played by Queen Latifah, has been working an underappreciated minimum wage job for years, living a safe and conservative life trying to lose weight and save money. Then she finds out she has months to live, and decides to finally quit her job and blow it all on one massive luxury holiday vacation complete with five-star dining, making friends and finding love and confidence along the way. It's definitely corny but it makes me so happy thank you Queen Latifah

Zathura: It's the plot to the original Jumanji but in space instead of the rainforest. But listen to me: There's a twist reveal at the end that you need to pretend isn't there. It is vitally important when you get to that part- and you will know what part when it happens- that you pretend it didn't. Otherwise, a fresh and enjoyable adventure for any age!

Redacted cause I haven't seen it in a long time and it may be worse than I remember, gotta rewatch

Bullet Train. You go in expecting a ham-fisted find-the-mcguffin style action comedy and are blindsided by excellent narrative symmetry and genuinely likeable characters. Fresh takes on old themes and creative action sequences. My little brother said "It's good", and he's a man who once sincerely argued that Lord of the Rings could have been better. It's fun and punchy violence with just enough smart stuff to not let your brain get bored

1K notes · View notes

evnseokz · 3 months ago

Text

{ ☆ prada jungwon }

pairing: idol! jungwon x f. reader

contents: masturbation, sexting, cum play if you squint, soft-dom! jungwon, needy! reader, p in v, protected sex, kissing, making out, slight overstimulation, aftercare & fluff at the end <33

synopsis: idol jungwon who’s gone most of the night looking absolutely DELICIOUS at the prada event so you send some risky texts because he looks so hot you’re getting turned on. this leads to him coming home and fucking you.

i enjoyed writing this i hope you guys enjoy reading it ^_^ (w.c. 1.7k)

you and jungwon had been together for awhile now, so you were used to his hectic schedule and him being gone late at night or all night long. this doesn’t mean it sucked any less having him away from you so often. jungwon had only been home for two days before he had to turn around and spend practically all day at some prada event. it was nearing 10pm and jungwon had already been gone for hours. you kept seeing photos of him popping up on your feed and he looked so good.

his hair has been styled in an edward cullen esque fashion, exposed forehead and hair quiffed messily. a sleek black turtleneck sitting snug on his toned body, the sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms. black slacks and belt to match. he looked so fucking hot. and he was out having fun, looking so good, and here you were sitting in your shared bed chewing on your lip as you watched clips of your boyfriend walking around the prada store. there was one video in particular you couldn’t take your eyes away from, a short five second video that had your thighs clenching and heat starting to pool between your legs. he was just trying on some sunglasses, something completely innocent but he looked. so. damn. good. and in this moment all you wanted was his cock nestled inside of you as he fucked you silly.

with your phone in one hand, your free hand falls to the waistband of your shorts, dipping inside to apply pressure to your clothed heat. you hum lightly at the feeling, bringing your hand back up to slip past your underwear and directly onto your heat. you start moving your fingers slowly, paying extra attention to your clit. quiet moans start slipping past your lips and you begin to crave more. you remove your hand from your bottoms just long enough to shimmy them down and off of your legs. you spread your legs wider, not being constricted by the fabric of your shorts anymore. your hand dips back down, fingers circling over your drenched hole, you slide one finger in, slowly pumping it in and out of yourself, moans starting to pick up in volume as you imagine your boyfriends fingers in place of yours. your eyes are squeezed shut as your finger move’s expertly in and out of you. you add in a second finger, the stretch feeling so good but still not as good as when it’s your boyfriends fingers instead. your body begins to shudder every so often, your high getting close. you decide to remove your fingers from your hole, and move them up to your aching clit. rubbing circles as your whole body begins to shake, moans tumbling out of your mouth as your orgasm hits. your fingers begin to slow down as you ride out your high, still panting from the initial hit.

as your orgasm finishes, an idea pops into your head. you grab your phone off the bed, it sitting face down next to you as it had fallen from your hand at some point. you open your messages app and pull up jungwons contact. you press the camera icon, opening up the application. you take your other hand a slide it up your heat, collecting your juices. your body jolts slightly, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. you angle the phone to where you can see your bottom half in the screen, fingers resting on your mound. you hit the record button, showing off your shiny, wet pussy. then spending some time showing off your slick that’s on your fingers, slightly separating them to see a string of slick attached between the two. you angle to phone up to your face, bringing your other hand up at the same time. and you place your fingers in your mouth suckling on them slightly, then removing them with a pop. you press end video, watching your masterpiece before sending it to jungwon.

y/n: [attachment: 1 video]

y/n: i need you so badly right now wonie

you send an extra message with it, anxiety and excitement coursing through your veins as you watch the screen intently. waiting for his response. your eyes scan the screen nervously, finally seeing the small words “read 10:12pm” appear underneath your message. you chew on your lip nervously awaiting his response. you see three dots pop up indicating he is typing, then they go away, and for a moment, nothing. they finally pop up again after what feels like an eternity, and a message follows shortly there after.

won: i’ll be there shortly.

heat rises to your cheeks as you read the message. you weren’t expecting him to drop everything to come back home just because of your message. you lock your phone and wait in anticipation. about 20 minutes go by, and you finally hear the front door unlocking, opening and then closing. you feel as though all your senses are heightened. hearing every small noise made and feeling every vibration in the house. you see your boyfriends shadow appear at the door, causing you to look up and see him standing there, leaning against the doorframe. looking even sexier than he did in the videos.

“you could’ve gotten me in trouble y/n, what if my manager or one of the members had seen that?” he starts off with a light scolding before making his way over to you. your lip finds its way back under your teeth as you analyze his every move. you’re still sitting against the headboard, pantless, knees tucked to your chest slightly. he stops in front of you, towering over your sitting figure, and grabs your chin forcing you to look up at him. he takes your bottom lip under his thumb, pulling it from between your teeth, before lightly swiping it across the skin of your lip. he moves his hand to your cheek, caressing it slightly as you lean into his touch. “you’re so responsive, you really are needy for me huh?” he says. you nod eagerly, he leans down connecting his lips to yours in a kiss.

the kiss started off slow but picked up fairly quickly. before you knew it, your tongues were fighting for dominance and jungwon was leaning over top of you, at some point you ending up on your back. he broke from the kiss to trail kisses down your neck and the exposed parts of your collar bones. his fingers make their way to the hem of your shirt, “lets take this off yeah?” he says, you give him a nod, allowing him to remove your shirt from your body. his eyes immediately raking over your bare chest. “no bra? you planned this didn’t you?” he chuckles slightly. the hardness to his voice sending shockwaves straight to your core. “i-i didn’t… you just looked so good tonight won” you reply. he shakes his head at you, still chuckling slightly. he leans up off of you to rid himself of his own clothes. you rake your eyes down his entire body, mouth watering slightly at the sight of his hard cock.

he digs through the drawer of the nightstand to pull out a condom. quickly opening it and sliding it on his length. “i assume i don’t need to prep you as it seems you already did that yourself” he raises his eyebrow at you, and you nod shyly, heat rushing to you cheeks. he leans back over you, aligning his cock with your entrance, and slowly pushing inside you. you moan loudly, the feeling of him stretching you being absolutely euphoric. he groans slightly at the feeling of his cock being squeezed so well by your tight cunt. eyes squeezing shut as his head rolls back before coming around to face you again. his arms are planted on either side of you, your hands gripping his biceps, nails digging in slightly as he starts to move.

his thrusts pick up speed fairly quickly, and pretty soon you both are a moaning mess. jungwon taking time to lean down and kiss you ever so often, whispering praises in your ear about how well you’re taking him. his head falls into the crook of your neck, your arms wrapped around him as you hold him close. he’s still fucking into your cunt, his pace never faltering. he feels you start clenching around him signaling that your getting close, he brings his head up from your neck to pepper kisses on your face, before landing on your lips. he kisses you passionately, one of his hands traveling down to your heat, and rubbing circles on your clit as he thrusts into you. you moan into the kiss, panting ever so slightly at the same time.

you feel your muscles begin to tighten and everything starts to feel too good, and before you know it your orgasm comes crashing down on you. legs shaking, and moans spilling past your lips. jungwon continues to thrust into you, chasing his own high while helping you ride out yours. you begin to feel overstimulated as his thrusts get sloppier, his own high about to hit. “s’ t-too much wonie” you cry out, fingers raking down his back. “be a good girl and take it” he says back to you. his hips finally start to stutter as he cums, his seed filling up the condom. his thrusts finally slow, and you can finally catch your breath. his pulls his cock out of you, and you whine at the loss of fullness, clenching around nothing.

jungwon peels the condom off, tying it before throwing it away. he throws his underwear back on and goes to the bathroom briefly enough to grab a towel. he makes his way back over to you, sitting next to you on the bed, parting your legs enough to clean up the mess you guys had made. your body shudders slightly, sensitivity still evident. he tosses the towel into the hamper, and opens a drawer to your dresser, grabbing you a fresh pair of underwear. he slides them onto you, grabbing your shirt and shorts, and putting them onto you next. he climbs back into the bed next to you, laying down and wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you close as you nestle your head into his chest. he caresses your head, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“thank you for coming home for me wonie” you smile up at him. he smiles back, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “you’re welcome sweetheart, this was way better than that after party anyways.”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen headcanons #enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon headcanons #jungwon hard thoughts #jungwon hard hours #✫ quinn posts

2K notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 1 year ago

Text

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light.

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look.

“Hello to you too...”

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?”

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?”

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest.

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!”

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and--

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening.

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look.

“I’m literally offering to help you.”

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?”

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air.

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.”

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters.

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...

But the essay...

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands.

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled.

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.”

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently.

Oh?

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face.

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down.

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously.

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.”

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush.

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies.

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-”

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh.

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly.

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.”

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?”

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More?

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right.

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?”

You flush.

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.

“I made you cum three times, right?”

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear.

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.”

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.”

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body.

“Who’s that for?”

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan.

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable.

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in.

“Look at that,” he breathes.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them.

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance.

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more.

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it.

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently.

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather.

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!”

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit.

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well.

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.”

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming.

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want.

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster.

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest.

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.”

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry.

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins.

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip.

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down.

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.

“Feel better?”

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt.

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?”

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.”

“What kind of tears?”

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you.

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—”

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine

3K notes · View notes

supercutszns · 9 months ago

Text

twin beads | luke castellan

wc + pairing: 6.7k, luke x daughter of poseidon! reader

synopsis: you’ve been unclaimed for five years. you’ve loved your best friend even longer. the sea used to be your greatest solace, but after percy jackson comes to camp, it’s your cruelest reminder. (based on this ask!)

warnings: best friends to lovers <3, percy/reader sibling dynamic, fluff and angst then fluff again, hurt/comfort, shameless making out. sorry this one is so long but besties to lovers is my lifeblood!!! i get so attached!! designated song is true blue by boygenius:)

i. you said you wanted to feel alive, so we went to the beach

“Ahoy, sailor!”

The familiar voice ricochets across the lake. You turn, leaving glimmers of sun behind you as you stare back at the docks of Camp Half-Blood. An orange blob with a curly mop of hair is beckoning you. You laugh, wave back at him, and plunge into the water. It cools your face after staying above the surface for so long—you just love watching the light reflected off the waves. But the second you’re under the water, the soreness in your muscles, the heat on your face, the exhaustion from treading for so long, are washed away from you. You swim with precision and vigor, relishing the feel of the river cupping your limbs to spur you forward. Not to sound lame, but you fucking love swimming.

But maybe not as much as you love your best friend.

He laughs when your head pops out of the water at the edge of the dock. “Wow, that took you longer than usual,” he teases, brown eyes glinting in the dawn. “You getting sloppy?”

You huff, splashing some water up at him but it barely touches him. “I’m tired, you moron. I’ve been out there for an hour.”

Luke leans down at the edge of the dock, offering you a hand. His face is bemused when you latch onto him, and with a good flex of his bicep he pulls you up. “All right, c’mon,” he grunts.

All your energy evaporates the second your body’s out of the water. You’re far too lazy to be graceful, so you sprawl out onto the dock like a dying fish, letting the sun kiss every inch of you. “Eww,” Luke giggles overtop you, prodding your side with the tip of his shoe. “Get up, you mermaid.”

“Make me, you mailman.”

Your arm drapes over your eyes, and you sigh. There really is nothing better than these moments; droplets of water soaking into your skin after an early morning swim, your best friend right beside you.

He keeps nudging you with your shoe, over and over until your ribs start to hurt. You groan, swatting him away and stretching out your limbs with a groan, letting them pop and relax, until you blearily make your way to your feet.

“You forgot your towel again,” Luke condones, but like always, he’s brought one for you.

He goes through a practiced routine of drying you off, wrapping the towel around your shoulders and down your arms, across your back, scrunching the water out of your hair. It doesn’t matter how cold the water gets—this part always makes you warm.

“Thanks,” you smile as he hands the towel off to you. “Anything interesting happen this morning, O Captain, my captain?”

“Not yet, sailor, sir,” he replies in a stuffy, gruff voice the two of you have joked around with since you were kids. “Just grabbing you for breakfast.”

You giggle, following him past the docks and to the shore. Once you’ve grabbed all your stuff, you both fall in stride and head towards your cabin, your twin five-beaded necklaces hanging over your shirts.

Five years ago, when you got to Camp for the first time, you were as big a loser as any. You were bad at everything—everything—and had no real friends until you accidentally whacked some other friendless loser in the head with an oar when you were about to go canoeing. Luke got mad at you, but his little sister Annabeth was even more furious. He offered to be your partner for the day anyway. You’ve been partners ever since.

Over the years the two of you have grown in status at the camp, more so Luke than you. He’s an excellent cabin leader and by far the greatest swordsman in camp. You, still unclaimed, have found solace in giving younger campers swimming lessons and wading out there on your own till you get sunstroke. (It’s happened a few times. Luke is never pleased, but also refuses to let the Apollo campers take care of you. He nurses you back to health with ice cream and horrible gossip.)

But every night you return to the Hermes cabin with a hollowness in your chest. One bunk emptied, then immediately filled. You’ve had the same one for five years, and the only condolence is that it’s right next to Luke’s, and sometimes you spend hours at night making faces at each other till your laughter endangers other people’s sleep.

Yes, you love the water at Camp Half-Blood, but you love Luke most.

Rumours of a new kid are rustling at camp. You haven’t seen him, but you’re just dying to get in on the gossip. Apparently he slayed a minotaur. Apparently Annabeth has seen him. And apparently he’s unclaimed. You hate to admit it, but this is the most exciting news you’ve heard in weeks!

Your afternoon is spent giving some swimming lessons and taking some Demeter campers canoeing. (Some of them freak out on the water. so it’s a nice challenge to untangle the sea plants they get hooked around their boat.) It feels like you’ve been here forever. A break is in desperate demand right now.

You have no idea what kind of God heard your prayers, but your fellow counsellor has an unimpressed look on her face when she taps you on the shoulder and goes, “Your friend’s calling you.”

The way she says it is almost degrading. You turn to look back at the shore to see the dark curly hair you’d spot a mile away. Next to him is a much shorter orange blob, shuffling awkwardly as Luke attempts to flag you down. Score!

You shoot an apologetic look at her. “Uh … I’ll be right back.” You wince, already disposing of your baggy orange shirt (it’s Luke’s) with your bathing suit underneath.

“No you won’t,” she says dryly. “Just go.”

You flash a smile you hope is loaded with charm, and you’re off into water. As you swim, the only thing on your mind is I really really hope that’s the new kid, and I wonder what Luke’s face looks like right now. (He’s probably grinning, eyes crinkled at the sides as he tries to follow your figure beneath the waves. Maybe he’s doing that cute thing where his head tilts to the side as he watches.)

When you’re close enough to the shore, you come out of the water, wringing your hair. “Hey, guys!” It’s Luke, Chris, and some blonde kid you’re sure is the new one. “What’s up?”

Luke is about to say something, then he frowns. “Where’s my shirt?”

“Left it in the canoe, I’ll go back for it later,” you reply, limply gesturing behind you.

“And where’s your towel?”

“Okay, I did bring one this time!” You counter. “I just gave it to a little Ares kid ‘cause she forgot hers.”

Luke clicks his tongue, shakes his head at you, but of course he’s got one in his hands so what’s the worry? He’s endearingly amused when you take the cloth and dry yourself off, and the new boy, having watched this all raptly, widens his eyes and drawls, “Ohhhh, so you’re his gi—”

“This is Camp’s resident mermaid, Percy.” Chris butts in, adding your name almost as an afterthought.

After you fasten your towel around you, you’re put off by Percy’s scrutinizing stare. “Look, it’s been a pretty weird day so I cannot tell if you’re joking or not.”

“I’m not a mermaid,” you snipe, throwing Chris a dirty look. “People just call me that because I give swimming lessons here.” You stick your hand out to the blonde boy. “Nice to meet you, Percy.”

He gives a polite nod, a little awkward. “Right back at ya.” The two of you study each other as you shake. He’s young, probably about twelve, a smatter of freckles across his face. His eyes look like the lake. Something itches in the back of your brain. There’s a moment where the shake is suspended, neither of you have let go but are no longer actively holding on, and you see it in his face that he’s studying you, too. Huh.

The conversation continues as normal, but you almost start to feel queasy for a second. “We’re trying to find something Percy’s good at,” Luke says with a pat on Percy’s shoulder. “You got any ideas?”

“Yes, please, because I really would like to have a word with my father,” Percy clips. “Is Glory, like, purely a skill thing or can I get some if I tie someone else’s shoes or something?”

“I don’t have shoes,” you add unhelpfully.

“It’s okay, dude,” Luke squeezes Percy’s shoulder. “Camp is great, no matter where you end up.”

Even if you’re like her, he means without saying. Even if you don’t end up anywhere.

You meet Luke’s eyes. This is a kid that wants so badly to meet his father, to ease the ache inside him. You are the absolute worst person for this. One of the longest current unclaimed streaks and your ache remains. To Percy, you’re the biggest example of a failure there is, and Luke is only just now realizing it.

“Maybe try the infirmary?” You pipe, shuffling back and forth on the sand. “You might have a knack for medicine.”

“Doubt it,” Percy swallows. “But yeah, okay. Who’s your parent, again?”

Percy can’t see it, but Luke and Chris send you a shifty look and all you can do is widen your eyes to be like, Help! Don’t make me crush his dreams! I don’t want another kid to hate me!

You swallow. No matter how fast you think, you cannot come to a logical sentence. “I, uh—”

Just then, in another stroke of luck (wow, that’s two more than usual) an Athena counsellor that looks insanely disgruntled is running towards you. “Stolls put spiders in our cabin again,” he heaves once at a stop. “Please get rid of them.”

“Can’t you just squash ‘em?” Percy asks.

“Not the spiders, the twins.”

Chris is already nodding, but Luke looks to you first. He’s anxious, disappointed. You wish you could smooth out the creases in his brow with your thumb. “Don’t worry,” you stretch out a smile. “I’ll chill with Percy. It won’t take you guys too long.”

He’s still hesitant. You’re not sure this is a good call either. But he reaches out, quickly squeezes your shoulder and mutters, “Thank you.” Your skin feels gooey when he touches it.

His signature roguish smile returns as he looks back to Percy. The side of his face is shadowed by the sun so well it makes you jealous. “Don’t give her a hard time, eh?” He reprimands playfully.

Percy smiles a little. “I’ll try not to.”

You are once again reminded just how easy it is to love Luke. How effortlessly he moves into your heart. It happened to you after you slapped him with an oar. It’s already happening to Percy.

You’re sure he won’t like you nearly half as much.

After Luke and Chris leave, Percy resigns to staring out at the campers canoeing on the lake. Maybe now is a good time to admit you’re not good with kids. Luke has tried many times to make you his welcome partner, but you can’t take to the role nearly as well. You’re perpetually antsy. And sweaty.

“So, what cabin are you a part of that lets you do this all day?” Percy asks, squinting against the sun.

Your heart gets heavy. With a sigh, you sit yourself down, and Percy soon follows. “Hermes, actually,” you say as casually as you can.

Percy goes pale as a sheet. “Uh, what?”

“I’m unclaimed,” you clarify. “I don’t … I don’t have a parent.”

There’s always a pitiful pause whenever a camper figures that out. This one is somehow … clunkier. “Oh,” Percy says. “Oh. Okay, that makes sense. For a second I thought—phew.” Then his eyes trail down to the thread hooked around your fingers, the five beads you run your thumb over. “How long have you been here?”

“Five long, blissful years,” you hum dryly.

Water ripples over pebbles on the shore. Every new camper’s ambition is eroded by the truth you represent. Percy’s no different. His brows furrow and his face falls. “And you’ve never been claimed?” He asks, and you can feel the noxious mix of pity, confusion and despair laced beneath it.

You shake your head, watching some Demeter kids splashing each other’s canoes with their oars. “Nope. But it’s not so bad. I like my cabin, you know? I like my life. Doesn’t really matter who your parents are anyway, I think. You do the same activities as everyone else, just on different teams.”

“But doesn’t it make you mad?”

“It used to,” you shrug, “But not anymore. It’s just …” You sigh, rolling a bead against your thumb. “If I’m unclaimed, I’m unclaimed. That’s the way it is. You can’t force the Gods to do anything.”

“That’s what Luke said,” Percy remarks, almost bitterly.

“I’m a rare case though, Percy,” you half-lie to him, nudging him a bit with your shoulder. “You’ll get claimed. It’s your first day. And until then you’re kind of free to be whatever. You don’t have to fit into anything, which is kinda nice, and you can screw around as much as you want and nobody can really get mad at you ‘cause you’re new.” A smile rises on your face. “And I heard you killed a minotaur, so you’ve already got some cool points.”

His face screws up in a grimace, and it makes you laugh. “Oh joy, cool points. Can’t live without those.”

Okay, maybe you’re not bad with kids. Maybe you’re just bad with boring kids. Because this is going decent, right?

“What if I don’t get claimed, though?” Percy asks after a moment, a vulnerable note eclipsing him. It resonates inside your chest. You pause for a moment, heaving a loaded breath.

“Do you fart a lot in your sleep?”

His melancholy pauses. He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Uh … what? No? I think?”

“Then you can take the bunk above mine if you want. It’s empty now,” you say. “And if you’re never claimed you can come swimming with me, and we can find seashells to put under Luke’s pillow every night until he starts thinking they’ve always been there.”

Percy blinks. “Do you have any friends?”

“Yes, and I’m going to torture him until I die. Cabin eleven is oodles of fun, Percy, you’ll see!”

He looks a little horrified. “Luke said I was going to like you,” he mutters. “I … am not sure if he’s right.”

Oh, well. You’ll take it.

ii. you can't help but become the sun

You can’t sleep, and Luke knows it. His eyes burn into the side of your face as you stare up at your bunk. You sneak him a look. He smiles ruefully. Sweeping his arm up from beneath his covers, a makeshift tent is formed next to him. He nods to you. Before you know it, you’ve abandoned your own bed, taking a single step until you skirt into the pocket of his mattress Luke has carved for you. He lets the sheets fall, cocooning you with him the way he always does.

You’ve been sharing beds on occasion for years. One of you gets cold, has a nightmare, or wants to talk until your mind fades out, the only solution is a place next to each other. Whispers against cheeks, giggles muffled into pillows, necklaces knocking together. You used to be further apart. Now you can’t remember the last time Luke hasn’t latched onto you the second you’re within reach. It warms you a little more each time.

When your head hits his pillow, the two of you just stare at each other for a moment, lips pursed in amusement. His face is so wildly nostalgic to you—five years seems like too short a time to have known him. His eyes are pitch-dark and soft with exhaustion, but you can still pick out the trademark Hermes mirth glimmering through. You sometimes forget his scar, probably because you know he wants you to forget it. He’d kill you for thinking this, but you kind of like the way it hugs the curve of his cheek, bunches up when his dimple appears. It makes you sad. It makes you happy. It makes you love him.

“Percy likes you,” he whispers, opening himself up so your chin brushes his shoulder. “That’s a first.”

He’s only wearing a tank top to sleep, so his warmth seeps through his skin when you tap him on the chest. “Shut up!” You hiss back, tapering into a giggle. “Has he picked up on anything yet?”

Luke bites the inside of his cheek, regretfully shaking his head. “Nope. But all that skill stuff is kinda arbitrary anyways. He’s still hung up on kleos, though, so … that’ll come in handy for Capture the Flag.”

“Ah, yes. Using a child’s misguided need for fulfilment as a weapon. A camp classic.”

“Well someone’s gotta be useful for Capture the Flag in this cabin and it sure as hell isn’t you, mermaid,” he barbs back.

Your jaw drops in mock offense and you squeeze a hand around his shoulder to shake him. “I will put you in a headlock right now, Luke, I’ll break your arm—”

“Be quiet!” He giggles as you attempt to wrangle yourself on top of him. “I’ll be nice to you, I’ll be nice, stop!” You get absolutely nowhere before the bed creaks and Luke shoves you back down. Your pulse rattles through your mouth as you laugh silently. “You’re the worst,” he mutters in your ear, raising the hairs on your neck.

“Well Percy likes me, so,” you turn your nose to the sky like a haughty old lady.

“Percy’s a funnier, less annoying version of you,” he pokes your side. “That’s how I knew you’d get along, you weirdo.”

The momentary adrenaline this conversation has brought you is mellowing. “Hey, I’m very—very funny,” you mumble through a yawn.

Luke laughs quietly. “Sure you are.”

He pulls you back to him, arm slung around the dip of your waist. When you make no protest, he seals you against his shoulder again. It’s started to feel a little different, him holding you like this. There’s an uncertainty your body faces about how to respond. His thumb runs over your spine and you decide to relax into him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. Your chin knocks against his collarbone and you have the urge to curl yourself against his chest, just to feel him breathe.

“Get some sleep, sailor,” he murmurs, fingers brushing through the roots of your hair. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it. Your cheeks warm, and you bury yourself even further into the space against his shoulder and his pillow. Gods, there’s something wrong with you, isn’t there?

“Will do, soldier.” The campy voice you do is half hearted at best as you find yourself absorbed in the closest thing to a full home you’ll ever get. In this sleepy hollow with bedsheets and a boy, there is acceptance.

Well, mostly. You think you dream about Luke brushing a kiss along your hairline in your last bit of consciousness. You think you wish it was real. You think you want him to do it again.

iii. when you don't know who you are, you fuck around and find out

The last time your cabin lost a game of Capture the Flag, you’d still been taller than Luke. That’s how long your winning streak has felt. There’s no reason you foresee that changing today. Even when Annabeth drags Percy along with her on whatever surely precarious quest to victory she’s created. It’s unlike her, to bring a newbie along. It’s concerning.

“He’s fine,” Luke drawls to you when your face has been tense for twenty minutes. “Annabeth’s got a plan.” He’s a little winded after clearing out some Ares kids with Chris. You aren’t much use when it comes to weapons—your friends take the lead as you wait from a distance, ready for backup. Thank the Gods they didn’t need it this time. You’re content to just watch, but whenever Luke grins after getting another kid to surrender, veins in his arms raised like rivers on a map, you get a little distracted and you’re not sure why.

You just huff back at him, totally normal when he wipes a sheen of sweat off his jaw. “Annabeth’s gonna use him as cannon fodder,” you mutter back, and Luke hits your arm with an appalled grin.

Annabeth did, in fact, have a plan. So you won. Obviously.

You’re still doubtful Percy wasn’t cannon fodder, though, with how beat up he looks on the shoreline when the rest of your team flocks to the stolen flag to claim victory. He’s slumped down on the rocky shore, a few equally beaten Ares kids straggling away from him.

“So I was right, huh?” Luke hums in your ear, pulling your eyes to him.

He’s revelling in newfound glory, and damn it, you get confused when you look at him when he’s like this. You’re not sure when it happened but you want to tear your heart out of its chest because of how sick it makes you. Some of his curls are stuck to his forehead with sweat, his hair suffering a serious case of helmet-head. But it’s the pride oozing off him, the infectious happiness laced through his smile, that makes you fond of him in a way you’re not sure you should be. He’s beloved for a reason—he looks almost prophetic after winning a match, and he knows it. A glaring difference between the gangly boy you met all those summers ago. If you weren’t his best friend, you’d probably be one of his many admirers, watching his teammates fawn over his talent and wishing you were beside him.

But you are beside him. And you’re his friend. Not an admirer. So everything’s fine.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if we lost,” you retort, knocking your chestplate against his. It’s meant to be a friendly nudge, but Luke leans into it until you swear you feel his heart beating through the metal.

He’s grown into his smile, less boyish and more wry. “You know I never lose, sailor.”

You want to reply, but his eyes are startlingly pretty in the sunlight. That’s normal. Whatever. A heat rises in the apples of your cheeks so you scoff lightly and turn away as soon as possible. You feel Luke’s gaze following as you turn attention elsewhere. Your sternum feels fluttery.

Percy catches your attention again. Gods, he looks beat. He’s talking to Annabeth as she helps him up, and you see the gnarly scrape marring his cheek. You should probably check on him, right?

You’re halfway to the kids when Annabeth shoves Percy backwards into the water. Like, shoves.

“Annabeth!” You’re scowling at her the same way she scowled at you when you first hit Luke with that oar, rushing over to help Percy.

“What is wrong with you?” Percy sputters out lying in the lake, but you’re ankles-deep in the water before you know it. He’s glaring daggers at Annabeth, but she looks relatively unimpressed. What happened during this game?

“Thanks,” Percy mutters as you help him up.

You say something to shrug it off but you can’t remember what, because your eyes are drawn to the scrape on his cheek. You have to blink a few times to get it, but you’re pretty sure it’s dissolving. Vanishing off his skin. “What the hell?”

Everyone on the shore is watching him now, trying to memorize his injuries before they wash away. Percy’s staring down at himself like he’s just been body-swapped. “I don’t understand.”

You’ve never seen anything like this before. The strangest feeling fuels you—your bones feel firmer somehow, like the blood inside your body has weight to it. Like something is happening. A fear pierces your gut.

Annabeth’s eyes have raised, and so have Percy’s. Your mouth goes dry. Right above him is the symbol of a trident, radiating so blue it washes out the sky itself.

The claiming symbol of Poseidon.

“Your dad’s calling,” Annabeth says, a smile itching the corners of her mouth.

Percy looks like he’s going to pass out. You probably do too. “Told you you’d get claimed,” you manage to squeeze the words through the knot in your chest.

You’re smiling until Percy looks at you, then looks up. His face goes white as a sheet. Or, as white as it can bathed in a pale blue glow. “Uh…” He blinks slowly, and your stomach twists. “I think she was talking to you.”

When you look up and see an identical trident looming over your head, you know something’s wrong. It’s made worse when Chiron rings out your and Percy’s name, branding you as children of Poseidon.

Poseidon.

You have a father. And he’s known you all this time. Your ears hollow out like a rush of water in a cavern.

Luke is the first to kneel. The rest of the camp follows. You watch as the entire camp basks in the glory of newcomer Percy Jackson, so quickly claimed by one of the most powerful Gods of Olympus. And you, who has waited five years to earn even a shred of his favour.

This thing you’ve wanted for so long is suddenly the greatest insult in the world. Your best friend can’t even meet your eyes.

iv. i remember who i am when i'm with you

You stare at Percy as he unpacks his things. Waiting to see traces of yourself in his face, traces of your father. Anything that could give you an inkling of what he looks like. Of what you look like. Of how this happened in the first place.

It’s a futile search. Percy’s blue eyes, his freckles, the bridge of his nose, they’re all … nothing. Half of you is half of him, but there’s no indication of which parts. The cabin is cold. You’re not going to sleep well without Luke nearby. You’re not going to sleep well ever again.

You feel nothing but strife, your throat closing in every time you take even a second to think. You don’t want Percy to see you cry. So you do what you always do.

This has to be in the running for most overwhelming day of all time ever. Even when submerged in your favourite place on earth, you can’t get away from your dad. Your dumb stupid dad that has made the things you love and has ruined your life.

You swim hard, and you loathe how good it feels. At least you know why now, but that doesn’t do much to ease you. When you pop up again, the sun has started to sink into the sea. And Gods, you have to give your dad credit. The landscape is so gorgeous you almost forget how long he’s ignored you.

You wonder if this is the last time you’ll find solace in the lake. If eventually, it’ll be nothing but an extension of your father’s neglect.

The water ripples around you. You frown, barely having noticed it when someone taps your shoulder. You turn. “Luke?” You swallow, but why are you surprised?

He’s panting, cheeks splotched with sun as he treads water, droplets worming down his face from his soaking curls. “Been looking for you,” he puffs, “Percy’s worried. Called you from the—from the thingie but don’t think you heard me.”

You assume he means the docks, but you don’t say anything as he takes a deep, grounding breath. “You’ve been out here for hours. Hours. For a second I thought you drowned.”

“Now we know that can’t fucking happen,” you mutter a touch too bitterly, staring down at your legs warped beneath the water.

Luke’s silent as he watches you. “…Have you been crying?”

When you don’t reply, Luke tugs on your wrist. “C’mon, sailor, let’s go.”

“Not tired,” you say, frozen by the hot tears brimming on your lashes.

“I’m not leaving you out here. Come on.” He frowns when you yank your hand away as he tries pulling you again. “You’re gonna get heatstroke.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

He reaches for you again and you try to reject it for a moment, but he’s stronger than you, and he loves you better than even the water could. The second he has you close your resolve falters. He holds you against his shoulder, knees knocking against yours as you tread.

“It’s okay,” he croons when you involuntarily start to cry. For a Poseidon kid, you can’t seem to control your waterworks. “It’s okay, I know.”

His hand cards through your scalp and you relish in the warmth of his bare skin on your cheek. He smells like comfort. You cling to it with all you have, until your nails start to dig into his skin and your eyesight blurs.

“Come back with me and I’ll dry you off, okay?” He kisses the top of your head, the way you dreamed it last night. “I’ll take care of it.”

You’re not sure which it he’s referring to, because it could honestly apply to anything. When you both set off for shore, you’re so distracted by your own misery that Luke’s actually able to keep up with you. He’s up on the dock before you so he can pull you out.

The second you’re out of the water you feel like you’ve been gutted with a lead pipe. All the energy it gave you leaves, and you realize just how right Luke was about spending too much time out there. You can’t feel your legs.

You buckle over almost instantly, but Luke holds you before you can even think of falling. “I’ve got you,” he assures, guiding you down to sit on the dock. Your eyes are too weak to even admire the sunset. Luke drapes a towel over your shoulders, rubbing it over your arms, a welcome familiarity. He takes his time, wringing your hair and drying your back as you gaze blankly ahead. There’s a tenderness to it now. Luke’s ruthless when it comes to a lot of things. When it comes to how he loves, too. But there’s nothing demanding here. He lets your tears fall in silence, undisturbed, the touch of his hands through the cloth a silent promise.

When you’re fairly dry, he fetches something then quickly comes back. “Here.”

It’s his shirt. You only notice you’ve been shivering as he pulls it over your head, lets you fill in the sleeves, gently gathers your hair back. “Thanks,” you say. His fingertips brush your neck as he hooks them around your necklace to rest it over the shirt. You think he does it to remind you you’re still the same. You’ve had five years together. It doesn’t have to end now.

“Why did it take him so long?” You struggle to say, eyes glossed like sea glass. “Why—why now? What did I do?”

Luke puts an arm around you. “I don’t know,” he mumbles honestly.

You sink into his warmth like a wave meets the shore. “Five years, Luke. He ignored me for five years. And he takes Percy right—right away.” It’s hard not to choke between every word. “I just thought I’d never get claimed, and I was fine with that, and now I’m … this!”

Its hard to tell if the dampness of your cheeks are the remnants of saltwater or your tears. “I don’t want this,” you sniffle. “I waited so long … and I just don’t want it.”

Luke rubs your shoulder, lips pursed against your head. He murmurs into your hair, “I know, sailor. It’ll be okay. Promise.”

His voice is reserved. You look up at him. His jaw is resolute, his eyes red-rimmed in a way you hadn’t noticed before. “You’re upset too,” you comment quietly.

He laughs listlessly. “Yeah, of course I am. I’m losing my favourite cabin mate.”

You sniff and try to smile. “Percy?”

He rolls his eyes fondly, and it feels like all you want. He squeezes your shoulders tight and you long desperately to be closer. “I just don’t know what I did wrong,” you whisper, pressing your cheek into him. “Why didn’t he see me until he saw Percy? Am I just … unremarkable or something?”

“No, no. Absolutely not—c’mere.” Luke loops an arm around your waist and manoeuvres you into his arms, cradled on his lap so you can bury your face in his neck. You can’t stop fucking crying, but his patience for you is infinite. “You are by far the most remarkable person I know.” He seals you against his chest, scratching your scalp the way he knows you like. “None of this is you, okay? Your dad’s an idiot. You are—you’re everything. They’re all mindless up there, they don’t know how to love you. They don’t deserve to.”

An edge seeps into his timbre that gives you pause. You feel weak, discarded. It sounds like he’s talking about a different person. But he’s right. He has to be, because he knows you better than you know yourself.

Luke keeps going. You peek at his face when he speaks. Stubborn as ever. “He doesn’t have any fucking right to you. If he wanted that he should’ve claimed you when you got here. You have a life. You … you had a home. And now just because he’s got another kid he kills two birds with one stone? He pretends like this is some Godly intervention? Like he didn’t ignore you the whole time you’ve been here because he couldn’t stand how much you didn’t need him? How much better you are? You’re my …” He struggles, brows furrowed, the sun melting in his eyes. “You’re my best friend, and we’re supposed to be together. He’s not allowed to take that from you.”

Your heart stirs. “Sounds like you’re jealous,” you try to tease.

Luke heaves a sigh, his muscles rippling against your chest. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that he’s got no shirt on. And that he’s pressed against you in a way that makes you question if you should be this close. Beads of water cling to the divots in his skin, and you linger a little too long on one nestled in his collarbone. You swear you think this every time he goes swimming with you: when did he get so … hot? And every time you think it, you want to gouge your heart out with a spoon.

“Can you blame me?” A melancholy smile plays on his face. “I liked having you all to myself.”

Tears spring to your eyes all over again. “I liked that too.”

It’s a whisper that sends you forward, Luke bringing his forehead to your own, and you want to live in the warmth that coils through you. His nose catches against yours when he laughs, but he doesn’t move. You take a moment to savour it. You think he does too.

He wipes a tear off your face as you say, “I’m still yours.”

“Yeah?” Luke hums a bit, his hand sliding up your waist in a most unfriendly manner. “How?”

You catch the glimmer in his eyes, that plucky smile he’s had since fourteen. Something shifts.

“What are you asking me, Luke?” You can’t fight the smile.

“What do you want me to ask you?”

“I dunno, what do you want me to want you to ask you—”

“My Gods, you’re a pain in the ass.”

He groans, throws his head back, and kisses you like you aren’t the most annoying person in the world.

It’s so cliché, but for a brief moment your strife is well worth it. You yank him closer before he pulls away. It’s a little unsure, the two of you so used to toeing the line, but soon you’ve given in and your hands are in his hair, mouths parting, and it’s messy and wanting and everything you need.

Luke slips his hands beneath the hem of your shirt, palms flattening against your sun-beaten skin. It feels so good, better because the shirt is already his, a whine scratching your throat as he moves up so his thumbs graze the skin beneath the tie in your bathing suit.

“Oh, sailor,” he coos against your mouth. You want to retaliate but it’s lost when he squeezes your thighs, warming you in all the right places. It’s hard to understand this is even happening—it feels like you’re underwater, a blissful fuzziness growing in your head entirely at his mercy.

He razes kisses down your still-damp neck, catching pearls of water on his tongue. You cling to his shoulders, raking your hands down his back just so you can feel more of him. Luke’s dropped down to your collarbone at this point, tugging the neck of your shirt down as his teeth graze the bone. “You’re my best friend,” he mutters over your skin. “Still mine. Always mine.”

“Mmhm,” is all you can say back, the husk in his voice making your eyes screw shut. He teases a spot so sensitive you groan and laugh at the same time. The regret is immediate, but you feel a chuckle pass his lips, too. “Luke,” you purse a smile. He dots kisses back up your neck until you start returning the favour.

You kiss his jaw, a few spots on his neck, feeling the flex of his muscle all around you as he squeezes the fat of your hips. You finally sweep up the water in the hollow of his collarbones, and his grunt of your name makes you, frankly, delirious.

He brings your mouth back to his, skin sticking to each other. It’s harder to kiss as fervently when you’re both giggling against each other’s tongues, running fingers along the planes of each other’s bodies trying to see which places feel new and which are known from memory. It’s a fifty-fifty split, and you love it.

Somewhere along the way he peeled off your shirt because it was clinging in places you knew he wanted, but now you’re panting and giggling into his hair, his nose pressed into your neck, both of you melded together with salt and sun. “You really know how to cheer a girl up, mailman,” you grin.

His lips fix to your skin. “Really? You’re still gonna call me that right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Like it better when you call me captain,” he murmurs, nose grazing along your pulse.

You swallow, “That doesn’t work unless we’re doing the whole sailor-ship bit.”

“We’re always doing the sailor-ship bit.”

“I seriously can’t believe I’m in love with you.”

He sighs warmly at the words. “You have no idea how much I’ve been dying for you to say that. Even though I knew you would.”

You roll your eyes as he presses his forehead to yours, and you’re more glad than ever that his face is the one you love so much. It’s a pretty great face.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says tenderly. “You’re too incredible for Poseidon. You’re worth more than that.”

He still looks gorgeous blurred by your tears. You listen to the beat of his heart and the waves rolling. “More than any water anywhere?”

“More than the fucking Styx, sailor. I’ll promise you that.”

That night, Luke stays with you and Percy in your cold chapel of a cabin. You exchange stories until Percy falls asleep in his bed, curled up like a sea otter. “He’s a drooler,” Luke notes fondly, eyes flicking to yours. “Like you.”

You shove his chest playfully until he wraps his arms around you and anchors you to sleep, like every night before. This time, as you drift off, he kisses your forehead again. Once because he loves you, and twice to make sure you know it’s real.

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz @ash-williamsss @sucker-4-angst @kitkat-writes-stuff @too-deviant

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

#perrie’s fics #perrie's requests #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #pjo fic #pjo fanfic #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x you #percy jackson and the olympians #charlie bushnell #pjo x reader #pjo #luke castellan angst #luke castellan fluff

3K notes · View notes

alchemistc · 2 months ago

Text

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fix it #not quite #theyre playing a game #but once these idiots lose the game they'll probably win #with each other #tevan fic

868 notes · View notes

skyahri · 3 months ago

Text

Unplanned |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Shikamaru Nara, and Kakashi Hatake

Summary: Pregnancy scenarios 'cause I can.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy. Bad words. All fluff.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Sasuke Uchiha

He isn't the kind of guy to outwardly dote on you.

He's never been good with words or physical touch, more so preferring quality time together. You sleep in the same bed, eat meals together when it's convenient, and lounge around together when time allows.

When you come home from a last minute doctor's appointment with some big news, none of that really changes.

He assures you that he's happy, that he loves you, and this is all wonderful, but that's about all you're going to get out the emotionally constipated man.

However, while words may not be his strong suit, actions certainly are.

It's become painfully obvious that you are never allowed to go anywhere alone ever again.

He's like a shadow, following you everywhere and anywhere you decide to go. It doesn't matter that you're just running to the market- he's coming with. Ino invited the girls over for a dinner party? Cool, he'll walk you there, hang around in the shadows outside, then walk you home.

When questioned, Sasuke only says that he doesn't trust other people. Already knowing how he is, you don't push him any further. (Not that he'd entertain you if you did.)

People notice pretty quickly. He's not subtle and it's not exactly common for the Uchiha to be so openly clingy.

You wanted to keep the pregnancy a secret for a little while longer. You knew that his status would make the whole thing bigger than you'd like and it was still so early, only about eight weeks in. But people were becoming more and more insistent with their questions.

"Seriously, did something happen? He's been watching you like a Hawk for the past month."

"It was cute at first, but now it's straight up creepy."

Sakura and Ino dramatically shiver at the notion. You laugh, imagining how unsettling this all must look from the outside.

"It's fine, I promise. He's just been a little overprotective since he found out I was pregnant."

They don't register it at first. They just nod in understanding and move to sip their tea. You can almost see it click in their heads before they slam down their cups and start freaking out.

"Wait, WHAT?"

Naruto Uzumaki

"Congratulations! Based on the ultrasound, I'd say you're about five weeks along. It's still early, but you can see a tiny sac right here-"

Your mind is going a thousand miles a minute, thinking of everything and nothing as the doctor points out the tiny, centimeter-long blob in the picture.

Naruto had been bugging you for the past three weeks about a smell. He swears it's nothing bad, just that Kurama is insisting that your scent has changed and- blah, blah, blah. You never could get any more information out of him, which just left you to eventually cave and visit the doctor. Animals have instincts for a reason and who were you to ignore them?

Turns out, that damn fox was right.

After a half-hour lecture on what you can and can't do anymore, you were handed a goodie bag of essentials and sent on your way.

You barely remember the walk home. Your mind was completely blank as it tried to process the news. It wasn't until Naruto was standing in front of you in the doorway to your home that you finally snapped out of the trance.

You stared up at him. His eyebrows were knit together and he was asking if everything was alright. He pulled everything out of your hands and not-so-gently set them on the floor.

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes blew wide and not even a second later he was smiling, pulling you into him and spinning you around. It's over just as quickly as it started. He's setting you back down on your feet and looking you over, mumbling a few hollow apologies for manhandling you. He takes a deep breath, that lopsided grin on his face never leaving.

"You're pregnant."

Just those two words have all the fog clearing from your head. Reality is forced onto you in an instant. In any other situation, it might have made you dizzy, but right now you couldn't be happier.

"I'm pregnant."

Shikamaru Nara

He really should've seen this coming.

Honestly, with how careless he is with protection, it's a wonder how you hadn't gotten pregnant sooner. A year and some change of not bothering with condoms and lazy, half-assed pullouts had finally come to bite him in the ass.

Although he knows this is all going to be horrifically bothersome, he can't find it in himself to be all that bothered. No, not when you're standing in front of him so nervously, little tears gathering on your waterline as you hold out a slip of paper for him to take.

He pulls you into a hug- a very tight, very intimate hug. One of his hands is on your lower back, pressing you into him, and the other is in your hair to cup the back of your head. He can feel the stress start to melt from your body as you relax into him, your arms moving to loosely hold him back.

"I'm sorry. I know this wasn't exactly planned..."

It definitely wasn't planned. He didn't like to think about things too hard. The only talk about the future he'd engaged in was a brief confirmation that you were both interested in pursuing each other exclusively and that neither were against marriage and kids.

But even though this was sudden and unprompted and definitely not what he was expecting when you asked to talk with him privately, he just couldn't find it in himself to be anything other than pleased. Sure, he would've liked to wait a few years and it preferably be after he'd properly proposed and married you, but none of that is deterring him.

He loved you. He didn't say it as often as he probably should, but that didn't make it any less true. You were easygoing and passive and fit into his life with no resistance. His friends liked you, possibly more than they did him. You liked to cook and he never had to worry about you causing trouble.

This was fine.

Not troublesome in the least.

"No, this is... good."

Kakashi Hatake

He was positive he was sterile. He'd have to be after all the injuries and trauma he's sustained, right? Four years and not a single scare, yet here you were, apparently three months pregnant, handing him a report from the OB's office.

He couldn't even form a sentence. He just sighed and sat back onto the couch with his eyes closed. It's only eight in the morning, it's too early for this, not that there'd ever be a great time.

"I knew you weren't going to be thrilled, but now I'm starting to get nervous. Can you please say something?"

He held his arm up and gestured for you to come towards him. When he could feel you brush against him, he grabbed your wrist and carefully yanked you onto his lap. You let out a relieved, albeit hesitant, chuckle as he slowly wrapped himself around you, his head finding solace in the crook of your neck.

The two of you stayed like that for a little while until he let out the loudest, most dramatic groan you'd ever heard leave his mouth, followed by a mumbled 'are you sure?', to which you rolled your eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure. Here, you can see for yourself."

You unfold the paper and pulled out a few pictures. He shifts you around so you're at a better angle before he takes them into his hands. It's obvious that he has no idea what he's looking at- just that the blob is already baby-shaped and very, very intimidating.

You point out some of the obvious things, the head and feet and such, before moving down to the very last photo at the bottom.

"And that little spot right there means that we're having a boy."

"I thought they couldn't tell the gender until later."

"It is later, Kashi. Fourteen weeks."

He lets you take the pictures from him so he can set his hand on your stomach. You'd mentioned gaining a little weight recently, which he honestly hadn't noticed, but now he's wondering how he could've missed it as he brushes his fingers over the slightest most obvious bump in your usually flat stomach.

He must've been zoned out for too long, because you're calling his name and setting your hand over his. He hums, a slight acknowledgment that he's heard you, but you know he's not actually listening.

He's too busy thinking about diapers and bottles and late nights and early mornings. How his son is going to be in the same class as his student's kids. How Gai is going to be a hundred times more annoying in the coming years.

But then a single thought completely derails his spiraling. He wonders what your baby will look like. If he'll be a morning person like you or like to take naps like him. If they'll accel in genjutsu or not, because while he certainly does, you most certainly don't.

He's spent time with Kurenai and Mirai. While raising a person definitely seemed difficult, he couldn't deny that Kurenai was happy. Actually, despite Asuma's untimely death, she's the happiest he'd ever seen her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just... thinking about how annoying it'll be to tell everyone we're expecting."

"Seemed more like panicking to me."

"... shut up."

725 notes · View notes

badkitty3000 · 1 month ago

Text

Powerless

This is based on a request I received for a Five x female reader that is just as brilliant as Five, but too shy to act on her feelings for him.

Summary: You have had your eye on Five since he first started at the university. Eventually you build up a friendship, but even though you pick up a few hints that maybe he wants something more, you just can't bring yourself to act on it. Luckily, Five has more than enough confidence for the both of you.

Five x Female Reader, 9.5k words, One-shot, reader request

Warnings: Smut, dominant Five, explicit sex

Every time you saw him walk past your reference desk at the university library, it became that much more apparent. You wanted him. On the days he wasn’t there, it was easier to pretend that you had no real interest in him outside of the subject matter he lectured about. You told yourself that you were attracted to him on a purely intellectual level, and nothing more. As if the thought of advanced quantum physics got your pulse quickening and your cheeks flushing.

Then there were those days when he would stride purposefully past, a man on a mission, coffee cup in hand, and dressed in his signature tailored suit. That’s when your little lies to yourself became much harder to believe. He would lock eyes with you, scanning your face with his piercing gaze and half-smile, before continuing on his way and suddenly you couldn’t think straight. On those days, if someone approached you for a simple question, like the library hours, you would stare back at them for several seconds before having to clear your parched throat and ask them to repeat themselves.

Unfortunately, there was no getting around it: Five Hargreeves was not only brilliant, but also sexy as hell. And you couldn’t get him out of your head.

Not that it really mattered. It was no secret that he was a wanted man by most of the staff and students there. You would watch as the more out-going women and men would make a point of cornering him on his way out of his lectures, trying to block the doorway so he couldn’t move around them. Some of them would even find excuses to lightly brush against his arm or shoulder, pretending they were just being friendly, when you knew damn well they just wanted to touch him. You’d had the same urge yourself, but you certainly weren’t going to act on it.

Not only would you never have enough nerve to be that forward, but you have observed his reactions to these advances and it usually does not go well. It’s subtle, but it’s there. The way he flinches slightly at their touches. His obvious disinterest in whatever they are trying to talk to him about. The way he shoulders right past them with hardly a second glance; intent on getting out of there as quickly as possible.

But he always manages to take the route that goes past your desk, pausing sometimes like he wants to say something but then thinks better of it before hurrying away again.

Five has been working at the same university as you for the past several months. It was a big deal when he was first hired. He was the youngest professor they had ever had on their faculty, and everyone was curious. As it turned out, this twenty-something year old man was not what anyone had expected. He was incredibly smart, but he was also brusque, no-nonsense, and sometimes just flat out mean. When he had started, he was given his own office, but for classes he preferred to use the smaller lecture room inside the vast library, although there were plenty of real classrooms around campus that he could have chosen.

Reputation aside, you were inclined to believe there was more to him than being a young, handsome, snarky genius. You were always observant when it came to people, which was part of the reason you worked at the reference desk when you weren’t working on your doctorate. You liked the quiet of the library, and the smell of the books surrounding you. You liked watching people go about their business and the way they interacted with one another. You also liked helping people, even if you were, by nature, an introvert. When it came to talking about the subject matters that interested you, then it was hard to get you to shut up. Unfortunately, there weren’t too many people that wanted to casually chat about theoretical physics and the illusion of time. Most people just wanted to know where the bathroom was.

So, since his arrival, Five had been on your radar for people-watching, but you had never spoken to him. You had once lingered outside the door of one of his classes, watching as he hurriedly scribbled figures and theories on the board, all while his students tried in vain to keep up. When one would dare to interrupt him and ask a question, there would be an aggravated sigh and a terse answer before he would continue on. The subject matter of string theory and how the concept of time is only a reflection of change was nothing you didn’t already know. You were currently working on your own thesis in that area. At one point, you considered taking a seat in the back of the room, but decided against it. You didn’t really like attention drawn to you, and besides, the class was much too rudimentary. But you never failed to slow your step as you passed by the room when he was teaching, just to hear the sound of his voice.

**********************************

“Excuse me, but I can’t seem to locate this book.”

You were engrossed in your research when a piece of paper floated down onto your desk. You recognized the voice immediately, even before looking up. When you did, there he was, apparently waiting for your response. You had never been that close to him before, and he was possibly even more gorgeous up close. His dark brown, messy hair fell over his eyes as he peered down on you with an amused expression. A dimple started to form on his cheek when the corner of his mouth turned up. He was not a huge man, but he still dwarfed your diminutive stature. Nearly everyone was taller and bigger than you, so that wasn’t new. But the way he held himself and the confidence that he exuded made him appear that much larger. You found yourself wondering what the weight of his body would feel like on top of yours.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

You finally got your brain to start working again and you blinked a few times before sputtering out an answer. “What? Oh no, you’re not. I’m sorry…I was just in my own little world I guess. What can I help you with?”

Five pointed down at the paper he had pushed at you. “That.”

On the paper was the name of a physics book that you were already familiar with. “Time: From Concept to Narrative Construct,” you read out loud. You looked back up at him with a small smile. “This is a good one.”

“You’re familiar with it?” Five asked, surprised.

You nodded. “I’ve been consulting it myself for my own research.” Reaching down into your bag that was near your feet, you pulled out a copy. “That’s why you can’t find it. I didn’t think anyone would miss it since it’s just been gathering dust on the shelf for years.”

A genuine smile crossed Five’s face and he leaned in over the desk. “I’ve never met anyone else that would read that voluntarily.”

With a laugh, you held it out to him. “I don’t think I have either. But here you go.”

“No, it’s ok, you can keep it. It sounds like you need it more than I do. What is your research about?”

“I’m currently writing a thesis on the theory of time as a social construct. I know it’s been done, but I’m hoping I can find something new and exciting to add to the field.”

“Very interesting,” he mused while still wearing that sexy, know-it-all smile. He held out his hand for you to shake. “Five Hargreeves. Nice to meet you.”

His hand was warm and firm while his long, slender fingers wrapped around yours. After introducing yourself, you felt your face flush with heat. Just the simple touch of his hand was enough to send a little bolt of pleasure through your body and you looked down at the ground, tucking a strand of your long, brown hair over your ear.

Five seemed to hold onto your hand for longer than necessary, which was nice, but you knew it didn’t mean anything. He had clearly come over here for a book and nothing more.

“Maybe we can meet up sometime and discuss our theories,” he suggested.

You couldn’t believe he was actually suggesting that, but you held in your astonishment and just nodded with a smile. “That would be nice.”

With another cock-sure smirk, Five turned and walked away while you were left sitting there, staring after him with a dreamy look on your face.

The weeks passed and you and Five had become friends. Well, maybe not fully friends; it was hard to say with him. One minute you would be having an in-depth conversation and the next he was saying a quick goodbye and hurrying away. You met for lunch at the university cafeteria to discuss everything from wormholes to the theory of time travel. When you started asking personal questions, though, he tended to shut up. But, that’s ok. You loved your little moments with him and being able to show off your intellect that nobody else appreciated.

“You really are incredibly smart, you know that, right?” Five said one day out of the blue, as you were picking at the wilted lettuce of your salad.

You looked up with raised eyebrows. “Oh…”

“I mean it,” he said, and suddenly his voice was much softer. The way he was looking at you was throwing you for a loop. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re brilliant.”

With your face flushed, you laughed softly. “Thanks, Five.”

He smiled and his green eyes flashed with something like affection before he looked down at his own food. You didn’t know what to make of this exchange, because there was no way in hell that he would be interested in you as anything more than a colleague. There was just no way. You watched as he took a drink of his water, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and you almost made an audible whimpering noise at the sight. What you wouldn’t give to run your lips over his slender neck, and trail kisses under his strong jaw. He caught you staring at him and you quickly looked away.

************************************

The night you decided to go out with your friends, they had picked a loud dance club in the seedier part of town that was definitely not your usual scene. But you really needed a good time out with the girls to relieve some of your academic stress, so you didn’t argue. You wore a tight dress that showed off your petite frame, and curled your hair into waves that hung down your back. You slapped on some dark eye makeup and red lipstick before heading out.

The club was packed, with the music pumping and the dance floor full of people grinding all over one another. You were not in the mood for meeting anyone though, you were just there to hang out with your friends and have a couple of drinks.

As you shoved your way towards the bar, a hand grabbed onto yours. You instinctively pulled it away, but when you looked up to see who it belonged to, you saw Five. He had a drink in his hand, most likely whiskey or bourbon, and he was dressed in his signature suit. You tried to cover your excitement on seeing him, but you smiled broadly and tried to yell over the thumping bass.

“Five! Why are you here?”

He leaned in close to you to be heard. That was the closest you had ever been to him, with his mouth just inches from your ear. He smelled like aftershave and mint, with a slight hint of the whiskey he’d been drinking. The slight scruff from his cheek scratched lightly against yours for half a second. It was intoxicating and you closed your eyes as he talked.

“I could ask the same of you. This doesn’t seem like your scene.”

You shrugged. “This is where my friends wanted to go, so I just followed along.”

“Is that right? Do you always do what other people tell you to do?”

When you looked at Five’s face, he had that smirk plastered on, and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to be flirty or not. He was just so damn hard to read.

“Depends on the person who is telling me,” you replied with a slight upturn of your red lips before blushing at your own minor innuendo.

A thoughtful look crossed over his face, followed by a slight nod of approval. “I see.” Then he leaned in close to your ear again. “That is very good to know.”

You chose to brush this comment away before it started taking up residence in your brain and causing all sorts of dirty thoughts. He was just trying to have a conversation, that’s all and nothing more. If it was coming across as flirty, it was probably because his drink had loosened him up.

“So, you didn’t answer me before. This place doesn’t seem like your scene, either. Why are you here?”

Five nodded towards the bar where a tall, lanky man in tight pants appeared to have a small group of people engrossed in a story while he gestured animatedly with a shot glass in his hand. “My stupid brother dragged me here.”

“Oh,” you said with a sly grin. “Do you always do what other people tell you to do?”

Five slowly shook his head ‘no’, then took a long drink from his glass, all while looking you in the eyes. “Not really. I’m usually the one calling the shots.”

You swallowed hard, and looked nervously around. You didn’t want him to see you acting like a fool just from some little throw away comment that you were making a big deal about in your head.

“Well, I was on my way to get a drink.” When he didn’t say anything in return, you continued. “I plan on going out on the dance floor, though.” You paused. “You should join us out there.”

Five laughed sharply. “Oh, fuck no.”

Thinking maybe you insulted him somehow, you looked away again. “Oh, well…ok. I’ll see you around I guess?”

His hand came to rest on your shoulder. “I might not dance,” he said, brushing his cheek against yours as he talked close to your ear again. “But watching you out there would be more than enough entertainment for my night.”

Once again, you were thrown by his comment. It could be taken as flirty, but then again, why would he be flirting with you? He must have been teasing you; insinuating that you would look silly dancing. Suddenly your face was burning again.

“Yeah…ok,” you said quietly, unable to hide your embarrassment. “Bye, Five.”

As you walked away, you felt him staring after you. You didn’t dare turn around, but you could picture the intensity of his gaze on your back. He had rattled you, and because you didn’t know what to make of his comments, you couldn’t decide if you should be annoyed or not. After getting your drink and heading to the dance floor to join your friends, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You had lost track of him in the crowd after your exchange, but you knew he was still there because his brother was still holding court over at the bar. So, the fact that maybe he was watching you made your body tingle with excitement. If he was, then you decided to put on a decent show for him.

For the next hour, you never left the dance floor. The music continued on an endless loop of pounding basslines, while strobe lights flashed over the crowd, dulling your senses and lulling you into a trance. Swaying your body with the beat, hands in the air, while you worked your hips and ass in enticing circles, you lost all of your usual inhibitions. You weren’t sure where your group of friends had gone, but you didn’t care. As you looked out into the sea of strangers surrounding you, one familiar face stood out.

It was Five, and he was indeed watching you. The strobe lights created an eerie effect of showing him clearly one second, and then gone the next. Each time he reappeared into your view, he was closer. Making his way through the throng of dancers, he slowly neared you, never taking his eyes off you. When he finally reached you, you stopped dancing. It was much too loud and overstimulating on the dance floor to try and talk, so you both stood staring at one another with half-smiles on your faces. After a moment, you started moving with the beat again. Five continued to stand still, his drink in hand. Laughing, you turned around so that you were faced away from him, and continued your sensual dance moves.

You knew you looked good in your tight dress, and even though you still weren't sure of his intentions, you wanted Five to notice. Another minute passed before you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. You were pulled flush with their body as they moved in rhythm with you. Warm breath fanned across your shoulder and neck, and you smiled to yourself. Pushing back against them, you let your head fall back onto their shoulder while your hands came to rest on top of theirs.

“Five…” you started to say as you turned your face towards him.

The face that greeted you, however, was not the one you were expecting. This was a stranger; some man you had never seen before and he was running his hands all over your body while his erection poked into your ass.

You shrieked and tried to pull away. “Get off of me!”

The club was loud and the lights were disorienting as you struggled against the man, but he just held you tighter. You could see the predatory smile on his face, making your skin crawl. Clawing at his arms that were wrapped around you, you tried to throw your body backwards to loosen his grip. That only seemed to make things worse by pushing your ass harder into his groin. You heard him moan next to your ear and you started to panic.

“Let go, you stupid fucker!” you screamed next to his face while trying to kick and pry his arms off of you. You scanned everyone around you, trying to catch the eye of someone that may be able to help. Everyone was lost in their own worlds, and no one was paying any attention to the sexual assault that was occurring just a few feet away.

Something you did must have worked because suddenly his arms were ripped away from you and you were free. There was a loud cry of surprise from the crowd around you, and when you spun around, you saw the offending man lying in a heap on the floor. A circle of people had formed around him while he writhed on the ground holding his bleeding face.

That’s when you saw Five again. He was standing over the man, glaring down at him with a sneer, while his hands remained balled into fists at his sides. As his chest rose and fell with angry breaths, his eyes met yours.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, although no one could hear you. “Five.”

Taking a few stalking steps towards you, he grabbed onto your arm, pulling you to him with a worried look. You couldn’t hear him, but you could read his lips. “Are you ok?”

You nodded with wide eyes, still trying to fully understand the situation. Before anything else could be said or done, a large bouncer made his way through the crowd. Seeing that there was an injured man on the ground and that Five was clearly the cause of it, he immediately grasped onto Five’s upper arm and pulled him away from you.

“Come on, asshole. Out you go,” he snarled while pushing Five in the direction of the door.

“No wait!” you tried to yell out, but your voice was lost in the deafening music again.

The man Five had clocked had struggled to his feet and was stumbling away, still holding his badly broken nose. The rest of the crowd went back to their previous dancing and the circle filled in again. You were left looking at the back of the bouncer’s head as he forced Five out of the club.

Looking around for your friends, but not seeing them, you pushed your way through the dense dance floor and out into the bar area. It was still crowded, but less so, and the strobe lights weren’t affecting your vision anymore. You saw the door to the club open and close again, with the bouncer walking back towards you, alone, and you hurried towards the exit.

Outside, your ears were ringing as you took in a deep breath of the cool night air. When you saw him sitting on the curb, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Five!�� you cried, before hurrying over. He looked up at you through his fringe of hair before sweeping it off his forehead with a smile. “Holy shit.” You sat down next to him, keeping your legs straight out in front of you so that your short dress wouldn’t ride all the way up. “Are you ok?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’m ok. Are you?”

You nodded. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “I saw some creep trying to molest you, and since it didn’t look like you were appreciating it very much, I thought I’d intervene.”

“Wow,” you breathed out, shaking your head. “I had no idea you were the knight in shining armor type.”

“I don’t think my armor is very shiny, it’s pretty tarnished most days,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well, anyway…thank you.”

He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t read, but his facial features had softened. “You’re welcome.”

You glanced down at his right hand. “Oh shit…your hand. It’s all bruised.”

Five flexed his fingers and shook out his hand. “This is nothing. I’ll be fine.”

When you ran a thumb lightly across his reddened knuckles, you thought you heard a hitch in his breathing. But when you looked back at his face, you found it unreadable again.

“Thank you again, Five. Really.”

He nodded and then looked back at the club. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be welcome back there again, not that I’m complaining. But you go back in. Go have fun with your friends.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Sit here until my brother decides he’s had enough of being a slut so I can go home.”

You pulled your mouth to the side in thought and then bumped his shoulder with your own. “You know, that club isn’t all that great. The fresh air feels good, actually.”

Five didn’t say anything, but you did see a slight smile cross his lips before it was gone again. He looked over at you, his face more serious than you’d seen it before, with his eyebrows pulled together in a way that made you want to attack his mouth with your own.

“I used to be special, you know,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I was born with special abilities. The power to time travel and teleport. I had them most of my life. Then they were violently ripped away from me and I haven’t been the same since.”

You stared back at him, not knowing what to make of this. He was clearly joking, but you couldn’t figure out what the joke was. His face was dead serious and his tone of voice conveyed an air of sadness.

“I don’t understand,” you answered hesitantly.

He shook his head with a short laugh and raked a hand through his hair again. “I know, I sound like a lunatic. I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s true.” He looked off into the distance and sighed, pulling his legs up and resting his arms on his knees. “I spent most of my long life cursing the powers I had because they only ever seemed to bring me more misery. But now that I am finally rid of them…I can’t explain it, but it’s…” His voice trailed off as he searched for the word he wanted. ��Painful.”

The way he said ‘painful’ cut right to your heart and you lightly rested your fingers on his arm. “What is painful, Five?”

He continued to look out at the dark sky. “You know, back there, when I punched that fucker in the face? That felt so much better than it should have. It was a rush I hadn’t felt in a long time. And yet…it still wasn’t the same. With my powers, I could have really wasted him. Probably would have had some smart-ass comment for him, too. And I sure as shit wouldn’t have been caught by some lumbering, asshole bouncer, no matter how much bigger he was than me.” He sighed again before turning to face you. “I know this makes no sense and you probably think I’m fucking insane, and I’m sorry. I just…fuck…some days I wish I weren’t so goddamn ordinary.”

“Five, you are the least ordinary person I know. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

His eyes searched your face and suddenly you realized how close you were to one another.

“But you don’t believe me, do you?” he softly.

You paused, taking in the sadness that was evident in his eyes. He somehow appeared years older, with the weariness of an older man. What he said made no sense. But you didn't think he was crazy.

“I believe you, Five.”

His eyebrows furrowed even more. “You do?”

“I think so. But I’d love for you to tell me more about it. I’d like to hear about your life.”

“I’d like to tell you,” he said with a slight nod.

A cool breeze passed over you and you shivered. Five shrugged his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders. You resisted the urge to bury your nose into the fabric to inhale the scent of him. Instead, you just smiled.

“Again, very chivalrous of you,” you teased.

He smiled. “Don’t get used to it.”

After another glance back at the bar behind you, you turned back to Five. “Well, it doesn’t look like the people we came here with are going to be joining us anytime soon. So, how about you tell me everything now.”

“Here?”

“Why not? You’ve got me curious now.”

Five paused. “Yeah, alright. Why not? But just so you know, I won’t blame you if you suddenly want to run back inside or down the street to get away from me.”

You laughed. “I can’t imagine doing that.”

“Well, just wait.”

Over the next hour, you and Five sat on the curb, ignoring the drunken groups of people that would come stumbling past you on their way in or out of the club. You were fully invested in his story. The longer he talked, the more enchanted you became, until it felt like you and he were the only people in the world. He told you all about past timelines, his power to manipulate time and space, and his ultimate downfall that led to a lifetime of loneliness and suffering. He explained about his family and all of their suffering, as well. How he just wanted to save the world and all of them with it. And about how a few years ago, it was all stripped away from him.

“So, being that I had no identity and I looked like a fucking child, I didn’t have a lot of prospects. My family took me in for a while until I figured things out, which I am grateful for but was no picnic. Eventually, I was able to secure a few fake documents in order to get a job and weasel my way into an upstanding position.” He flashed you a devious smile. “That PhD I have hanging in my office? Not exactly legit.”

You laughed, astonished. “You mean you don’t have a doctorate?”

Five shook his head. “Worse. I don’t even have a high school diploma.”

Your mouth hung open for a minute before you let out a loud, long laugh. “Holy shit! You really are a genius!”

Five laughed along with you until you both quieted down and a comfortable calm settled over you both. When he looked at you, he appeared lighter. Like he wasn’t so world-weary anymore.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“Listening. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to talk to about this.” He looked away again. “And I don’t expect you to believe any of it, but the fact that you didn’t run away screaming means a lot.”

“I already told you. I believe you. And thank you, too.”

“For what?”

“Trusting me. Not too many people confide in me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m usually so quiet, or because I’m small and look younger than I am. But no one seems to take me seriously most of the time. So, thank you for seeing something else in me.”

“I see a lot of things in you,” Five said.

Just as you were about to convince yourself that maybe there was something going on between the two of you after all, the bar door opened behind you, the sound of thumping music and loud laughter spilling out into the night. When you turned, you saw your group of friends come stumbling out, giggling and falling over one another.

“There you are!” one of them laughed, pointing in your direction.

“Ooh, she’s not alone, either.”

As your face burned bright red, another one of your friends made a loud shushing noise. “Shut up, you guys…she’s trying to seal the deal. Damn, girl, go for it! He’s smoking hot!”

“Ok, then…” you said over the loud laughter, barely risking a glance in Five’s direction. You slipped his jacket off and handed it back to him. “I am so sorry. They’re usually not this obnoxious, I swear.”

Five chuckled. “I’m very familiar with being surrounded by obnoxious people.”

You stood up and Five followed. Your friends started to flag down a cab as you awkwardly smiled down at the ground.

“Thanks again for punching that guy.”

“My pleasure.” He paused. “By the way,” Five started with a grin. “I wasn’t initially sure you needed help. It looked like you were enjoying it for a second there.”

When you looked at him, he tilted his head to the side with a cocky smirk, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. Your face burned hotter.

“Um…yeah. I guess I thought it was someone else at first,” you answered truthfully.

“Hmmm…” Five mused. “Interesting.”

Just then, you heard your friends call you over as a cab pulled up. With a wave, you left Five on the curb and got in the car. But the rest of your night was consumed with thoughts of him, and the amazing story he had told you.

*****************************

A week passed and you had been working late. The campus was quiet on the way to your car, but on a whim, you decided to cut through the building where Five kept his office. As luck would have it, you saw the light on behind the frosted glass of the door. You thought briefly of passing right by, but then you gathered enough courage to rap lightly against the frame. After a few seconds, he opened the door.

Looking amazingly fuckable, Five had shed the jacket and vest of his usual three-piece suit, and was left in his white dress shirt and black slacks. His hair was messier than normal, and when your gaze drifted behind him, you saw an opened bottle of whiskey on his desk.

“H-hi,” you stuttered out. “Am I interrupting you?”

Five paused for a second, looking you up and down, before shaking his head slowly. “No.”

He didn’t elaborate and you thought maybe you’d made a mistake coming there, but he suddenly seemed to snap out of whatever haze he had been in. He opened the door wider and gestured inside. “Please, come on in.”

You nodded, stepping inside, and he shut the door behind you with a loud click that made you jump. He was still eyeing you up as he walked to his desk and picked up the bottle of liquor.

“Can I pour you a drink?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

After another moment of silence, with just the slosh of liquid and clink of the bottle against the desk to fill the quiet, Five handed you the glass. You took it from him and his fingers brushed against yours in the process.

You cleared your throat before taking a small sip. The whiskey burned on the way down, but it was delicious. “What are you doing here so late?”

Five shrugged. “Just don’t feel like going home.”

He wasn’t exactly being short with you, but you could tell he was holding something back. After your deep conversation that night outside the club, you felt that you had made a real connection with one another. This, however, seemed like you had taken a step backwards.

“Oh.” You looked around, noticing the somewhat messy mahogany desk that acted as his work station. Behind it rose a wall of bookshelves that were filled with what you imagined to be very advanced physics texts. There didn’t appear to be any real personal items anywhere. No photos of family. No trinkets or tchotchkes on display. Not even any awards or plaques, although you were sure he’d earned some.

“So,” you started nervously. “I’ve figured out my thesis.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. The theory of time travel and its hypothetical consequences on multiple timelines.”

He paused before snorting out a laugh and taking a drink out of his own glass. “Sure you are.”

“I’m serious. You opened my eyes to a whole new world and I want to learn more about it. I thought…you know…I thought you could help me with my research. Since you have first hand experience.”

His eyebrows drew together as he peered at you over his glass. “Why would you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Throw your entire life’s work down the drain for some stupid ass theory that no one is going to believe. They’ll laugh at you.”

You were hurt, but tried to hide it behind a small smile. “People will believe, Five. I believe you. And we have the scientific facts to back it up. Or, at least, you do. But you can teach me. You can explain all of the physics required to work your powers.”

“I don’t have any powers,” he said dryly.

You sighed loudly. “You know what I mean. Come on, I thought you would be excited by this.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I can help with whatever you need.”

There was another awkward pause while you regarded one another, but since he didn’t say anything else, you assumed that was the end of the conversation.

“Thank you. This is really going to change our field, Five, you have no idea.” You set your glass down on the desk. “Well, it’s late, so I’ll leave you be. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

As you moved towards the door, you heard him slam his glass down next to yours. “That’s it?”

When you spun around, you had never seen him looking at you the way that he was right then. You obviously had made him mad in some way, but you weren’t sure what it could have been. His darkened eyes narrowed as they scanned your face and then your body, the muscles in his jaw working in quiet concentration. It unnerved you, but it also made your heart flip in your chest.

“I don’t understand.”

“What more do you want from me?” he asked, voice low and measured.

You swallowed hard, voice trembling as you answered him meekly. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what else to do to make you notice me.”

“I…I do notice you. Of course I do. We have a whole thing…I thought we were friends…I…,” you stammered before he cut you off with a shake of his head and a step towards you that had you backing up.

“That’s not what I mean and you fucking know it,” he stated plainly, right before he took another step and then another, all the while corralling you away from the door and back into the room.

You sucked in a loud breath as your butt hit the desk behind you, trapping you. “Five…I really don’t–”

“Stop,” he hissed. “You’re the smartest person I know, so cut the shit. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Stop pretending that you don’t.”

At that, you felt a fire light inside of you. It was a combination of the months-long hunger you’ve felt for him and the urge to defend yourself against his asshole remarks.

“Whatever the fuck you’re talking about Five, I’m not playing your little guessing game. If you’re accusing me of something, just say it.”

His lips curled into a sinister smile as he crowded into your personal space. “Fine, I can be blunt. I have done everything I can think of these past few months. We had good conversations, we connected; I tried flirting, although I admit I’m not very good at it. I knocked some shit head to the ground for you.” He stopped and swallowed hard, his voice becoming quieter. “I told you everything.”

“But you’re still not telling me what you want,” you argued, trying to stay strong as your eyes drifted to his lips.

“You,” he rasped. “I want you. And I think you fucking know that.”

You shook your head almost imperceptibly. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Liar,” he said with a smirk before closing the few inches between you, making you lean back with your hands supporting you on the desktop behind you. You drew in a sharp breath as his hand trailed gently over your cheek, spreading what felt like fire across your skin as he placed his palm against the side of your neck. “Tell me the truth.”

With a hard, audible swallow, you raised your hand to clasp it around his wrist. His skin was warm against yours and you could feel his thrumming pulse under your fingers. “I want you, too. I just didn’t think–”

Cut off from finishing your thought, Five’s mouth was on yours in a heartbeat. Your lack of resistance was immediate as you gave into him; kissing him urgently as you clenched harder onto his wrist. The quiet whimper that you gave made him smile as he used his teeth to gently nip at your bottom lip.

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” Five said when he pulled away.

“What have you been thinking about, exactly?” you said with a flutter of your eyelashes. You weren’t sure where this new assertiveness was coming from, but you let your free hand slide down the side of his chest and stomach before hooking a finger into the belt loop of his pants.

A feral look crossed Five’s face as he pressed into you. With an easy twist of his wrist, he forced your hand off of him until he was the one grasping yours. Taking your soft gasp as a positive reaction, he did the same with your other hand. He leaned his head in close, his eyes closing as he brushed his lips against yours for just a second.

“Fucking you,” he replied plainly, as if that were obvious, his voice even and low. He pushed his thigh between your legs. “Right here.” His mouth trailed along your jaw; the scruff of his chin scraping against your neck. “Making you come on my cock while you’re moaning my name.”

As if he put some sort of spell on you, you automatically whined out, “Five…,” as your eyes fell shut and you pressed your groin against his leg.

“Just like that,” he praised with a smirk, holding your wrists just a little tighter. “Only louder.” When your hazel eyes opened again, they were met with his emerald ones staring steelily down on you. “We could play this game a little more, but I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

You blinked up at him, your lips parted, and you gave him a small nod of assent.

He dove onto your mouth again, his tongue slipping inside, as he squeezed your wrists. When he moaned quietly, his body flush with yours again, you tried to free your hands so that you could feel more of him, but he held tight. When he moved away from your mouth, he slid his soft lips over your cheek and down your neck, nuzzling into you with his nose and chin.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. You’re the only one that understands me,” he whispered before finally letting go of your wrists and boosting you up onto the desk. Your skirt rode up your thighs as you spread your legs just enough to let him stand in between.

Letting your hands roam over the soft material of his dress shirt, following the curve of his firm, trim waist, and around to his back, you answered him softly. “I do understand you, Five. You’re amazing.”

He didn’t say anything to that, only continued kissing down your neck and over your collarbone. His fingers came to rest at the hem of your sweater, lifting it just slightly above your waistline before stopping. Drawing his head back, he looked deeply into your eyes. That untamed intensity was still there and you held your breath in anticipation of what was going to come next.

“Do you know how to be a good girl?” he asked in that tone that made your mouth water.

His brazenness took you off guard, but only for a second. Fuck, you wanted to be his good girl more than anything. “Yes,” you breathed out a little too eagerly; the panties under your skirt already soaked.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his eyes searching your face and then your chest. “Because I’m going to need you to be very, very good for me.”

You had never been so hot for someone in your life, and you felt like you were going to die if you didn’t feel more of his body on you. He pushed his hips in closer, his hard cock dragging across your pelvis, and enticing you even more.

“Five…” you whimpered.

“Shhh,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you. The feel of his lips against yours and the heat of his skin was too much and you bucked your hips sharply against him, your butt sliding forward on the desk. He drew back from your mouth, breathing hard. “Stay quiet for me, ok, sweetheart? Can you do that?”

With another pathetic nod of your head, you let him completely take command. He pulled your body roughly towards him, moaning quietly as his fervent kisses deepened and you gave yourself over to whatever power he had over you. He could have told you almost anything, and you would have followed his orders. He was all you needed; all you cared about at that moment. And, fuck, if he didn’t feel amazing with his sizeable dick straining in his pants and pressing against you.

Five was back to pulling at the bottom of your shirt, but this time he didn’t stop. You helped him by raising your hands over your head while he yanked it off. Taking a moment to look you over, his hands made their way around to your back, already working at your bra clasp. You didn’t protest, and soon you were topless while his eyes roamed hungrily over your naked chest.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he moaned before attacking your mouth again.

You made soft moaning noises as his fingers grazed over your breasts and down your stomach. You had spent so much time imagining what this would feel like and now it was really happening. He had pulled away again, breathing hard as he watched his own hands as they sensually massaged your tits, before moving down and around again. As he squeezed your ass roughly, you captured his mouth with yours, not willing to wait for him to come to you. He didn’t resist or back off, even as he continued exploring your body. Sucking at his lips, biting voraciously because you couldn’t get enough, you devoured as much of him as you could get.

Your breath was ragged and harsh as you breathed through your nose, unable to tear yourself away from his delicious taste. With a sudden flinch, Five drew back from you, leaving you panting for air. Raising his hand to his mouth, he pulled his fingers away, showing a small amount of blood on them. Five smiled evilly and licked at his lower lip.

“Biting?”

With a slow smile, you blinked up at him. “I’m sorry. You just taste so damn good.”

He made a humming noise low in his throat as he regarded you thoughtfully. With no warning, he pulled you off of the desktop, and spun you around, ignoring your sharp cry of surprise. With the edge of the desk digging into your lower stomach, you felt Five’s hands on either side of you, his strong fingers grasping at your hips. The unmistakable feeling of his hard cock pushing against your ass was next, and you supported yourself with your hands as you pushed back in response.

One of Five’s arms snaked around to hold you tighter across the front of your waist as he leaned over, covering your back with his body and nuzzling his face against the side of your neck.

“Good girls don’t bite,” he warned, his voice thick with lust. “You lied again.”

You shook your head, your hair hanging down and covering your face. “No, I can be good.”

“Hmmm,” he murmured into your neck. “Let’s see about that.”

Five moved his body so that he had you fully at his mercy. Trapped between him and the desk, you could barely move, and he was strong enough to keep you there as long as he wanted. But you had no desire to leave. Feeling him hard, with his chest heaving against your back, and his harsh breath covering your shoulders, you couldn’t think of any place else you’d rather be.

His hands were on your tits again, squeezing and pushing them together, all while he sucked painful bruises down your neck. You would be marked with his love bites tomorrow, that much was clear, and there would be no way to fully cover them. You had a feeling that was exactly what he wanted, though. Just the thought of everyone seeing what he had done to you was enough to send another surge of wetness between your legs.

Five’s hands slowly made their way down your sides and then your thighs, before coming to the hem of your skirt. This time, unlike with your sweater, he did not hesitate to pull it up. Bunching it around your waist, you were fully exposed to him, aside from the very small pair of thong underwear you were wearing.

“Oh, fuck,” Five moaned as he caressed your ass cheek, and then gave it a light slap. “God, this ass is perfect.”

He enveloped your entire body again, leaning over you so that your upper half was forced down onto the desk. You let out a whimper and bit at your lower lip in an effort to control yourself. You wanted him so badly it hurt, but you also wanted to be good for him, just like he asked. So instead of crying out and begging for him to fuck you, you stayed quiet. The only signs that you were desperate for him were the harsh sounds of your breathing and the way your ass rhythmically rocked against his crotch as if it had a mind of its own.

His fingers wound into your hair as he gave it a tug, forcing your head back as he whispered softly against your neck; his lips tracing feather-light patterns over your skin, but never kissing you.

“Tell me you want me.”

Your answer caught in your throat as you closed your eyes. “I want you.”

Five moved his mouth down to your shoulder, the vibration of his dark voice sending a blissful chill down your spine.

“Tell me you want my cock.”

“I want your cock,” you whined, not even a little ashamed of your submission or arousal.

When Five’s fingers slid their way around your front and into the side of your panties, you gulped in a loud breath and exhaled with a sigh. He knew what he was doing, that much was clear, and he began quickly working you into a frenzy while you shamelessly rolled your hips with each stroke of his hand. Slowly massaging your throbbing clit with his thumb, he entered you with his middle finger. You were so wet for him that you were dripping down his hand and onto his wrist. That just seemed to urge him on, and he continued to slide in and out of your hole with ease, hitting every nerve on the way, until you were moaning and panting with desire.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded. He sucked another bruise onto your shoulder and pressed his thumb harder against you, making you cry out.

“Yes! Please…I want you to fuck me!”

“Say it again.”

“Five!” you whined pitifully. “I want you to fuck me! I’ve been wanting you to fuck me for so long. Just…please!”

With a quiet laugh, Five removed his fingers from between your legs. In another second, he was pulling your panties down your hips and thighs, until they fell onto the floor. Left in nothing but your bunched up skirt, you waited for his next move.

For a minute, you only heard the rustling of clothing mixed with his harsh breathing. When you looked to the side, you saw his shirt being discarded onto the floor. You instinctually made to turn around, but he immediately placed a hand on your back, keeping you in place. His palm was warm and firm against your bare skin as you submitted to his wordless request. The sound that followed was the clinking of metal on metal as he began to undo his belt with his one free hand.

You involuntarily pushed your ass back, but received nothing in return except for a low chuckle. The agonizingly slow pace with which he was unzipping his fly was killing you. A thin river of your arousal slipped down the inside of your thigh, but you could do nothing but wait.

When finally you felt his warm, thick cock slide against your backside, you let out a shaky groan.

“What do you think, sweet girl?” he teased, rubbing the swollen head between your legs, spreading your wetness over you both. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes…fuck yes…” you gasped. You could barely make out any words; your focus was entirely on his dick and how badly you wanted him inside of you.

You widened your stance when he used his foot to gently nudge your feet apart and allow him better access. His hands grasped at your hips as he pulled you back, and you let your head hang down.

Five eased his cock into your waiting pussy, pausing a few times as he stretched you open. You forgot to breathe as he pushed slowly into you until you were fully penetrated and you heard him make a low growling noise as his pelvis became flush with your ass.

“Five,” you whispered under your breath as you remembered to take in oxygen again.

“What is it, darling?” he asked, the restraint evident in the tightness of his voice.

You arched your back in desperation and made a sad, crying noise that might have sounded painful if you didn’t answer him loudly. “More! Five, please!”

Hugging you tightly to his chest, his dick still fully buried inside of you, he moaned against your shoulder. “Fuck…you are my good girl, aren’t you?”

After one grunting slap of his hips against your ass, you braced yourself with your hands in preparation. Any restraint that Five had been holding onto before that moment was lost, and he began fucking you hard and rough; pounding his thick cock into you over and over again while you whined and moaned beneath him. He told you how beautiful you were, and how long he had been waiting for this moment, all while driving himself deeper inside of you. His dick was hitting just the right spot and you had never felt this amount of intensity from someone else before. You wanted more. It didn’t matter that he was giving you everything he had, his firm body covering your back and his warm mouth brushing down your neck. You still wanted more.

When his fingers found their way to your clit again, that’s when you started to really lose it. You sounded like you were sobbing as you cried out his name, but it was all from pleasure and you reached down to press his hand harder against you.

“Yes…oh god…fff–oh yeah…oh my god…Fi-ive…aaAHH!”

Right as you were about to tip over the edge, Five pressed his forehead against your shoulder. “Let me come inside you. Please.”

You nodded eagerly and squeaked out a weak “Yes” before fully giving yourself over to the building warmth in your groin. The orgasm that washed over you was the most intense you had ever experienced. Your entire body was trembling as your fingers dug into the desktop and your ass pushed back against him in sporadic thrusts. Five delivered one last punishing drive before his hips stilled and he emptied himself inside of you. Your moans were mixing together, combining with the humid air from your collective panting. The scent of sex and arousal filled the room as hot waves of pleasure pulsed over you both. Five’s last rasping growl faded out as you tried to catch your breath. He held you close to him, his hair tickling your neck as his damp chest heaved against your back.

When he slipped out of you, he placed a soft kiss next to your ear before letting you go and backing away. You turned around, facing him for the first time since he had bent you over the desk. His hair was disheveled, with strands of it sticking to his forehead. His eyes that were once dark and piercing were back to their soft green as he gave you a shy smile and pushed his hair back. You took in his hard body, all sculpted abs and lean muscle. Your mouth watered at just the sight and even though you were still in the process of coming down from the strong orgasm he just gave you, you couldn’t help wanting him again.

“Well…” you said with a smile as you leaned back against the desk. “You may not have a real doctorate, but I can say with certainty that you have earned a very real Phd in fucking, Professor Hargreeves.”

Five’s eyebrows raised up his forehead before letting out a shocked laugh.

“What?” you said with a casual shrug. “I’m an introvert…not a prude.”

“Clearly,” Five noted with a smile before bending down to pull up his pants that were still around his ankles.

“No, no,” you said. “Don’t bother. Just take them off.”

With another pleasantly surprised smile, Five did just that and stepped out of his pants. While you pushed your skirt the rest of the way off, he neared you again, holding you close to his naked body and looking down on you with gentle eyes. His hand came to rest on the side of your face.

“I know I’m not special anymore, but you gave me something back. Something I had lost. Thank you.”

“Five, you are special. You’re special to me.” He leaned down to kiss you sensually, and your body responded immediately, already trying to pull him in for more. “Besides,” you smiled as you perched yourself up on the desk again, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I think you just proved you have all the power you need.”

Five’s arrogant grin grew as he pressed his already hardening cock between your legs. “That I do, sweetheart. But, I think we may need to prove this a few more times.” He kissed you roughly on the mouth. “For science.”

#number five x reader #number five x you #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #number five smut #five hargreeves imagine #number five imagine #five hargreeves smut #tua smut #five hargreeves #number five #female reader #reader insert #smut requests #requests open #five x reader #five x you #badkittywrites

410 notes · View notes

planetaryupscaled · 6 months ago

Text

Disenchanted 6

Male Reader x Karina

Tags: 2k, cheating, creampie, cuckold, daddy kink

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

It was well past 2am before Karina and I finished our marathon sex session. The ravishing woman having run out of energy, just letting me lazily pump her cunt with the last of my load for the evening.

It was a surprise that Jaewook was still asleep throughout the ordeal, given the fact that Karina and I really didn’t hold back, I even held her face against his thigh at one point, while railing her from behind, the slaps of flesh distorted by Jaewook’s snores.

I left an exhausted looking Karina to get some much needed sleep, lying face down next to her husband, covering her silky naked form with the sheets before closing the bedroom door behind me. There was an ache in my legs as I slowly descended the wooden stairs. I must have emptied at least five loads inside her that night, my sack was still reeling from the demands I put on it, my cock slowly getting accustomed to not being snugly sheathed within Karina’s tight body.

Opening the doors and slipping into the early morning air sent a ripple of energy spiraling through my senses. My eyes perking up suddenly at the rush of cold wind now billowing all around me as I retired back inside my homely lodge just in time before the heavens opened up with rain coming splashing down on the wooden roof. In many respects, tonight had been more extreme than the Yeonjun, Hajoon affair, it was with her husband, one she shunned for most of the night. Not that Jaewook caught on at first, but I had a feeling he was starting to connect the dots, the longer the three of us fucked. It was the little things, like the eye contact she gave me while we made love, not the same if any when it came to her husband. It was almost like he was, as she described Yeonjun and Hajoon before, a prop. It would not be too long till that final blow would be dealt, to my knowledge we were going to tell Jaewook in a few hours, not knowing what the best time to spill the beans was, if ever. Little did I know the blow would be dealt far sooner than expected and in the most brutal fashion imagined.

—

“Hey...can I come in?” Karina said, amidst the increasingly loud pitter patter of the rain outside.

I must have fallen asleep, checking my watch it was now half five in the morning with the birds already chirping outside.

“Hey...sure...come in.” I replied, getting up and ushering a soaking Karina in.

She was drenched, wearing nothing but a white bra and matching underwear, as she strolled into my posh glamping abode, a wicked smile strewn across her face.

“Karina, you are soaked...” I said, wrapping a towel around her and bringing her into the warmth by the fireplace.

“More than you know.” She chimed back, looking at me with those deep brown eyes of hers.

I felt like she wanted to tell me something, something important, there was a level of excitement emanating from her that I could not quite pinpoint.

“So...I had a talk with Jaewook” Karina said, “it’s over...” with finality, running her hands along my arm.

“Um...what...I thought we were going to do it tog...” I started.

“It’s better this way.” She replied with a smile.

“How...did he take it?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not good at first, there were tears, his tears that is and then anger, then tears again. I left him in the bedroom to think it through, but I am pretty sure he has passed out again.” Karina said.

“Wow...so...” I replied.

“So...I guess that’s that...” Karina said, closing the gap.

“I’m yours...” She followed up.

“Seriously Karina, you wanna fool around after such a big decision has bee...” I started again, before getting interrupted by a kiss.

Her soft lips melded with mine, as if we were made for one another, the warmth of the fire stoking our bodies as I pulled her closer for a deeper embrace.

“You know...we were meant to do this together right?” I said, staring at her beautiful face.

“Guess...I’ve been a bad girl...” Karina replied, placing her hands on my chest.

“You know what happens to bad girls right?” I replied, catching onto the sudden erotic turn of events.

“What’s that?” She said, biting down hard on my lip as I felt her hands roam into my pants and grab harshly at my sack.

“They get...punished...” I replied, moaning at her touch while simultaneously man handling her to the bed.

“Wait...” Karina said.

“Film it...” She followed up with a cheeky grin.

I walked over to the side table, propping up my phone and pressing record, making sure the lens captured everything. This was to be our second video, and I wanted it to be hotter than the last.

“Ass across my lap, young lady.” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Karina presented her pert derriere to me.

“You ready?” I asked, palms already about to strike.

She looked at me, over her shoulder, in anticipation, sucking down on my thumb from my free hand.

“Don’t hold back...be rough with me...Daddy.” Karina said, seductively, before tensing her rear for me in quiet trepidation.

I drove down with full force, not holding back as I connected with Karina’s ass cheeks, the ripple effect causing a loud slapping noise to ring off the walls.

“Ahhhhh...Daddy...” Karina wailed.

“You like that?” I replied, coming down harder this time, slapping her rear while squeezing her red raw flesh under my hands.

“Yes...AHHH...harder...ahhhh.” Karina screamed, her rear now getting battered from my slaps.

Karina started whimpering with each subsequent smack, her body trembling under my grasp, till the brunette turned around over her shoulder, eyes watering slightly at the force of my strikes.

“Fuckkk...fuck me now.” Karina said breathlessly.

I was lost in the moment, my hand still shaking after smacking her ass red raw, staring down at Karina’s tight body, I slipped out of my boxers and rammed myself as far as I could into her married cunt. My tip piercing her silky folds with ease as I split the mother of three open with my cock, my crown roughly smashing up against her cervix with a thud as I bottomed her out. Karina felt different this time, kinkier in her requests as if the ante had been dialed up a few more notches as she pushed back onto my deep hard thrusts. Her walls sucking my shaft off as I drilled her mercilessly into the mattress, adding a few more slaps to her ass each time I pumped her cunt with more of my dick.

“Pull...my hair...” Karina said between moans, sucking on my fingers as I pried her mouth open with one hand and yanked on her hair with another.

It was the roughest we had ever been, but she loved it, arching her back to allow me to penetrate her pussy to the fullest, filling her pink chamber with my meat as I stuffed her unfaithful cunt with cock.

“Ughhh…Minho...yes...fuck...dadddyyyy...” Karina moaned, her eyes locked on the camera as I railed her in the prone position.

It was just in that moment that the front door swung open. her husband Jaewook standing a few feet away from us, a look of horror on his face. He could not comprehend what he was seeing, words failing him as he just watched, slack jawed as Karina and I stared back at him.

“Moree...give me more...” Karina demanded.

We were too far gone, not giving a shit about other people’s feelings at this point, we just needed to get off.

“You like that?” I asked, spanking her rear.

“Uhhh...yes...just...like...that...daddy.” She replied, biting her lips.

“Better than your husbands?” I asked, through gritted teeth as I fucked more of my straining cock into her tight pussy.

She raised her head, looking Jaewook deep in his tearful eyes as I penetrated her cunt.

“Worlds...better...” She replied with little remorse, pushing back on me as I flipped her over onto her back.

“Spread your legs baby.” I said, rubbing furiously at her throbbing clitoris.

She complied, parting her bronze thighs for me as I pierced her folds with my dick once more. I could sense her eyes ever so often glance over at a frozen Jaewook, his face not showing anger or sadness anymore, but acceptance as I spread his wife’s legs wider, spearing her cunt with deep rupturing strokes.

Karina’s cries of pleasure were mounting, her body was shaking as the brunette hung her head of the side of the bed, allowing me to plough into her marital pussy over and over again, ripping through her pussy with a hunger what needed to be satiated. My cock irrigating her womb of air, the more meat I fucked into her, forcing it out in a hurry, causing a highly erotic farting noise to ring out from between her legs.

I slipped my fingers into her mouth, pumping my dick deeper into her womb, feeling the warmth of her cunt urging me for release as we locked eyes.

“I want to feel you cum...” Karina moaned.

“Wai...” Jaewook spoke, his voice feeble in the distance.

We ignored his plea, locked in our own mating ritual as Karina pushed her hips towards me with each thrust, goading me into seeding her pussy.

“Fuck a baby into me...” Karina whispered, into my ear, loud enough for the killer blow to be heard by Jaewook.

It was enough to set us both off as I fucked my cock deep into Karina’s cunt, exploding at the tip as my pent up sperm peppered her cervix, leaking into her uterus as I injected her twitching womb with my thick milk.

“Ughhhh...baby...fill me...fill...me...up.” Karina groaned.

Her own orgasm triggering as I pumped her pussy fill of cum, my seed dribbling out the sides off her slit as I felt a rush of fresh fluids rush against my cock. She was gushing, the mix of my seed and her juices now coalesced as I force fed her married pussy more of my meat and sperm, right in front of her husband. I felt wave after wave of my cum, pump into her luscious cunt, spurt after spurt painting her insides in my sticky white milk.

Karina was dripping from the rear, as I finally stopped twitching inside her. The slickness of her womb bore the fruits of our labor as her gushing ceased, the stickiness smeared all over her inner thighs, dripping down her red raw ass cheeks as she got up and lay beside me in a huff. We stared at each other for a long moment, forgetting our unwanted guest for a few seconds as his sobs started again. Looking over, Karina purposely strode over to him, still leaking her womanly fluids form her slippery well fucked pussy.

“Jaewook...it’s over.” She said firmly, before turning to me wearing a smile on her face.

I looked at her, amazed and slightly shocked at the brutality of it all. Everything was caught on camera, the sex, the moans, the spanking, the lot. Rolling her hips on my lap while Jaewook took a last look at his wife, she turned to me, taking my tongue between her lips and sucking me firmly.

“Now...fuck me till I pass out...” Karina said, slipping my spent cock back into her freshly claimed cunt.

In that moment, she belonged to me, and she knew it, presenting her body to me for me to claim, claim her mind, body and soul, Karina was mine.

#karina smut #aespa smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader

976 notes · View notes

solxamber · 3 months ago

Text

Knights and Oaths - Leona Kingscholar x reader

You come from a long line of knights that have served the rulers of the Savannah. But sometimes traditions are meant to change and the second prince is looking like someone worth changing them for.

The sun hangs low in the sky, painting the Savannah in golden hues as you approach the ceremonial grounds. It’s been years leading up to this moment—years of training, discipline, and growing up side by side with royalty. Your mother serves Falena’s wife, and your father serves the king himself. By all accounts, it’s expected that you’ll follow suit and dedicate your knightly oath to Cheka, the five-year-old prince. That’s just how it’s always been—loyalty passed down through the generations, swearing fealty to the rightful heirs of the Sunset Savannah.

But you’ve never been one for following expectations.

Not when you’ve spent your childhood in the shadow of two princes, one of them your closest companion and sometimes, greatest annoyance. Leona Kingscholar—second prince of the Sunset Savannah, the man who always seemed just a step away from what he could have been. Too lazy to reach it. Too proud to admit it.

When you were kids, Leona’s idea of "training" usually involved you chasing him around, trying to get him to spar when he’d much rather nap beneath the acacia trees. "What’s the point?" he’d grumble, arms folded behind his head, the sun casting dappled shadows across his face. "No matter how hard I try, Falena's the one everyone cares about."

Yet somehow, despite his best efforts to seem indifferent, you always found yourself drawn into his orbit. There was something about Leona that you couldn’t ignore—a pull, a desire to prove himself despite his constant veneer of nonchalance. You saw him in a way others didn’t. And maybe, somewhere along the way, he saw you too.

That’s why today feels different. Your whole life, everyone assumed your path was already written. You’d swear your oath to Cheka, Falena’s son, just as your parents had sworn theirs to Falena and his wife. It was expected, anticipated. But they didn’t know the whole story. They didn’t know about you and Leona, the time spent laughing, bickering, and—more often than not—arguing over ridiculous things like who could run faster or who could climb the tallest tree.

Now here you are, stepping into the hunting grounds, your sword at your side, ready to make your choice.

The hunt is a time-honored tradition. Whoever brings back the most impressive game gets to make their dedication. You can almost hear the whispers as you prepare—"Cheka’s knight," they call you. It’s been assumed for years. But they don’t know what’s coming.

The ceremony itself is simple enough. Each knight pledges their loyalty by dedicating their game to the person they swear to serve. It’s a public declaration of fealty, one made before the entire royal court. But there’s more at stake than just loyalty. The knight who brings back the most impressive game is awarded a golden rose—a symbol of something far deeper than duty.

Love.

Hours later, when you emerge from the hunt with the largest bear the kingdom has seen in years, all eyes are on you. The whispers grow louder, anticipation thick in the air. Everyone knows you’ve won the rose, and with it, the right to swear your loyalty. They’re expecting you to kneel before Cheka, the adorable five-year-old prince bouncing with excitement. Even Leona’s lounging nearby, watching the whole affair with that bored, half-lidded gaze of his, looking as if he might fall asleep at any moment.

But you? You have different plans.

With the golden rose in hand and your bear presented, you walk right past Cheka—past the gasps of the court, the murmurs of confusion, the stunned faces of your parents. And you kneel before Leona.

Leona’s eyes snap open, and for the first time in ages, he looks genuinely surprised. His eyebrows raise, just the barest fraction. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You grin, because of course he’s trying to play it off like this doesn’t matter. "Swearing my fealty, obviously," you say, loud enough for the court to hear. "I dedicate this hunt and the rose to Prince Leona Kingscholar."

The silence that follows is deafening. You can practically feel the jaws dropping across the Savannah. Even little Cheka’s mouth forms a perfect little "o" of shock.

For the first time all day, Leona stirs, the mask of indifference slipping just enough for you to catch the flicker of something beneath it—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. His eyes meet yours, sharper and more intense than ever, and for a moment, the world falls away.

Leona’s eyes narrow, a mixture of suspicion and amusement flickering across his face. "I thought you’d be on your knees for someone else," he drawls, his lips quirking up at the corners.

You shrug. "Everyone else may have decided my fate, but I make my own choices."

“For you, Leona,” you repeat, your voice steady and loud despite the pounding in your chest. “I dedicate my loyalty to you, and this rose... to the one who has always held my heart.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his expression unreadable. It’s Leona, after all. He doesn’t do grand gestures, never needed to. But you notice the way his fingers twitch, like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and take the rose immediately. When he finally speaks again, his voice is low, a bit rough around the edges, but there’s an unmistakable thread of satisfaction laced through it.

“You really know how to cause a scene, huh?”

There’s a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, and his gaze flicks down to the rose in your hand before meeting your eyes again. “A bear and a rose... For me?”

The teasing tone doesn’t hide the way his chest seems to expand just a little bit, like someone had finally acknowledged him for the first time in years. He reaches out and takes the rose from your hand, his fingers brushing yours in the briefest of touches. It feels electric, like every unspoken word between you is packed into that fleeting moment.

He twirls the rose once between his fingers, his smirk growing. “Guess I should thank you,” he says casually, though there’s a weight to his words, something you’ve rarely heard from him—appreciation. Real and tangible.

Leona stands up slowly, stretching as though this whole event is just another inconvenience, though the pride in his stance is unmistakable. He knows exactly what this means, both for you and for him. No one can dismiss him as just the second prince anymore, not after this. Not when someone like you, bound by honor and tradition, chose him. Over everyone else. Over Cheka. Over the kingdom’s expectations

He leans down, close enough that his breath is warm against your ear as he speaks softly, for you alone to hear. “I never thought you’d choose me. But I can’t say I’m not... pleased.”

Your heart does a strange, fluttering thing in your chest at his words, and you dare to meet his gaze, only to find a look there that you’ve never seen before. Something softer. Something real.

Before you can react, he tugs you in close, his arm settling around your waist in a way that feels both possessive and protective. The world narrows to just the two of you, the warmth of his body radiating through your armor. The smug grin he wears is softened by something deeper in his eyes—something that makes your heart skip a beat.

His hand lingers at your side, thumb brushing lightly against your hip, like he's claiming you just as much as you're dedicating yourself to him.

Before you can respond, he turns, still holding you close, and faces the crowd. The murmurs have turned to outright whispers of shock and disbelief, but Leona seems entirely unbothered by the spectacle you've made. In fact, he revels in it.

“This knight is mine,” he declares, his voice steady, ringing with finality. There’s no hesitation, no doubt—just that lazy confidence and a quiet triumph that says he’s more than pleased with your choice.

And in that moment, you know that, despite everything—his pride, his laziness, his gruff exterior—Leona Kingscholar is proud of you. Proud that you chose him, that you saw him, really saw him, when so many others didn’t. And as his arm tightens around you just a little, you can feel it too: the quiet, unspoken promise of what comes next.

A lifetime bound to the second prince—exactly the way you both want it.

Masterlist

he's so special to me :(((

#Leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #leona x you

764 notes · View notes

bee-wg · 4 months ago

Text

Year 3:

Now that I think about it, football has been a constant in my life for five years now. I’m not sure if I enjoy football anymore; it used to be about the fun we have passing the ball, now it’s all about the stats or the perfect form.

I stood up from the bleachers to hand Brad his towel.

“I’m going to leave the team, Brad,” I said.

“What? Where did this come from?” He said frantically.

“Everyone knows I’m still on the team because you’re the team’s captain now,” I said.

“I don’t want to cause tension between you and Coach. There’s nothing I could do wobbling around the field anyway,” I added.

“Dude, you know I started playing football because of you, right?” Brad said.

“Bradley, relax. I’m not dead. You can come over to my house whenever you want.” I said.

“Theo can make you some lemon pudding cakes if you want to come,” hopefully this will calm him.

“Fine. Just so you know, I’m not happy about this,” he said, sounding like a brat.

“Okay, got it. Have fun at the party,” I chuckled.

“I won’t. I’m going to make the DJ play Lana Del Rey,” he said before entering the locker room.

There might be an oversight of me quitting football.

It’s literally the reason why I quit. I don’t know why it never crossed my mind.

How the fuck am I going to lose weight now?

“Maybe I would’ve thought it if the word, “exercise” was anywhere on my to-do list this past year,” the voice from the back of my head said.

Shut up, rational thought. I was just a little too cocky, that’s all.

My mind spins around the paths I could take to shed the fat.

Back to the gym for the bodybuilders to laugh at me jiggling like a puddle of slime on the treadmill.

No. Hard no.

Stop eating whatever Theo puts in front of my face.

Productive, but I’d rather die than miss out on the joy of the world.

Post my weight loss journey edits on social media, reminiscing on my rock-hard abs like a depressed, fat person.

No? No, actually it might just work.

My thumbs got to work. It took me an hour to choose a profile picture that represents me. I could go for a vacation photo by the beach, or the classic black and white moody gym pic. Except, I don’t have a picture of myself on my phone, so I chose the picture of an orange cat eating a banana.

With my camera set up, in my favourite green tank top. I pressed record.

It was an embarrassing experience editing myself, watching my belly sway every time I made a movement. In the end, I closed my eyes and uploaded the video.

“Oh! First comment already.” I said.

“Look at those milkers spilling out the tanks!”

3. Post my weight loss journey edits on social media, reminiscing on my rock-hard abs like a depressed, fat person.

The following weeks consisted of me eating my feelings. At least half of my classes are online this semester. I can be embarrassed in peace.

The pounds kept creeping up with each spoon of ice cream down my throat. In the blink of an eye, I am dangerously close to 300 pounds.

I finally worked up the courage to ask during a normal family dinner.

“Honey, what happened? You’re not eating as fast as usual. Is Theo not cooking enough?” Mom asked.

“No, Mom, I just…I just hope you guys can ease up with your little cooking competitions.”

“Oh honey, you know Theo and I will stop with the food whenever you ask.” Mom tries to reassure me.

“No! Obviously don’t stop the food. It’s just that I’ve been blowing up like a pig and I don’t know what to do about it.” I said.

“I didn’t know you were sad about it. I just want my family to be happy, you look the happiest when you eat,” Mom said

“It wouldn’t have helped when you guys lost for the past two years,” Mom added.

“Well, Dad likes to eat better, and no one eats like him,” I replied.

“I’m sure my cooking was the reason we won. David is a gym teacher, he walks off the food easily,” Mom said.

“Theo is a professional though, no offence but no one on the planet cooks like him. I’m sure football was the reason we lost,” I said, trying to talk some sense into her.

Theo stares at us with wide eyes.

“Jacob, I’m sure you didn’t mean it,” Mom said with a blank face.

“You know what? Keep doing your competition, this time again next year we’ll see who’s the winner,” I said.

I am clearly a failure at losing weight. The only thing I’m good at is eating. If I’m going to gain weight anyway, I’m going to go all out and win this shit once and for all. Once this is settled, I can get back to normal. Not wanting to disappoint Theo when we lose again was probably the thing holding me back. I can’t wait to eat all the delicious things Theo is- I can’t wait for this to be over.

“Alright, Jay,” she turned to Theo and said.

“Theo, my boy. I’m looking forward to seeing the results next year,” Mom said with a determined smile.

Everyone knows not to mess with Mom when she has that look. Even then, I feel like we could still win. Theo’s food is hypnotic already when I am restrained; imagine what it will do to me when I’m going all out.

“What’s going on again?” Dad asked with cheeks full of pasta.

“Don’t worry baby, you just need to eat a little more next year,” Mom answered.

“Okay, as long as I get my lasagnas,” Dad said.

Later at night, struggling to sleep, I contemplated on the bad decisions I’ve made. This one might take the crown to be the stupidest thing I’ve done. Yet, I don’t regret it.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me,” Theo said.

“It’s the least I can do when you wake up early to prep for my food, or go off on the weekends for groceries when you could’ve been doing anything else,” I explained.

“Thank you so much, Jay. You don’t know how much this means to me. My family wanted me to do anything other than cooking, but you guys have been nothing but supportive,” he said.

I smiled at the ceiling. The gremlin is nicer than I remember.

“Now, I won’t allow you to slack anymore with the amount you’re eating. Not until the competition ends.”

Huh?

Theo had stuck to his word and increased the amount he was cooking. I am now eating the amount of three people in each spread-out meal, still lacking behind Dad’s impressive five person’s amount per meal. So I have been playing catch up with him this entire month.

I realized quickly that I had underestimated the gap between Dad and my appetite. In the last few years, for the most part, I have been eating whatever I want, leaving the rest to Dad. With the exception of eating for the team once a week, I have been slacking. That was quite a hard pill to swallow. I’m 300 pounds, yet not doing a good job as a fatass. How is that possible?

So far I have gained about 23 pounds in the past two months. Normally, I would freak out and have a breakdown in bed because I’ve gained more than my freshman year in two months. Right now with my messed up head, all I can think about is how far I am behind. If we lose this again, it would be once and for all, and I would never let myself live this down. Theo deserves better with how good he’s been treating me.

With my new bulk, the stairs have been an increasing challenge. So, a few weeks ago I moved downstairs to a tiny guest room that was converted to a storage room.

The moment I moved down, I could hear Theo’s voice yelling, “Yes, Finally! Goodbye insomnia,” In my old bedroom. Before, I would’ve yelled for the brat to shut up. Now, with my stomach full. I just wanted a nap in peace.

It took me no time to adjust to the new arrangement. With more time home from all the online classes, I get to be as lazy as I want. Dad has a similar arrangement at home. He retired from being a high school gym teacher and football coach, now he tutors history at home. He also abandoned his hobby of brewing in order to laze on the sofa all day.

On weekdays, Theo would leave an abundance of food for me to consume with a list of how I should eat them to expand my capacity. The weekends are like heaven. From the moment I woke up, Theo would prepare delicious appetizers and pancakes for me. From then on, I would have a constant stream of food flowing into my mouth every thirty minutes. Sometimes, I would move my hands and my mouth would start to chew unconsciously. Alarming, but helpful.

My belly started to expand outwards on my lap each day as I sat in front of the computer. The arm rest would feel more snug when I move around.

I have now discovered the perks of being a fatass. I can explore things I never had time to do, like the anime Brad has been begging me to watch, games I always wanted to play. Best of all is to experience all of these without moving an inch. These are the things I would definitely look back on with fondness when the competition ends.

***

Today is my rare outing of the month; the bus is late again but I don’t blame them this time. The downpour of rain is gathering at the clogged sewer, creating a puddle. People are supposed to grow out of stepping in puddles when they’re kids. These undeveloped assholes apparently didn’t. Several cars saw the puddle and decided to splash it straight to my face.

It’s fine. It’s all fine. I will feel better later.

I walked a small trail after getting off the bus.

Great. The angels decide to stop peeing from the heavens when I’m about to get inside.

Dad is buying a new SUV, maybe I can drive it next time. It’s too big to sneak off though.

I thought as I skipped through the stone pathway. The usual grass is covered by the water, creating a small pond.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” I said to the door cam.

After pressing the doorbell several times, it replied.

"안녕, fuck boy. Back so soon?" Number Seven said.

“Yeah, yeah. Just open the damn door,” I said, trying to hurry the fucker.

Number Seven’s face appears in front of me.

“You’re soaked! Come on in,” he said.

His house appears to be orderly. Clean. He must’ve had another fatass here not long ago.

“Woah, you look—Wait, let me guess. Another fifteen pounds since last time?” He asked.

“Come on, let’s cut to the chase. I really need it right now,” I urged.

“Hahaha, not even a shower. Desperate much?” He said.

I walked inside his bedroom, dimmed the lights and took off my shirt.

He walked towards me. Grabbing me by the belly hang in one hand, he pulls down my underwear, causing my ass to vibrate.

“Fuuuuck, can you take it out first?” I asked, trying not to moan.

“Sure, you think you’re ready for me today?” He asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” I answered.

He slid his hand behind, right down my ass crack and slowly pulled the vibrator off. I applied it before leaving home, without accounting for the possibility of the bus delay.

“Mmmmph, fuck,” I groaned.

I’ve been training towards today for a while. In the beginning, I would come to his house and he would suck me off. If I’m feeling experimental, I would suck him off. It stayed like that for about a year and he never complained. Then I asked him for more. He would start fucking me between my moobs or between my ass but never enter. One day, I told him I was ready for him to start fucking me.

Big mistake.

He’s a manwhore for a reason. I didn’t think an 8-inch would be so hard to take. How the girls and twinks take them in porn is beyond me. It was painful when he entered, even when he said he had “loosened my hole” with his fingers. I shouldn’t have believed him, the fucking thing was massive.

After the incident, he gave me small dildos and vibrators to get used to it. We eventually worked our way up the scale until the one he’s holding now. Why did I do all this work to have a men’s dick in my ass? Who knows. I have already accepted that I’ve lost it.

He sucked on my nipple suddenly. The sensation took me by surprise.

“Dude, some warnings please,” I asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Those tits are just so plumped. Your nipples have grown larger than my thumbs now,” he said, about to continue.

“OKAY, I get it. Can you get to work now?” I asked.

My boobs are what everyone thinks about when they see me these days. I’m sick of it.

“Hahahaha, can’t wait to be fucked, my pig?” He said before pushing me down the mattress.

I held my belly to stop it from jiggling.

He raised one of my legs and opened the bottle of lube with his teeth.

“There’s something by the pillow. Put it in your mouth. It will distract you and dull the initial pain,” Number Seven instructed.

I reached out to grab a—frosted pound cake?

I’ve never seen people doing this in porn, but I’m smart enough to know not everything in porn is real.

With my mouth full of cake, I spread out my legs, trying to relax so I don’t end up like last time.

He pushed two fingers in, slowly massaging me, then three fingers to stretch my hole. When the frosting melted in my mouth and I finished the chunk of the cake, he signalled me that he was done.

Another piece of the pound cake fills my mouth when he aligns his cock to my hole. He was right, I was fully consumed by the sweetness to notice any discomfort. I quickly swallowed the cake so he could proceed.

It was unbearably slow as he entered. I don’t understand what all the fuss is about with people bottoming.

He kept asking for reassurance. At this point I just want him to st—

“A-ahhhh oh shiiit!” I moaned.

“Fuuuuuck, what the hell was that?” I screamed.

I must have been too loud and spooked him.

“Are you alright? Sh-should I call an ambulance?” He asked.

“No! Don’t stop, please,” I begged

“Okay, just so you know, I’m not all the way in,” He said.

How? This is already longer than any toys I’ve put in there.

“Gnghhhhh~” I moaned as he thrusts all the way to the bottom.

He kept a steady pace all the way in then almost all the way out, leaving me feeling empty.

“Hurry! Faster,” I asked, almost in tears.

He looked at me with a devious smile and thrust right into the spot.

“Mphn- Yes! Keep going,” I urged.

Every small movement rubbing my G-spot feels like masturbating for hours without release.

He thrusts quicker with more force, causing my belly and moobs to shake violently.

I try to stabilize my belly with my hand before trying to reach my throbbing cock.

“Help, I-aghh fuck, I need to touch my dick,” I asked.

“Let go of your belly, fat boy. Or I’ll stop,” He said.

Immediately, my belly returned to wobble violently.

“I can’t believe you turned into such a pathetic horny mess in such a short time,” He said.

”Come on, Seven. I just need you to hit that spot. Please, I’ll do anything!” I begged.

He keeps deliberately missing it. I need to be fucked there!

“Keep your hands on your nipples,” he ordered.

The over-sensitive nipples drive my weeping cock into a frenzy.

Fuck, I need to touch my cock right now. If only my fucking belly is not on the way.

“You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were the kind of jock to gain a beer belly in college, and not get fat until you turn thirty,” he said, before ramming straight into my prostate.

“Fuuuuck yeahhh,” I said unintelligently.

“You are much more of a pig than I realized,” he said, thrusting straight into it again.

“Helll yeahhh,” I said, trying to rob my ass to his dick.

“How do you feel seeing your bubble butt balloons four times the original size?” He asked, followed by another thrust.

“I fucking love it! I love how it wobbles around whenever I walk!” I said, moving my jiggling ass back to his dick again.

“How do you feel seeing your abs growing before your eyes, knowing you could stop it if you just stop eating?”Another thrust.

“I can’t help it! I love eating too much!” Maybe I am meant to be a fat ass.

“Right answer. Now you’ll get your reward,” he said and sped up, hitting the spot perfectly every time.

I imagine his face to be someone else, someone far from my league.

My cock rubbed against my sensitive underbelly, and I shot out jets of cum for what felt like forever.

As white clouded my vision, a euphoric relief spread over my body, melting me into the mattress.

“You passing out again, fuck boy?” Seven asked.

“No, just enjoying the bliss. I can’t believe so many men in the world are missing out on this,” My hole already feels empty. How am I going to go back from this?

“Aww man, I’m all sticky and shit,” I examined my body, cum shots and rain definitely don’t mix well together. Some of them even got between the fat folds. I swipe my finger in between the fat. “Oof, I stink too.”

Seven looked at me and signed. “You’re somehow still a stupid jock inside.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“I got you the fast food you asked for,” he said.

“Yes!” I rushed to the kitchen.

Ignoring his stupid laugh, I microwaved the burger and fries.

The breeze of the air conditioning reminds me of something.

“Shit, I ran out here naked.”

When I ran back, he had already put my clothes in the dryer, and I got into the shower.

When I got out, Seven brought me an old shirt I left here. It fits me like a glove with half my belly exposed. He stopped laughing when I was about to throw myself on him, then brought out a shirt with the Flash’s symbol on. Probably from another fat ass he fucks. The shirt still looks painted on, revealing the shape of my nipple and the dent of my belly button. At least he’s driving me home.

***

Staying at home has been a life-altering experience.

The only time I ever move is going out of the bed to the desk, or to the bathroom. All I have to do is sit back, relax, and eat some fried food.

With more time with myself. I’ve realized how much I dislike all the people in school that only approached me because I was one of the football jocks. I could’ve been anyone. Now, I am me. Not a worry about whether or not I’m muscular enough like other jocks, just a bigger Jay.

Sitting beside me, Dad scratched his belly and released a belch without a care in the world. He has adapted to fat guy mannerisms quickly. I’m catching up too. Today is movie night, usually we have pizzas and beers. We started this when the football season came, he asked to skip it. It was the first time we’ve skipped watching a Super Bowl season. I guess I’m not the only one losing interest in the sport. We decided to watch the Lin-Manuel Miranda Monkey movie instead.

Being on the couch with Dad made me realize I was getting closer to my goal. I can’t wait to see the results.

***

“Hell yeah, my man, you can do it!” Brad said, slapping my shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I asked

“You said I can come in whenever I like,” he replied.

He’s been breaking into my house for no reason, just to stay on the second floor the entire time doing god knows what.

“I’ve brought some beef jerky here to celebrate,” Brad said.

The scale has been set up, we’re only waiting on Mom. They’re doing some last minute catch up; mom is using a funnel to pour some milkshake in him. I am not concerned though, sticking to Theo’s strict diet every day has not been easy. I have to eat until my stomach is fully bloated. Every morning, I watch my belly deflate a little less, every evening, it bloats even further.

“Don’t worry, Jay. We’ve got this,” Theo assured me.

“By the way, what are we doing again?” Brad asked.

Dad came out, looking absolutely massive. With Mom on his side, he stepped on the scale.

The numbers keep going up and don't seem to be stopping.

300-350-392-400-443

Holy shit, Dad gained a hundred and forty pounds this year.

With more uncertainty, I took my step on the scale.

“Woo-Hoo, Jay man, you got this!” Brad shouted quietly.

I try to look under to see the number, but my belly is too big for me to see the scale.

Theo stepped closer and read.

“Four Hundred and fifty yes!” Theo cheered.

“I won? Yes, finally!” I said and did a little jump.

The scale made a “Pop” noise.

“Oh! Sorry, Mom. I know this is really expensive.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. We need to upgrade anyway,” Mom said, then she walked towards Theo.

“Congratulations Theo, you made me pull out every trick in my book. It’s so nice seeing you improve so much in front of my eyes, in terms, you pushed me to improve too,” Mom said, then hugged Theo.

“I can’t believe my boy is bigger than me now. Excellent work, Jay!” Dad said and hugged me, too.

Last time I was bigger than Dad I had sculpted abs, the body I dreamed of. This time, I’m almost three times the size as I was, fully covered with fat. Yet, I feel less empty inside.

“Thank you Dad,” I said, hugging him back.

After all this time, I finally have a body I like being in. The belly doesn't look so wrong on me anymore.

Chapter 4 ->

#male weight gain #exjock #fit to fat #dadbod

1K notes · View notes

cinematicreid · 3 months ago

Text

office hours

the one where reader is stressed about her exam and Spencer makes her take a break.

wc 786

tags + the rundown: fem!reader, uni!reader, prof!spencer, fluff!, she is a grad student, boyfriend!spencer, we love him!, pet names, i think that’s all

a/n: in case you need a kinktober break! this is not me hiding from the fact that i’m too nervous to post smut! not at all! feedback always welcome, say hi to me, hugs and kisses always.

“You’re distracting me,” you chide, not bothering to look up from your laptop.

“Sorry.”

Spencer isn’t sorry.

He continues to gently blow air on your forehead from across the table as he watches you poorly attempt to focus on studying.

The two of you are holed up in one of the campus library study rooms, which Spencer reserves every other Friday evening to hold office hours for his students.

You rarely join him, given his knack for being a distraction. But it was a slow day, he’d said, and your grad school exam was on Monday.

The problem? Your study guide is nearly twelve pages long and your boyfriend is blowing air at you from across the table.

“I’m going to fail,” you groan, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“You won’t fail,” he says gently, returning to the stack of essays he’s grading.

“Spencer, it’s like I haven’t attended a single class for the past three months. This study guide is stupid.”

“But you have attended class. Every single class. You’re overwhelming yourself by trying to review everything at once.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a headache start to drum in the back of your head.

“And you’ve been staring at your screen for hours without a break. It’s going to give you a headache.”

Damn him.

“Maybe I’m not smart enough for a master’s.”

Spencer hums, unimpressed. You don’t mean it, you both know that.

He sets his pen down, reaches beneath the table and scoops your legs up to rest on his lap.

“You need to take a break, honey,” he begins, running his hands up and down your outstretched calves.

You lower your head to the table, exhausted and defeated.

“I don’t want to take a break, I want to get through this study guide.”

“You’ll have all weekend to study. I’ll help you.”

“But we’re busy this weekend. We need to go grocery shopping, and there’s laundry—why do we own so many clothes? And the closet’s a mess—”

You’re almost too caught up in your ramblings to notice Spencer slowly pulling your laptop toward himself, your calves abandoned. Your head shoots up, and you slam your hands on top of his, glaring at him.

“Do not, Spencer.”

He sighs.

“The closet’s been a mess for weeks. You can’t stress-clean to avoid your test.”

“Says you.”

That earns you a reprimanding look and a poke to your leg.

“And, you do realize that half the things you’re suddenly worried about I can handle, right?”

You stare at your wonderful, slightly-annoying boyfriend.

“You never get the bread I like when you grocery shop.”

He laughs so deep that you can feel his stomach bouncing from where your feet are resting.

“Okay, I’ll make sure to get the bread you like. The point is you don’t need to be pushing yourself like this. It’ll only make your exam go poorly.”

His convincing almost works, until you recall your syllabus. This exam is worth nearly a quarter of your grade.

Spencer watches the train of thought play out on your face, sighing at the chewing you’ve begun on your lip.

You want to cry.

“Angel.”

You ignore him, eyes trained on the table. He nudges your leg with his foot.

“My darling, darling girl.”

Still nothing.

“Baby.”

You finally glance up at him, begging the tears that are prickling the corners of your eyes to retreat.

“Yes?” you manage to whisper.

“Five minutes. Go take a walk outside for at least five minutes.”

“But—“

He gently, firmly, says your name, and you know it’s no use arguing.

“We’ve been in this room for almost three hours. Please.”

He stands, letting your legs fall to the floor and finally closing your laptop, moving it to his side of the table.

He makes his way to you, brushing a single, stray tear from your cheek and pressing a kiss to your forehead as you stand to leave.

“Fine. But because I want to, not because you’re making me.”

He accepts the last of your whining with a soft laugh.

“Of course.”

Spencer is right, because of course he’s right. The evening air immediately eases the tension in your shoulders, and five minutes quickly turn into twenty. By the time you make your way back, Spencer and his car are waiting outside the library.

“Office hours are over. Do you feel better?”

He gets out of the driver’s seat to open your door. You give him a smile and a nod, a grateful kiss on his arm as you settle in.

“I’m glad, baby. Dinner?”

“Yes, please. You’ve had me locked in that room for three hours, I’m starving.”

He laughs, closing the door behind you.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #rina writes #spencer reid fluff

382 notes · View notes

rambling-at-midnight · 20 days ago

Text

Nightlight

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason comes home to find the reader dealing with an ocular migraine as they finish an assignment due at midnight. He takes care of you.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: non-graphic references to past injuries.

Jason tumbled through the apartment window with a black eye and a newfound appreciation for Duke. Fewer criminals tried their luck during the day, yes, but those that did were arguably crazier than the ones that used darkness to hide.

Speaking of using darkness to hide…

Jason squinted. Every light in the apartment had been turned off. Had you gone to sleep? It wasn’t that late.

He called your name, vigilante-honed instincts prickling as he clomped further into the living room. “You here?”

“Yeah,” came your voice from inside the bedroom. You sounded annoyed, though Jason couldn’t figure out why. When he’d left in the morning, you’d been perfectly cheerful, assuring him that you would spend the day catching up on homework so the two of you could have an interruption-free Saturday. He’d only patrolled today because Duke offered to look over Crime Alley while Jason was gone. All the other little shits Bruce adopted wouldn’t do it.

Jason cautiously pushed open the bedroom door. You sat on the bed, the only source of light in the room your glowing laptop screen. It lit up your face and the thick glasses perched on the bridge of your nose.

Ah.

Jason was pretty sure he knew what was going on. Still, just to make sure: “Your head hurt, honey?”

You just grunted.

Jason’s lips twisted. He never liked seeing you in pain, of course, but it was sometimes… ironic how a headache could put you in such a bad attitude when you could handle other kinds of pain without batting an eye. He hated seeing you in pain, of course, went out of his way to make sure that you stayed safe and happy and healthy, but an unavoidable part of life was discomfort.

After scalding your hand on the side of a pan on the hot stove, you’d asked him for assistance making the rest of dinner, with only your white-pressed lips an indication of the pain. Dinner went unfinished, of course, when Jason saw the burn and took you to Leslie, despite your loud and vocal protests that all would be fine. Then when your hand slipped while chopping cucumbers for a midday snack and the knife drove deep into two fingers, almost to the bone, you just called to Jason that you would be back in a little while. He’d been occupied with a book on the couch, and it wasn’t until your absence made him twitchy that he checked your location to see you at the hospital.

That had been a heart attack and a half. He checked over you every time you left the apartment now.

Hmm. There was a common theme with your injuries, actually. Maybe Jason should just keep you out of the kitchen.

Through all that pain, you kept on a good face and a better attitude, more focused on calming Jason than yourself. But as soon as a migraine came on, you scowled at him for opening the door. For talking. For breathing too loudly. Heaven forbid he shut a door with more than the quietest of clicks, for fear of a loud and exaggerated huff from you.

“It would hurt less if you turned off that laptop,” he pointed out.

You scowled. Migraines shorten your temper. “I have to finish this essay.”

“Couldn’t you take a nap and finish it in a couple hours?”

“It’s due in a couple hours,” you snapped. “Do you even know what time it is?”

Jason checked his watch and, shit, he’d stayed out a lot longer than he’d meant to. It was nearly nine, and this essay was due at midnight. Taking a nap wasn’t really an option.

He slipped off his boots, then padded further into the room until he could peer over your shoulder at the screen of your laptop. “You’re nearly there,” he said encouragingly. It had to be five pages, and you were at the end of four.

“I know,” you said, then sniffed and wrinkled your nose. “You smell like shit.”

“Yeah, well, the Gotham sewers aren’t known for their—”

You let out a little shriek and pushed off the knee he’d propped up on the bed. “You were in the sewers today and you got into our bed without changing?”

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” Jason said hastily. “No, I didn’t go into the sewers.”

You eyed him with no small amount of suspicion, but evidently love and trust and everything else that people felt when they dated, yada, yada, won out. “Well, go shower anyway.”

He pointed at you faux-sternly. “You better have that finished by the time I’m done.”

You pretended to snap at the tip of his finger, but he didn’t flinch. You rolled your eyes, which obviously hurt, judging by your flinch and that you immediately closed them. “Yes, yes,” you said. “Glad you’re home safely and all.”

“Oh, my beautiful love, your cup doth overflow with affection,” Jason said drily.

“May yours overflow with poison,” you muttered.

The bed dipped when Jason leaned back over to you, propping himself with his hands and one knee; you sat in the very middle of the mattress, just slightly out of reach from the sides. He pressed his lips to the side of your head, both to kiss and to judge your temperature. No fever. It was just a migraine. It didn’t stop him from worrying. “Should I be worried the next time you bring me a cup of coffee, darling mine?”

“Just go shower,” you muttered. When Jason shuffled back, one finger crooked in the collar of his jacket, and a pair of soft lips pressed into the corner of his mouth. Jason blinked at the not-quite kiss. “Love you and all that.”

“I love you too.” He tried for a real kiss, but you swatted him away, informing him sternly that you had to submit the essay on time and couldn’t have him distracting you. “Did you take any meds?”

Your silence was answer enough.

“What about water?”

Again no response.

“Well, no wonder,” Jason muttered under his breath, slipping out of the bedroom and into the kitchen for a cup, and then into the bathroom for the painkillers kept in the cabinet. You took what he offered with little complaint, focused on typing.

Jason showered quickly. He always had. You were the opposite. He had no idea what you even did when you stood under the stream of water for forty-five minutes. He emerged from the bathroom with a gust of steam—while neither of you agreed about the optimal length of a shower, you both agreed about the best temperature. Hot water was a valuable commodity growing up. Jason would never forget to appreciate it.

The room was entirely dark, your laptop discarded. Jason flipped the switch for the bathroom light and squinted as his eyes adjusted. You were back on your side of the bed, not curled on your side as you usually slept, but rather on your back with an arm thrown over your eyes. It took you much longer than that to fall asleep, but Jason made sure to move silently. He pulled aside the covers and slipped in as gently as possible, but you still let out a sound, drowsy-soft and innocent in the way Jason could never be. He wiggled under the covers until his shoulder brushed yours, then turned onto his side. The pillowcase was already growing damp from his wet hair, but he didn’t care. With his eyes adjusting to the darkness, Jason could make out the angles and planes that made up the face he loved.

Your mouth twitched. “I can feel you staring,” you murmured.

“Can’t help it,” Jason whispered. “I ever tell you you’re pretty?”

“Mm. Maybe a couple times?”

“Let me do it once more.” Jason lifted the arm over your eyes to kiss your temple. “You’re so pretty sometimes I look at you and think I’m just going to die.”

“I think that’s the poison affecting you, actually.”

You rubbed your eyes, wincing. When you had migraines, you’d told him, it felt like sandpaper rubbing in your eye sockets and a hammer beating from the inside of your skull. Jason didn’t really understand when you described your vision going staticky, but it made him nervous. Unfortunately, despite his many requests, Bruce refused to investigate whether summoning a humanoid form of the concept of migraines and killing it was possible. Probably because it probably wasn’t.

“I’d ask you how patrol went, but I really don’t want to hear anything right now,” you whispered.

“If you really want to hear about it, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“I do,” you said, more a sigh than any actual words. “You’re warm.” You scooted closer and Jason hummed, dipped down to press his lips to your shoulder, then rested his cheek against it. Your legs tangled with his. An eternal question: how were your feet always so frigid?

“No more talking,” he said gently. “Just sleep.” It was the only cure he’d figured out for the headaches.

Instead of a response, your other arm wedged beneath Jason so he could use it as a pillow. He slung an arm over your waist; your fingers drifted along his scalp. “Ugh. Your hair’s wet.”

Jason smiled. “Yeah, I just showered. Now shh.”

Never a good sleeper, it took the better part of an hour for your hands to still in Jason’s hair—it would look ridiculous come morning—and your breathing to even out. When he was reasonably confident that you were asleep, he lifted his head. Yep. Your face finally looked relaxed.

Jason allowed himself to follow after you into sleep.

He woke to the sound of a toaster beeping and the smell of coffee. Bleary-eyed, he rolled over to see you standing in the doorway with two mugs. “Morning,” he grunted.

“Morning,” you said, obviously recovered and in a much better mood. “Here.”

“Wow, what did I do to get the breakfast-in-bed treatment?” Jason raised an eyebrow. “You really trying to poison me, honey?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.” After Jason took a sip, you pressed a kiss to his lips, morning breath and all. “If I was going to poison you, it wouldn’t be with something in your drink. That’s too obvious.”

Jason chuckled and tried to sit up, the movement of which slopped coffee over the edge of his mug and onto his shirt. He hissed. “You’re hilarious.”

“You certainly think so,” you pointed out, one eyebrow raised.

He took another sip of the coffee and asked, “Feeling better today?”

“Yes.”

“And you finished your essay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Jason flushed when you just kept looking at him. “What? I got something on my shirt—besides the coffee?”

“Nothing,” you hummed, drinking from your own cup. “Just thinking I’m lucky to have you, I guess.”

Jason tried to hide the color in his cheeks with the coffee mug by taking a generous gulp, but he was pretty sure it didn’t work, judging by the way you took it, set them both on the stand by the bed, and cupped his face with your hands. You squeezed his cheeks together, making him give you the ‘pufferfish face,’ or so you called it. “Thanks for taking care of me,” you said, then kissed his puckered lips. “Now, tell me how patrol was.”

“Before or after you set our kitchen on fire?”

“What do you—oh, shit!”

You scrambled out of the room to get to the smoking toaster before it set off the fire alarm in the whole building. A terrible thought crossed Jason’s mind, and he threw the blankets off his legs and chased after you. “Whatever you do, Y/N, do not try to get that toast out with a fork!”

He really needed to keep you out of the kitchen.

DC Taglist

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts @cliosunshine @fictionalwhor3 @bellathecatastrophe

My requests are open! Feel free to shoot me an idea or just stop by to say hi!

#reader insert #jason todd #jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you

402 notes · View notes

pedgito · 6 months ago

Text

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 | Javier Pena x reader

summary | this is my own entry for the summer lovin' challenge, somehow torturing myself further by writing a fic amongst all my other wips and helping organize this challenge. there's sweaty javi p and office sex, that's all you need to know.

content warning | heavy smut, teasing upon teasing upon teasing, lots of mentions of heat/sweat, perfect use of ice in a situation like this, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, public-ish sex

word count — 5k

You curse quietly over your second paper cut of the day, nursing your pointer finger between your lips and silently reprimanding yourself for agreeing to help Steve—he was good at begging, you could give him that, and a hell of a sweet talker when he wanted to be. He always wore you down, a promise of coffee every day for a week on him, or lunch the following day, anything to sweeten the deal. This time it was neither.

“I rescheduled twice already,” He’s pointed out the reasons on his fingers, extending them out as he numbers them and using his finger to add emphasis as he pressed down on them as he went, “we finally have someone to watch Olivia for us this evening, and you know, you won’t even be alone—Pena’s staying late.”

He wiggled his three fingers like it was the best deal you’ve ever been offered, a smile growing on his face as he attempted to pass over the file that you took with reluctance, blowing out a puff of air and clutching it to your chest, arms crossed over the manila folder as you glance at your dainty watch—four in the afternoon. Not bad. Not great, either. You’ve stayed later—given your commute is only about five minutes. You tended to pick up the slack, for everyone, but mostly those boys. You weren’t sure how it ended up this way, but even Carillo acknowledged it.

You did grunt work, small and miniscule things in the lives of two DEA agents who were out in the field hunting a notorious cartel leader every day—but you, you were dealing with papercuts and carpal tunnel, it wasn’t nearly as comparable.

And Javier Pena made sure to remind you every chance he had.

You pluck at the group of files labeled La Quica and El Limon, a hefty collection of data that has been compiled for the past several months and felt never ending—you were nearing the point of understanding every piece of information in this room back to front, knowing far too much about the cartel than you originally intended. It was terrifying; even seeing the look on either of the men’s faces when they returned back from a hard day of busts and undercover work.

And, maybe Javier just figured you didn’t care or wouldn’t be able to comprehend half of what was stored away in these files—but he sure wasn’t quiet about it.

It’s been around an hour now, tearing through the unorganized mess that the file room had become.

Mumbling the names under your breath as you drag your finger over the sticky note and kneeling down until your practically on all fours, digging through a box on the floor with your head tucked and oblivious to Javier as he rounds the corner to the secluded room, heavy footsteps falling on deaf ears, too entranced in the task to notice him.

He clears his throat with distinction and your head snaps up, looking clearly disturbed and annoyed—Javier offers a superficial smile and points a finger at the pile on the floor, his shoulder leaned against one of the tall shelves holding boxes upon boxes of crucial information.

Your eyebrows raise in expectation, head shaking slightly at him as you urge him to speak and get on with whatever comment he was dying to make as he continued to stare down, licking his lips briefly before they finally part and—

“Those the files we’ve been asking for?”

That Steve has been asking for—Not Javier, never Javier. He’s too macho and mighty for paperwork and sitting at a desk all day.

“It is part of them,” You say with emphasis, “I still have an entire section to go through. Steve asked me to pull everything we have on those two.”

“Well, everyone’s leaving—and I know where most of the shit is. I got it, you can head out.”

You seethe, jaw clenched and your eyebrow furrows as you stand, a pile of strewn papers in your arms.

“You know, instead of going through Steve to have me fetch the stuff you need—I don’t know, you could just man up and ask me directly.”

He has no idea what you’re talking about.

Except, he does.

He’s shoved off work to Steve who was enough of a pushover for his friend and partner, to pick it up when he had time, but this time it had landed on a busy day, a busy weekend, there just wasn’t enough time for him to handle it.

“La Quica, El Limon—Carillo was talking to you about them this morning. What’s got you so tied up that you couldn’t handle it yourself?” You ask accusatory, back turned to him as you walk toward the table in the center of the room.

“We’ve got leads to check out, muñequita.”

Out of your wheelhouse. Yeah—Okay, that explains it.

You roll your eyes at the nickname and drop the stack with a distinct thunk before moving past him, narrowly avoiding his broad shoulders as you walk past him, through the half-open door as you grab for one of the styrofoam cups on the water dispenser before spooning the ice into it and filling it with water, sipping with a distinct look of disdain as you eye Javier up and down, seeing that he’s followed you over, half in the doorway and half out.

“If you’re going to stand there the least you could do is help me,” You tell him, “that way we can both get out of here faster and not have to spend any more time together than we need to.”

“It’ll be faster if I do it myself,” He tells you, a metaphorical shoo-ing away as he nods toward the stairwell at the end of the hall, “I know this room like the back of my hand.”

“Have you been in here lately? It’s a mess. No one ever puts anything back in the right spot.”

Javier’s got his signature pout on, looking downtrodden and pathetic behind his thick mustache perched on his upper lip, the constant look of being unimpressed by everything.

“I’m not leaving, Javier. You’re welcome to help, stay late, whatever—but I’ve been in this room, in this heat for an hour already and you’re not about to swoop in and snatch the credit for something you couldn’t be bothered doing yourself in the first place, alright?”

Javier looks surprised at that, not as much by the bite in your tone but the lack of snide comment, not calling him an asshole or a prick and storming off. Again, you brush past him with your drink in hand and take your seat, feeling the thin layer of sweat covering your body—it wasn’t that unbearable, but another hour and you would be a hell of a lot more crankier.

“Fine—” You respond, eyes tracking elsewhere as he moves form his place against the open door, only catching the lingering shadow of the door as it closed until it was far too late, “fuck, Javi! The—”

A loud click and Javier’s reaction time, given his ability to pull out a gun and have it propped at the ready in half a second, is far too slow. He turns, seeing the now closed door and turns back to you.

“Door,” You say, voice falling flat.

Javier backtracks and heads for the door, hoping and praying this was one of the days it wouldn’t lock—it was a tricky thing. Only working half of the time. Luckily, any other time it was during the day, surrounded by people who could help. But, now—it’s the two of you and no one else.

If you were pissed at Javier before, you were fuming now.

He jiggles the doorknob. Nothing. Fist pounding against the door. Nothing.

A quick shout out to anyone. Anything. Hoping someone would still be near.

Nothing. Not a sound.

“We’re stuck,” You sneer at him, “—sit down or that jiggling is going to drive me insane.”

He kicks the door for good measure, hoping by some miracle it might actually pop open.

You huff out an exhausted laugh under your breath and spread your hands out over the files, sorting out the important information and pictures from the notes and extra files that weren’t really needed. Javier approaches slowly and you take a sip of the water, thankful that you were at least able to reward yourself with that before you ended up in this mess.

Javier takes a look at his own watch and clicked his tongue before resigning to the fact that things weren’t going to go his way, dancing his fingers along the edge of the table as he took a seat, fingertips pressed into the surface as he settled, watching you casually under the flickering overhead light.

A few minutes slowly turn into several, quiet aside from the occasional shuffling of paper or sips of your water and you find that when no one else is around, Javier isn’t a total asshole. There’s no harsh quip or snide comment being lobbed your way but you can also tell that he’s just as frustrated as you, knowing that he needed to sift through this intel too.

But, the heat was sweltering—so distracting and despite the setting sun outside, had you reaching for a few buttons on your blouse as you leaned back, sighing as you picked up an empty file folder and fanned yourself in earnest, exposing your neck as you hung your head back.

You don’t hear Javier, but you feel him. His eyes on you as you lift your head back up.

Bewilderment. Annoyance. You can’t place it in the moment, he doesn’t even speak. But, you find yourself responding anyway.

“What? It’s hot.”

Javier throws a casual hand up in defense but his eyes follow your hand as they descend into your styrofoam cup, water long gone but the ice standing strong. You take a piece and cup it in your palm before rubbing it over your neck, instantly sighing at the crisp cold touch of it against your skin and aptly ignoring how it drips down the valley of your breasts, looking up to catch Javier at just the right time, his eyes looked on your movements and more pointedly—your chest.

“Here, try it,” You tell him, noticing the sheen of sweat on his neck, “it helps.”

He plucks a cigarette out of his half-empty pack and places it between his lips.

“I’m good.”

“Suit yourself, “ You shrug, but quickly lean forward to pluck the cigarette from his mouth and place it down on the table, “–hey, can you not?”

Javier looks at you in disbelief, snatching the cigarette off the table and tucking it away anyways.

“You smoke in this place all day, you can at least wait until we’re out of here.”

“Do you ever loosen up?” Javier pokes at you daringly, “I mean, what does it really take for you to pull that skirt out of your ass?”

“Not you,” You reply sharply, a smile spreading across your face, “but, putting away the cigarette is a start.”

Javier leans back in the chair with a dignified sigh, scratching at his forehead in frustration at the lack of progress and the fact that he literally has no way out of here.

“You know, he’s been off the grid for three weeks,” You speak out loud, knowing that Javier is well aware, “is there really anything in here that is going to help? Or is it just that all of the leads are dead?”

His demeanor breaks slightly, a shuffle in his shoulders as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Both—maybe. This shit is probably pointless.”

“And that’s why you wanted me to take care of it,” You respond conclusively, “but you’re impatient—you don’t have to argue with me, I know you are.”

“Really, muñequita, you think you know me so well?” Javier asks testingly, tongue swiping over his bottom lip, “What else do you know about me?”

“That you like your ego boosted,” You retort, “and I’m not about to do that. So—”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Javier says with a smirk, eyes glinting with a faint, creeping darkness.

“Shut up,” You say in a clipped town before looking around curiously, “and what are we supposed to do now? Sleep here? I really can’t believe you fucking locked us in.”

“No, no—” Javier's finger wags in a motion that makes you want to bite them off, jaw clenching forcefully, “if you hadn’t wasted so much time then maybe we could have flagged down someone.”

“Okay, but you still let that door close.”

Once again, both arms crossed over your chest, a staredown is initiated.

It wasn’t the first, it wasn’t the last, but you wanted to ruin him.

Knock him down a beg—hell, kick him off the pedestal and wipe the goddamn floor with him.

That stupid smirk, the boiling tone of cockiness wrapped in self-righteousness.

“Don’t think too hard, cariño.”

You huff out a half-impressed laugh and organize the files after a moment, stacking them to the side and reaching into your cup for another piece of your melting ice, repeating the same motion as earlier as you slide the ice between your breasts, but with the immense amount of eye contact you didn’t give Javier the first time.

Stubborn girl. He knew that much about you.

Javier doesn’t break immediately, but the small flex in his jaw, the slightest of cracks in his hard exterior.

Attack. Attack. Attack.

You wipe your arm against your sleeve, subconsciously pressing your breasts together in the process and Javier looks like he might keel over, eyes flicking up to meet your gaze now—he’s been caught. Gazing. Admiring. Seering to his memory for a later time.

You’re not really sure but you’re not going to let him off easy either.

“Now, Pena—Don’t think too hard.” You tell him in a sickly sweet tone, “It’s just a pair of tits.”

I don’t bite—you want to add. But, you don’t.

Because even if you found Javier attractive…there was just no way.

No. Not possible.

“What is it?” Javier asks curiously, seemingly snapped out of his stupor, and meeting your gaze like he hadn’t just been staring directly at your breasts for far too long. “About me, I mean?”

You raise an eyebrow, finger circling the styrofoam cup as you center on the table.

“What?” You ask with a soft laugh of disbelief. “It’s—it isn’t your looks, Javier. It’s all of you. You undermine me, you treat me like a fucking lap dog. I might be a bitch but—I am not your bitch.”

He wasn’t expecting that intense of a response, it felt even more eerie as your tone continued on steadily. He considers interrupting but you continue, holding a finger up to stop him.

“You know—I transferred here to help with the assignment, collect the intel and take down Pablo Escobar just like you, but for some reason, you seem to think I’m just a personal assistant. Or one of the few receptionists who all want to throw themselves at you.”

“There something wrong with that?”

You roll your eyes in silence, but the gesture is loud.

“Did I say there was?” You counter, “I think the problem for you is that it isn’t me. That someone might actually find you repulsive, right?”

Javier only looks slightly dumb-founded, following your movements as you stand and fetch the stack of files, returning them to their make-shift home for the moment, buried away on a shelf that could be reorganized later—he turns in his chair, glaring right back at you when you turn on your heels.

“Your legs don’t work?” You ask him, nodding toward thfew smaller stacks of files scattered about the table, “If you want to get the work done so bad, clean up—or do you want me to—”

“I. Got it.” Javier responds stiffly, standing on his own two feet. He scoops up the remaining files and puts them away opposite of the shelf you had, resting a palm on an empty spot as you lean back to pick up a stray piece of paper. “But, don’t act like I don’t see you kissing Carillo’s—”

You stand and shove the paper into his chest, “Finish that sentence and you will regret it, Javier.”

“It’s alright. No shame in your game and all that.”

Fuck this.

You reach for the cup of melted ice, splashing it promptly in Javier’s face before crushing the cup in your hand out of frustration, a moment of frozen realization coming to you.

Had you actually just done that?

Javier blinks, looking down at his soaked front before promptly removing his jacket in haste watching as you slowly back away, slightly disturbed by his calmness until he’s rearing on you.

Slowly—oh, so fucking slow.

Your chest rises in slow, deep breaths and is nearly hanging off your shoulders by now, riddled with red, hot rage.

“Tell me I don’t make you even a little bit nervous, muñequita.”

Is this a challenge? Is this what he’s worried about?

“You don’t.”

Your response is quick, but you find yourself pressed against a file cabinet and a few inches of free space before he’s right there—so close you can feel the heat of his body, your heart races slightly.

Okay, maybe just…a little.

“Again,” Javier beckons, a sneer to his tone as he crowds you in—“Look at me and say it.”

And for the love of god, the words never come.

“You let me flirt with you because you like it. Never correct me when I give you those little nicknames—look at you, you can’t even deny it.”

A half-truth. You didn’t mind it, but it wasn’t some sort of sustenance keeping you alive. Besides, it didn’t make up for half of the times he’s belittled you in front of your shared boss.

The heat is suffocating now and Javier’s eyes follow the trail of sweat down your neck, over your breasts, watching your fingers twitch at your side because—

Why do you feel the need to touch him so badly now?

To receive that touch in return and tenfold.

“¿Qué pasa, pobrecita?”

His fingers curl around the edge of the file cabinet behind you, barricading you between the wall and him and if you decided to show any signs of discomfort you knew Javier would back off in a heartbeat—you didn’t even need to say anything.

“Is that what it took?” You ask, voice soft in the small gap he’s created, eyes softening slightly as he hears you speak, “Being locked in here with me, nothing else to do—that’s what it takes for you to see me as anything other than some lowly little assistant to you?”

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” Javier says fondly, holding back a chuckle in his throat before his free hand is reaching for your neck and forcing your chin up and back, his thumb rubbing into the soft spot where your jaw twitches under his touch, swallowing hard.

“I thought you hated me.”

“I can say the same for you,” Javier responds, tilting his head slightly.

You’re so hot under his touch, skin clammy and wet from the ice and broken AC.

“I’m not saying I don’t.”

Javier presses his body against you slowly, your hands reaching for his shirt instinctively, curling into the fabric and feeling it stick to his skin, feel the weight of his chest against yours, and the very obvious strain of his slacks against your thin pencil skirt.

“And I never said I did,” Javier counters, “doesn’t change the fact that you get under my skin, querida.”

Javier leans in slow, that heavy eye contact never breaking until he’s there—nose pressed against your own and you sigh, breathing into his mouth as your eyes fall closed and he knows.

His lips are soft, careful. It feels like a test.

Your resolve melts in an instant, damning Javier for whatever spell he’s placed on you but you want more, hands skirting slowly up his front until they’re molding around his neck, kissing back with a similar eagerness, still laced in trepidation.

Things ramp up quickly, Javier’s fingers finding the edge of your shirt where it’s tucked into your skirt, pulling it free and squeezing at your sides, forcing your ass down against his knee from where it's tucked between your legs, somehow finding its way there in the chaos.

“Jav—Javier,” You breathe, pulling away, “maybe—maybe this isn’t the best place…”

Your eyes trail toward the camera tucked away in the corner of the room, knowing that it had to have some pretty damning evidence by this point—the list was long and you tried not to think about it for too long before Javier’s voice is pulling you back.

“That thing hasn’t worked in weeks,” He reassures and the flickering light above dims slightly, almost on cue, “are you scared of getting caught?”

You shake your head slowly and his smile grows, lips pressed against your own as he speaks and his hands tight at your hips, pressing your core right at the center of his thigh and pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched over your ass. You throb at the pressure, breathing out shakily.

“Then let go, muñequita,” He coos.

You hum, breath catching as he pushes his thigh up, your hips instinctively rocking against the pressure and if the heat weren’t already overwhelming, you would’ve passed out from that alone.

“It’s cute,” His hands aid your movement, a slow but steady rock of your hips as you furrow your brow at his voice, “—yeah that, you do that little thing with your brow whenever I talk to you.”

“Because I can’t s—stand you,” You voice falters, feeling him pick up the pace slightly to match your sudden eagerness, months without a proper sexual partner outside of yourself and you couldn’t help but be just a little bit more open to the idea of fucking someone who wasn’t your first option, or second—not even your last. Javier was nowhere on your list, actually.

But, here he was. Offering himself over to you.

Besides, you had an entire night stuck alone with him—it wasn’t the worst way to entertain yourselves.

“Doesn’t seem that way right now,” Javier counters, his ego shining through.

“Stop. Talking.” You plead, hands pulling at the seam of buttons on his shirt, pulling at it roughly in two quick, forceful movements until it splits open, mangling some of the buttons in the process but if upsets him, he doesn’t say a word.

Instead, he rips it away just as quick, pulling his leg away to descend to his knees, pushing your blouse up your chest until he can reach bare skin, mouthing at the soft skin of your stomach and—christ, it’s distracting. He yanks at the short zipper on your skirt, making a small noise of happy acknowledgement when he’s able to get it undone and pull your skirt down the rest of the way, breath hot over your underwear as he stares up at you, fingers curled around the thread at your hips.

You nod silently and he presses his mouth against your center, teasing kisses along your inner thighs that slowly turn into playful bites until you’re nearly squirming, begging with a softer version of his name that you never tried to let him catch you using.

“Javi, please.”

He pulls your panties down your legs, over your heels and to the floor with little care, too focused on settling your leg over his shoulder before a hand is curling over the top of your thigh, fingertips digging in as he licks a broad stripe through the center of your pussy, his other hand balled into the fabric of your shirt and you need less—less clothing, less restriction.

You fumble with your buttons, head falling back against the metal of the filing cabinet with a sigh as the tip of his tongue slides over your clit and down, a motion he repeats several times in your poor attempts to undress and chuckles against you when you curse, finally getting your top unbuttoned and letting it sag at your shoulders, your fingers buried in his hair as he groans, lapping at you eagerly as his hand rises blindly until he can squeeze at your breast.

You moan loudly, instinctively covering your mouth at the sound as Javier pulls back in subtle shock himself, surprised that you allowed yourself to be so vocal about how he was affecting you.

“Not a fucking word, Javi.” You berate him, pushing a finger into his forehead gently which he takes in stride, laughing quietly.

“No one is here.” He reminds you, “Listen.”

And you do, Javier slowly rising to his feet and pressing his lips against the side of your neck, working at his belt in time, shucking his pants open just enough for you to slip your hand into his boxers, gripping his cock tight in your hand—still, absolute silence.

“Let me fuck you,” Javier begs—begs with fervor, his breath hot against your ear, “please?”

You nod jerkily, feeling him settle his slacks just low enough that they aren’t a nuisance and pulling the thigh that was resting over his shoulder around his hip, his fingers digging into your ass as you tug at him testingly, enjoying the look on his face when you squeeze a little harder than he’s expecting, enjoying the heavy weight of him in your hand.

“Oh, I can fuck that hate right out, querida ” Javier admonishes, “don’t try me.”

“I dare you,” You challenge him, using your free hand to pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a soft grunt in return, “—just remember to pull out, yeah?”

Javier full on snorts at that, a noise muffled into your neck when he leans forward, guiding himself to press against your cunt before he sinks in, both of your momentary hostility turning to full bliss.

His hand curves around the back of your head, a simple gesture but maybe more of a warning, his hips snapping into you suddenly, quickly, jostling you against the hard surface. He was protecting your head from the sharp edge of the cabinet and you almost laughed at the thought, but his impatient, fevered movements are sending you into a spiral, eyes rolling back.

“Stay with me,” He teases softly, lips at the base of your neck, “want you to look at me while I fuck you.”

And you do, boldly, despite how your heart races. You let your body do the work, shutting your mind off for the moment—the hesitation, the worry, the regret that would hit you five minutes after this was over.

You don’t remember it feeling like this, either. The full body sensation, his gaze heating you from the inside out, your thumb slipping over his bottom lip curiously, his teeth biting down gently on the digit as he fucks you deeper into the surface of the cabinet, if that was possible.

There are no words, just sounds—moans that could be heard across the bullpen if someone was close enough and Javier, who is plenty vocal and has shown himself to be, can’t even form words, grunting with every few sharp snaps of his hips, fucking you so thouroughly it aches.

“Touch yourself,” He instructs, “let me see, muñequita. Wanna know.”

It doesn’t matter if he’s thought about it before—or, if somewhere in the deep, dark shadows of your mind that you might have had the same thought about him too.

There is no convincing, feeling yourself so on the edge already that it wouldn’t take much. And it doesn’t, your hand descending until your fingers graze over your clit, steadily bringing yourself closer and closer, legs shaking under Javi’s grip until he has to bear most of your weight as you come, blunt fingernails digging into his shoulder as you cry out. And he’s there too, so close and hanging on by a thread, the unsteady thrust of his hips a tell-tale sign.

Your heart is racing, mind too, and the words that come out aren’t anything of rational thinking.

“In my mouth,” You tell him, sounding more earnest than you ever have.

“You sure?”

You laugh through the exhaustion.

“Are you really questioning that?”

He shakes his head in amusement before he’s patting the back of your neck gently and urging you to your knees, jerking himself into your open mouth a few seconds before he’s coming, somehow managing to keep the moment tender as he holds your chin and squeezes gently, watching you swallow down the heady taste of him with your eyes locked on his.

“So, what now?” You ask jokingly, taking the hand he offers to you after a moment of him tucking himself back into his jeans, cursing when you shoulder bumps a stack of files on the way up, dropping them to the floor in a pile.

Javier fetches your clothes and hands them over, redressing himself before plucking at the files hastily.

You’re nearly dressed when you hear him curse behind you.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Hm?” You turn on your heels, busy tucking your shirt back into your skirt when you spot the item in his hands—a small gold key. “Well—don’t fucking stare at it. Try it.”

Javier approaches the door with quick footsteps, followed by your softer ones as you slip on your heels, gasping as the key turns in the lock and suddenly—the past couple of hours dissipates in an instant.

“Look at it this way,” Javier says lightly, “we’d still be stuck in here otherwise.”

Being that, if he hadn’t fucked you against the filing cabinet you’d be spending your night sleeping on the murky carpet of the file room floor—so, as usual, Javier Pena saves the day.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Javier suggests, “it’s the least I could do.”

“I live like three blocks away from—”

“Humor me?”

You chew at your bottom lip hesitantly.

Javier reaches forward suddenly, soothing the worry with his thumb.

“Pobrecita, if it isn’t all gone, we can try again?”

You slap his hand away gently, wordlessly taking his offer as you step past him, watching as his smile grows to a satisfied grin.

“You didn’t say no,” He adds.

Maybe he hadn’t fucked all of the hate out of you, but it was a start.

↝ special thanks to @undercoverpena for taking a look over this for me <3

↝ divider credit: yours truly.

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #SummerLovin24 #my writing

754 notes · View notes