#i thought that they would be kissing kissing but idk this is somehow even better

[misfithive]

OH MY GOD S1 S2 S3 - we finally have them all and it’s so perfect I could cry.

[sortagaysortahigh]

Jealousy, Jealousy | Joaquin Torres

A/N: Heyyyy, finally got that freaked out Joaquin smut for yall, but who would I be if I didn't fill it with plot?!?! I present to you, delulu jealous Joaquin Torres, enemies to lovers(ish), with some freaky deaky smut and my amazing comedic timing (pls laugh or ill cry). Also this is hella fanon but does contain a few minor thunderbolts/cabnw spoilers. And I did in fact make it so the world didn't forget my bby Peter Parker BECAUSE HE DESERVED BETTER GOD DAMNIT! Also thx to the super hot and secksi chicken @love-chx for beta-ing half of this, mwah <3

Summary: It was as if every single thing you did irritated Joaquin Torres, you didn't even have to say anything to him, your presence alone was enough to tick him off. Don't get him started on your relationship with Peter Parker either.

Warnings: spelling and grammar errors, cursing, 2nd person POV, Joaquin's a total dick, Joaquin also has a big dick, mentions of Sam and Buckys divorce </3, the reader is a total flirt, mentions of Tony Stark </3, Smut: hair pulling, fish hooking, finger sucking, spitting, spitting in someones mouth, oral (fem receiving), munch!joaquin, minor male masterbation, ass eating if you squint, fingering, kissing, unprotected p in v, creampies, minor breeding kink (joaquin torres YOU ABSOLUTE FREAK!), panty/pussy sniffing, missionary, doggy style, praise, dirty talk, overstimulation, girl i think thats it idk man this was triffling

Word count: 12.7k

Joaquin Torres x Fem!Witch!Reader

Bark bark bark omg ok anyways heres the fic:

Joaquin Torres has always considered himself a pretty good person, his ultimate goal in life has always been to help people and to be a hero. He knows how to use his intelligence and skill set for good, he’s done more than enough to prove himself as the new ‘Falcon’ and from the feedback he’s received, he’d done a damn good job at being a hero, and most importantly, being an Avenger.

Typically, he doesn’t get irritated or angry easily, he’s got a positive mindset and does his best to not let things or people bother him. For a long time he thought it was just genuinely difficult for someone to get under his skin or agitate him, even in the line of combat.

That was until he met you. 

Somehow, every single miniscule thing you did pissed him off. 

It didn’t matter if it was as simple as forgetting to fully shut the office door, he’d get mad over it. If you’d interrupt him in the slightest, even if it wasn’t purposeful, it would tick him off. Anytime you wore heels, the constant clicking of them against the laminated floors had him taking deep breaths, fingers pinching his nose bridge in annoyance.

But nothing compared to the pure irritation that he’d feel whenever he overheard your high-pitched almost wheezy laughter whenever you were with Peter Parker. Now, Joaquin didn’t have anything against Peter per-say, but the fact that you two got along so well was what bothered him the most.

Sure Sam had told him that you’d grown up together, it made sense that you and Peter were close, but that didn’t stop him from being pissed off when he’d see you and Peter sitting close together on a sofa, or you leaning into Peter’s space, or wearing his hoodies, or laughing at his jokes.

It was normal to find your co-workers obnoxious, even if you weren’t exactly in the most normal profession. Being considered a superhero was a dream that most kids had, it was rare that anyone would be able to follow through. 

Maybe that also irritated Joaquin when it came to you, it was as if everything had been handed to you, you hadn’t needed to work hard, you were a witch or a sorcerer or whatever Sam described it as! You’d been born with magical powers straight out of a fantasy novel! You didn’t need to work hard or constantly train or hone in on specific skill sets that would’ve made you better fit to be a hero.

At least that’s what he thought. Then again, Joaquin Torres hardly knew you, all he knew was that every single thing about you bothered him.

Not to mention the grimace that would overtake his features anytime you’d walk past him and the smell of your citrus perfume and shampoo would waft in his direction. You smelled like sweet oranges, sunshine, and the summer.

It made him want to hate the summer.

He didn’t even fully understand what it was about you that he didn’t like. From the outside looking in, you were relatively kind, sure you had a lot of jagged and rough edges but according to Sam you’ve ‘had a hard past few years’. Anytime the both of you had to go on a mission together, you knew exactly what needed to be done and how it needed to be done.

You weren’t exactly a know it all, or a smartass. You were just intelligent, that much was evident, especially after he found out that the entire reason Peter Parker had even had the chance to work with Tony Stark (outside of the whole recruiting two fifteen year olds to fight with the avengers against the avengers thing), was because you were persistent enough to hack into Stark enterprises security system and override parts of the very complex artificial intelligence that Stark had spent years engineering.

At the age of fifteen.

Maybe that also ticked him off, that you were so smart without having to try. 

He was currently seated in his shared office at the Air Force base, one leg rapidly bouncing up and down as he clenched his jaw and stared at the two monitors in front of him. He wasn’t even focused on any of the code, surveillance footage, or data on screen, instead he was busy trying not to glance over his shoulder at you and Peter Parker sitting on the large navy blue sectional.

It wasn’t as if you were all over him, the two of you weren’t even seated directly next to one another, you were on the chase-end of the sofa, feet propped up in front of you as you worked on revisions to a few previous mission reports, adding in newly discovered information pertaining to a few arms deals, extraterrestrial activity, and foreign government involvement.

Meanwhile Peter was focused on repairing his web shooters. He was seated in the middle of the sofa, practically on the edge of one of the cushions while he leaned towards the coffee table where his gadgets sat.

Joaquin didn’t get it, he really truly didn’t get how your presence could bother him so much.

It didn’t help that he could smell you from where he sat. Your perfume had a way of lingering around, the aroma made him light headed and he hated it.

The worst part is that he liked Peter, he found him to be funny and admirable, given everything he’d gone through with losing his Aunt May, and then Stephen Strange nearly ripping a hole into the universe just to prove some point. It was nice to see people that still genuinely cared about the wellbeing of others.

Joaquin just couldn’t stand the sight of you and Peter together. So what if you’d known each other since high school, you were five years older than him now due to the Blip, and somehow, you two were still as close as ever.

He’d been so focused on not looking at you, that he hadn’t heard you say his name, nor had he registered your loud sigh as you got off the couch and approached him. Now you stood right beside him, looking at him while tapping your hand on his desk several times.

“Earth to Torres? I need the satellite scans from three days ago. Sam wants me to finalize the report to send over to the public relations department." You were very clearly annoyed by him, blinking slowly while both of your brows were raised, waiting for his response.

He slowly looked up at you, nodding his head while keeping his jaw clenched.

“Did you check the email I sent?” his condescending tone made you scoff, so instead of arguing with him, you simply shoved him out of the way, now leaning over his desk, his mouse in hand while your eyes trailed along his screens. Opening up the secure records, easily bypassing the password encryption to pull the files you needed.

Then you reached into your back pocket, grabbing a flash drive before connecting it to his computer, downloading each file that you needed while he sat in shock a few feet away.

But the longer you stood there, the more his eyes started to wander. Your back was slightly arched as you focused on the data downloads, your legs were a bit spread, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t immediately notice the way the denim levis hugged your ass perfectly. When his eyes trailed higher he realized your usual braided hair was straightened today, flowing along your back, cascading along your shoulders.

And God did you smell good.

Your shirt was fitted, the cotton of the tanktop hugging all of your soft curves, and maybe that made it worse for him. You weren’t exactly skinny, and he knew for a fact, he didn’t want you to be. 

Sam was right, he needed to get laid.

Then you glanced over at him “what’s your password” he blinked a few times, finally processing what you were talking about, eyes glancing back at the monitors, now seeing his displays completely disorganized as you had several different sized windows up, showing different footage, paused feeds, coded entries, and encryptions. You pointed a singular manicured finger at the smaller black window, waiting on him to provide the necessary password.

“Move outta the way and I’ll type it in princess” you rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“You’re such a child Torres, just tell me the damn password, what you afraid I’m gonna look through your shit? As if we don’t have access to the same things?” he scoffed at that, running a hand along the lower half of his face as he let out a cynical laugh.

“Can’t you just listen and get the hell out of my way?” you shushed him, now typing a random assumption into the password box, waiting on it to load through as the cogwheel showed on screen. Finally after a few tense minutes, it worked and you were into his system fully.

“Seriously? That’s your password? Couldn’t think of anything more creative than Dwayne Wade? I know you’re a Heat fan but damn” 

It took everything in him not to stand up, grab you by the hips, and move you out of his way. His leg was bobbing up and down again and now he was leaning to the right, elbow against the armrest of his chair while his hand covered the top half of his face.

“So uh, is now a bad time to ask if either of you are headed to the gala sponsored by Valentina Allegra De Fontaine this week?” you glanced back at Peter, who looked at both of you with his brows furrowed, eyes wide, and concern evident on his features.

He was sitting up a bit straighter now, as if he was anticipating a larger argument between the two. He wasn’t the best mediator, but he knew when to drag you away, considering you never backed down.

“Yeah, Sam sent us the invite last night. Said it’s mandatory, something about intel and his faux-divorce with Bucky.” you spoke as you glanced back at Joaquin's monitors, now finalizing a few downloads and taking the time to fix two of his encryptions, the codes having very clear errors that you couldn’t resist adjusting.

Then you stood up, taking a second to adjust your jeans, pulling them up slightly, the motion catching Joaquin’s eyes-or rather the sight of your ass slightly jiggling in your jeans caught his attention. Then you were walking away from his desk with the flashdrive in hand.

You initially were going to sit back down and get back to work, it wasn’t exactly easy being an Avenger or whatever the hell Sam called you all, and a lot of it actually required paperwork-something that Tony had never prepared you for. Then your phone started ringing and the sound of Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing started blasting from it.

The ring tone made you burst out in laughter, seeing Sam’s contact name alongside a photo of him giving you the middle finger showing on screen.

“You seriously need to change that Bug!” you scoffed at Peter “No I don’t it’s funny! He’s the one who went on and on about how great Marvin Gaye is. It’s only right that I honor that sentiment”

He shook his head at you, the brunette then glancing towards Joaquin who quickly looked away. Peter could practically feel the laser beams shooting from Joaquin’s glare towards the both of you. 

Then you answered the phone, putting it on speaker.

Another annoying habit of yours that made Joaquin’s jaw clench.

“Hi Father America, how can I help you on this pristine day?” Sam’s sigh was loud over the phone, meanwhile you and Peter looked at each other and shared a muffled laugh.

“Did you finish those reports? Gotta know what we’re fully up against, and the press is on my ass over it. Also have you heard from Kate? She said she��s been trying to reach out to Yelena but y’know they’re always on and off again” you shrugged, then realized he couldn’t actually see you.

The long silence followed by Sam’s “once again, shrugging while we’re on a phone call isn’t helpful for me here kid.” you rolled your eyes at that, elbowing Peter slightly who laughed at you.

“Nope, haven't heard from Kate, she was still wallowing in her relationship sorrow last time we spoke, also did you see that Bob guy? You think Buck will put in a good word for me?”

The comment made Joaquin choke on his coffee, you didn’t register that though as Peter responded “Seriously Bug? Can you not act like yourself for five minutes? Maybe don’t go try jumping someone’s bones who literally turned into like a black mass and overtook Manhattan?” you sighed at that, shaking your head.

“He’s just misunderstood I could fix him, with this pus-” Peter was quick to cut you off, a hand over your mouth as your words were muffled, meanwhile Joaquin scoffed, rolling his eyes again.

“Okay, Sorry about that Sam, Bug’s gonna finish the reports soon, she just got the last few satellite files from Joaquin, we’ll call you back later when she’s in her right mind again!” with that he hung up your phone.

One thing Joaquin clearly didn’t understand was how Peter was alright with you making comments like that. He was under the assumption that the two of you were dating, you spent most of your time together, went out together constantly, it only made sense. Maybe he just wasn’t the jealous type, Joaquin could respect that to a certain extent.

You quickly swatted Peter’s hands away. “You’re really raining on my shine here Parker!” he laughed at that, shaking his head at you.

Sam eventually got back to the office to go over the reports with you, meanwhile Joaquin offered side quips that you easily shut down, rolling your eyes a few times at his antics. Then you were walking everyone through the several different dimensional aspects to the most recent space-level threat and the Avengers response.

Joaquin leaned against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest, when he wasn’t looking you were quick to peek at the way his biceps bulged. He was glaring in your direction the entire time you spoke, pulling up the holographic feeds, zooming in and out of different bits and portions, elaborating on the issue and the scope of it all.

You were too smart and that also pissed him off.

By the time you were finished with the long winded explanation, and answering a few of Sam’s questions on the matter, you were tired and ready to head home. Then Sam cleared his throat as you packed your things. 

You didn’t live far off base, and you’d shared a townhouse with Peter, it was a nice place, nothing compared to New York, but you were settling in just fine.

“Actually, none of you are headed home, remember how I said a go bag is a necessity, yeah, well we’re all headed over to the airport, then we’re headed into New York to the backhanded ‘New Avengers’ tower for that big Gala. There are ground rules here, the biggest one is you and you-” he paused to point at you, then at Joaquin “need to get the hell along. We’re walking into a building full of super soldiers, ex-war criminals, and that guy who turned into a black mass-”

You interrupted Sam “so do you think I have a shot with him, these are the important questions-so what if he’s a little evil, I could fix him!” Sam groaned.

“Peter please control your friend” Peter sighed and nodded his head.

“Okay, now back to what's important, actually as a matter of fact, a new rule just for you Bug, you are not allowed to seduce Bob!” you sighed, shoulders dropping and bottom lip pouting “-okay but can I seduce someone?” he shook his head, nostrils flaring slightly while he stared at you.

“No! You can’t seduce any of them, Jesus Christ do I need to put you on a leash?” you were about to make a joke out of that, until Peter quickly pulled you into his side, a hand over your mouth, earning an irritated groan from you.

“We’re headed to the airport, get your go bags, pack your computers and whatnot because our flight is set to take off in two hours. I’ve already got someone up there getting you all something more gala-like. Kate’s also meeting us up there as well.”

By the time that you’d all arrived in New York, you were exhausted. You knew that everyone would be spending the weekend in the New Avengers tower, and you had no expectations of how it would actually look, not when you knew how it originally looked, and when the place held a few memories that you didn’t want to relive.

It was a shell of what it used to be, that was certain. 

The building had been remodeled, there was a lack of character here, everything felt too new, too modern. It didn’t have the same touches that Tony had left, things were different now. 

You hated it.

But you couldn’t complain, not yet at least. Not when everyone was busy greeting you and your eyes were jumping from person to person, studying each of the New Avengers, you’d read about the ones you didn’t know personally, most of them had serious criminal backgrounds.

Then again, if you weren’t technically an Avenger, you would’ve had a serious criminal background as well. 

“Ah, you must be the Bug we have heard much about!” you blinked a few times, a large russian man looking down at you with a wide smile on his face, then he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, lifting you right off of the ground as your eyes widened. It was kind of nice though, the kind of hug that reminded you of Thor. So you smiled and hugged him back.

That action surprised several people in the room.

Then he put you down.

“I have heard much about your battle stories, you are a strong fighter, yes?” you shrugged “something like that” which earned a scoff from Joaquin, and you were quick to glare at him.

“I’m Alexei Shostakov, the Red Guardian.” you nodded at him, introducing yourself, following it with “but everyone calls me Bug” then you shook his hand. 

Clearly he was the nicest out of everyone.

Well that and, everyone had been conversing with Sam, or rather watching Sam and Bucky argue and awkwardly introducing themselves, even though everyone pretty much knew everyone, and then Kate and Yelena were off in a corner whisper shouting at each other yet again.

“So why do they call you Bug?” you shrugged at him, now sitting at the bar with the older man “Honestly, Mr. Stark-uh Tony-used to call me Bug. Said it was because I was always bugging him, and my best friend was a spider, so of course I’d be some kind of bug too” he nodded as you spoke.

Meanwhile Joaquin tried to act as if he wasn’t eavesdropping. He honestly had never thought to ask you why people called you Bug, he just knew he didn’t have that privilege. That also kind of irritated him too.

What was so irritating about you? He didn’t get it.

The next day rolls around faster than you expected, and after waking up in a guest bedroom, halfway off of the king sized bed, you realize that you were tossing and turning all night. Then you glanced around the room, all of the furniture was dark, but it wasn’t dark wood, it was black with silver hardware, and honestly, it reminded you of an upscale hotel in the worst way.

Peter was across the room, sprawled out across the large sofa after having lost the game of rock paper scissors you’d played over who would sleep in the bed. Typically you would’ve had your own room, however Sam labeled you as a ‘flight risk’, and stated that you needed someone to be with you, so of course you were quick to say Peter.

Joaquin was constantly an asshole to you, it made zero sense for you to want to be around him.

It didn’t matter how attractive he was, or how nice his biceps looked, or how kissable his lips were. Nor did it matter that you liked his hair, or his smile, or really anything about him. He was an absolute dick to you, and he’d been that way since the both of you had started working together.

Initially, when you’d met him through Sam and Bucky, he wasn’t that bad, sure he talked a lot, but you hardly saw him. Then, when Sam had asked if you and Peter wanted to come to D.C. to work with him, that’s when things started changing. Slowly but surely, Joaquin was more hostile towards you.

You thought that maybe you’d done something wrong at first, but then after talking to Peter about it, and venting about how annoying he was, you realized that you hadn’t done anything and Joaquin was just being an asshole.

So you kept your distance, and of course, anytime he was rude, you had to be ruder. He brought out the worst in you at times, you weren’t outwardly a mean person, but spending too much time around him brought out that side of you.

“Peter! Wake up! Before Sam kicks our asses!” he groaned, nodding his head as he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes a bit.

It’d taken the both of you about twenty minutes to get up and ready for the day, the gala was tonight and Sam had said they’d already gotten you both your outfits. Peter would be in a black suit with a white shirt, meanwhile you were in a red floor length dress. Why was it crimson? You had no idea, maybe to pay homage to your magic, or to your previous mentor that had flown off her rocker and gone into the deep end of insanity? Who knows.

You were currently seated on the bed, legs crossed in front of you as you rapidly typed. Sam had texted you a screenshot of information that he’d gotten from Bucky. Something about Valentina’s assistant giving him information, you weren’t really awake enough to process where it came from, but you were told to work your magic and get past a few firewalls.

Everything was going fine until your hands started to cramp.

Peter also wasn’t in the room anymore, he was out ‘networking’ as he called it. You groaned, putting your laptop on the bed beside you, taking a minute to clench and unclench your fists, doing your best to relax your hands.

Then you spotted Joaquin in the hallway, and god damnit, he would be your saving grace whether he liked it or not.

“Torres! Come here!” you were loud as you shouted his name, he blinked a few times, walking backwards a few steps, now gazing into your room, rolling his eyes at the sight of you in the middle of the large bed like some kind of princess. 

“What?” you rolled your eyes at his evident attitude.

“Listen, I don’t have time for the sassy man apocalypse today, I need help with something Sam asked me about” you motioned for him to come into the room with your hand, brows raised expectantly as you stared at him. He shook his head before walking into the room, then you waved your hand slightly, the door shutting behind him.

“Like come here, not stand by the door.” you aggressively pat the bed beside you, and he let out a frustrated sigh as he made his way over, now sitting beside you, but also practically halfway off the bed. You rolled your eyes at him, grabbing his forearm and dragging him closer, you tried to ignore how firm his arms were-that was a thought for another day.

“Stop acting like a shy virgin about to hookup for the first time. I don’t have time for this, Sam needs this information asap, so here” you handed him the laptop, now pointing at the screen “I need you to finish bypassing this, my fucking hands are killing me and you’re the best hacker I know-don’t let that inflate your ego either” 

He glanced at you, then at the laptop. Then he started typing, eyes scanning your previous work as he found a few quicker work-arounds.

Meanwhile you watched him, your eyes tracing along the veins in his hands, taking in every small detail. His hands were pretty big, you hadn’t really noticed that before, they looked firm and strong. His forearms were nice too, a bit toned, his skin had a golden tan. 

Then your eyes moved along his figure. His hair was still damp, a few loose curls lightly touching his forehead. His jawline was sharp and defined, part of you wanted to reach out and touch it, but you didn’t want to make things weird.

Although, he was always an asshole to you, so what would making things weird really do?.

You reached over slowly, one finger gently tracing the slope of his jawline, the feeling had him freezing up, eyes widening at the feather-light touch against his face.

“You have a nice jawline Torres.” 

He slowly glanced over at you, now finally processing the smell of citrus in the room, the warmth of the sun's rays against your skin as you looked at him. He noticed how soft your lips looked, and how focused you were on him. 

It didn’t help that you were wearing a pair of black shorts that were riding all the way up your thighs, but the grey Midtown sweatshirt you wore ripped him out of his potential fantasy. His jaw clenched at the sight and he leaned away from your touch before shrugging your hand away from him.

“Thanks, now stop being a creep.” 

You scoffed at that. “Seriously? A creep? Why do you always have to be such an asshole to me!” 

He blinked a few times, rolling his eyes as he continued typing.

“Wow, the silent treatment, well aren’t you fucking mature. Damn, learn how to take a compliment you douchebag." Then you were quick to get off the bed, he watched as you moved away-which probably wasn’t the best idea because as you walked off, his eyes were focused solely on the way your ass moved in your shorts.

The sound of the door slamming practically echoed inside of the room.

Then he was looking around, annoyed at the fact that you were probably lying in this bed last night side by side with Peter Parker of all people. It was irrational for him to be annoyed by the thought, but genuinely, what did you even see in Peter?

Okay, so maybe Peter wasn’t ugly, and he was a good kid, plus he was really smart, and he had the whole ‘Spider-man’ thing going for him- okay maybe Joaquin did understand what you saw in Peter. But that didn’t make it any less annoying.

That’s when it hit him.

“Am I jealous of Peter Parker?” he spoke to himself, brows knit together as he looked down at your laptop, now realizing that he’d gotten into the system, then he noticed the notebook you had on the bed with a jumbled mess of scribbles and notes of things Sam wanted you to figure out.

He knew that this job stressed you out, that much had always been obvious because it stressed him out too. So he decided to actually be a nice guy for once, going through your sloppy checklist and pulling the necessary information on the Sentry project, on the Darkholder Cult, and on a few under the table weapons manufacturing deals. 

Once he finished, he was quick to retrace all of his steps, ensuring nothing could be traced back to you, then he exited out of every tab, only to come face to face with your laptop background, a photo of you, Peter, and an older Brunette woman with large glasses on her face. 

You were younger in the photo, and based on the burnt cupcake in your hand with two small candles showcasing ‘15’ on them, he knew it had to have been your birthday.

He wanted to snoop through your things, but then the door opened, and in walked Peter who looked a bit surprised to see Joaquin there.

“Let me guess, you two got into it again?” 

He nodded his head at the question, watching as Peter walked over to the sofa in the room, sitting down and now digging through one of his bags. 

“Between me and you, I think you really need to stop being a dick to her man, it’s only making things worse on your end.”

Joaquin blinked a few times at the advice, sure it was sound advice, but he didn’t need sound advice from your boyfriend. 

“I just don’t get it, you two would make sense, but you guys are just constantly going head to head. Y’know Mr. Stark always used to tell her she needed to find someone that could out-argue her, I guess that actually might be you.” 

Joaquin blinked a few times, now utterly confused, glancing from the laptop to Peter.

He then grabbed a few things and stood up. “But y’know, what would I know right?” He shrugged, leaving the room.

Then Joaquin was alone again.

By the time that he’d actually left your room and managed to find everyone, he spotted you talking to Bob. That made his blood boil. You were smiling while he said something, Joaquin didn’t give a shit what anyone had to say to you, there was no reason that you should’ve been practically beaming at him. 

He couldn’t have been that funny or entertaining.

So he decided he would make his presence known, waltzing right up to you, then throwing an arm around your shoulders. He smirked at your shocked expression, then he glanced at Bob who just looked confused, glancing between you and Joaquin.

“Uh-I guess we can talk later then?” 

You nodded at Bob, mumbling an apology on Joaquin’s behalf as the brunette awkwardly nodded and walked away. Then you let out a deep sigh, shoving Joaquin off of you. Glancing around the room, you realized that while it was a large space, it was clear that this was the last place to yell at him.

So you grabbed his arm and dragged him off, finding a random quiet hall. 

You  shove him, “What the fuck is your problem? You’re constantly such an asshole to me, then you do stupid shit like that!” 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes.“So sorry I stopped you from throwing yourself at Bob” 

You shove him again.“I wasn’t even throwing myself at him! Sam said to talk to everyone, y’know be social?! He’s working his ass off to try to find some fucking solution to this whole his Avengers vs Valentina’s Avengers fiasco and you’re just being a self centered dick!” you were yelling now.

He shook his head “As if you give a shit about any of that!” 

You scoffed, jaw dropping. “Well excuse the fuck out of me, I didn’t know Joaquin Torres knew a single god damn thing that I gave a shit about! You don’t even know me. You know jack shit about me!” 

He was quiet now, trying to come up with something to say, anything to prove that you weren’t right.

But you were too quick.

“Exactly, silence because even you know it’s true. You don’t know the first fucking thing about me, and yet for the past year and a half, you’ve treated me like the bane of your existence. I get that you’re mister hot shot Falcon now, but for fucks sake, you don’t need to be such a douchebag! You couldn’t even tell me my favorite color. That’s how little you know about me.”

He scoffed. “As if you could tell me mine”

You shook your head. “It’s orange, your favorite fucking color is orange, the bright ass orange that matches the University of Miami’s orange. You jackass.” With that you walked off again, shaking your head, while muttering a series of curse words. Whenhe tried to follow you, you waved a hand in the air, a random vase flying towards him.

Part of you wanted to blow something up, the other part of you wanted to kick Joaquin in the chest. 

There was a sliver that was upset though, upset that he genuinely thought so little of you. 

Before you could storm off to your room like a child throwing a temper tantrum, you stormed right into Bucky, practically falling back after walking right into him, but he easily steadied you.

“Seriously Bug? Still angry walking and not paying attention?” 

You sighed, looking at Bucky and shaking your head. It took him half a second to realize who made you angry.

“Let me guess, you and Joaquin still haven’t kissed and made up?” 

You scoffed at him, shaking your head, then you were walking in sync with him. You honestly had no idea where Bucky was headed, but now you were too busy venting to him about your problems. Besides, you always used to vent to him about anything and everything prior to him going off to pursue being a Congressman.

“No, Buck, you don’t understand. I’ve done nothing to him! Nothing at all! And still no matter what, he’s constantly an asshole to me! It’s like if I even breathe the wrong way he’s just mad about it. Now, we have this stupid gala to be at tonight and I have to wear a stupid dress and I’m already irritated, then, then I’m talking to Bob, y’know being nice like Sam said to be! Sure, I think the guy’s hot-he’s got the whole shy introvert thing going on-but I’m not over here throwing myself at him!”

Bucky nodded as you spoke, humming every so often so you knew he was listening. Meanwhile he was trying to figure out the best way to let you know that Joaquin Torres was obviously in love with you.

“Then-then get this Buck! He’s just mean to be mean! Today I complimented him, sure I was a little too touchy feely, but then he like jerks away from me and acts like I have the damn plague or something! Whatever happened to extending an olive branch and not being a dickhead?!”

Bucky laughed at that, it wasn’t a light laugh either, no it was loud and boisterous and it caught you off guard.

“You probably flustered him. He’s just a guy, don’t get too caught up in him being an asshole, alright? There’s plenty of other fish in the sea that won’t make you so mad you’re about to blow a hole in the tower.” 

You nodded at that.

After your conversation with Bucky, you were quick to make it back to your designated room, finding your laptop and finalizing all of your work related documents, then you knew it was about time to start getting ready for the obnoxious Gala, and of course, that also meant having to mix and mingle with everyone.

So you screamed into a pillow six times, then started getting ready. Showering and doing your best not to wet your hair was the longest part, then you’d gone back over your hair, ensuring that your hair and extensions were blended seamlessly as you sat in front of the floor length mirror curling them.

Makeup was easy, mostly because you didn’t have it in you to do an entire glamorous look, instead you’d opted for something soft and simple with a bold red lip to compliment the obnoxious dress they’d chosen for you.

You still didn’t even know who picked the dress out, but your money was on Kate, considering she’d asked you for your exact measurements three days ago over text. Plus she had an eye for dramatics. 

By the time that Peter had showed up to get dressed and ready, you were sorting through your jewelry, with your ‘I hate men’ playlist on full volume. 

He opted to stay quiet, getting dressed as you angrily applied your makeup and fixed your hair. Once it was time for you to put the dress on, you walked into the ensuite, slamming the door behind you in your own silent rage.

How Joaquin had the nerve to treat you the way he did was just baffling to you? It made no sense!

You were jumping up and down trying to get the zipper to work on the back of your dress, huffing and puffing a few times before yelling out “Can you come help me?!”.

When the bathroom door opened, you expected Peter. When your eyes met Joaquin’s in the reflection, you debated on kicking his ass right then and there, but that wouldn’t be possible, considering one of your hands was on the front of your dress, holding it up against your bare chest, while your other hand was leaning against the countertop.

He stared at you with his lips slightly parted, and if you weren’t so irritated, maybe you would’ve blushed.

“Can you zip my fucking dress up instead of staring at me?” 

He rolled his eyes at that, now standing behind you, holding the top of the dress together, then finding the zipper closer to your lower back. His brows knit together at the sight of the tattoo along your spine, and that knowledge made him a little light headed.

“Didn’t know you had tattoos.” 

You scoffed. “Once again, you don’t know shit about me so that’s not very shocking, Torres”. 

He shook his head at that, grasping the zipper and slowly sliding it up until he hit the top. His hands lingered on your skin for a few seconds after, then you were shoving him away, walking right past him, practically shoulder checking him on the way out of the en suite.

You gave Peter a dirty look while he fumbled with his tie.

“Ugh, c’mere let me fix it.” You were adjusting Peter’s tie, all while Joaquin leaned against the doorframe and watched. The sight had his right eye twitching slightly. 

Once the Gala was in full swing you were mingling with everyone, flashing fake smiles, a few winks, and even a few flirty lines to some of the older more influential politicians and socialites there. It was easy to get information out of them, a handful of giggles and a shy smile was everything they needed from you.

It also helped that your tits were practically out, sitting pretty in your crimson dress, as if you were Jessica Rabbit herself.

Joaquin stayed in the back for the most part, ignoring the pent up aggression in his body while his eyes followed you through the room. Each and every person you spoke to, he made a mental note of, part of his job was to do reconn, the other part was to keep you safe. 

At least that’s what Sam had told him prior to the event. Meanwhile, Peter was nowhere to be found, but that was also most likely because he was touring the research facilities with some of the other influential scientists present. Valentina made sure to dot all of her I’s and cross each and every one of her T’s to make tonight successful.

You didn’t even want to be there, you’d even run into Kate and Yelena, both of them doing exactly what you were doing, which earned a few succinct head nods and winks. 

The music was too loud, the champagne was disgusting, your head was hurting, and you were still a ball of pent up rage.  Across the room, Joaquin was feeling the same exact way.

It wasn’t until some politician’s son had pulled you to the dance floor in a different room for a shitty slow dance that Joaquin had finally snapped. Maybe it was the way you smiled at the man, laughing, getting too close for comfort, pressing your ample chest against his own. Or maybe it was the way that you let the man’s hands roam along your waist, down to the curve of your ass that really got to him.

Joaquin didn’t know, nor did he care.

All he knew was within seconds he was behind you, gently pulling you back and away, offering some half-assed excuse about needing to handle Avengers business, then he was dragging you away from everyone. 

You two stood in silence in the elevator, the air was thick with tension and you wanted nothing more than to rip his head off like a female praying mantis.

Then, the doors dinged and he dragged you down the hall, right to his room and as he kicked the door shut, he stared right at you in the dimly lit room.

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

You scoffed at the question, taken aback, laughing at his outburst.“You dragged me away from our job to ask me what my god damn problem is? Meanwhile, you’ve been nothing but an asshole to me for forever at this point, you don’t know anything about me, and still you constantly judge me, and constantly talk down to me like I’m some little fucking kid. Newsflash Torres, I’m twenty five not six.”

He shook his head at that, taking a deep breath.

“Your favorite color is blue. It’s not sky blue, it’s not navy, no it’s the color of a Robin’s egg, it’s not exactly blue and it’s not exactly green.” 

You stood in silence at that, brows knit together as you looked at him.

“You have a playlist for every bad mood you’ve ever been in, and I’ve probably contributed to more than half of them. Your favorite season is Spring and you hate the winter, you smell like fucking sunshine and oranges and lemons and it drives me insane because you drive me insane.” 

He ran a hand through his hair while he spoke, then he loosened his tie, with one hand, pulling at the collar of his shirt as if he was hot.

Joaquin was absolutely burning up.

“Being around you makes me feel like I’m fucking losing my mind, everything about you pisses me off to no extend, I can’t stand it when you’re around but I hate it when you’re gone-” you cut him off, closing the space between the both of you, pressing your lips against his.

When you tried to pull away he placed a hand on the back of your neck, lightly holding you in place, lips moving against yours. The kiss was anything but sweet, it was all teeth and tongue, pent up anger, jealousy, and downright delusion. Every single aspect of his being was on fire, and you were the only thing that could extinguish it.

He backed you up against the door, the thick mahogany cold against your back was the only thing grounding you. His hand stayed behind your neck, the other on your waist, holding you against him firmly. He’d easily won control of the kiss, it was like he was trying to prove himself.

You were intoxicating and maddening. 

It was sending him deeper and deeper into a hole that he wasn’t sure he’d ever get out of. 

His lower half was pressed directly against you, but the second you bit his bottom lip, one of his legs easily slid between yours, practically pinning you against the door. His grip on your waist bruising while he started trailing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat.

He spoke between kisses “do you know-” kiss “-how crazy you make me-” kiss “every single day of my life”. Then as he met your pulse point, you gasped, earning a smirk from him before he started nipping at the skin there, sucking a harsh mark against you, your hands now in his hair, tugging at the curls as your back arched into him.

“Shit-fuck you Torres” he nodded at that, tongue gliding against the freshly bruised skin.

“Trust me, you’re gonna” you blinked a few times, letting out a raspy laugh, shaking your head at him.

“This why you’re always so mean? Cause you wanna fuck me? Could’ve just asked nicely” he groaned at your flirtatious tone, a short giggle leaving your lips as his tongue moved against your neck, tracing your skin, the saltiness made him moan. He wanted to run his tongue along your entire body.

He shook his head, leaving another bruising kiss to your exposed skin as he started moving lower, then you gasped as the hand that was on the back of your neck slid between your body and the door, easily finding the dress’s zipper, slowly tugging it down.

“Gonna make you mine for tonight” his words were muffled against your skin, lips moving along your exposed shoulders down to the swell of your chest. Then he was pulling the dress down, moaning against your skin. 

“These are so nice-you’re so fuckin pretty” he took his time, kissing along each of your tits, leaving a few marks. Each time you pulled his hair, he’d moan then lightly bite against your supple skin. He took his time trailing his tongue along each of your nipples. Rolling the hardened peaks between his teeth before lightly sucking against them.

Your whimpers and gasps were like music to his ears.

You managed to press yourself closer to him, head leaned against the door behind you as he moved lower and lower, pulling your gown down to the ground as he tried to kiss every single inch of your exposed skin.

His lips were searing, he felt like he was on fire. His ears were practically ringing.

Then he was on his knees, pulling his tie off, tossing it to the side as he helped you step out of the dress. Then you were being pushed further against the door, one of your thighs now resting against his shoulder while he kissed along your lower stomach, moving to your upper thighs, then he bit into your inner thigh, a sharp gasp leaving your lips.

When met with your clothed pussy he moaned, leaning into it, nose practically pressed against the wet patch as he took a deep inhale, biting his bottom lip before licking a flat stripe against the thin lace. 

“Smell so good-fuck can I taste you?” your eyes widened at his needy tone, nodding your head as you looked down at him, he looked absolutely wrecked and he’d barely even touched you.

He used one hand to pull your panties to the side, moaning at the sight of your glistening cunt.

The Joaquin Torres you were seeing now was a completely different man than the one that’d been purposefully being an asshole to you for months. 

He looked desperate as he licked his lips, a breathy laugh slipping past his kiss-swollen lips before he leaned in, tongue flat against your cunt, moving from your weeping entrance to your clit.

Your hands were back in his hair in seconds.

That was all it took for him to absolutely lose himself in your cunt. He focused on lapping his tongue against your clit, swirling around the pearl as if it was his last meal, moaning at your taste. Then he brought it into his mouth, sucking on it as if he was dying of thirst, the motion made your thighs shake slightly.

You tried to push him away-it was too much. 

But he’d just begun. He used one of his hands to pin you in place, fingers digging into your thigh, holding you right against him, the other hand was currently focused on undoing his belt, trying to relieve the pressure on his restrained cock.

You were loud, louder than he expected as you ground yourself against his face, moaning a mixture between half-spoken words and whines.

He didn’t let up, keeping his focus on your clit while you felt the coil in your abdomen tightening. Then he moved away from your clit slightly, licking against it a few more times before trailing down, tongue now prodding at your sopping entrance, the slight intrusion made you light headed.

Joaquin was teasing you now, enjoying the sting from you pulling his hair and your low whines and whimpers. Not to mention the way you tasted, he’d stay between your thighs for days if you’d let him.

“Fuck-please I need more” he smirked, now pulling away to look up at you.

“More what?” you let out a low whimper at that, now looking down at him again, your brows knit together, lips swollen and parted, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin. 

You were glowing, he wanted to be a little mean, but he couldn’t, not when you were looking at him so desperately.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you everything you need” then his tongue was back on your clit, and one of his thick fingers was sliding right into your hole, he was met with a little resistance as you immediately clenched around the digit, your walls fluttering, then practically pulling him in as you ground your hips against his hand and face.

Then he slid a second finger in, and you just about lost it, your back arching even harder, a high pitched moan practically echoing in the room as you were creaming around his fingers, rocking your hips, fucking yourself on them to prolong your own orgasm.

He bit his lip at the sight of you, then he started moving his fingers, thrusting them into you, curling them perfectly, finding the spot that made you see stars. 

It was too much, but you couldn’t push him away, not when he had you pinned between himself and the door. 

He continued to suck on your clit, moaning at the taste of you as his fingers sped up, the sloshing sound of your cunt was almost embarrassing. You were positive you’d never been this wet in your life.

He didn’t care anymore, he didn’t have time to be sweet or gentle with you, his pace was brutal, fingers practically pounding into you while his tongue flicked against your swollen bundle of nerves. Except the faster and harder his fingers fucked into you, the slower his tongue moved against your clit.

He looked up at you, hooded eyes moving from your tits, moaning at the sight of them slightly bouncing as you ground yourself against him, to your pretty face. You were biting your bottom lip, one hand still in his hair, the other moving to your thigh that was propped up on his shoulder. 

Joaquin thought you were going to try to push his hand away, instead you grasped it, yours clutching against the top of his. That made him blush-as if he wasn’t already flushed from tongue fucking you.

You were an absolute wreck above him. He knew you were close, your walls constantly clenching around his fingers.

“You’re so fuckin tight-can’t wait to get my cock in you” you nodded at that, biting your bottom lip and whimpering. “Gonna fuck you so good-make you forget all about anyone else” you were moaning above him, getting closer and closer to your orgasm, chasing your high as you practically bounced against his penetrating digits.

“Yeah, you’d want that huh? Want me to fuck you stupid?” you tugged harshly on his hair, pushing him back into your cunt, the motion earned a throaty laugh from him. Then his tongue was back on your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure as he focused on the rosebud.

Then you were gushing on his fingers and the lower half of his face. It had initially caught him off guard, then he pulled back, watching your cunt squirt for him as he finger fucked you through your orgasm.

He then slowly pulled his fingers out, smirking at you whimpering. Then his fingers were in his mouth as he licked them clean before his tongue was back on you, licking and slurping everything, moaning at the taste of you.

“Fuck Torres-shit stop-” you were now pushing his head away, still out of breath as you looked down at him. He sat back on his haunches, looking right at you, his face still wet, chest rising and falling, and it was then that you noticed his belt was undone, his pants were unzipped, and there was a very large tent emphasizing his hard-on.

Your legs were a bit wobbly as you leaned against the door, then he slowly stood up, tossing his suit jacket to the side. 

Then he stood up, and suddenly you felt too exposed. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes trailed along your nearly-nude figure. Taking in every single detail of your body. 

“You’re beautiful y’know that” you rolled your eyes at him, shoving past him and walking towards the bed, and when he stood in place, just watching you, head tilted to the side as his eyes focused on your ass and thighs you scoffed.

“Are you gonna fuck me or stare me down?” 

He shook his head at your tone. Then he started unbuttoning his shirt as he approached you. “That attitudes gotta go Princessa” you rolled your eyes at the pet name, slowly starting to remember why you didn’t like him in the first place.

Then when you stood at the edge of his bed facing away from him, he smirked, pushing you down, guiding your body onto the mattress. Once you were on it, he was quick to grasp your hips, pulling them up, his strength shocked you. Then again he was an Air Force Captain and the Falcon for a reason. 

His hand was at the small of your back, pushing you down slightly, enjoying the way that you arched for him while your upper body was flat against the bed. He wasn’t going to force you onto your hands and knees-not when he knew you couldn’t take it. 

Then you started moving your hips, swaying them side to side as your legs parted a bit further. But when you were on your forearms, taking a second to look back at him, your hair cascading around your figure while you met his eyes-that was his breaking point.

He didn’t even fully remove his pants, he pulled his cock out as fast as possible, and you moaned at the sight. Joaquin looked directly at you as he slowly stroked his cock, then he was leaning forward, one hand outstretched close to your face.

“Spit” you raised a brow, eyeing his hand, then his dick, then as you made eye contact you moved closer to his hand, slowly spitting into it, letting it glide off of your tongue right into his palm. He bit his lip at the sight, then pulled his hand back, now running it along his cock.

“You gonna let me fuck you just like this? Fuck you raw so you can feel it all?” you nodded at him, ignoring the part of your brain screaming at you that it was a bad idea. This was Joaquin Torres, he was an asshole! But you couldn’t give less of a shit right now.

Then he was closer to you, tapping the head of his cock against your swollen clit a few times, the motion making you whimper. He started running the tip along your cunt, and each time it would catch on your entrance, you’d roll your eyes and whine.

You hadn’t expected him to land a firm slap to your ass-the motion caught you off guard, eyes widening at the feeling. Then he did it again, and on the third time you let out a broken moan.

“I always thought you were wound too tight, guess you just need to be fucked good huh?” his condescending tone made you whimper, your forehead resting against your arms while you clenched around nothing. The sight had him biting his bottom lip, watching as your pussy fluttered over and over again.

He hadn’t stopped jerking himself off as he watched you, then he was lining himself up with your entrance and part of him wanted to go slow, but you were just too fucking agitating. So the second he was able to slide the head of his cock into you, he bottomed out in one harsh thrust, the motion practically knocking the air out of your lungs.

Your back arched even harder-the sight had his brows raised while he took a second to breathe.

“Fuck-you’re so fuckin tight, cunt’s gripping me in a vice” you moaned at his words, taking a few deep breaths as you tried to adjust to him. 

“‘S too big-fuck you’re too deep” your words were slurred together as you tried to move your hips, he was invading each and every one of your senses, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

He shushed you as he slowly pulled out “It’s okay, you can take it-I know you can” you moaned at his words, toes curling slightly, one hand moved back-you tried to push him away, but he grasped it instead, now holding your wrist, pinning your hand in place on your lower back while he started fucking into you.

Joaquin was slow at first, giving you time to adjust to his size, he knew he wasn’t exactly small, but the way you were practically mewling from the stretch was making him feel light headed. 

“Just like that baby, relax into it, taking it so well now-” he spoke as he started building a rhythm, each thrust earning moans and whimpers from you. He bit his lip at the sight of him fucking into you, watching as your pussy swallowed him whole, over and over again. “-just like that baby, fuck, pussy was made f’me”

You were fluttering around him again. He let go of your hand, instead leaning over you more, grasping your hair, pulling you up slightly, your hands catching on the bed, holding yourself in place at the new angle. Then he dropped your hair, one hand on your jaw now, while he leaned into your space.

“Feel that Princessa? Feel how deep I am, fuck, look at you, can’t even talk huh?” you nodded at him, head leaning back now as you tried to look at him, but you couldn’t focus on anything he was saying, not when he started fucking you harder and faster.

Then two of his fingers slid into your mouth, you were quick to start sucking on them, swirling your tongue around them as he muffled your whimpers. 

He bit his bottom lip, now sliding his fingers to the side of your mouth, keeping it open, pulling you back slightly just like that. They were hooked into your cheek and you were leaning into his hand, spit dribbling along his fingers and your jaw while he practically pounded into you.

The mixture of your moans and his were loud, but not as loud as the sound of skin slapping and the wet slosh of your cunt. 

“‘M gonna cum-please-fuck let me cum” you were begging him, words a bit slurred as he was still pulling against the side of your mouth. The sounds of you begging had his hips faltering slightly, but he easily regained his rhythm, now moving his fingers out of your mouth, dragging your spit along your jaw as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Then he was leaning over you, practically caging you in as he kept his relentless pace. You leaned your head back against his shoulder as he lightly tightened his grip on your throat, the added pressure making your head fuzzy.

“You wanna cream all over my cock huh baby?” you nodded, looking to the side slightly, trying your best to look at him. 

You were so fucked out and that only turned him on more. His lips were on yours in an instant. You couldn’t really kiss Joaquin back, you tried, but you were just moaning and whimpering against his lips.

“Fuck-cum for me princessa” you nodded, moaning as you felt yourself tip over the edge into a sea of ecstasy, except it was never ending, he fucked you through your orgasm, moaning against your shoulder as your cunt clenched around him.

He was quick to pull out of you, resting his head on your shoulder for a few seconds before moving back. You were too focused on catching your breath to focus on what he was doing. Then you felt it-his tongue back on your cunt, and you were a mess of whines and whimpers, hands clutching the duvet below at the overstimulation.

“You’re so sensitive, so fuckin reactive all the time-fuck you drive me crazy” he spoke before licking a flat stripe along your used cunt, then his tongue moved further, until it was resting along your other hole, lightly lapping at it, the newfound sensation made your eyes widened. Then he slid two fingers back into you, tongue lapping at your ass while he curled his fingers inside of you.

When he slid in a third finger, you were babbling, begging him for a break. 

He smirked at the sound, pulling his fingers and tongue away from your fucked out pussy.

As he moved back, he watched you practically flop into the bed, biting his lip at the sight of you in his bed. Where you belong. 

Then he was slapping your ass again a few times before helping you roll over.

“We’re not done baby” he stroked his cock as he spoke to you, you nodded your head at him, looking at him, eyes trailing along his bare chest, then down to his big cock, hand curled around it. “Eyes are up here Princess” you blinked a few times, gaze now on his.

You laughed while he kicked off his pants, he rolled his eyes at you for a few seconds, but for the first time in a long time, it was playful.

Then he made his way onto the bed, easily spreading your legs, making room for him between them as he used one arm to hold his weight above you. Now the two of you were face to face again, your eyes trailing his features, while he did the same thing.

“You ready beautiful?” you raised a single brow, wrapping one leg around his waist, pulling him closer to you. The motion made the both of you laugh. 

It was nice to laugh with Joaquin.

He lined himself back up with your entrance, and as he slowly rolled his hips into you, you gasped, back arching slightly while one of your hands gripped against his side, nails digging into his tanned skin. 

“Can you go slow?” your voice was breathy, and the question was almost a whisper. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of him pulling his hips back.

Your question made his heart race, his eyes practically popping out of his head. It wasn’t that Joaquin had anything against slow sex, but he was already on top of you, and he was about to lose his mind and profess his love to you like an idiot.

It didn’t help that even after a few orgasms, your cunt was still squeezing him in a vice grip.

“You feel so fuckin good baby” you nodded at the praise “and you’re so pretty, fuck just look at you” his free hand was now on your jaw, thumb tugging at your bottom lip slightly while he spoke.

“Fuck-need you to be mine” you nodded at his words, too cockdrunk to care about anything that he was saying. The intimacy of it all was sending you to cloud nine. 

Then he started moving a bit faster, fucking into you a bit harder-the new pace had your eyes opening, looking up at him while you rolled your hips into him, meeting his motions.

“Just like that baby-fuck taking it so good-so fuckin tight” you nodded at his words, pulling his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it briefly before he pressed it against your tongue. 

“Open your mouth, fuck-good girl-just like that” then he leaned over and spit directly on your tongue before pulling you into a sloppy heated kiss. Your lips moved in sync as you both swallowed each other’s moans, your hands were scratching along his back as his thrusts got faster and a bit more sporadic.

He pulled back for air just in time to hear you moan his name. 

“Fuck-say it again baby” you nodded, moaning his name while he trailed open mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulders “-fuck I’m close-where do you want it?” his breathy words were strained and raspy while he moaned against your skin.

You moved one hand, now tugging on his hair again as you moaned out “Inside-fuck inside Joaquin” he let out a deep gutteral moan at that.

Then he started talking, and it was a bit incoherent at first, but you fully understood him the longer he spoke “fuck-feels so fuckin good baby-fuck gonna fill you up-fuck a baby into you- make you mine forever” you couldn’t help the whimper that left your lips following his words.

“Just like that, fuckin little cunt’s squeezing me so well-that’s what you want huh? Want me to fill you up? Want me to make you mine?” you nodded, your eyes watering from the overstimulation.

Then your orgasm hit and it was as if your entire body was levitating, a white heat spread throughout you while you gushed around his cock, practically screaming his name while your nails dug into his back and shoulders.

He was quick to follow, a warmth spreading inside of you as his hips jerked a few times, filling you with everything he had while he moaned against your skin.

Then he pulled out of you, laying right beside you while staring up at the ceiling.

You two sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes, you shifted awkwardly at the feeling of his cum running down your cunt and inner thigh, meanwhile he was trying to process what just happened.

“Uh…for the record…I don’t want to get you pregnant. It just kinda came out of me” you slowly nodded your head at his statement. 

“What about the other part?” he blinked a few times before his eyes widened and he registered what he said.

“Which part?” you scoffed, now glancing over at him. “So you’re seriously gonna act stupid as if you didn’t just fuck me, then tell me you wanted to get me pregnant so I could be yours forever.” 

He took a sharp inhale, grimacing slightly at your words before he finally turned to look at you.

“Is now a bad time to tell you that I’ve been a dick to you because I’ve been really jealous of Peter this entire time and was completely under the impression that you two were dating?” you stared at him with a dumbfounded expression, then you scoffed and shook your head, getting up-wincing slightly- and making your way to the en suite.

“You’re such an asshole with shit communication skills!” you shouted as you slammed the door behind you. In this moment he was glad you weren’t some kind of super soldier, otherwise the Avengers tower would’ve been down a door. 

He sighed as he sat up, running a hand through his now messy hair. Then he found his clothes and slid on his briefs, pacing around the room, trying to figure out what to say to you, or how to apologize, or what to do next. It wasn’t like he could just waltz up to you and apologize.

You interrupted his pacing when you stormed out of the bathroom wearing one of his Air Force t-shirts and your panties. When did you manage to find either of those items? He had no idea. All he knew was he really liked the look on you.

Then you were grabbing your dress and heels, and for the first time in a long time, he watched you use your magic, disappearing into a cloud of red dust. 

He was so fucked.

Joaquin didn’t sleep well last night, that was for certain. Half of the night was spent with him reliving the night with you. He couldn’t get his mind to focus on anything but the image of you above him and below him, the way that your hair framed your face, the way that you moaned his name-every single bit and piece of it.

Then he was tossing and turning contemplating on how to actually address the situation properly. It also didn’t help that his bed smelled just like you. It was as if he couldn’t get away from you.

Not that he wanted to ever get away from you.

In the past forty-eight hours he’d managed to realize that the entire reason you irritated every single morsel of his being was because he was jealous of your friendship with Peter Parker, he’d then been able to actually have mind blowing sex with you, then embarrass himself by letting his breeding kink slip out, and finally, get you to hate him even more.

You’ve also been avoiding him.

This was the most he’d seen you use your magic in years at this point. Usually you used it when needed on a mission, or for small miniscule tasks. You never did the whole ‘disappearing in thin air’, not until last night and today that is.

You’d done it twice already today.

He couldn’t even track you down to talk to you, and he was overly frustrated. 

Joaquin found himself sitting in one of the high-tech laboratories in the tower, his arms resting against a random desk as he leaned his forehead on them. Giving himself time to wallow in self pity under the guise that he was actually doing work.

Besides, it was clear hardly anyone used these labs. 

He thought he would just be alone all day, that was until the doors opened and the sound of whistling filled the room. Joaquin knew exactly who it was before even looking up.

Then a chair was pulled out near him, not too close, but not too far. It was a fair distance, and Peter was quick to clear his throat.

Joaquin slowly looked up and over at him, meanwhile Peter had his hands in his hoodie’s pocket while he looked directly at Joaquin with an expression that was the perfect mixture between disappointment and shock.

“So, I guess now would be a good time to tell you that I’ve had a girlfriend for a long time now, her names MJ, uh yeah. Bug told me what happened-well she spared me most of the details. Outside of the whole baby thing. I’m not judging though, just thought I’d come with some helpful advice”

Joaquin sighed, running a hand over his face while he looked at Peter.

“I fucked up didn’t I?” the younger man nodded. “Majorly, listen I’m not mad about the whole jealousy thing, I think I see where you’re coming from but she’s like family to me. Uh but the thing is, she thinks you hate her which is kind of the whole issue here”.

“I’ve never hated her, I think I might actually be in love with her” Peter nodded, shrugging a bit.

“Yeah I’ve been saying that for a while, kinda figured between the lovesick staring and the glaring at me anytime she laughs at anything I say. But between me and you, you still have a chance, she wouldn’t be reacting the way she is if she didn’t like you even a little bit.”

Joaquin slowly nodded, looking down at his hands for a few seconds, running his thumb over the few small scratches you left on one of them.

“Don’t try to do a grand gesture either, she hates that kind of stuff. You just gotta talk to her and actually act like a civilized adult. Don’t worry though, I’ll help you actually get her in a room”

Four hours later, you were sitting in a conference room, on top of the table, swinging your legs back and forth as you looked at the few monitors in front of you. You were focused on taking note of the different feeds, and diagnostic issues with the satellite imaging and reports. 

The sound of the door opening didn’t catch your attention, you just assumed it was Peter coming back with either Yelena and Kate. He said he’d be back in fifteen minutes, it’d been around thirty.

Then again, it’s not like he’d left you with some hard task.

However, at the sight of Joaquin Torres you rolled your eyes. This had to be Peter’s idea. You couldn’t exactly up and disappear when monitoring two live feeds while actively running diagnostic scans that required specific time variations. 

“Can we talk? Please?” you clenched your jaw, putting the notebook down.

“What could you possibly have to say to me? Are you here to tell me you regret fucking me too? Or just that you don’t know how to actually talk about your feelings like a grown adult, and instead opt to treat people like shit for funsies because you can’t control your own jealousy?” 

He rolled his lips in, nodding his head at you. He had to admit, you were right, and there wasn’t exactly much he could do or say that would make up for how he treated you.

“I wanted to apologize, not just for the whole acting weird after we had sex, but for being an asshole to you and constantly pushing you away. I know it was stupid for me to be jealous of you and Parker, and he told me about his girlfriend, and I realized that I don’t know everything about you but I want to, everything I know about you is from eavesdropping on your conversations and based on what everyone tells me.”

He paused, running a hand through his hair “-I just want us to be more than what we were. And I’m genuinely sorry for everything, I just, I guess I thought I’d never have a chance so I pushed you away and then you constantly irritated me. Everything about you pissed me off and I think that’s also because I told myself that I would never be able to have you so it was just easier-”

You cut him off “easier to be a dickhead than to be my friend?” he nodded at that.

“But not because it was easy to be an asshole to you, but because I could never just be your friend. I’d never want to just be your friend. I think I’m in love with you, or I’m falling in love with you”

You slowly nodded your head, unsure of what to say to him. It wasn’t like you would forgive him overnight for the way he’d treated you, and having sex with someone wasn’t exactly a decent apology.

But maybe, maybe you could give him a chance.

“So you’re in love with me?” he slowly blinked, hands now on his hips while he looked at you, then around the room before awkwardly laughing.

“Uh-maybe? I don’t actually know.” your brows knit together at that.

“Okay Joaquin. Tell you what, what if we just try being friends first, and then see where that takes us? I’m not just gonna magically forgive you for being a dickhead to me all the time, but I guess Peter was right about you”

He blinked a few times, head tilted to the side slightly “what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged again “he told me you were like desperately into me which is why you said you’d get me pregnant when we had sex” you said it so casually, and that had him choking on air. He shushed you immediately, looking around the room, making sure no one was outside listening in. After all, the conference room was surrounded by large glass windows.

You looked him up and down.

“Yeah, I could see myself falling for you-the real you. Not the asshole version of you” he smiled at that, biting his bottom lip slightly.

“So friends?” he nodded at you. “Friends”.

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

i care for you still

ex bf!jj maybank x fem!reader

cw — talks of a breakup, both cry, fluff, kissing, angst, implied sex

summary — after a few months, you finally decide to talk with jj one on one.

a/n — idk why jj just popped back up into my mind but i wrote this in like 20 minutes so excuse me if its garbage. please request though!!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

it’d been months of tense hangouts with the pogues, months of jj moping around, and months of your friends begging you to just talk to him. you’d tried multiple times but he was stubborn. every conversation somehow ended with you two back to the same topic of your past relationship.

it wasn’t that you didn’t love jj anymore, you were sure part of you always would. he was your first boyfriend, first love, first kiss, first time, first everything. he’d always have part of your heart. he was the one who taught you real love.

but there was that saying that went “you can’t love someone else if you don’t love yourself,” which couldn’t be more true. you couldn’t pin why or when it started, but you slowly started to lose yourself. your mental health began slipping, you hated looking in the mirror, and you wanted to do nothing else but rot in bed.

in turn, you started pulling away from jj which only hurt him more than you knew. it broke your heart, and it broke even more to have to break up with him. but you couldn’t just string him along when you knew you weren’t in the right state to be in a relationship.

after you’d done it, the two of you took a break from the pogues in fear you’d have to see the other. in the early months, it felt like you’d never get over him and the thought of having to see him only made your heart ache more. thankfully, you still had sarah and kiara to keep you company while he had pope and john b.

after a while, you both began hanging with the group as a whole. it was always tense and awkward but you still tried to enjoy it and not make it weird for your friends. on the odd chance that you were alone with him, he’d always bring up your relationship and ask where it went wrong.

once he’d received no real answer the last ten times, he just stopped asking. he had realized maybe it was better that he didn’t know. he’d heard rumors of you messing with other guys and he wasn’t sure he could take it if he found out you were truly with someone else.

this all brought you here at the chateau with your friends. you all were sat on the porch, besides jj who was sat in the hammock with a can of beer in his hand. you were completely zoned out and definitely not listening to the argument between john b and kiara about micro plastics.

you sighed and took a sip out of your bottle of water before getting up to use the bathroom. “be right back,” you told the others as you stood and opened the front door to go inside. you toed past the small piles of clothes on the floor and picked up some empty cans on the way to throw out.

you headed into the bathroom and turned on the sink, pressing some cold water on your skin to cool off before washing your hands and looking at yourself in the mirror. you chewed your lip anxiously as you just stared.

you had to have been in there for a few minutes, maybe five if you had to guess. then there was a knock and the sound of kiaras voice. “we’re heading out to get some more beer. you want anything?” she asked, slightly muffled through the thick wood.

“no, i’m okay,” you replied quickly knowing you definitely didn’t need to be drinking heavily tonight. you heard her mumble a quick goodbye before her footsteps got louder and the sound of the front door echoed through the empty space. you dried your hands on the towel behind you then made your way back through the house.

you stepped outside onto the porch, freezing when you were met with jj. “thought you went with them,” he said awkwardly after clearing his throat. his body stiffened and his hands fidgeted with one another.

“uh, no,” you stammered just as awkwardly. “i was in the bathroom.” you didn’t even know why you said that. he didn’t need to know that and he probably didn’t care either.

he shook his empty can in his right hand. “we’re out of beer,” he explained almost as if he were letting you know why he was up on the porch in front of you. the last thing he needed you thinking was that he was some weird stalker.

you nodded. “i heard,” you said and stepped aside to allow him to walk past you and into the house. he quickly walked inside and to the fridge in search of something. “are you okay?” you blurted out as you followed him in even though you most likely knew the answer.

“fine. you?” he replied bluntly. he knew you weren’t stupid and he knew you were definitely onto him. he closed the fridge door and leaned against the kitchen counter to look at you.

you frowned slightly at his cold attitude. “i’m sorry, jj,” you said softly. “i’m sorry about the way i treated you.”

he bit the inside of his cheek and crossed his arms over his chest, looking off to the side for a second to gather his thoughts. “why’d you do it?”

you almost chose to play stupid for a second and ask what he meant but you’d had this conversation one too many times to not know what he meant. only this time, you intended to finish it. “i was scared,” you began timidly. “i wasn’t doing good and i was scared to hurt you.”

“but you did,” he replied just above a whisper. the air was thick with tension and the house was so quiet you could hear a pin drop and every floorboard creak.

you pursed your lips into a thin line and nodded sadly. “i know. i thought breaking up would make it easier instead of dragging you down with me,” you said with the same softness in your voice as his. “but it didn’t and i hurt you. and i’m sorry for that.”

his eyes bored into yours, his once energetic, bright blue eyes now a more dull, tired shade. “why couldn’t you just talk to me about it? i coulda helped you.”

you could hear the shake in his voice. the conversations never really went this far, usually stopping the moment they started because you just couldn’t handle it. and here you were, beginning to choke up. “because i didn’t wanna bother you,” you stated.

“it wouldn’t have bothered me, you know that,” he said, uncrossing his arms and instead placing them behind him on the counter. “i woulda wanted you to talk to me if somethin’ was up. i coulda been there to help you or at least support you.”

you bit your lip nervously and looked down at your hands, now beginning to pick at your cuticles. “its hard to talk about,” you muttered. “i jus’ didn’t feel good about myself and i couldn’t put that on you.”

he let out a shaky breath. “i woulda done anything for you,” he whispered. “i jus’ wanted to be there for you.”

you heard the soft sob that slipped past his lips. the two of you were reopening old, unhealed wounds now and the unshed tears that had been pushed down for months were beginning to finally surface. you finally looked back up to his face, him already looking at you with tears in his eyes. “do you want a hug?” you asked gently.

when he didn’t reply, you took cautious steps toward him to give him an opportunity to back out before wrapping your arms around his neck. you immediately felt his arms lock around your waist tight and him crane down to bury his face into the space between your shoulder and neck.

his body shook with sobs as he cried into your t-shirt. it only made your heart break more and in turn, you felt tears finally fall down your cheeks. “i’m really fucking sorry jj,” you mumbled through your wobbling voice.

“it’s okay,” he sobbed, squeezing you a little tighter against him. “i forgive you. i forgave you months ago.”

you frowned and closed your eyes, just savoring the moment between you two. it felt like the world went silent for a moment. like it was just you two again. you missed this feeling and by the way he was clinging onto you, you assumed he did too.

you two stayed like that for another minute before he finally began to pull away slowly, still keeping his hands firmly holding your hips. your arms stayed linked around his neck with how close the two of you remained. “gimme one more chance,” he mumbled, his intense gaze staring right into you.

you closed your eyes and sighed. “jj—“

he cut you off. “please, sweetheart. i don’t want you to be alone. whatever you need, ’m here. i jus’ wanna be here for you.”

“you can’t fix me,” you replied honestly. “this is something i need to do on my own.”

he thought for a moment before nodding. “thats okay. you can do it alone. i’ll jus’ be here to support you.”

you felt your bottom lip wobble and your eyes burn with tears. you’d never really had someone like jj who stuck with you through your stubbornness, someone who continued offering help even when you consistently denied and subconsciously began to self sabotage. “i don’t wanna dump all my problems on you.”

he wiped the drop of liquid that ran down your cheek with his thumb before taking both your hands in his own. “don’t worry about that. just worry about you, ok? i got the rest.”

you shook your head. “that’s not fair to you, jj.” you leaned your forehead against his chest to hide your face when you felt more thick tears fall silently.

he brought one hand up to cradle the back of your head while the other intertwined your fingers. “if it means you’ll feel better, then i don’t care. i just wanna help you. trust me, ‘m gonna be fine.”

you immediately began to melt when you felt his hand play with your hair softly. you couldn’t say no to him, you never could. this was the man you were completely and utterly in love with and even after putting him through so much, he was still this soft with you. how could you just move on?

pulling away from his chest, his hand moved from the back of your head to your cheek, cradling it in his large palm. his thumb lightly traced your cheekbone as he searched your eyes for any negative signs, anything to tell him what he was about to do was wrong.

when he found absolutely nothing, he surged forward and pressed him lips to yours. you sighed into the kiss, months of longing and passion poured into one simple movement. his other hand moved from yours to your hip inside, squeezing lightly at it and pulling you closer so your body was pressed to his.

“fuck, i missed you,” he mumbled against your lips before kissing you again, slipping his tongue inside and moving his hand that was once on your cheek to your neck to gently press at the sides. you felt a little lightheaded at the action in the best ways possible.

the kiss was slow and passionate, something you’d missed so desperately about being with jj. he didn’t often rush things like this. he preferred to take his time and make you feel all woozy and worked up.

you could feel him begin to get slightly antsy, unsure of what to do with his hands. you chose to grab the one on your hip and slide it down lower. he instinctively brought the other one down as well and cupped your ass before laughing against your lips when you whimpered.

once the two of your finally needed to catch your breath, panting and mingling your breaths, he smiled cheekily. “how ‘bout we make up for lost time?”

you couldn’t help but return the same smile. “i think i like that idea.”

he wasted no time in grabbing the back of your thighs and lifting you up, heading straight for the guest room he claimed as his own.

[jibitzlesscrocs]

I have a little request, for a fluff with Matt. I’m on my period and I’m drying, everything hurts and i feel like shit, especially because i want to wash my hair so bad but i can’t even stand, and (my curly hair girlies are gonna understand) i have a mess on my head rn. So idk what would matt do if his gf was on her period, maybe taking care of her, washing her hair trying to make her feel better? I already feel like crying thinking about this bye😭😭

this is for my girls on their period and my curly haired girls

matt sturniolo x reader

warning : cramps

cramps and hair care

in which, matt takes care of his girlfriend while she’s on her period

The cramps hit hard today.

Worse than usual.

Like your entire body was clenched from the inside out—back sore, stomach bloated, legs aching, and on top of it all… your hair was a full-blown disaster.

Your curls had frizzed into a nest of tangles after days of lying in bed, every movement draining, every small task monumental. You’d told yourself you’d wash it yesterday. Then today. But now the thought of standing up long enough to shower—let alone detangle—felt like a cruel joke.

You were curled up on Matt’s bed, oversized hoodie swallowing you whole, a heating pad half-lukewarm at your lower back. Your phone buzzed with a notification, but you ignored it. Nothing mattered right now except not crying.

“Babe?” Matt’s voice was soft from the doorway. “You okay?”

You didn’t even lift your head. “No.”

Matt stepped in quietly, the way he always did when he knew you were hurting. Not with panic. Not with forced cheer. Just a gentle kind of presence that somehow made the air feel safer. Calmer.

He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a hand along your arm. “Bad today?”

You gave a pathetic nod, eyes still closed.

Matt leaned down to kiss your forehead, and then your temple, and then the top of your head, fingers smoothing over the frizz like it didn’t even faze him. “Talk to me. What can I do?”

You finally opened your eyes, throat tight. “I feel gross. Everything hurts. I haven’t washed my hair in forever and it’s a mess and I just wanna feel normal again.”

Matt tilted his head. “Okay,” he said like it was the easiest answer in the world. “Let’s fix it.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Come on. I’m gonna wash your hair.”

You almost laughed. “You don’t know how to wash curly hair.”

Matt shrugged with a little smirk. “Then teach me. You think I’m gonna let you keep suffering with this mop on your head?”

His teasing made something ache sweetly inside you. You reached up and touched the ends of your curls with a grimace. “It’s bad, Matt.”

“Hey,” he said gently, helping you sit up with the slowest, most careful movements, supporting your back with a warm palm. “It’s your hair. It’s not bad. It’s just overwhelmed. Like you.” He brushed your hair back with reverence. “Let me help.”

You let him lead you to the bathroom, where he already had a towel laid out and your favorite products lined up like tiny soldiers on the counter. He’d clearly Googled something—or maybe just paid attention every time you ranted about curl care. Either way, it made your chest warm.

He adjusted the water in the handheld sprayer until it was just right, helping you sit comfortably on a stool with a towel draped around your shoulders.

“You sure about this?” you mumbled, leaning back.

Matt grinned and kissed your forehead again. “Trust me.”

The moment the water hit your scalp, you exhaled—like you hadn’t breathed in hours. Matt worked slowly, massaging your roots with careful fingertips, asking every few seconds if the pressure was okay, if it felt good, if you were comfortable.

He detangled in sections, using the wide-tooth comb like a pro (because you told him once—always start at the ends, never the roots), and when you winced once from a knot, he immediately paused, kissed the side of your cheek, and whispered, “You’re doing amazing.”

He didn’t rush. He didn’t joke about the amount of conditioner. He didn’t get annoyed when the curls shrunk and frizzed and did their own thing.

He just cared.

Afterward, he wrapped your hair in a t-shirt instead of a towel because “you said towels are evil”—and helped you back into bed like you were royalty.

And when you were settled under the covers, fresh-faced and sore but clean, he crawled in beside you, heating pad re-warmed, your favorite snack and water on the nightstand.

“You good?” he asked, tucking your damp curls behind your ear.

You nodded. “Better than good.”

He kissed you softly, forehead pressed to yours, hand gently resting on your stomach.

“Next time this hits, you tell me, okay? Hair, cramps, mood swings—I’m on full-period duty. No questions asked.”

You smiled for the first time all day.

“You’re my favorite,” you whispered.

Matt chuckled, pulling you closer like you were the most delicate, precious thing in the world.

“Good,” he murmured against your hair. “Because you’re mine.”

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @emeraldsturns , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274

MAI’S STORE

i like thisssss send me more requestsss !!!

[princesssarahblog]

𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

SFW and NSFW

warnin: there may be a mention alcohol, weed, adventure, sex (first sex too) and romance

author notes: I am writing for the first time smut.. I want to write something like this with many more characters obx, next one might be rafe (idk)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SFW

get ready for this naughty blonde diva to come to your house almost every day, at first you thought he just had nothing to do but over time you realized that your house is a new refuge for him, where he can relax and be away from his tyrant father

he is quite clingy to you (only you) jj will hug you almost constantly or especially kiss you. if you both have to be separated, he will grab you by the waist with his strong muscular arm and pull you in for a gentle passionate kiss. before the relationship, he would touch you often and try to touch you subtly to feel your skin.

we all know that jj is also a bit of a wild guy, and he might make bold and spontaneous decisions and you constantly dissuade him from his "brilliant ideas" and advise him to think logically together. but it would be better for you to make a decision yourself, and jj would help you implement it

lets you braid and style his hair when his head is on your lap or stomach, you’ll do little tiny braids or buns all over his head and he’ll love the giggles it brings out of you.

I think he's one of those guys who will sing some stupid songs he made up on the fly if you get offended by him. you start laughing at those moments, and you just shut him up, saying you forgave him, just so you doesn't have to listen anymore.

he's the kind of boyfriend who would go to great lengths to make you happy and will always be there for you when you need him. just be ready for a lot of playful banter and sarcastic remarks, this is just another display of affection from jj

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ NSFW

lots of quick rounds, this blond guy is constantly horny and needs sex urgently. he often gets horny at the wrong time and can take you away right in the middle of a conversation with friends without embarrassment

he likes it when you just turn into a puddle and can't say anything

he drives you crazy in bed, jj is just unrelenting. he needs to fill you with his cum at least 3 times. and he also loves when you hold on to his chest. he basically likes your touching his chest

you both remember your first time having sex very well. it was at your place, you were sweating and your pussy was on jj's thigh when you first saw his dick. and the guy often reminds you of it, teasing you and making you embarrassed

actually he comes to your house not only to hide from the world but also to have a good night with you. you are always afraid if your parents find out about it, your father often checks on you at night and once you almost got caught but everything worked out

will stimulate your sweet spot very strongly using your fingers, mouth and tongue. jj pulls you back in by your ankles when you try to squirm away from him, whining that you're too sensitive, you can't take anymore. it's too much

even during the solstice festival he somehow ended up having sex with you. he found you in the great hall after he escaped from rafe and you locked you in the closet. he showered you with kisses and told you how beautiful you were in the dress you wore for the festival. it was only because of you that rafe lost him and after that you and your group of friends left. and jj got to enjoy you and his favorite sweet spot.

asks you to sit on his face so he can eat your pussy!

jj intertwines your fingers together while you're riding his face cause he like that, murmuring how much he loves you, how perfect you are, how you're such a good girl for him. he also loves to squeeze your breasts and nipples in this position and naturally drive you crazy

- jj is the kind of person that will be hard to just start dating. In order to date him, you need to gain his complete trust in you. he is very protective and devoted, but all this can also quickly disappear. even if you date him, you will date him for a maximum of a week and blonde guy will dump you and you will be another girl for his own entertainment

[ssa-dado]

PR (Penne Rigate)

Aaron Hotchner x fleabag!reader Genre: Some weird hurt-to-comfort??? (Fluffy at times.) Bro (GN). idk. Summary: Sometimes you spiral so hard you start hallucinating David Rossi - Dave, sorry - groping your boyfriend’s tit the first time you meet his coworkers. Silver lining? Aaron’s forearms are flour-dusted and flexing over pasta dough. Warnings: age gap dynamics, jealousy (#Hossi), suggested sexting, anxiety & hypervigilance, reader masking pain with horniness (and nazi-feminism) so hard she hallucinates a Rossi-Hotch situationship, twice-reminded dead dad, and Aaron not exactly winning Boyfriend of the Year. Reader is not a reliable narrator!!! Word Count: 5.9k Dado's Corner: It was supposed to be the usual fluffy-horny combo… but it spiraled into something... experimental. These issues don’t exactly get resolved, they just get loosely patched up, temporarily. You’re allowed to feel confused. The confusion is part of the aesthetic (or so I keep telling myself)

masterlist

There’s this unspoken rule that you’re supposed to nod along and agree if a customer tips you enough. Now, you’re not entirely sure how to behave when said customer regularly gives you way more than just the tip.

(Oh, for fuck’s sake. That was horrible. You’re officially absorbing his complete inability to make a joke that’s even remotely funny. It’s contagious. Like a virus. Or lov-)

“Why don’t you come meet the team?” Aaron blurts out - mid-coffee handoff, no warning - as if that’s a casual thing people say lightheartedly.

You blink. And then you blink again.

Because he’s looking up at you, bastard, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. Tilting his chin just so, raising his eyebrows the tiniest bit so the light catches on his stupidly delicate bottom lashes like a goddamn siren song for your libido.

He’s weaponizing his face.

A full-blown visual seduction attempt under the guise of ordinary eye contact, and you’re meant to say no? You’re meant to resist that? Put that face away, Aaron.

��...What?”

“Dave’s hosting a dinner tonight.” Ah. Dave.

You shouldn’t be jealous of a man at least ten years older than him who is possibly the only person Aaron could realistically call a friend. But you are. (Aaron being on nickname terms with someone? When he still calls you by your full name half the time? No. Illegal. Shut it down.)

But you know better by now.

You’ve learned to stop wasting time on the obvious - like surface-level red flags disguised as male ””friendship”” - and start paying attention to the quiet little tells.

Because when Aaron wants something but can’t bring himself to ask - when the feelings start piling up under that buttoned-down emotional straightjacket - he gets… clingy.

Case in point: he takes the hand you’ve got resting on your hip and brings it to his lips. Slowly. Still looking up. Still keeping eye contact. (Thankfully, the Disney Princess didn’t flutter his lashes… small mercies.)

He kisses your knuckles and doesn’t let go - just laces his fingers through yours, thumb stroking the side of your index finger with that soft, absentminded tenderness that would be sweet if it weren’t for the fact that those same fingers were knuckle-deep inside you less than an hour ago.

It’s definitely a trap.

“We’re supposed to have a date tonight,” you remind him. Wine, dine, and get fucked on a mattress that isn’t his orthopedic concrete slab disguised as a bed.

Your roommate’s finally out, the stars are aligned, the gods are merciful, and this man wants to-

“We could have a date at Dave’s place,” he says, like that is romantic. Like Rossi’s Tuscan fuck-palace of mahogany and trauma is somehow a better plan.

He tries to sell it with another knuckle kiss. (Sneaky bastard.)

“Aaron. Honey. We’re not fucking in the car agai-”

“Shhh... honey, we’re in-”

“Last time your hips made that weird noise…” (Like something popped. You thought he dislocated something. You were halfway to calling 911 before he groaned again. Horrifying.)

“-public.” An overly erotic sigh follows to strengthen his case “And you’re working,”

Oh. Right. Thank you so much for the reminder, Aaron. If it weren’t for his sanctimonious little warning, you might’ve forgotten you’re currently in a slutty apron and have a cheesecake in the oven that needs pulling out in - what, 16?

No, 15… 14 minutes. Great.

So considerate of him to be scandalized by the idea of being overheard in public, when he’s blissfully unaware (you don’t have the heart to tell him. He’s delicate.) that your friends already know his inseam. And his full birth chart. And the precise length and circumference of his-

Oh… speaking of which-

“If you’re so scandalized people might hear,” you murmur, saccharine-sweet, leaning in just enough to melt a few IQ points off him (man’s too smart sometimes), “you could always come to the back with me. I could show you the pastry lab... there’s a fresh batch of cookies that desperately need your very professional, very, very, very thorough feedback.”

(Hands-on feedback. Mouth-on too.)

He chuckles, “You’re not fooling me twice.” Fair. It's already a small miracle he believed the croissants were real the first time and not just- well. A metaphor. “I’m serious. Come with me tonight.” (You plan to. Multiple times. Preferably on a mattress, not the gearshift of his billshit car.) “I know it’s scary,” he adds, all earnest and soft. “But I’ll be there. And you’re a much more likeable person than I am anyway.”

He’s still stroking your thumb.

It’s unsettling.

He’s just so sweet. So natural with it. Like he doesn’t even realize he’s touching you like that. Like a lover. Like someone who’s held you through things and made you breakfast and maybe even deserves to be held back.

It makes you want to stroke something else in return.

Just to be even. (Obviously.)

“I think they’d like me more if I were the reason you actually gave them a weekend off, you know?” Honestly, it’d be a win for everyone. You’d get your sleepy, clingy morning sex. The team would get to touch grass.

It’s not even the first time you’ve tried to convince him to sleep in. You’ve tried multiple angles. Some of them very persuasive.

And yet… no.

Fuck him and his iron will.

“I’ll think about it…” He brings his coffee to his lips to hide the smirk, but it’s no use. He’s giddy. Blows gently across the surface, all while holding eye contact. (Unnecessary.) “What do I get in return?” he asks, all faux-coy, like he isn’t already picturing it.

Oh. That’s how we’re playing.

You don’t even hesitate. “A sloppy wet blowie card redeemable anytime you wa-”

He chokes. Immediately. Coughs. Splutters. Spills half the coffee across the table, his lap, the floor you just cleaned. A full dramatic scene. Everyone turns to stare.

So much for being subtle.

You would laugh at him but instead, you’re crouched over a fresh coffee spill with a mop in hand for the second time today, while your deeply apologetic, painfully handsome boyfriend (being 46 and still calling him “boyfriend” feels like a crime punishable by jail time) paces in the background as if he’s just committed a felony.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting - sorry - are you okay? I mean, I know you’re okay, but – sorry - are you sure you’re okay?

“It’s okay.”

“-I didn’t mean to-”

“I know.””

If he weren’t hot and genuinely pathetic about it, it’d be annoying. Like that cursed 30-minute Christmas playlist they loop during December shifts, the one that somehow drops to 0.5x speed the second you're six hours deep, dead-eyed, and one sleigh bell away from crying into the espresso machine.

“I’ll clean it-” he begs.

“You won’t.”

He reaches for a stack of tissues, trying to be helpful - which only pisses you off more, because he can’t not be helpful.

It’s pathological. It’s baked into his DNA. Helpfulness as a compulsion. He’s incapable of simply letting a mess exist without trying to fix it, even if he is the one who caused it.

You need to shut him up or you won’t survive the rest of this shift. “What do I have to wear tonight?”

He perks up instantly. “So you are coming to Dave’s?” Eyes wide. Hopeful. An overgrown bipedal golden retriever who just heard the leash jingle and realized it’s walk o’clock.

You barely get the “yes” out before he’s already yanking out his teeny-tiny iPhone and furiously typing with his index finger something that probably reads:

“hi dave <3 my unconventionally young girlfriend just agreed to come tonight <3 she is the first person I’ve dated or touched since my ex-wife (mother of my child, deceased, rip forever) <333333 she still has a roommate and sometimes thinks she’s a rebound or a novelty item so she overcompensates by being hypersexual (50% is just genuine devotion tho don’t worry) <3 can’t wait for you to meet her!!! she doesn’t speak in full legalese like I do but she’s trying her best <333”

No… actually, more like:

“Good morning, Dave. Confirming that both my girlfriend and I will be attending dinner tonight at [insert overly precise timestamp] p.m. I’m looking forward to everyone meeting her. Let me know if there’s anything you need me to bring. Best, A.H.”

…Which, yes, is overly composed, pompously formal, and emotionally sterile. And yet he’d reread it three times. Hesitate over the word “girlfriend,” maybe delete it, maybe add “my” in front of it. Add a period. Delete the period. Add it again.

Because what he’d really be saying is:

“I’m bringing someone who matters more than I know how to put into words. Please don’t scare her. Please don’t embarrass me. Please, for the love of God, don’t make her feel like this was a mistake.”

You watch, dissecting every micro-expression, every digital breath, awaiting the subtle ping-

And then he finally looks up from his phone and says:

“The weather app says it’s going to be a bit windy… but we’re staying inside, so we’ll be fine. Just make sure you bring a jacket for outside.”

Oh. Okay. So he wasn’t texting DaVe. He was just… checking the weather. Never mind.

“You’re, like, actually 1000% sure I don’t need to wear anything fancy? Like… dress code-wise? You pinky swear?”

“Wear what you’re comfortable in. You’ll look beautiful no matter what.” (Ugh. Gentleman nonsense. Regency-era I-shall-fetch-your-glove-m’lady bullshit.) “There’s a cooking competition at Dave’s, by the way, so… wear something you can move in...”

(And when, exactly, was he planning to share this extremely vital piece of information? Was he just going to let you show up blind - no context, no warning - and then judge your outfit?!?!)

“…Preferably not too many buttons.”

“What?”

“There’s usually wine. And I doubt I’ll have the patience to unbutton all that if I’m tipsy.”

(Did he just-)

(Is that dirty talk? In public?!)

Small step for Aaron Hotchner. Giant leap for mankind.

“OOOOH, I like you,” you laugh, swatting his arm. Filthy, filthy man. You’re keeping him. (You were keeping him anyway. This just signed the lease and laminated the contract.)

“Well,” he deadpans, “that’s a relief.”

His humor. He seriously needs to stop or you’re going to uno reverse him straight into cardiac arrest just so he knows what it feels like to be the one left gasping.

And he is – somehow - worse than expected when you open the door at Mr. “Pick you up at 7:20” but actually shows up at 7:00 o’clock sharp.

Big, dumb googly eyes. “You’re… you’re perfect.” (Perfect??? Okay, bro. Be serious.) He says it a little breathlessly, too.

Which - alright. This is coming from a man who’s seen you in pajamas and week-old (okay, not week-old) mascara smudged down to your collarbones and still had the audacity to call you beautiful.

But this time? This time he stutters. Just a little. Which means - yes. You’ve done one hell of a job.

Although… he’s… he’s…

“You’re not so bad yourself, Hotchner…” you’re trying - really trying - not to engage with the obscene display that is his forearm vein, pulsing under the rolled cuff of a shirt that’s…

Well, textured.

You don’t know what fabric it is, but it looks expensive (though, to be fair, you've yet to catch him wearing anything that isn’t). It’s not his usual no-nonsense blend - it’s something... different.

Almost illicitly nice.

By his standards, borderline scandalous. Sensual. Not quite silk, but it’s definitely texting silk at 2 a.m. Smooth, a little structured, a little (very) transparent.

His version of lingerie, probably. And it’s working.

Especially because he’s holding a slim paper bag - wine, presumably - gripping it just tight enough to make the tendons in his hand flex, veins popping like they’re sending you a personal invitation you absolutely cannot leave on read.

Not when they’re practically pulsing your name in Morse code - perfectly normal heart rate for a man his age, maybe a little faster than usual but nothing to worry about.

(You want to eat him.)

(And you want to eat him even more because he’s still blushing at your compliment.)

(Still ducking his head toward the damn doormat - the same one he always stares at every time you say something nice on the threshold like it's suddenly going to save him.)

(Still pretending he isn’t doing any of this on purpose.)

(He is. He’s a slut. And you’ve broken the encryption.)

You’re dangerously close to asking him to cancel dinner altogether so you can crawl into his lap and trace those veins and flushed cheeks with your mouth.

But - no. You’ve come this far. You’re wearing your good shoes.

“Is that for me?” you ask, nodding toward the incriminating wine bag he’s holding.

You already know the answer. You’ve seen the label peeking out - the same wine he asked you about months ago when he still needed excuses to talk to you. The one you recommended. The one you both got tipsy on that night you-

God. So romantic. Remembering something so small just so the two of you could reminisce together…

“That’s for Dave,” he says. (Awesome. Love that. Feeling super special right now.) “But this-” he leans in, suddenly, and you can already tell he’s doing mental calculus on what to do with his free hand.

Aaron’s a face-grabber kind of kisser. You know this. You love that he’s a face-grabber kind of kisser.

There’s nothing (and this is unfortunately not hyperbole) you crave more than having your face completely eclipsed by those huge hands.

To feel his hot palms cradle your jaw, his thumbs press into your cheekbones while the scent of that wrist cologne (that he definitely sprays on purpose) clogs your lungs and your will to stand upright.

But not this time.

His hand falters mid-air. Hesitates. Probably because his internal probability matrix is running a risk assessment on smudging your makeup.

He can’t tell if you’re actually wearing any - unsure whether the godlike glow you’re currently emitting is foundation, highlighter, or just you being hot and terrifying by nature - so he aborts the face mission.

Redirects, sliding around your waist instead. And when he pulls you in, at least you can get drunk on the sprays of his cologne clinging to his clavicles.

“This,” he says, right before his lips find yours, “is for you.”

The old this-then-kiss technique. Vintage (prehistoric.) Sooooo corny. But somehow it’s adorable when he does it - because he says it with that barely-there smug little smile, like he thinks he just pulled off the smoothest move in cinematic history.

He thinks he’s being so cool.

Bless his delusion.

You need to bless something in this man or you’ll feel guilty for cursing the fact that if Aaron hadn’t been raised with the emotional bandwidth of a teaspoon - thanks to Mommy Dearest and a father who’s, oh right, dead (you keep forgetting; trauma’s the subscription box that just keeps on delivering)-

Then this “meet the parents” moment would’ve involved a couple of awkward silences, maybe a tense pause after his mom casually mentions that your uterus technically belongs to the U.S. government.

Instead, you’re standing in what can only be described as a psychological war room disguised as a kitchen.

The kind of kitchen that’s the exact size of your entire apartment, if your apartment had mood lighting, marble counters, and a temperature-controlled wine fridge that probably costs more than your entire year of rent.

And in it:

A battalion (six) of government-employed behavioral analysts, each gripping the correct wine glass for the correct varietal.

And - one guy. (JJ’s… husband? No ring. Fiancé? No. Boyfriend? Oh, fuck this. Babydaddy. That’s what he is. The babydaddy of their son.) What is he, a detective? Fed-lite? Badge-adjacent? Whatever.

Basically, you’re surrounded by cops.

You've betrayed every principle you hold dear because some old man with courtroom diction and bottom lashes that could sweep the floor said your name once like it hurt him to feel something.

And now he’s gone.

Aaron steps away just to hang your jacket like the soft-handed gentleman he occasionally remembers to be - and Dave, yes that Dave, the one currently looming behind a granite island the size of a mid-range yacht, immediately peels off to follow.

They start murmuring to each other in that cryptic, chesty man-code hum and somehow, despite the noise, your hyper-attuned ears still manage to isolate it:

Aaron’s laugh.

Light. Private. The one he saves for people who’ve known him long enough to earn it.

Physics insists there’s more space without Aaron taking up your peripheral vision and stealing half your air. Your lungs disagree.

You’re standing alone, still mentally half-hovering in the doorway like someone’s plus-one who wasn’t technically invited, every sense on high alert, spine locked, tracking everything at once just to stay one step ahead of the judgment you’re absolutely sure is coming.

The sound of his footsteps on the flooring slowly getting closer. The rhythm of his voice.

Who’s looking at you, how long, what it means.

Whether someone’s already profiling you. (They definitely are.)

You don’t feel unwelcome, exactly. You just feel… scanned.

And then comes Emily Prentiss.

(You recognize her from the Facebook deep-dive you did two hours before Aaron picked you up. 41. Speaks a gazillion of languages. Has a cat named Sergio. [Regrettably did not bring Sergio to dinner.])

Emily: the agent who - until very recently - everyone thought was dead.

Everyone except Aaron and JJ.

(Mother to one boy named Henry - you think he’s a few years younger than Jack? - and chronic reblogger of that one women’s soccer team whose name always escapes you but she clearly has beef with their coach.)

Anyway. Back to Emily.

Messy story.

Something-something faked death, interagency yada-yada, undercover stuff and maybe betrayal?

Aaron never told you the full thing. (Probably because he knows damn well you’d immediately stop siding with him the second you found out how shockingly bad he is at communicating literally anything important.)

Emily looks at you. “You’re-”

His what?

His young?

Too young?

His young little sister? (Half-sister, technically. His dad’s dead. Right. That’s the second time you’ve forgotten. In a row. What kind of girlfriend does that-)

His daughter?

His granddaughter?

“-real.”

Oh. “Yes. Yes, I’m real… I guess so???”

So he’s considered a loser at work too. Interesting. That’s definitely not what he told you.

“Mama, if y’all girls weren’t so hungover you would’ve seen her at the triathlon too…”

That’s Derek. (Age: not specified, hometown: Chicago, emotional support dog Clooney: deceased, tragically. Retired service dog. Heart of gold. 10/10)

He pats Emily on the shoulder mid-sentence, barely getting the words “Hi, I’m-” out before he’s completely steamrolled by JJ and your soon-to-be favorite oversharer: Penelope Garcia.

(Penelope - recently single [sad for her, unfortunately sad for you], extremely online, chronically committed to rhinestone accessories - has posted enough Facebook statuses in the past three weeks to warrant a digital intervention.)

(If you weren’t technically tied to her unit chief, you’d absolutely hit on her. But let’s be real. She’s way out of your league. Like... celestial tier.)

(Not that Aaron isn’t too… but he’s - he’s a loser. That’s what he is. A hot, competent loser. Your loser.)

(Your hormone cycle would like to formally request that you marry him. But that’s just hormones. Obviously. You don’t really think that. Marriage is a scam.)

Behind them stand two more additions to your ever-expanding social anxiety spiral: Will - Will! You finally remember his name! (The detective. The stay-at-home wife. The babydaddy!)

And Dr. Spencer Reid.

(No Facebook. No digital footprint. You only know him through Aaron’s scattered mentions, mostly about how he keeps forgetting his hotel room keycards. Multiple times. Like, compulsively. He’s probably only a few years older than you. Which – honestly - is the closest thing to comfort you’ve gotten all night.)

From a distance, they don’t seem too terrifying.

Not at first glance.

Not until Dave steps back into the room.

And not to be territorial, but-

You clock the way his arm is slung a little too familiarly around your sad-looking man’s shoulders.

“This man wouldn’t have asked you out if it weren’t for me,” Dave declares.

First words out of his mouth and he’s already claiming credit like he coached the whole thing.

Aaron grimaces. “Dave-”

Doesn’t matter. He’s unstoppable.

Dave gives Aaron’s shoulder a condescending little pat - dominance disguised as affection - and flashes the room (…a smile. He flashes the room – a smile.)

“Now that we’re all finally here…”

He side-eyes Aaron. Passive-aggressive. You clock it immediately.

Aaron, bless his rigid, rule-following, bureaucratic soul, steps in. “You said 8 p.m. We’re not late.”

And that’s when Dave really sinks his claws in. His hand tightens on Aaron’s shoulder - subtle, practiced, like a predator with a working knowledge of social cues - and he laughs.

But it’s not a casual laugh. It’s a loaded laugh. A you’ll never have power here laugh.

“Exactly. It’s 7:30, Aaron. Last time you showed up half an hour early, I had to change the time so you wouldn’t walk in on me in my robe.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Aaron’s blushing. And you really hope it’s not for the reason your brain keeps whispering.

(That reason being: They’ve seen each other in robes before. Multiple times. Maybe fewer robes. Maybe no robes. Maybe-)

(You’re not saying there’s something going on. You’re just saying there’s energy. A lot of history. A suspicious amount of comfort. A shoulder grip with a little too much thumb.)

“Anyway, now that that’s all clear,” Dave chirps, but somehow his hand is… lower? Is that-? No. That’s not- It is. No, no no-

Dave’s palm is now resting on Aaron’s tit pec. Is he cupping it? Is this real?

“Alright! You’re all coupled up, right?” Dave claps, winks, and moves along like he didn’t just get to second base with your boyfriend in front of you.

Aaron smiles at you. Smiles. Unbothered. Unbothered and getting fondled by his best friend.

“You’ve got one hour! Chop chop- I’m starving!” Dave calls out, punctuating it with not one, but two enthusiastic pats.

On Aaron’s…

Right boob.

You see red.

And as Dave finally releases his hostage - who strolls back to you all smiley and suspiciously unfazed about being publicly groped-

Dave, yet again (because of course it’s Dave, the world absolutely curves around that manipulative little Italian man’s will), tosses over his shoulder with far too much satisfaction for a straight guy with three ex-wives:

“Damn, Aaron! That triathlon training’s really paying off, huh? Look at that chest!”

“Agh- Dave,” Aaron groans half-mortified, but then, he looks down at himself and chuckles.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

You’re no profiler, but if Dave is making detailed commentary on your man’s chest gains with the kind the kind of confidence that implies historical data-

Then it’s because he has historical data.

That man has groped your boyfriend’s tits before.

More than once.

Enough to compare progress.

And suddenly, you're not so sure you're the only one in this relationship who’s been getting a handful.

Speaking of handfuls-

A warm, very specific hand lands on your shoulder.

“Hey”

Aaron. Of course.

You should’ve known just from the size of it. Or the temperature. There’s something unsettlingly distinct about the way he touches you - like no other object, fabric, or living creature has ever graced your shoulder with that much… heat.

Except maybe his mouth. When it stops there. Briefly. On its way down to your-

“Something’s wrong,” Mr. Profiler’s far too perceptive as he hands you an apron so you won’t get your outfit (the one he called ‘perfect’) dirty.

He steps behind you just as you’ve already tied it, clearly having intended to do it himself in that gentlemanly, let-me-wrap-my-arms-around-you-for-no-reason kind of way.

What a fool.

You don’t need help tying a fucking apron. You don’t need his affirmation coded into every little gesture.

What is that, anyway? Chivalry? Control? Is he worried you’ll somehow mess it up without him? Or is it just that he can’t handle you doing things alone – competently - without needing his federal male approval stamped on it?

You’re here to cook. To participate. To prove-what? That you belong? That you're not a tourist in his life?

You shake it off.

“Are you sure it’s enough eggs for the amount of pasta we have to make?” you frown at the sad, lonely little pile sitting by your –right, Dave’s - cutting board.

“Honey, you asked me to take eight-”

“Yeah. One per person...”

Ah.

You didn’t count yourself.

You stare at the eggs.

Count them again, maybe they’ll rearrange and make more sense this time. But no - there are eight.

For everyone else. Everyone but you.

Aaron steps to your side, looks down too, and you’re still doing mental math, because now you don’t even remember how much fucking flour you dumped in that bowl. Did you even measure it? Did you eyeball it??

There’s no scale in sight. Shit.

If the pasta doesn’t turn out perfect, it’ll just confirm what everyone’s already half-smiling to themselves about: Ah. Of course.

The decorative girlfriend. The midlife-crisis sparkle to distract from how lonely he’s been. A little proof of life.

No respectable job. No remarkable backstory. Just here to stand beside him and prove he can still fuck someone half his age without taking the blue pi-

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

His hand lands on your lower back, rubbing slow circles. Not lazy. Just… frustratingly kind.

The kind of touch that isn’t trying to lead anywhere. Doesn’t want anything.

(…Would he want something more if you were Dave?)

Just exists there, warm and grounding. (You immediately regret not wearing something backless. Why would you not want to feel that hand directly on your skin? Fool.)

It’s infuriating. And really, really nice. Which is more annoying.

He steps into your line of sight, casually body-blocking the rest of the room (which may or may not currently feature a half-floured Spencer Reid flailing near the sink yelling, “Emily. Emily, please stop. She’s going to think we’re – Emily - no, seriously - what is she going to think about us - Emily, that we’re unprofessional? - Emily. No. No, Derek. Not you too.”)

But you wouldn’t know.

Because you can’t see a damn thing past the entire 6’2” anxious boyfriend now standing directly in front of you.

All you get is the gentle forehead creases of a man who probably cares more about your emotional stability than his own cholesterol, and those Barbie-pink lips tugged into that soft, earnest little frown.

He’s trying to emotionally disarm you in full HD. (Also? Slightly misogynistic. Forcing eye contact like that. Yeah… that’s what it is. Sure.)

“Hey, hey,” he chases your eyes. “It’s fine. I’m stealing one egg from Morgan, and we’ll add the flour slowly, adjust the texture as we go. How does that sound?”

It sounds like something he’d say. Like he thinks everyone functions like he does - just bury the panic under logistics, swallow the feeling whole and chew on the task instead.

A plan. A loose, improv-based, easy-to-fuck-up plan. And you can’t afford to fuck up. Also-

“You? Stealing?”

“Yes.” He admits it too... God you’re such a bad influence on him. “I’ve got a lot of tricks up my sleeve you’re still not aware of.” Sure thing, flirt. (Say that again with your little smug voice and see if you don’t get jumped behind the wine fridge.)

He kisses the side of your head - quick, perfunctory. Blink and you’d miss it.

If you were Dave, he’d take his time. He’d cup your jaw, linger, maybe drop a “I’ll have to slip away for a moment to steal that egg, darling” in that perfect baritone.

But sure. A kiss is a kiss.

He seals the success of his noble egg-heist with another swift press to the same spot, then pushes his sleeves up higher - back to business, like nothing happened.

(You’re not looking. You’re absolutely not watching. You are, in fact, turning away to start on some kind of sauce. Your years in the service industry kick in and your body moves on muscle memory- meanwhile, your eyes... oh shit-)

He covertly pulls out a perfectly folded neon pink sticky note and - just as discreetly - his glasses from the pocket of his pants. (God forbid someone catches him using them.)

To his visible surprise, there’s a massive ink smear across the middle (he’s a leftie - everything he writes eventually morphs into smudged abstract expressionism), so he lifts the note off the table – squints at it – holds it even closer to his face – pauses – and then lets out a victorious:

“Aha.”

That soft exhale of understanding that tells you the giant black blob in the center used to mean something like: “Arrange flour into a cone, add beaten eggs and a pinch of salt in the center, and mix.”

(Groundbreaking stuff. Genius-level culinary insight. Next he’ll discover fire.)

And so he does. (Not the fire. Sadly, that was discovered already. But the mixing. He starts the mixing.)

Flour catches on his forearms, clings to the hair dusted across them. His sleeves are rolled to the brink - one more fold and they’d legally be classified as short sleeves.

And those forearms.

Obscene, if you really look. (You’re really looking.)

You can practically hear the veins dilating under the strain of physical effort.

Jaw clenched. Brows drawn in tight, serious lines. All that elite, laser-sharp hyperfocus, typically reserved for, like, hostage negotiations, now directed at a stubborn, crumbling ball of dough.

He probably sticks his tongue out. Just a little. A sliver. For half a second. You imagine it. You know it happens.

At first, the dough resists. Frays. Crumbles. But he’s relentless.

He plants one forearm down to pin it - veins, tendons, shirt pulling tight around his biceps, fabric threatening to give out under the stress - while the other hand folds, presses, rolls into it.

Over and over, and over again.

You want to be that ball of dough.

You want to be folded. Pressed. Pinned. Kneaded into - God, you hate to say it - absolute fucking submission by those hands.

Those hands that are currently manhandling gluten but could so, so easily be doing the same to your thighs. (Your ass. [Your throat.])

You hope you’re not drooling in front of his coworkers. You casually touch your jaw to check if it’s hanging open.

It is.

You shut it. Immediately.

Even though all your jaw wants to do right now is go wide. Wide enough to take that meaty, vein-lined, dexterous-

“Good arm work, Aaron,” Dave comments. From right next to you.

Oh shit.

You flinch like you’ve been caught mid-crime (which, honestly, you have. Horniness in the first degree.)

“You okay there, cara?” he taunts, as you seriously consider pretending you don’t speak English. “Relax,” he chuckles. “It’s cute. I’ve seen that face before... on him.”

Then he winks and tilts his head toward his boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

“Aaron?”

“Oh yes. Aaron,” he says, far too smug for someone who probably still uses a landline. “Back when you texted him back, one of those early times - you were still…” he waves a hand vaguely, probably hoping to reach for a descriptor that won’t get him slapped. “I don’t know. Whatever it was you were doing.”

(Scared shitless you might accidentally become a six-year-old’s stepmom overnight. That’s what you were doing.)

“Anyway,” he continues, “it was right before your first date.”

“What?”

“Yeah. We were driving back from some crap consult in Delaware. Just the two of us. You texted. I swear to God, I thought he was gonna drive us straight into a cornfield.”

Dave even pauses to reenact it - mouth half-open, eyes wide, looking as if he’s just seen Jelena walk into his kitchen uninvited.

(Which is impressive, considering the man almost definitely doesn’t know what a Jelena is. That’s how shocked he looks.)

“He didn’t think you’d reply,” Dave says, shaking his head with a look that’s almost pitying. “Said it out loud. ‘She’s probably just being polite.’” He drops his voice into a pitch-perfect imitation of Aaron’s broody monotone. It’s eerily accurate. Almost disrespectfully good.

“And he was gripping the wheel, doing that thing - you know, the thumb thing he does when he’s overthinking? Like he’s trying to knead the anxiety out through his own damn cuticles?”

(You do know. You’ve probably picked up the same nervous tic by now, just from proximity.)

Thinking about it makes you want to glance at Aaron.

He’s still laser-focused on his dough. (One of his ears is a little fucked up, sure - but not that fucked up. He hears everything.)

(And yet, he’s not looking up.)

“He wanted to text back, but he didn’t want to seem too eager. So I said, ‘Go on. Dictate it. I’ll type it. He made me edit it three times before I could send it. Then made me sign it with his initials, like it was a legal briefing or some classified FBI memo or whatever the hell that was about.”

“I didn’t want it to sound informal,” Aaron mutters, somewhere in the vicinity of his kneading.

“Oh no,” Dave says, grinning, “you wanted it to sound cool. Like you weren’t already smitten. Like every word out of your mouth didn’t already sound like please love me back.”

You are trying so hard not to laugh you might rupture something.

“He even took the wrong exit – twice - while I was typing ‘Sounds great, what day works for you?’”

“Dave,” Aaron groans. “I told you the GPS was-”

“OH NONONONO. Don’t do that. You called me for weeks just to talk about her. You’d send me screenshots and ask if your texts sounded ‘approachable.’ She deserves to know how miserable-”

“Dave.”

You’re frozen. Wide-eyed. In awe. Possibly hallucinating. Then, just to twist the knife, Dave leans in and says: “You know what else?”

There’s a “Dave, no-” from Aaron that gets totally ignored.

“We were forty minutes late. I told the team the GPS glitched. But the truth is… your boyfriend was too busy falling in love in the driver’s seat.”

You glance at Aaron. He doesn’t look up. But his ears are red.

“Just thought you should know,” Dave adds, giving your shoulder a paternal (unsexual) little pat. “Next time you’re eyeing his forearms like they’re your last meal - remember he used to make the exact same face every time you texted back. Poor guy looked like his heart was about to crawl out of his tie.”

He pauses. Smirks. “And he still does it, by the way. Not sure what you’re texting him these days but-”

“Dave,” you and Aaron snap at the same time.

(Oh wow. You’re officially on nickname basis with your man’s man-besties now. Adorable.)

Too synchronized. Too defensive.

Which is juuust a bit telling.

Dave raises his eyebrows. Doesn’t press. Doesn’t have to.

Because now you’re the one stuck picturing Aaron blushing at his phone - except it’s not over some sweet little “can’t wait to see you” message.

It’s over the stuff you’ve been sending him lately.

And it’s definitely not lunch plans.

Aaron still signs them with his initials, though.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @goorgeousz ; @hayleym1234 ; @ignoreeeeeee ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kiwriteswords ; @kyrathekiller ; @littlemisskavities ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mmmunson ; @mxblobby ; @nikt-wazny-y ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softtdaisy ; @softestqueeen ; @thatkidofwarandpeace ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24 ; @who-needs-to-sleep

[starkwlkr]

Omfg I need like early on in the relationship between Hugh and marvel!reader where their relationship isn’t public and their papparazzi of them on set together coz they’re visiting eachother and everyone’s thinking xmen X mcu when in reality it’s just them together dating

no spoilers! | hugh jackman

an: ok since their first son was born in 2000 (it’s canon idk what date but it’s canon now lol) and the mcu started in 2008 I’m going to change a few things JUST TINY THINGS like the mcu being in development early on and marvel actress!reader being casted in the early 2000s. does that make sense?? idk this is fanfiction

2005

Getting a call from Marvel was something you never expected. Like many people, you grew up reading the comics and watching the tv shows. But now you had the chance of a lifetime. You were being offered a role in the first movie in the Marvel cinematic universe.

After having a meeting with the marvel executives and your manager, you were asked to keep the news of your casting a secret. The media was already wondering who was going to portray what heroes on the big screen and your name was being thrown around.

While your relationship was still a secret, you often visited Hugh on set of X-Men with Alex and Reese. You tried to keep your little family from the media as much a possible. You would watch Hugh get into his costume and do his stunts. You were always amazed at how much fun it would be to portray a superhero and now you were finally going to be able to.

A few months after you met with Marvel, you found out you were pregnant with your third baby. A girl. Thankfully you weren’t set to film yet since the film was still in development. When it was finally time to film ‘Iron Man’, you were more than ready. Your kids were a bit older so they finally got to watch you beat up bad guys like their dad did.

It was during the filming of ‘Iron Man 2’ when your secret was finally revealed to the world. You didn’t really know how it even happened . . . Your guess was that paparazzi somehow snuck in. Hugh was always careful when visiting you on set. Rumors were already circulating on the internet about a potential X-Men and Avengers team up. It didn’t help that Hugh was sporting his signature Wolverine hair when he visited the set. At least the kids weren’t with you.

“You look much better than me,” Hugh looked at your costume. He couldn’t stop staring, it was starting to make you weak in the knees. “at least you get comfortable suits. Remember the black suits from X-Men? The most uncomfortable shit ever.”

“The kids thought you looked cool.” You reminded him.

“Okay, that makes me feel better.”

As you and Hugh talked, some paparazzi were secretly taking photos. All they could think about was how well they were going to get paid for the exclusive photos. The X-Men joining the mcu? That was big news!

When the photos were published on every magazine, you couldn’t help but laugh. What a way to reveal your relationship. You definitely didn’t want to share the news this way, but you also didn’t want to lose your job.

“Maybe in a few years it’ll come true. You, me, X-Men and the Avengers.” He told you, giving you your morning coffee. The kids were still sleeping so you and Hugh took advantage of the quiet morning. You set the magazine down on the table and drank the coffee.

“It would be nice. Imagine what the kids will think. Mom and dad beating up the bad guys together,” you smiled at him. He took the opportunity to give you a kiss. As he pulled away, you whispered to him. “or it could be me kicking the wolverine’s ass.”

Your characters wouldn’t share the screen until 2024 when Deadpool & Wolverine premiered. Your kids were more than excited to see their parents fighting together.

@kellyxo1 @barnes70stark @ru-kru @flyestvenustrap @evasmlp

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

embry, i'm coming home

pairing; embry call x reader

warnings; kissing i guess idk

just getting back into this, tell me your thoughts and stuff - maybe even request a thing or two

summary; you're Quil's sister, and go over to confront Embry about ditching him, and instead, he imprints on you.

Being Quil's twin sister, you'd known Embry pretty much forever. Growing up beside each other, you'd always thought he was cute, but you never told Quil. You already knew he'd never allow it. It also wasn't something you wanted to do to them, if anything were to happen, it would shift the whole group dynamic, and no one wanted that.

You two had always loved each other, and you both knew it.

But when Embry had started ignoring all his friends... well, it really pissed you off.

Quil and Jake were left sad, upset but mostly confused. What was Embry up to that they couldn't know about? What was Sam Uley doing to these guys that turned them into such a tight lipped, secretive little club.

You were tired of seeing Quil so devastated, and one day, after he got home and locked himself in his room. You'd had enough of it.

Embry didn't have to hang out with them if he didn't want to, but he didn't have to be a dick about it either.

So you got into your mom's car, and drove over to his house. The silence of the broken car stereo just egged your anger on more, making it. And as you thought of what to say, it got more and more irritated.

Parking in the laneway of Embry's house, you saw there were no cars in the drive. And you were thankful for that, no one around to witness you yelling at him for being a shitty friend.

You knocked loudly a couple times, but no one came to the door. You tried peaking in through the window, and didn't see his mom or anyone else in the living room, so she must not have been there. You weren't leaving without answers, so you dug the spare key out of it's hidden spot in the big flower pot out front, wiping the dirt off on your pant leg, you let yourself into his house.

There was music playing softly in his room, he always let it play while he slept. Something you used to find endearing, but right now it somehow also made you mad.

You pushed open the door to his room, and there he was, laying face down, sheets tangled around his legs, back and muscles on full display. If you didn't know any better, you wouldn't even believe this was Embry, he looked so different. His short hair was messy, sticking up in random spots from tossing and turning. He'd always been a restless sleeper.

You picked a random trinket off his dresser, an unsolved rubicks cube, and threw it at him, the sharp corner hitting him on the back, and he sprung up, confused and disoriented at the sudden intrusion.

"Get up," you said, crossing your arms.

"What?" He tried to blink himself awake, holding himself off the bed, flexing his strong arms, subtly cracking your resolve without trying to. In this moment, he was Embry again. Confused, tired, looking at you with sleep in his eyes.

And when he looked at you, a wave of calm ran over you. All the yelling you planned to do washed away, and it all seemed silly now, unimportant. Your heart was beating heavily, and you wanted to run to him. Wanted to kick him, and fight him and kiss him all at once.

Embry was still Embry, you could feel it. But why did he leave you?

"I missed you," you said, voice cracking as you tried to stay calm, unable to yell at him. Unable to find the anger you'd drove over here with.

He scrambled to get up, confusion leaving his face. And he was looking at you like he always did. His body was different, but his eyes, his eyes were his. You felt drawn to him, like gravity had shifted entirely, like you belonged in this room with him. Like you belonged beside him at all times.

"I missed you," he said, acting as if he'd never left. As if he'd never been missing. And everything suddenly felt normal again. Like there weren't any secrets. He came closer, hesitant. Slowly making his way across the small room, stopping just before you. "I've really, really missed you."

There was no reason for it, but tears welled in your eyes, running down your cheeks before you could stop it.

"Then why did you leave?"

"I didn't have a choice," he said, "but that's different now."

"Since when?"

"Since right now."

The tears kept falling, and no one moved. Embry looking down at you sadly, his heart aching at the sight of you crying. He wondered how many times you'd cried over him before today, how many nights you wondered where he is, or why he wouldn't call you back. You had been the hardest to leave behind, even more than his friends. Maybe there was a small part of his subconscious that always knew you two were meant for each other. Like his mind knew to just wait for this moment.

He was the first to make move, bringing his hand up to wipe some of the tears off your cheek.

"It wasn't fair," you sobbed, desperate to wrap yourself around him, but you resisted.

"I know," he said.

"I called."

"I know."

"You weren’t supposed to leave me like that."

"I know," he said again, brushing your hair behind your ears. His warm touch soothing you, making the tears stop. Bringing a sense of comfort you'd been missing for weeks. "Never again."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Embry held his hands against your cheek, his long fingers grazing the edges of your hair, holding you steady and softly, keeping his eyes locked on you. "I will never let you down again." He placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "My life is yours."

"Embry," you sighed softly, confused but leaning into the moment. It all felt right. Like you believed him, you knew he was sincere. You'd barely talked about anything but he wasn't lying to you, you knew that somehow. "Will you tell me why?"

"Yes," he answered. "Anything and everything, I'll explain it all."

"No secrets?"

"Not from you," he said, "I'll never keep anything from you again."

The two of you were still standing in his doorway. And you still wanted answers, today. But... in a minute.

Embry's heart raced as he looked down at you. His imprint, his girl. The one who's always had his heart. The one who he'd already loved. Without thinking, he leaned down to scoop you up. Picking you up like you weighed nothing at all, letting you wrap your legs around his waist, faces inches apart. And he just looked at you, eyes filled with love and devotion. Like you'd been apart for hours, not weeks.

And then you kissed him. You leaned into him and pressed your lips to his, feeling the softness you always dreamed about. It was beautiful, the way your mouths moved together slowly. Him following your lead, spreading his hands over your back and holding you as close to him as possible. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, pressing your chest into his.

Nothing had ever felt more right than this. No moment ever as perfect.

He brought you to the bed, setting you down gently, barely ever breaking contact with his lips. And one of his hands moved back to your cheek, caressing the soft skin as he climbed on top of you, settling between your legs, pressing your bodies together like he belonged there. You moaned into him, inviting his tongue into mouth. It was slow and sensual, and took the time to learn what you liked, what your body reacted to.

Embry was the first to pull away, even though he didn't want to, but he had to stop. Didn't want to rush anything, take anything too far too soon. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful.

"I'm so sorry," he said kissing your nose, then your cheek, then right by your ear, making you moan and push your chest up into him. "I will be sorry for hurting you for as long as I live."

"I forgive you," you whispered, and it was like he was set free. Everything about today had set him free. Free to be with you, to tell you the full truth.

He'd never really left, watched over you and Quil. Checking in on you before and after his patrols. Making sure you got to work safe, and home again.

"Will you come see Quil again?" and you could tell by the guilty look on his face, that no, he wouldn't be able to. While things between the two of you were different now, the rift between friends have stayed the same.

"It's not like that," he said, "staying away is not something I want to do."

He rolled off of you, staying close to your side and pulling you into him, spooning you from behind and nuzzling his face into your neck. He'd never felt truly at home until this very minute.

Everything about you was home.

"I have a lot of stuff to tell you," he said. "And I'd like to get it out of the way so I can keep kissing you."

[freeabortionslol]

Welcome Home (jack hughes x gf!reader)

summary: fluff! you've been studying abroad in France for the past three months, and your boyfriend jack plans a surprise welcome home party. he's deemed this night as the perfect time to tell you he loves you (feat. quinn hughes, luke hughes, nico hischier, jesper bratt, nicole laud, trevor zegras)

warnings!! cursing, glass breaking idk, trevor and nico being idiots

a/n just a short lil blurb bc I wanted to write for jack. had to give luke a bit of the spotlight bc I just love him sm

wc: 1.5k

“No no no! It’s not straight enough!” Jack yelled to his brother Quinn who was standing on a barstool placing a banner on the wall. “Move it up. No, not to the side! Move it up! Keep it straight!”

“Jack, it’s really difficult to do this while you’re screaming in my face!” Quinn yelled back, causing Jack to take a step away. “Let me remind you that you practically begged me to do this!”

“I did not beg you!”

“Yes you did! You said ‘Quinn we have to hang this banner up, but you’re so much better at doing it than I am’ when we all know that you’re just scared to stand on the stool!”

“I’m not scared!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay Hotshot, you get up here and do it then!” Jack kept his spot standing safely on the ground, keeping his stare on Quinn. “That's what I thought. Go run along.” Quinn shooed Jack away with his hand and continued trying to center the banner. Jack made his way through your apartment which was now crowded with your closest friends. You had been studying abroad in France for the past three months, and you were finally coming home to New York. Your boyfriend, Jack, thought it would be perfect to bring everyone you missed so much, right to your door. It was a surprise welcoming party of course, knowing Jack Hughes he had to add some flare. He hoped that when you caught sight of his grand gesture, you’d reward him with kisses and all the love your heart could hold. The two of you had been dating for five months now, and have yet to say “I love you” to each other. You both felt it and knew it, but you both had fear of rejection which stopped you. Jack had decided when he began planning this, that he would tell you right then and there. Everyone could tell how anxious he was trying to make everything perfect just for you. He paced around the living room, occasionally flipping his hat from backwards to forwards every couple seconds. He made his way to the kitchen and began straightening the bowls of snacks, making sure they were perfectly lined up with each other.

“She’s gonna love it, Jack. There’s no reason to stress.” He looked over his shoulder to see Jesper’s wife, Nicole, wearing a half-smile as she tried to comfort his nerves. Jack returned the smile, and relaxed his shoulders.

“Not his fault that he’s pussy whipped, babe. Even if he hasn’t had the pussy in three months. Jesper said with a hit to Jack’s back. His words earned a slap to the shoulder from his wife.

“He’s not whipped!” Her tone grew angry. “He’s in love.” Jack’s face tinted red as Jesper began to laugh at the sight of his teammate so flustered. He’d never heard it out loud from someone else, and he worried that Nicole somehow saw through him.

It was now ten minutes until you arrived. You were so sick of the airport and you never wanted to step foot into one again. The cab ride back to your apartment was your favorite part of the day. You got to sight see all of the familiar buildings you had missed so dearly. Sure, you loved living in France, but France didn’t have Jack Hughes. You thought you’d be going home to a quiet apartment where you’d read for a bit on the couch, and probably invite Jack over afterwards. Clueless and tired, you had no idea of the chaos that was currently unfolding in your one bedroom apartment in the city.

Everything was going perfectly according to Jack's plan, until Nico and Trevor started visually teaching a group of your girl friends one of Luke’s famous plays. The two of them stood near the kitchen island as they explained, trying to impress the women.

“So, I'm skating right here.” Trevor starts. “I got the puck with me, and then all of a sudden Luke comes swooshing in outta nowhere!” Nico tries to carry out Luke’s play, stepping in front of Trevor which results in him accidentally pushing Trevor into one of the snack bowls that rested on the counter. The glass bowl shattered on the ground in front of them, causing Jack's head to pop up from the living room. He frantically ran over to the kitchen after grabbing the broom for the closet. Nico and Trevor immediately began picking up the big chunks of broken glass while Jack brought over the broom. As he was just about to start sweeping the shards of glass and chips on the floor, he felt his phone buzz from his pocket.

You: hey lil jizzy finally made it to my apartment :)) come over whenever you want i’ll be here

“Shit! Y/n’s here!” Jack yelled out to everyone in the apartment. People began running into your bedroom, as Jack, Nico, Trevor, Jasper, Nicole, Quinn, and Luke frantically tried to clean up the place. Quinn looked up from the mess to see the banner he’d just hung starting to fall off the wall.

“Jack! The banner!” He shouted, causing Jack to whip his head at the wall.

“Fuck the banner! It’s go time!” Jack finished sweeping the broken pieces of glass into the dustpan, throwing it into the trash, and bolting towards your room. Nico and Trevor followed behind him. Quinn ran to where the banner was, but without a stool he wasn’t able to bring it down.

“I’ll get it! Just go!” Luke frantically yelled at him, watching as he turned out the lights of the apartment and raced to your room shutting the door behind him. Luke reached up to grab the banner, tugging it down, but one of the sides was snagged on something hanging on your wall. He anxiously tried pulling it down as he heard your keys jingle from the other side of the door. Luckily, he finally was able to snag it down, crumpling it up and throwing it on the ground. In this moment, Luke realized he had nowhere to run to, and he stayed frozen in your kitchen, unable to move. You walked in the door, earbuds in your ears with your eyes glued to your phone. You let out a sigh of relief as you dropped your luggage and turned on the lights to your apartment. You slowly put your earbuds into your pocket, feeling the refreshing air of your own home. You looked up from your phone to see Luke standing in your kitchen, jumping at the sight of him. You tilted your head slightly as you traveled closer to him, standing near your bedroom door while he was behind the island.

“Hey, Luke Hughes.” you said with a slight smile on your face. Luke sent you an awkward smile and a small wave. “What are you doing in my apartment?” Luke only rubbed the back of his neck, stepping on the crushed up banner below him hoping the people in your bedroom would save him. At his expense, they did not. Jack’s plan was to wait for you to open your bedroom door and then everyone would surprise you.

“I uhh..” Luke searched his mind for an excuse “I had to take a leak. Yeah. I had to piss a-and your place was the closest to me.” Your face grew confused as Luke was breaking down on the inside.

“You don’t have a key to my apartment.” You let out a confused laugh.

“I don’t?”

“No. You don’t.” You shook your head pursing your lips. “So unless this place was unlocked for three months-”

“SURPRISE!” Jack yelled and whipped open the door behind you, which caused a small scream to escape your lips. You looked into your bedroom to see all of your closest friends jumping up and down and laughing. Your smile grew wider in shock as Jack pulled you into a tight hug, everyone else scurrying out of the room. 

“I missed you so much. You have no idea.” He kissed the top of your head and rocked you back and forth. Feeling his arms around you for the first time in three months was indescribable. Being on the phone with him every night was nothing compared to being engulfed in the scent of his cologne. You felt tears bubbled up in your eyes as you were just so grateful that Jack was there with you.

“You did all of this for me?” You said pulling away from the hug, placing a hand on his cheek.

“Yeah, of course.” Jack grinned wide. “Cause, I love you.” Your eyes went wide as you tilted your head to the side.

“You WHAT?”

“I love you!” He shouted in your face, giggling through his words. You quickly pulled him in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“I love you too, Jacky.” You giggled, your lips ghosting his as he pulled you back in.

The party carried on swiftly, unlike before. Jack teased Luke about his stupid excuse for why he was in your kitchen. You and Jack were sitting on the couch together. He was leaned against the arm while you laid against him, letting your hand fall to his. The two of you stole kisses from each other throughout the night, knowing you were just two people who loved each other reunited for, hopefully, the last time.

[elikajinnie]

Hi!! Idk if you do actual Hogwarts crossover but Heeseung and Draco Malfoy in the same story would be a dream 🙌💞💞

Just a thought though… haha. I love your work!

I Am Not In Distress - L.H & D.M

a/n: .... i could kiss you.. i LOVE THIS! Thank you for ur support! Hope you enjoy<3

P: Slytherins!Heeseung & Draco Malfoy X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Rivalry, Tension, Teasing, Suggestive Content, Ambigious Ending, they both desperate for you.

Synopsis: Purebloods are bad news—that’s what you always told yourself. Yet here you are, caught between two of them, both determined to have you. And this? It’s far from a friendly rivalry.

now playing: heartless by the weeknd | alejandro by lady gaga | bored by ari abdul

hogwarts au masterlist

--

You disliked purebloods to an extent—not enough to hate them outright, but just enough to stay clear of most of them. It wasn’t hard to form that opinion, not when so many of them walked around with a superiority complex, like the simple fact of their lineage made them better than everyone else. Half-bloods? Muggleborns? Practically dirt under their expensive shoes.

Most of them were in Slytherin, of course, which only cemented the stereotype further. And while you knew not every Slytherin was like that, it was easier to assume the worst and keep your distance. You didn’t have the patience for their arrogance, their entitled sneers, or the way they always traveled in packs, like a group of sharks smelling blood.

Out of all of them, though, two stood out as the absolute worst in your book. Draco Malfoy and Lee Heeseung.

Both were practically Slytherin royalty, both pureblooded to their cores, and both annoyingly aware of it. Wherever they went, people trailed behind them like lost puppies—giggling, flattering, desperate for their approval. It was sickening. You never gave either of them a second glance, which wasn’t difficult considering they were always too busy basking in their own popularity. And honestly? You thought you’d never have a reason to interact with either of them. Hogwarts was a big school, after all. You could go years without crossing paths in any meaningful way.

Or so you thought.

One stupid dungbomb. That’s all it took. Filch had caught you red-handed, and before you could even think of an excuse, you were marched off to detention, grumbling all the way. Cleaning duty. Fine. You could deal with that.

But what you hadn’t expected—what you couldn’t believe—was that you’d be stuck in the same room with both Draco Malfoy and Lee Heeseung. Just the three of you.

Fantastic.

This was shaping up to be the longest detention of your life.

When they spotted you, their conversation halted mid-sentence. Both Heeseung and Draco turned their heads, their sharp gazes locking onto you like a pair of predators catching sight of their prey. You could feel their eyes tracing over every inch of you, sizing you up, as if your mere presence had somehow interrupted their perfect little world.

It was unnerving.... to say the least. Their stares weren’t casual—they were calculated, assessing, almost intrigued. You shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the hem of your robe as if that would somehow shield you from their scrutiny. Without sparing them another glance, you made your way to the table and began organizing the potion ingredients the way Professor Snape had instructed. If you focused on the task, maybe they’d leave you alone. Maybe you could get through this detention without having to speak to either of them.

But, of course, life wasn’t that kind.

“Well, well,” Heeseung drawled, his voice smooth and just a little too smug for your liking. “Who would’ve thought you’d end up in detention?”

You didn’t look up, keeping your eyes trained on the jars of dried herbs in front of you. “Yeah, real shocking,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he’d take the hint and drop it.

He didn’t.

Draco chimed in next, his tone dripping with his usual snide arrogance. “Didn’t take you for the type. I thought you were supposed to be all proper.” He let out a quiet laugh, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Or did I get that wrong? Maybe you're more suited to being a troublemaker.”

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay focused on the task at hand. You weren’t about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. “Maybe you should mind your own business,” you said evenly, not even sparing them a glance.

That only seemed to encourage them.

“Oh, don’t get all shy on us now,” Heeseung said, his voice laced with mock amusement. He stepped closer, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty room. “You’re already in detention with us. Might as well make the most of it.”

Draco chuckled at that, his laughter light but tinged with malice. “Exactly. It’s not every day we get to be with someone so... charming.”

The sarcasm in his voice was impossible to miss, and your patience was starting to wear thin. You slammed a jar of powdered asphodel down onto the table a little harder than necessary and finally turned to face them.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing as you glared at them, “but I’m just here to serve my detention and leave. So why don’t you both do the same and stop bothering me?”

For a moment, they both just stared at you, as if surprised you’d actually spoken up. Then, to your irritation, Heeseung’s lips curved into a slow, amused smile.

“Feisty,” he remarked, his tone almost teasing. “I enjoy that.”

Draco smirked as well, crossing his arms as he leaned casually against the table. “Careful, Heeseung,” he said, his voice dripping with mock warning. “You might scare her off.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the ingredients with a muttered, “Idiots.”

The three of you carried on with your assigned tasks in silence—at first. If you pretended hard enough, it was almost like you were alone in the room.

But, of course, they couldn’t leave you in peace for too long.

“Is it just me, or does she seem a little too focused on her work?” Heeseung mused aloud, his tone light and deliberately provoking.

Draco snickered. “Overcompensating, maybe? Trying to make up for their little... incident.”

You ignored them, carefully placing a jar of beetle eyes onto the shelf. They were just trying to get a rise out of you. If you didn’t react, they’d get bored and move on.

“Oi,” Heeseung called out after a moment, his voice laced with mock curiosity. “You’re not ignoring us, are you? That’d be rude, don’t you think, Draco?”

“Oh, very rude,” Draco agreed, feigning an exaggerated gasp. “But then again, I suppose we shouldn’t expect much better. Detention and manners don’t exactly go hand in hand, do they?”

You tightened your grip on the jar in your hand but still refused to look at them. Breathe in. Breathe out. They were just words. Nothing worth wasting your energy on.

“Think she’s mad at us?” Heeseung asked, leaning lazily against a nearby desk, his voice full of mock innocence. “I mean, it’s not like we’re the reason she’s here in detention. Are we?”

Draco chuckled, leaning forward slightly as if to get a better look at you. “Oh, I don’t think she’s mad, Heeseung. I think she’s just too embarrassed to talk to us. Can’t blame her, really.”

This time, you rolled your eyes but kept your mouth shut, stacking a few jars onto the shelf with more force than necessary. You could hear them snickering behind you, clearly pleased with themselves.

“Nothing to say?” Heeseung pressed, stepping closer, his voice taking on a teasing sing-song quality. “Come on, it’s not like we’re that scary. Are we, Draco?”

“Terrifying,” Draco said with a smirk. “Absolutely petrifying.”

You finally turned your head just enough to glare at them over your shoulder. “Do either of you ever shut up?” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

Heeseung’s grin widened. “There it is,” he said, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Knew you couldn’t hold out forever.”

You gritted your teeth, cursing yourself internally for giving them even the smallest reaction. Without another word, you turned back to your work.

“You know,” Draco said, clearly still enjoying himself, “it’s actually impressive how much restraint you’ve got. Most people would’ve cracked by now.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung agreed, his tone dripping with amusement. “But I think we can do better, don’t you?”

Fantastic. They’d taken your response as a challenge.

The rest of detention dragged on painfully, with both Draco and Heeseung continuing their relentless teasing. It was as if they’d made a silent pact to see who could irritate you the most.

Draco started by pretending to inspect your work. He sauntered over, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the ingredients you’d just organized. “Hmm,” he muttered, tapping his chin dramatically. “You’ve mislabeled this one, you know. Wouldn’t want Snape to find out, would you? He’s not exactly forgiving when it comes to incompetence.”

You didn’t even glance at him, your voice flat as you replied, “I didn’t mislabel anything, Malfoy.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, picking up a jar and holding it just out of your reach. “So confident, aren’t you? Let’s see… powdered bicorn horn, is it? Or was it powdered something-else-entirely?”

“That is powdered bicorn horn, genius,” you shot back, snatching the jar from his hand and placing it firmly on the shelf. “Try harder.”

Draco blinked, as though surprised you didn’t falter, but the smirk quickly returned to his face. “Not bad,” he said, a lazy drawl in his voice. “But I wasn’t wrong about Snape, you know. One slip-up, and you’ll be scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the year.”

“Good thing I don’t make mistakes, then,” you retorted, already turning your back on him.

Draco huffed softly but didn’t push further—for now. Heeseung, however, decided it was his turn.

“You’re pretty quick with comebacks,” Heeseung remarked, his voice smooth as silk. He leaned against the table next to you, watching you carefully. “Must’ve had a lot of practice, huh? Who do you argue with so much? Your friends? Or maybe your professors? Bet they love you.”

You exhaled sharply, doing your best to ignore him. Heeseung’s teasing was less obvious than Draco’s, but it was no less infuriating. He had a way of making everything he said sound like a compliment, even when it clearly wasn’t.

“You know, it’s kind of impressive,” he continued, smirking when you didn’t answer. “I mean, most people would’ve lost their temper by now. You’re… stubborn.” He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Or is it pride? Which one is it?”

“Neither,” you muttered, slamming another jar onto the shelf. “It’s called wanting to finish this detention without having to listen to you two.”

“Ah, so you are listening,” Heeseung teased, his grin widening.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to take the bait. If you kept engaging with them, this detention would feel even longer than it already did. You just had to make it through this. Just a little longer.

But they weren’t done yet.

“Do you think she’s always this serious?” Draco asked Heeseung, loud enough for you to hear. “I mean, look at her. Practically fuming. It’s like she’s never heard of having a bit of fun.”

“Probably doesn’t know how to have fun,” Heeseung agreed, shaking his head mockingly. “Sad, really.”

“Very sad,” Draco echoed with a smirk.

It wasn’t until the end of detention that they finally let up, though not without a parting shot.

As you were putting away the last of the ingredients, Heeseung leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. “You know, this wasn’t so bad. We should do it again sometime.”

Draco snorted, smirking as he added, “Yeah. Let us know next time you get caught. We’d hate to miss out.”

You shot them both a glare before turning on your heel and leaving the room without another word. Their laughter followed you out, echoing down the corridor.

As frustrating as it had been, you were proud of yourself for not giving them the reaction they’d wanted—at least, not entirely. But as you walked back to your dorm, you couldn’t help but feel a sinking suspicion that this wasn’t the last time they’d try to get under your skin....

Turns out, your guess was absolutely, fucking correct.

The very next day in History of Magic, you settled into your usual seat near the back of the classroom, fully prepared to endure another hour of Professor Binns’ dull droning. Your plan was simple: take notes, avoid eye contact with anyone, and maybe even catch up on some homework if Binns got too repetitive. Easy.

Or so you thought.

The first sign that your day was about to spiral downward was the sound of a chair scraping obnoxiously close beside you. You looked up, confused, only to see Draco lowering himself gracefully into the seat next to yours, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His smirk was already in place, and you could feel your blood pressure rising.

Before you could even process his sudden and unwelcome appearance, Heeseung dropped into the seat on your other side with the kind of casual arrogance that only someone like him could pull off. He leaned back lazily, his long legs stretching out under the desk as if he owned the entire classroom.

“Morning,” Heeseung said smoothly, as if the two of you were old friends.

Draco didn’t bother with pleasantries, instead glancing at you with a raised eyebrow and a mocking smile.

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting for a moment as you stared at the two boys flanking you. They were both watching you expectantly, like they were waiting for some kind of reaction.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” you hissed, your voice low enough to avoid attracting Binns’ attention.

Draco shrugged, his expression annoyingly smug. “What does it look like? Sitting. Breathing. Existing.”

“Unfortunately for you,” Heeseung added, his lips twitching with amusement.

“Plenty of empty seats,” you snapped, gesturing to the rest of the classroom. “Go exist somewhere else.”

Draco leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the desk as he tilted his head toward you. “Why would we do that when we’ve got you right here?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could respond, Heeseung cut in. “Don’t be so cold. We’re just here to keep you company. You looked a little lonely.”

“Lonely?” you repeated, incredulous. “I was perfectly fine until you two showed up.”

“Exactly,” Draco said, smirking. “Too fine. Can’t have that, can we?”

You groaned quietly, dragging a hand down your face. Of all the people in the school, why did they have to decide you were worth bothering?

Class started, and you tried your best to ignore them, determined to focus on Professor Binns’ lecture. But, of course, neither Draco nor Heeseung had any intention of letting that happen.

Every few minutes, one of them would whisper some snide remark or another, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Do you even understand what Binns is saying?” Draco muttered at one point, leaning closer to you. “Sounds like he’s speaking Mermish, doesn’t it?”

You ignored him, scribbling furiously in your notebook.

“She’s actually taking notes,” Heeseung whispered to Draco, his voice dripping with fake awe. “How noble.”

“Very noble,” Draco agreed. “But, then again, she does have a reputation to uphold. Isn’t that right?”

You gripped your quill tighter, willing yourself to stay calm.

When you didn’t respond, Heeseung leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Are you really going to keep ignoring us all class? That’s no fun.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give them the satisfaction of looking at them.

Draco, clearly delighted by your silence, smirked and added, “Maybe she’s just shy, Heeseung. You know how it is. Some people get nervous around greatness.”

At that, your quill snapped in half.

The sound was loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby students, but thankfully, Binns remained as oblivious as ever. You let out a slow, frustrated breath, carefully setting the broken quill down before turning to glare at the two of them.

“What do you want?” you hissed, your voice low but venomous.

They exchanged a glance, their smirks widening.

“To keep you entertained,” Heeseung said innocently.

“Consider it a public service,” Draco added with a mock bow of his head.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your notes. “You’re both insufferable.”

“Thanks,” Heeseung said with a grin, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.

For the rest of class, they didn’t let up, continuing until you were practically counting down the seconds until the end. By the time class was over, your nerves were completely frayed. Bolting upright, you were determined to escape the classroom and leave Draco and Heeseung behind. But before you could even take two steps, you felt a hand at your waist.

You froze, glancing down to see Heeseung’s arm wrapping itself around you in a way that was far too casual for your liking. His hand rested lightly at your side, as if this was something he did every day.

“What are you doing?” you asked sharply, trying to twist away, but his grip only tightened—gentle, but firm enough to stop you from slipping free.

“Relax,” he said smoothly, his tone far too self-assured. “Just thought I’d help you out. Wouldn’t want you to get lost on your way to class, after all.”

You glared at him, but before you could retort, Draco sauntered up beside you. “Heeseung’s right,” he drawled. “We are all headed to the same place, after all. It would be terribly rude of us not to walk you there.”

“Oh, how thoughtful of you,” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You tried to step away again, but Heeseung matched your pace effortlessly, keeping his arm firmly around your waist as he steered you toward the door.

“See? She appreciates it,” Heeseung said, ignoring your tone entirely.

Draco chuckled, falling into step on your other side. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t say thank you,” you shot back, glaring at them both.

“Not out loud,” Draco said, his smirk widening. “But I can tell you’re grateful. You just don’t want to admit it.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, deciding that arguing with them would only make things worse. Instead, you focused on walking as quickly as possible, hoping to reach your next class and put some distance between yourself and the two infuriating Slytherins.

Unfortunately, they seemed to have other plans.

As the three of you made your way down the corridor, Heeseung kept his arm firmly in place, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Draco, meanwhile, kept up a steady stream of commentary, most of it designed to annoy you.

“Do you always walk this fast?” Draco asked at one point, easily keeping up with your hurried pace. “Or are you just trying to get away from us?”

“Obviously the second one,” you muttered, not bothering to look at him.

Heeseung chuckled, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he guided you around a corner. “Aw, don’t be like that. We’re just trying to be friendly.”

“This is what you call ‘friendly’?” you shot back.

“Of course,” Draco said, his smirk never faltering. “You should consider yourself lucky, really. We don’t do this for just anyone.”

“Oh, I feel so special,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

“You should,” Heeseung replied, his tone teasing. “Not everyone gets to be escorted to class by the two most charming people in Hogwarts.”

You snorted. “Charming? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Don’t act like you’re not impressed,” Draco said, clearly enjoying himself.

By the time you finally reached the door to your next class, your patience was hanging by a thread. As you tried to step away, Heeseung finally released his hold on your waist, but not before leaning down slightly and murmuring, “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You shot him a glare, but before you could respond, Draco spoke up. “Looks like we’re all here,” he said, glancing into the classroom.

You groaned inwardly, resisting the urge to bang your head against the nearest wall. This was going to be a long day.

You slipped away from them quickly, weaving through the rows of desks until you found a seat at the very front of the class. If there was one place they wouldn’t dare to bother you, it was here—right under the professor’s nose. At least, that’s what you hoped.

You were determined to focus, to shake off whatever bizarre fixation Draco and Heeseung had developed on you since detention.

But, of course, you should have figured it out by now. Once you had their attention—for whatever inexplicable reason—they weren’t going to let up.

You’d barely settled into your seat when you heard the faint scrape of chairs moving directly behind you. Your stomach dropped as you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of the two boys taking the seats directly behind yours, looking far too pleased with themselves.

Heeseung leaned forward, resting his arms casually on the edge of your desk. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low so only you could hear, “running away isn’t very polite. We walked you here, after all.”

“Not to mention,” Draco added from your other side, “we were hoping for a nice little chat. But here you are, acting like we’re some kind of nuisance.”

“Because you are,” you hissed under your breath, glaring at them both.

Draco feigned a wounded expression, clutching his chest dramatically. “How cruel. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Keep dreaming, Malfoy,” you muttered, turning back to face the front of the class.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Heeseung said, his tone light and teasing. He poked you lightly with the end of his quill. “We’re just trying to make your day more exciting.”

“By annoying me?” you shot back, swatting his quill away.

“Exactly,” he replied with a grin.

Before you could retort, the professor entered the room, and the class fell into a semblance of quiet. You let out a relieved breath, grateful for the temporary reprieve. Surely, they wouldn’t risk drawing attention to themselves now—not with a professor watching.

But you should’ve known better.

Throughout the lecture, you felt the occasional nudge against the back of your chair—Heeseung, no doubt, trying to get your attention. You ignored him. Then there was the faint sound of parchment being crumpled, followed by a soft thud as a tiny ball of paper landed on your desk.

You unfolded it reluctantly, your irritation mounting.

Inside, in Draco’s neat handwriting, was a single line: “Having fun yet?”

You crumpled the paper back up and tossed it over your shoulder without a word, not caring where it landed. You heard Draco chuckle softly behind you, clearly amused by your reaction.

A few minutes later, another paper ball landed on your desk. This time, it was from Heeseung, the writing messier but just as irritating: “You know you can’t keep this up forever, right?”

You sighed, your patience wearing thin. Without looking back, you scribbled a reply on the paper and tossed it over your shoulder.

It wasn’t long before you heard Draco snicker. “Looks like she finally have something to say.”

Heeseung unfolded the paper and read your message, keeping his voice low. “Leave me alone before I hex you both into next week.”

“Hex us?” Draco repeated, his tone dripping with mock disbelief. “How positively violent.”

“Indeed,” Heeseung added with a grin.

By the time class ended, you were practically bolting for the door, hoping to escape before they could follow. But, of course, they were right on your heels, flanking you once again as you stepped into the hallway.

“See?” Draco said, falling into step beside you. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I barely noticed you were there,” you lied, shooting him a sideways glare.

“Ouch,” Heeseung said, clutching his chest dramatically. “You really know how to hurt a guy, don’t you?”

You quickened your pace, hoping they’d get bored and leave you alone. But as they continued to trail after you, still grinning like they’d won some kind of game.

You were practically weaving through the crowd of students filling the hallways. Surely, they had better things to do than to keep following you like persistent shadows?

Right?

But, of course, they didn’t.

“So,” Heeseung said casually, keeping stride beside you as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “What’s next on your schedule? Care to share?”

“I bet it’s something riveting,” Draco added on your other side, his smirk firmly in place. “Like Herbology or... Divination.”

You gritted your teeth, refusing to answer.

“Silent treatment again?” Heeseung asked, leaning slightly closer. “You know, that’s starting to hurt my feelings.”

“I didn’t realize you had feelings,” you shot back before you could stop yourself, your frustration finally bubbling to the surface.

Draco let out a bark of laughter, clearly delighted. “There it is! Knew you couldn’t stay quiet forever.”

“Careful, Malfoy,” you said sharply, stopping in your tracks to glare at both of them. “If you keep pushing me, you’ll find out exactly how much quieter your life will be with a Silencing Charm.”

“Oh, scary,” Heeseung teased, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes that made you want to hex him right then and there.

Draco, ever the instigator, stepped closer with that same irritating smirk. “Go on, then. Let’s see it. I could use a good laugh before our next class.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him.

Heeseung, clearly enjoying himself, stepped in as if to defuse the tension—though his tone was anything but sincere. “Now, now, let’s not resort to violence. We wouldn’t want anyone to get detention again, would we?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving past them both and continuing down the hallway. “I don’t have time for this,” you muttered under your breath, hoping they’d finally take the hint.

But, they didn’t.

Instead, they followed you all the way to your next class.

“Should we place bets on where she’s sitting this time?” Draco mused aloud as you entered the classroom.

“I’m guessing front and center,” Heeseung replied, trailing after you. “Seems like their style.”

You ignored them completely, choosing a seat near the middle of the room this time.

And the moment you sat down, they flanked you on either side, their presence looming before you could even pull out your notes. Heeseung plopped into the seat on your right, draping one arm casually over the back of your chair, while Draco claimed the seat on your left with his usual air of entitlement.

“Miss us?” Heeseung asked, flashing you an infuriating grin.

“Not even a little,” you replied, your tone flat.

“Liar,” Draco said smoothly, leaning just enough to invade your personal space. “Admit it. You’d be bored out of your mind without us.”

“I was doing just fine before you two started this little... whatever this is,” you shot back, glaring between them.

“‘This little whatever this is’?” Heeseung repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Ouch. You’re really struggling with words today, huh? Must be the company.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the professor walked into the room, signaling the start of class. “Will you two just—”

“Shh,” Draco interrupted, holding a finger to his lips. “Class is starting. Let’s be respectful, shall we?”

You shot him a glare, but he only grinned in response, clearly pleased with himself.

For the next hour, they both continued their antics—soft whispers, poking at your notes, and the occasional “accidental” nudge to your arm. Every time you tried to focus, one of them would find some new way to distract you, and by the end of the lesson, your patience was hanging by a thread.

As soon as the professor dismissed the class, you bolted from your seat, determined to escape before they could follow you again.

But, they were right behind you in an instant.

“So,” Heeseung said as the three of you stepped into the hallway, “what’s next? Lunch? Study session?”

“Or,” Draco added, his smirk widening, “are you finally going to admit that you enjoy our company and stop running away?”

You stopped in your tracks, spinning around to face them both with an exasperated glare. “Why are you two so obsessed with bothering me?”

They exchanged a glance, their smirks never faltering.

“Because it’s fun,” Heeseung said simply, shrugging.

“And because you’re so bad at ignoring us,” Draco added, his tone practically gleeful.

You groaned, turning back around and storming off down the hallway. “You two are unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath.

You were on the verge of snapping, your fists clenched at your sides as Draco and Heeseung trailed after you like determined shadows.

And just when you thought you’d never get a moment of peace, salvation arrived.

“Draco! Heeseung!”

A loud, familiar voice rang out from the end of the corridor. You glanced up to see a group of Slytherins heading toward you. Blaise Zabini was leading the pack, with Pansy Parkinson and a few others following close behind, their expressions curious as they spotted the two boys at your side.

“Oh, great,” you muttered under your breath, praying that this didn’t somehow make things worse.

“Looks like our friends are here,” Heeseung said, his grin widening as Blaise reached them.

“Friends?” Draco drawled, shooting you a quick, smug glance before turning to greet the others. “They’re more like pests.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Blaise retorted with a smirk, crossing his arms as his gaze flickered to you. “And who’s this? Your new... project?”

You bristled at the comment, opening your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Pansy cut in.

“Draco, Heeseung,” she said, her voice dripping with honey, “we’ve been looking for you everywhere. What are you two doing hanging around here?” Her eyes flickered to you briefly, but she didn’t seem all that interested.

Draco waved her off lazily. “Just having some fun.”

“With her?” Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You decided that was your cue to leave. With their attention now firmly on Draco and Heeseung, you took a slow step backward, careful not to draw attention to yourself.

To your immense relief, neither of them seemed to notice as you slipped away, blending into the crowd of students moving through the hallway.

Once you were out of sight, you quickened your pace, weaving through the corridors until you reached the library.

Finding an empty table near the back, you set your things down and let out a relieved sigh. Finally, some peace.

You pulled out your notes, determined to get some studying done before your next class. For the first time all day, you felt like you could actually breathe without the weight of two smirking Slytherins bearing down on you.

But as you started reviewing your notes, a nagging thought crept into your mind: why had they suddenly decided to fixate on you? And more importantly, how long would it last?

Whatever their reasons, you weren’t going to let them distract you any more than they already had.

Finally, without Draco and Heeseung’s incessant teasing, you could concentrate. The words on the page seemed to make sense again as you worked through your assignments, your quill scratching quietly against the parchment.

You were so immersed in your work that you didn’t notice someone approaching until they were right next to your table.

“Found you,” a familiar voice said, smooth and far too smug.

Your head snapped up, and your heart sank as you saw Draco standing there, his arms crossed.

Behind him, Heeseung strolled in, looking far too pleased with himself as he dropped into the chair across from you. “Nice hiding spot,” he said, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place. “Took us a minute to figure out where you’d run off to.”

You stared at them, utterly dumbfounded. “Are you serious? Do you two not have anything better to do?”

“Not really,” Heeseung replied with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious.

“We were bored,” Draco added, sliding into the seat beside you without waiting for an invitation. He propped his chin on his hand, turning to you with an almost lazy smile. “And you’re far more entertaining than whatever Blaise and Pansy were droning on about.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “What do you even want from me?”

Draco leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough to make it feel conspiratorial. “What’s wrong with wanting to spend time with you?”

“Plenty,” you snapped, your tone sharp. “Because I don’t want to spend time with you.”

Heeseung let out a low chuckle, clearly unbothered by your hostility. “See, that’s what makes this fun. Most people fall over themselves to get on our good side. But you?” He gestured to you. “You’re not afraid to tell us off. It’s refreshing.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your notes in the hopes that ignoring them might make them leave. “I don’t care if you find it refreshing. Go bother someone else.”

But, of course, they stayed put.

Draco pulled one of your books closer to him, flipping through it idly. “History of Magic? Boring,” he commented, wrinkling his nose.

Heeseung leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he peered at your notes. “Are you really studying, or are you just pretending so we’ll leave you alone?”

You slapped your hand down over your parchment, glaring at him. “I was studying until you showed up.”

Draco laughed, tossing the book aside. “ Admit it. You’d miss us if we left you alone.”

“I’d celebrate if you left me alone,” you shot back.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Heeseung said, leaning even closer. “You’ll hurt our feelings.”

“I doubt either of you has feelings,” you muttered under your breath, turning your attention back to your notes.

Draco raised an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that.”

For the next few minutes, they continued their antics—poking at your books, making sarcastic comments about your notes, and generally being as insufferable as possible.

But then Madam Pince’s sharp voice cut through the air. “If you three can’t keep it down, I’ll have you removed from the library!”

You seized the opportunity, shooting to your feet and gathering your things. “Good idea,” you said, your tone clipped. “I’ll remove myself.”

Before they could say anything, you slipped past them and hurried out of the library, your heart pounding with equal parts irritation and relief.

--

Another thing you hated about pureblood Slytherins was their egos—massive, sky-high, and unrelenting. It would take a catastrophic event to bring them down a peg. And because of that ego, they always went for things that would feed it, things that would boost their status, power, and sense of superiority. They believed they deserved the best—whether it was fame, wealth, influence, or...

Well, apparently you.

Which made absolutely no sense.

Because here you were, in the middle of yet another detention (this time for hexing a Gryffindor who wouldn’t take no for an answer—big deal), and somehow, somehow, you’d ended up against the wall of the empty Potions classroom.

Kissing Heeseung.

Your brain struggled to catch up with the situation, thoughts running in frantic circles as his lips pressed firmly against yours. It wasn’t soft or hesitant, no—it was confident and teasing, much like the boy himself.

How the hell had it come to this?

Just moments ago, you’d been sitting at your desk, silently fuming as Snape rattled off on a long lecture before leaving you to clean up the mess of spilled potion ingredients. Heeseung, had been there too, lounging in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” he had said, leaning back with an infuriating grin. “Hexing people now? You’re starting to sound like us, you know.”

“Don’t lump me in with you,” you’d snapped, aggressively scrubbing the cauldron in front of you.

“Why not? You’ve got the temper for it,” he’d teased, standing up and sauntering closer.

You’d turned to glare at him, your grip tightening on the rag in your hand. “Say that again, and I’ll hex you next.”

“Oh, scary,” he’d murmured, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Go ahead. Hex me. I dare you.”

And then, before you could even think of a retort, he’d closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours with the same audacity that he carried in everything he did.

Now, here you were, pinned against the cold stone wall, your heart racing and your hands frozen mid-air as he kissed you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your first coherent thought was to push him off, and you did—your palms pressing against his chest as you shoved him back. He stepped away with a smirk, completely unbothered, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

Heeseung tilted his head, his smirk never faltering. “What does it look like? It’s called kissing.”

“You don’t just—just do that!” you sputtered, your cheeks burning with anger.

“Why not?” he asked, his tone maddeningly casual. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” he said smoothly, running a hand through his hair like he hadn’t just turned your entire world upside down.

“Don’t thank me—it wasn’t a compliment!” you snapped, still trying to wrap your head around what had just happened.

Heeseung laughed softly, stepping closer again—but this time, you pressed your back firmly against the wall, holding up a hand to stop him.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned, your eyes narrowing.

“Relax,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m not going to kiss you again.”

“Good,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Because it wouldn’t happen even if you tried.”

“Really?” he asked, as he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “Because I think you liked it.”

Your jaw dropped, and you opened your mouth to argue—but no words came out.

Because, unfortunately, a very small part of you had liked it.

And from the way Heeseung was looking at you, he knew it too.

That brief moment of hesitation—barely a second—was all Heeseung needed.

Before you could pull yourself together or think of something sharp to say, he closed the distance again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This time, it was different. It wasn’t rushed or teasing—it was confident, and demanding.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your hands shot up to push him back, but he was faster. His fingers wrapped around your wrists, and with a swift movement, he pinned them above your head against the stone wall.

The shift startled you, and your lips parted to protest, but Heeseung used the moment to deepen the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth as his body pressed against yours.

Your heart was racing, pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. You hated the way his touch sent a shiver down your spine, hated the way his lips moved against yours like he knew exactly what he was doing.

But most of all, you hated that you weren’t stopping him.

It had been a while—a long while—since you’d let anyone get this close to you. And you couldn’t deny that Heeseung was... handsome. Annoyingly so. And, as much as it pained you to admit, a damn good kisser.

You fought it at first, your pride screaming at you to push him off, to put him back in his place. But the longer the kiss went on, the harder it was to ignore the way your body was betraying you by leaning into his.

Heeseung must’ve felt the shift because his grip on your wrists loosened slightly, as he realized you weren’t resisting anymore.

So, you let yourself indulge, just for a moment. Your lips moved against his, tentative at first, then more certain as you gave in.

His groan deepened, vibrating against your mouth, and the sound sent another shiver down your spine. His hands slid from your wrists, releasing you as his palms settled on your waist instead, pulling you closer.

For a moment, it was easy to forget where you were, easy to ignore the fact that this was Heeseung, an insufferable pureblood Slytherin.

But the moment couldn’t last forever.

The sharp creak of the classroom door opening snapped you out of it like a bucket of cold water.

You shoved Heeseung away, your breath coming in quick, uneven pants as you turned toward the sound. Filch’s scruffy silhouette loomed in the doorway, his squinting eyes scanning the room suspiciously.

“What’s all this noise?” he barked, his voice gravelly and accusing.

Your face burned as you quickly stepped away from Heeseung, who looked frustratingly calm and unbothered, like he hadn’t just kissed you senseless against the wall.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, smoothing down your robes and hoping your flushed face wasn’t too obvious.

Filch grumbled something under his breath before narrowing his eyes at the both of you. “Get back to work,” he snapped, before turning and stomping off down the hallway.

As the door slammed shut behind him, you turned to glare at Heeseung, who was watching you with a satisfied smile, his hair slightly mussed and his lips still pink from the kiss.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you hissed, keeping your voice low just in case Filch was still nearby.

Heeseung shrugged, his smirk only widening. “You didn’t seem to mind it by the end.”

Your face burned again, and you clenched your fists, tempted to hex him on the spot. “Don’t push your luck.”

He stepped closer, leaning down just enough to whisper in your ear. “If that’s how you react when you resist, I can’t wait to see how you act when you’re not trying to fight it.”

Before you could respond—either with words or violence—he was already moving away, leaving you standing there, furious, flustered, and more confused than ever.

--

Okay, so maybe kissing Heeseung wasn’t that bad. The guy had practically acted desperate for it, like he’d been waiting for that moment forever. And fine, you’d kind of enjoyed it.

But you’d sworn to yourself—repeatedly, in fact—that it would never, ever, in a million, trillion, gazillion years, happen again. You wouldn’t allow it.

…Except, apparently, self-control was harder than you thought.

Because here you were, pressed up against the cold stone wall near the Slytherin common room, Heeseung’s robes fanning out around you as he shielded you from view, his hand gripping the side of your neck while his lips moved hungrily against yours.

Your hands weren’t much better—they had a mind of their own, one gripping his tie and the other clutching at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

It was reckless. It was stupid. It was everything you’d sworn you wouldn’t let happen again.

And yet, when his thumb brushed the sensitive skin of your jaw and his tongue grazed your lower lip, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Heeseung broke the kiss for just a second, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’re terrible at keeping promises to yourself, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and slightly ragged.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but there wasn’t any real bite to it, not with the way your chest was heaving and your fingers were still gripping his tie.

Heeseung chuckled softly, leaning down to press another kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips along your jaw, making your breath hitch.

“This is a bad idea,” you said, even as you tilted your head to give him better access.

“The worst,” he agreed, his voice muffled against your skin.

“You’re going to get us caught,” you added, your fingers tightening in his shirt.

“Then stop me,” he challenged, pulling back just enough to look at you, his smirk creeping back now.

You hated how smug he looked, like he knew you wouldn’t actually do it. And the worst part? He was right.

Instead of pushing him away, you pulled him closer, tugging on his tie and crashing your lips back onto his. His quiet groan vibrated against your mouth as his hand slid down to your waist, gripping you like he was afraid you might change your mind.

But you didn’t.

At least, not until the sound of approaching footsteps made both of you freeze.

Heeseung cursed under his breath, quickly adjusting his robes and stepping back just enough to make it look like nothing had happened. You smoothed down your hair and robes in record time, silently praying that whoever was coming wouldn’t notice how flushed you looked.

A group of Slytherin students rounded the corner, laughing and talking amongst themselves. One of them narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the two of you as he passed.

“What are you doing lurking out here?” he asked, his tone dripping with suspicion.

“Just talking,” Heeseung said smoothly, flashing one of his charming smiles.

The slytherin didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged and kept walking, the rest of the group following him into the common room.

As soon as they were out of sight, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, turning to glare at Heeseung.

“This is why I said it was a bad idea,” you hissed.

Heeseung grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Bad ideas are more fun, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him as you headed down the hallway. “Don’t get used to it, Heeseung. It’s not happening again.”

“Whatever you say,” he called after you, his tone confident. “But you’re terrible at keeping promises, remember?”

You didn’t bother responding, but the heat creeping up your neck told you that, once again, he was probably right.

And he was right… again, and again, and again.

It was infuriating how easily Heeseung managed to worm his way back to you, over and over. At first, it was once a day—a moment between classes or in an empty corridor. Then once became twice, twice became four, and before you knew it... you’d lost count.

It was like he’d memorized your schedule, always managing to find you at the exact moment you were alone. Whether it was slipping into an empty classroom, pulling you into a alcove, or even cornering you in the library when no one else was around, Heeseung always found a way.

And the worst part? You let him.

Every time, you told yourself it would be the last. Every time, you promised you’d shove him away, hex him, or at least say no. But the moment his lips were on yours, his hands gripping your waist or threading through your hair, your resolve crumbled like parchment in a fire.

And it was always him who started it—Heeseung who instigated, Heeseung who sought you out, Heeseung who acted like you were his personal secret to keep.

And you hated yourself for how much you didn’t hate it.

This time, it was in an empty stairwell, tucked away from prying eyes. You barely had time to register his presence before he was there, his hand grabbing yours and pulling you into the shadowed corner.

“Heeseung,” you hissed, but he didn’t give you a chance to protest.

His lips crashed onto yours with the same familiar desperation, one hand curling around the back of your neck while the other slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You gasped into his mouth, fingers curling into his robes before you could stop yourself.

“Missed you,” he mumbled against your lips, his voice low and breathless.

“You saw me two hours ago,” you muttered, but your words were muffled as he kissed you again, stealing away whatever resistance you’d managed to muster.

Two hours, four hours, it didn’t matter. The way he kissed you made it feel like he’d been waiting an eternity.

And it was addictive.

“People are going to notice,” you said between kisses, your hands gripping his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping you upright.

“Let them,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, though you knew he didn’t mean it. Whatever this was between you, it was still a secret. A forbidden, reckless secret that you both somehow managed to keep under wraps.

For now.

But Heeseung didn’t seem to care about the risk. If anything, it only seemed to fuel him.

“Stop overthinking,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your jaw before trailing down your neck. You shivered, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his robes as he pressed a particularly firm kiss just below your ear.

For someone you were supposed to dislike, Heeseung had a way of making you forget all the reasons why this was a bad idea.

You would’ve thought that someone would’ve noticed. With the way things were escalating, it seemed impossible that no one had caught on. But somehow, miraculously, no one did. You figured you and Heeseung would keep this up for a while, maybe until one of you got bored, or until your resistance finally cracked through.

But of course, that didn’t happen.

Instead, what happened was Draco.

It started off like any other day—just another class, just another moment when you were certain you’d get through the day without any major complications. You were walking down the hall, trying to get to the library for a study session when you felt a familiar, irritating presence looming just behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Draco. The smug aura he exuded practically followed him like a cloud.

But then, before you could even make the decision to ignore him, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you to a stop.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked, a sharp edge to your voice as you yanked your wrist back.

“I think we need to talk,” Draco said, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light you didn’t trust for a second.

You crossed your arms, eyeing him with suspicion. “What, about what? How much of a pain you are?”

“Something like that,” he murmured.

You barely had time to react before Draco closed the gap between you, one hand gripping your shoulder as he pulled you towards him. His lips pressed against yours with a force you hadn’t expected, and your body tensed in shock.

It wasn’t like Heeseung’s kisses, not in the least. Where Heeseung was often teasing, in a way that made you shiver, Draco was… commanding. He kissed you like he thought he had every right to, like there was no room for resistance.

Your first instinct was to push him away, but then you froze. Your body didn’t react the way it had with Heeseung—there was no heat flooding your chest, no rush of excitement. Instead, you were caught between the confusion of why this was happening and the overwhelming sense of deja vu.

Draco pulled back just slightly, looking at you with an amused glint in his eyes. “Surprised, aren’t you?”

You blinked, still trying to process what the hell had just happened. “Why would you—”

“Because I can,” Draco interrupted smoothly, his tone all too familiar, like he was enjoying this more than he should.

You scoffed, trying to push him off, but his grip on your shoulder tightened, keeping you locked in place. "You’re insane,” you muttered.

“Yeah," Draco said with a smirk. "But you’ll always remember that i gave you attention.”

And with that, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary before he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, dazed and more confused then ever.

Well, this was a lost cause.

You really didn’t know if they had taken something, or if you had somehow been sprayed down by some potion that made them act this way. Or maybe they’d both gone completely mad. Because now, you were stuck in this strange, twisted mess where both Heeseung and Draco seemed to think they had the right to kiss you whenever they felt like it. And worse, you couldn’t resist.

Every time they were near, your resolve crumbled faster than you could rebuild it. One would find you in the hallway, the other in the library, and then it would happen again. Another kiss. Another moment you had no control over.

It was maddening, but also… tempting.

There was a part of you that couldn’t deny it. Sure, you could resist them, keep pushing them away, but what was the fun in that? Attention like this didn’t come regularly at all. Hell, it wasn’t normal for anyone to have two arrogant, handsome Slytherins fighting for their attention. And if you were honest, even just for a second, you kind of liked it.

So why not have a little fun with it?

It wasn’t like you had anything to lose, right? Besides your pride, maybe. But pride was overrated, especially when they were both so good at what they did. And maybe it was the thrill of it all—the secrecy, the danger of getting caught, or maybe the idea that you were wanted by two of the most insufferable, yet undeniably attractive, people at Hogwarts.

You didn’t know. You weren’t even sure you cared anymore.

One evening, you found yourself slipping into a quiet corridor, headed to the library for some much-needed solitude. But, of course, Heeseung was there.

“You’re awfully quick to retreat these days,” he remarked, his voice light, teasing. “Hiding from me?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. “Hardly.”

“Then why don’t you stay and chat with me for a bit?” He stepped closer, his eyes scanning you.

Before you could even answer, he’d cupped your face in his hand, pulling you toward him. His lips met yours with an ease that made it feel like nothing had changed. His kiss was soft at first, but the pressure grew quickly, the heat of his touch igniting a familiar spark within you.

And, just like that, the resistance was gone.

A few breaths later, Heeseung pulled back, looking at you with that same, infuriatingly smug smile.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he teased, his voice low and amused. “You like this more than you want to admit.”

You opened your mouth, about to defend yourself, to argue, but before you could form the words, Heeseung leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss.

You didn’t fight it. You didn’t want to.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his robes, the feel of his body against yours sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, Heeseung guided you backward, his lips still on yours as he moved you toward the wall.

When your back hit the stone of the wall, Heeseung broke the kiss just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was hungry, but there was also something tender in the way he watched you.

"See? I knew you’d come around,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You swallowed, trying to steady your thoughts. "Sure, sure," you muttered, but even you could hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

He smiled that smile, the one that made your stomach flip. “Admit it. You like it when I’m like this.”

You should’ve pushed him away. You should’ve told him to stop, to back off, but all that came out was a small, frustrated sigh as he kissed you again, this time more insistent.

His hand suddenly gripped your thigh, lifting it effortlessly to hitch it around his hip. The movement was quick, and before you could think, you found yourself pressed even closer to him.

You should’ve pulled away, told him this wasn’t you, that you weren’t this person. But instead, you let him.

His mouth left yours for a moment, just for a moment as his lips trailed down your jaw as you gasped for air, your hands moving instinctively to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his robes like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality.

"You're not pushing me away," he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with satisfaction, like he knew exactly what you were feeling. "Might start thinking you want this."

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to admit that he might be right, as he pulled you closer, his hand sliding to your back, his lips finding the soft spot beneath your ear.

Damn him.

All you could focus on was him—his touch, the way his body moved against yours, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world worth paying attention to.

You should’ve stopped. You knew you should’ve. But when his lips found yours again, slow and deep, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.

Then Heeseung's hand suddenly, ever so subtly, glided underneath your skirt, his touch gentle. You could feel his fingers trace the curve of your thigh, a sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without breaking eye contact, you reached for his green tie, your fingers working to untie the knot. The fabric slipped from his neck, falling away with a soft rustle.

Slowly, you tugged at the collar of his shirt, pushing it aside, revealing more of his neck, and Heeseung let out a low, appreciative sound. His lips moved back to yours in a needy kiss.

And just when you thought you’d lost yourself completely, a voice—unexpected, unmistakable—cut through the haze of your thoughts.

"Really?"

You broke away from Heeseung, looking up to see Draco standing at the end of the hall, his eyes narrowed, his posture tense. He’d been watching the entire exchange, his expression a storm of emotion.

"Really!?" Draco shouted now, his voice was sharp, like a whip crack. "You think you can just—" He cut himself off, stepping forward, his eyes flicking from you to Heeseung. "Just take her like that!?"

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling your skirt rise higher as Heeseung kept you in place. You tried to ease out of his grasp, gently attempting to pull your leg down, but his hand tightened on your thigh in response, pulling you back toward him. It was like he refused to let go of you, like you were a prize he wasn’t ready to relinquish.

“Let her go, Heeseung,” Draco spat, stepping closer, his jaw clenched in frustration. His eyes darted between the two of you, and it was clear he didn’t like seeing Heeseung so close to you. “She doesn’t belong to you.”

Heeseung’s gaze remained cool, as he leaned in closer to you. "She doesn’t belong to you either," he replied back. His fingers traced the edge of your skirt, the contact sending an involuntary shiver through you. "But if she chooses to be here, with me," he added, "then that’s her choice, not yours."

Draco was visibly seething now, taking another step forward, his hand reaching out as if he could just take you from Heeseung. But before he could get any closer, Heeseung suddenly spun you around, his arm wrapping securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The movement was quick, shielding you from Draco’s view, and you were now facing Heeseung, back to Draco, as Heeseung’s hands gripped you tight, his breath warm against your ear. "You want her?" Heeseung’s voice was soft, but there was an edge to it. "You’ll have to do better than that."

You were trapped between them—caught in their struggle, their silent battle for possession. And as you stood there, something inside of you wondered how you’d gotten here, caught between two people who seemed determined to claim you, as if you were a prize in their war.

But you weren’t anyone’s to take, were you?

Before you could fully process the thought, Draco’s voice sliced through the air again, a low, mocking laugh slipping from his lips.

“You really think you can keep her to yourself, Heeseung?” Draco sneered.

And yet, Heeseung didn’t let go, didn’t back down. Instead, he kept you pressed against him, his breath still warm on your neck.

“Let her decide,” Heeseung’s voice was a growl, holding you like he wasn’t about to let go.

For a moment, everything went silent. You felt the heat of both their glares, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to move away from Heeseung’s grasp.

They had given you time to decide, but it was clear they were both impatient.

But you didn’t want any part of this. You hadn’t asked for this—any of it. All you wanted was a peaceful year, a chance to get through your classes, study, and avoid being caught up in whatever power struggle was unfolding between Heeseung and Draco. But here you were, stuck in the middle, torn between two people.

How were you supposed to choose between them?

Your heart raced, thoughts spinning in every direction. Both of them were waiting for you to make a decision, but the truth was, you didn’t want to choose at all. You didn’t want to get involved in their rivalry, didn’t want to be the reason for whatever animosity existed between them.

"I don’t want to be part of this," you muttered, frustration boiling beneath the surface as you finally spoke up, unable to keep it in any longer. "I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want to be some kind of... trophy for either of you."

But both of them merely exchanged a glance before turning their attention back to you.

"Nobody said you were a trophy," Heeseung replied.

Draco, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes, stepping closer as if he were trying to close the gap between the three of you. "No one gets to walk away, not when we’ve already made our intentions clear," he said, his voice low. "So you either pick or let me show you why i am the better choice."

Your stomach twisted as the pressure mounted, and you felt that sense of dread creeping up on you. You had no idea how to navigate this—how to choose one of them.

It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. You just wanted to survive the year, get through it without becoming a pawn in some twisted game. But as you all stood there, waiting for you to make your move, you couldn’t help but feel like there was no way out.

How could you even choose?

a/n: im gonna end it here and leave it up to you dear reader! who would to choose? personally i was never a draco girl so yeah.

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Wanna be in the perm taglist? Lmk <3

[vmlnrzmp4]

ERMERM ERMM even if im not rlly into bllk rn ill file a request heheueh BUT IDK IF IM DOING THIS RIGHT CUZ I DONT REALLT REQUEST SO HA FIRST REQUEST EVER ON TUMBLR!

bllk dads reacting to their kid drawing/painting on the walls?? the kid can either be the best artist in the world hashtag claude monet reincarnated (hehhe hes my fav artist) or can make the most questionable things ever i dunno… your choice for this and characters ofc! YOU DONT EVEN HAVE TO DO THIS REQ

i was gonna smth like that for rafayel but i was like hm he would probably just encourage it and give his kid their own room to specifically paint on the walls with HELPME anyways baby fever is so real 💔

- 🪷

HIHIHI MY FAV PERSON ON THIS APP OFC ILL WRITE SMT ABOUT THIS

itoshi sae

natsuki draws like every other 4 year old would. she best likes drawing her family! she'll draw you and sae and herself! her grandparents or even uncle rin and his fam! shes open to requests like once uncle ryu—who claims to be the best uncle(better than rin lmao), his request was that little natsu chan would draw a portrait of him and she legit drew a human-roach hybrid. sae GLARED at shidou if he even dared to critisize her art.

itoshi rin

sakura! this baby is also like her cousin! pretty good and loves to stick her little drawings on the fridge! the outside of the fridge is full of her doodles! and and and, little sakura and her cousin would have little drawing meetups and conversations like "i thought your favourite colour was pink!" "no, i like green, jus like papa's hair." rin would also glare at anyone who criticizes his daughter's arts. "what's wrong with her drawings huh? wanna die?"

isagi yoichi

yuki...i love my babygirl. she's so talented. just not in drawing. she drew what looked like an alien and happily showed it to her papa saying "it's you!" but yoichi was her biggest hypeman! "wow! it's so nice...and what's this? a monster?" "no! it's uncle bachira!" y'all know that hyperpigmentation meme? (LMAO) but like i said. THE BIGGEST HYPEMAN. what did you say? fridge is running out of space? he'll improvise somehow "look, there's space on the sides."

michael kaiser

anne was surprised good. too good that shocked both you and your husband! the attention to detail even tho she drew two suns? chefs kiss! and and and! not only the fridge, but her room(maybe even the living room and yours and your husband's bedroom) also was decorated with her masterpieces. he bought so many boxes to store her paintings when space ran out. and she would win so many art contests like it's no big deal! "no big deal. she's basically picasso."

taglist: @anuverse @luciddre @kongkhoi @illyriakrasniqi2007 @passw-0-rd @x3nafix @levihanmyotp [open]

[awriterinthenight]

"You're all I need, love,"-Five Hargreeves

requested: anonymous

words: 866

warnings: uhhh idk really, maybe a bit of angst, no Five and Lila, they do get stuck together, but nothing happens between them

summary: Five has been stuck for 7 years without you, and now he's finally home.

7 years.

7 long years.

But to her it's only been an hour. Five had gone off on one of his adventures to try and figure out how to solve our apocalypse problem. Even though it was barely an hour for her, Five had been on the worst trip from hell for a whole 7 years.

He would constantly think of how having her there with him would've made everything better, but no matter what he tried he could never get to her. Every train line seemed to take him farther and farther away.

To him being away from her was the punishment no apocalypse could ever make him feel. Being without her, traveling from timeline to timeline, felt like walking through each layer of hell alone, with only the distant thoughts of the person you once loved to keep you company.

Of course he has Lila there with him, but even she was starting to hate his mopey attitude, and how every other sentence was how much he missed her. She herself missed Diego and her own kids, which made her understand how Five felt. They both had someone who truly understood them, and now here they were stuck and trapped with the hope of getting back to them, withering away like a flower stuck in eternal winter.

But, when Five found the notebook with the instructions on how to get back it felt like maybe believing in a higher power wasn't so horrible, and that some god or deity wanted him to get back to her. He would trade his whole life just to be able to find a way back to her, and here it was in his hands. The messy writing giving the perfect instructions on every step needed to make his way back.

When he and Lila found themselves back at the front door of her house it felt unreal. It felt like at any moment someone would pull the rug out from under their feet, and tell them it was an elaborate mirage. But it was all real.

Every second felt like a moment wasted, so they opened the door where Lila's kids ran to her, full of joy of seeing her again. To them it had only been an hour. Maybe you wouldn't think he was the same? Maybe you wouldn't notice anything and act like it was just his normal self?

All of these thoughts went through Five's head, thinking of every possible way the both of them would react when seeing each other. When she finally appeared she immediately moved towards him, happy to see him again. She saw how he looked sadder, but somehow happier at the same time. Their hug lasted for longer than it seemed time could handle.

"I missed you. I missed you so much," He whispered into her hair, softly stroking it while pressing her so far into his chest that their heartbeats were felt by the other.

She smiled, amused by his loving words, "You've only been gone an hour, was it really that bad?" she asked, concerned about him, willing to devote every inch of herself to make him feel better.

Five moved to press their foreheads together, "Yeah, it was that bad," he told her, his voice barely above a whisper, as he downplayed his 7 years he couldn't have dreamed of in his worst nightmares.

"I'm sorry then. But, now I'm here," she told him, knowing that that was usually enough to make him relieved. He just held her tight, breathing in her scent, as if it was a quintessential part of his life he hadn't had in an eternity of suffering.

He would move to peck her lips softly, or to place a kiss somewhere on her face. To her it was just him relishing in her presence and showing his love to her. But to him it was his way of making sure she was really there. That she was really in his arms, that he could really kiss her, that he could finally tell the face that haunted his dreams with the presence he thought he would never be in again, how much he loved her.

All those years apart from her made him realize how much he would give for her love. Maybe she was a goddess in disguise, since it seemed almost impossible to make a person go crazy just from not being with them. No matter what, she was his savior. She was the one keeping him going all those years, and the only reason he kept looking for an escape to the point where he would've sold his soul for a way back to her.

Being there in her arms gave him a feeling he wanted to bottle up and savor till his death. "You're all I need, love," he told her, his words meaning more than he had ever meant anything before. She was all he needed to live a perfect life.

And finally after all these years he was back with her. This time not even the heavens or hell, or anything in between could separate him from the person he would run to if the world was ending.

[na0koz]

thoughts on strap hcs for jinx 😞🗣️💜

I know damn well she’d be using something thick and textured or something she designed herself-

MDNI. cw: strap (duh), bondage mention, mention of jinx being sadistic

toxic!jinx masterlist

oh hell yeah she made that shit herself.

something that can vibrate or do something a lil extra just to add to her thrusts whenever she uses it on you. maybe somehow uses shimmer in it, if it would make it feel even better idk how shimmer works.. (but like have u guys seen that timebomb hc where ekko gets a little high whenever he kisses her cus she’s like 50% shimmer…yea that’s what i’m going for.)

i’m pretty sure i said this in another post but she could fuck you with her strap for hours and be satisfied just from making you cum over and over. you try to return the favor and she’s like insistent that she’s okay just making you cum. she does like receiving, but more often prefers to give when it comes to strap.

likes missionary the most. kinda boring but she likes to see your face and exactly how you react to what she gives you. also your tits bouncing in time with her thrusts are a bonus.

she’ll tie your wrists up every now and then, either to the headboard of your bed or just above your head. no particular reason she just likes being the one in control.

she’s obviously a little sadistic, so she does have you cockwarm her sometimes. you on her lap, whimpering as she keeps tutting at you, coaxing you to stay still with a loose hand on your waist while she does whatever is so important.

then she’ll have you ride her and bounce on her dick until you cum at least twice. she won’t do anything though she’ll just sit there, leaning back in her seat while she watches you desperately try to get yourself off.

i don’t think she’s big on sucking strap, she’d rather have you suck her fingers or vice versa. likes fucking you with her strap but doesn’t see any point in sucking it cus at the end of the day it’s a not a real dick lmao..

when she receives strap though ohhh she is crying thrashing around on the bed. she loves you taking control of her and fucking her.

she favors positions that are generally seen to be uncomfortable i guess would be the word? like stretching her legs so wide open with her knees next to her ears. she says it makes it feel better that way.

like i mentioned, i honestly think she cries when she cums. the feeling is just so intense she can’t handle it, but she loves it. she loves it even more when you lick her tears from her cheeks and coo at her for doing so well.

i think she’s a squirter too ngl guys. nothing really more to add on that one.

overall she is a sensational strap user and uses her genius for good to make the best strap she can for you :P

[flickering-chandelier]

But Daddy I Love Him

✨ Part 1: Was Any Of It True?

✨ Part 2: Full Throttle

Pairing: badboy!Azriel x goodgirl!Reader

Summary: And they’re back! As Reader and Azriel get more serious, it’s time for Az to meet the parents. Unsurprisingly, he’s not exactly what they hoped for, and he and Reader try to prove to them how great he is. 

Warnings: smut (at the parents’ house? Yes, oopsie), family drama, swearing, Az is insecure, no these parents are not based off of mine lol idk what you’re talking about

Word Count: 5.1k

Azriel let out a breath as he dropped another heavy box into the bedroom he now shared with you. “I think that’s all the books.”

You smiled somewhat guiltily at him, and even though he knew it meant that he would somehow have to carry more books up the stairs, his heart swelled with affection for you. “Not quite,” you said. “There’s one more box in my car.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I like books,” you said, shrugging innocently. 

“Oh, you do?” He teased. 

You grinned, holding both his hands and rising on your tiptoes to kiss him. “This isn't even all of them. You should see the collection I have at my parents’ house,” you laughed. 

Azriel paused. He had been wondering for the past few months when he would meet them, when you would want to take that step. He didn’t have any family to speak of besides Cassian and Rhysand, so he couldn’t help but wonder if your family could be that for him someday. 

But he also wasn’t sure how they would react to him. He probably wasn’t the kind of guy that they pictured their little girl ending up with. 

That didn’t stop him from wanting to meet them, though. To see where you had grown up, where you had become the person he loved so much. 

“I’d like to see that,” he said finally, gazing down at you, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“You would?” You asked quietly.

“Of course I would,” he cupped your cheek in his rough hand. “I want to meet your family. I want to see where you became my bookworm,” he said, leaning down to brush a quick kiss on your lips. 

You smiled, your eyes shining. “I would love that. It’s just…”

“They might not like me,” he said, quietly, his heart sinking a little.

“They’ll love you,” you assured him, but then winced slightly. “Once they get to know you. Once they see past your tattoos and your motorcycle.”

“And my grades,” he added.

“And the deal,” you whispered. 

“Oh, fuck.” He had tried his best to wipe that from his memory in the past year, and yours. He had been working every day to prove to you and to himself that he was worthy of being with you, that he would treat you with nothing less than the love and respect you deserved. 

“It’ll be okay,” you said, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him. “They’ll see the real you, I know it.”

Despite the churning dread in his stomach at the thought of your parents hating him, he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he gazed down at you. “Book the trip, baby.”

---

Your leg had started bouncing up and down in the passenger seat as soon as the car started moving. Azriel glanced at you, the slightest smile on his face as he settled his hand on your bare knee, gently holding it down. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. 

You don’t know my parents. You’re exactly the kind of guy they always told me to stay away from.

On the outside, at least. Azriel was the kindest, most loving person you had ever known, and you counted yourself extremely lucky to be in love with him. You knew that. 

But, you just weren’t sure if your parents would ever be willing to see that side of him.

Finally, you smiled tightly, resting your hand over his on your thigh. “You’re right,” you sighed, and hoped it was true. 

The rest of the ride was more comfortable as you settled into road trip mode, passing snacks back and forth and laughing together, singing along to the playlist that Az made. 

Although Azriel did make you feel better throughout the drive, your hands were shaking slightly by the time you pulled up into the driveway. 

Azriel’s had was on the door handle, about to exit the car,  but he paused when he looked back at you, his expression softening immediately. He took your hand in his, lightly running his thumb over the backs of your knuckles. “You’re really nervous, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your eyes fixed on his hand over yours. “I just… I love you so much. And I don’t know how they’re going to react.”

“What have you told them about me?”

A smile tugged on your lips. “Well, at first I told them that you were really hot.”

He laughed. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

You rolled your eyes. “As we were getting to know each other, I told them that you’re very sweet and caring.”

Azriel smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“It wasn’t until we figured things out after last summer that I told them about the tattoos and the motorcycle,” you said. 

He smiled sadly. “How did they react to that?”

You winced. “Not great. But by then I also told them that I loved you, so they couldn’t really say much.”

“Well, at least you warned them,” Azriel sighed.

Suddenly, you felt guilty for adding stress to Azriel’s shoulders. He was no doubt already worried about making a good impression. You leaned forward and kissed him softly. “It’ll be okay,” you said. “We’ve got a week to show them how great you are.” 

Azriel took a deep breath, winking at you before he got out of the car and rounded over to your side, opening the door for you, and kissing the top of your head. “Into the lion’s den we go.”

You laughed as you grabbed your bags, handing the heaviest ones to Azriel before you walked up to the front door. 

The door was opened before you could even knock, your parents rushing out to hug you. “You’re here!”

“Hi guys,” you smiled, hugging them back the best you could with the bags in your arms.

“Oh, let us take those,” your mom said, taking the bags from you, while your dad took Azriel’s and set them down. 

“Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Azriel,” you said, smiling up at him. 

He reached his hand out, saying, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

You had to reign in a laugh at seeing Azriel acting so formally. Your parents shook his hand, introducing themselves with much less enthusiasm than they just greeted you with. 

Your parents’ eyes trailed over Azriel’s tattoos, before looking back at you, plastering on their brightest smiles. 

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Why don’t you two get settled in your room?” Your mom said.

Azriel’s shoulders slumped slightly with relief as you followed him up the stairs, luggage in tow. You stepped past him, leading him to your childhood bedroom, closing the door behind you. 

“They already fucking hate me, don’t they?” Azriel whispered, his arms wrapping around your middle, drawing you into his chest.

“Well, they’re letting you sleep in my room,” you said, looking up at him. “That’s a good sign?”

He groaned, nuzzling his face into your neck. “They probably thought since we live together already, it doesn’t matter.”

“Right,” you said. “That might not be a good sign, then.”

Azriel sighed into your skin, pressing light kisses to your throat, holding you close. “I fucking love you, you know that? The rest doesn’t matter, right?”

You looked up at him curiously. “The rest?”

“I mean,” he hesitated, searching for the right words, his eyes searching your face. “You don’t care, right? About the tattoos and the motorcycle, and the shitty grades, and the fact that you’re pretty much the only one in the world, besides my idiot friends, that cares about me at all?”

“Azriel,” you whispered, holding his face in your hands as your heart broke for him. “I love you so much. I love your tattoos,” you smiled, leaning down to kiss the tattoo on his chest that peeked out from under his shirt. “I love your motorcycle. It breaks my heart and makes me angrier than I’ve ever been to think about how awful your family was, but that doesn’t affect how I feel about you.”

His fingers tightened on your waist as he let out a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, like he was grounding himself in you. 

“You’re the love of my life,” you said quietly, rising in your toes to kiss him. “If my parents somehow don’t see how amazing you are, that’s on them. But it won’t change how I feel about you.”

Azriel’s mouth turned up into the lopsided smile that made you knees weak every time. “The love of your life?” 

“I thought that was pretty obvious,” you teased. 

The tension finally released in his arms as your words sunk in, and he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, kissing you deeply. “God, I love you,” he murmured against your mouth. 

You laughed, “Lucky me.”

He smirked as he pulled away, his eyes finally roaming around your bedroom. “So, this is it, huh? Where your nerdy little bookworm days started?” 

“This is it,” you said, watching him as he looked around the room, his gaze roaming over your academic trophies on one wall, flanked by enormous bookshelves filled to the brim with books, the floral curtains, the art of your favorite authors and favorite characters. 

“Sweetheart, I say this with all the love in the world,” he said, grinning at you, “this is exactly what I pictured. You’re such a nerd.”

You ran your hand along the spines of the books closest to you, laughing. “I know! Look at all my precious babies.”

Azriel rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. “Do you need a moment alone with them?”

“Maybe later,” you said. 

“Well, it’s going to have to be later, because I am not going back down there alone.” 

“I would never make you do that,” you said, taking his hand, kissing his cheek. “Speaking of which, we probably should go back.”

“Right,” he said, grimacing slightly. “Lead the way.”

---

The only thing holding Azriel through dinner was your hand on his leg, steadying him, keeping him on the ground. 

He couldn’t remember ever being this nervous in his life, except for maybe last fall when he was about to find out whether you still hated him or not. 

Azriel had never really cared about gaining anyone’s approval, not until he met you and realized he would do anything to make you happy. This was an extension of that, he supposed. He wanted your parents to know that he would take care of you, and treat you right. He wanted them to know that you were safe. 

So, here he was, scared shitless of these two middle aged people from a nice neighborhood. The thought almost made him laugh.

“How did the move go?” your mom asked you. 

Azriel noticed your dad’s eyes narrow slightly, his grip tightening on his fork. 

“It went really smoothly,” you said easily, smiling at Azriel. “Az helped me pack and did a lot of the heavy lifting.”

“I would hope so,” your dad said under his breath, his eyes focused on his plate. 

“You know, I got really lucky,” you cut in, your fingers tightening slightly on Azriel’s leg. “If Az hadn’t let me move in, I don’t know where I would have gone.”

“Coming home is always an option,” your mom said sweetly. “I mean, you’re always welcome. If you need somewhere to go.”

Azriel noticed you hesitate briefly. So, there it was. Yet another reason to hate him. Azriel had taken their daughter away for the summer.

“Of course,” your mom turned her tight smile on him. “Do you cook much?”

“This dinner is incredible,” Azriel blurted. “Thank you for making it.”

Azriel laughed in a way that he hoped sounded casual. “Not much. I’m mostly a take-out kind of guy.”

“You know that stuff’s horrible for you,” your mom said in a sing-songy voice that he assumed was meant to distract him from her disapproval.

“And expensive,” your dad cut in. He still had barely glanced in Azriel’s direction. 

“Yes, well, we’re so busy with everything at school,” you said, with an edge to your voice that clearly showed you were trying to get the evening back on track. 

Azriel’s heart cracked at how hard you were trying, and how little your parents seemed to care. 

“Right,” he said. “She’s studying constantly, which I’m sure is no surprise to you.”

“And you?” your mom asked him. “What do you do while she’s studying?”

Azriel wracked his brain for a suitable answer. Certainly not studying or cooking or cleaning, that much would be obvious to them. 

“He’ll help me study sometimes, if I want,” you said. “Or he’ll be at work, or out with friends.”

Your parents nodded, seemingly dissatisfied with that answer. 

The rest of the dinner was pretty much more of the same. Azriel felt like no matter what he said, they would look at him with that slight frown, the disapproving click of their tongues. 

You were shifting in your seat constantly, clearly frustrated too. He laid his hand over yours under the table, trying to soothe you, to show you that he was okay, that he was just thinking about you. 

He jumped up and cleared the plates when it seemed that dinner had come to a close, trying to prove that he wasn’t completely useless. You followed him into the kitchen. The two of you silently did the dishes after you had insisted that we do them and sent your parents away. 

After the dishes were done, the two of you made it through some more awkward small talk with the parents before you had claimed to be incredibly tired and excused yourselves. 

Once you had escaped to the bedroom, Azriel fell back onto the bed, groaning. “How am I supposed to make them like me?”

You cuddled up beside him, leaning your head on his chest. “We just need a more casual setting. Some kind of activity where they can see how sweet you are to me, and where they won’t be able to grill you about stupid shit.”

He glanced at you curiously, rubbing your shoulder, surprised by how harsh your tone was. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you sighed, pressing your body further against his, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Just annoyed. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he kissed your temple. “Just worried about you.”

“Me?” You sounded surprised. 

“I hate to see you so frustrated.”

You smiled, tilting your chin up to kiss him. “I was worried about you.”

Both of you laughed, holding each other close, Azriel running his hand through your hair. You stayed like that for a long time, silently digesting the day, clinging to one another like a lifeline. 

---

You woke up with Azriel’s arms around you, his breath tickling the back of your neck. These were your favorite moments in any day, when the two of you could just be alone, so wrapped up in each other that nothing else mattered. 

But then you heard the clanking of pots and pans in the kitchen downstairs and remembered where you were. Remembered how stiff your parents had been last night, how nervous it was making Azriel, who only wanted to impress them. 

It was going to be a very long week. 

Azriel’s arms tightened around you and he sighed into your neck. “Morning, baby.”

“Good morning,” you smiled as he kissed your shoulder. 

“You ready for today?”

“Are you?” You asked. 

“Of course. What could go wrong?” Azriel asked.

You turned to face him and his awaiting smirk. “Why would you say that?” you groaned. 

He laughed, kissing you on the forehead, the nose, the mouth. “I'm going to try to be optimistic today. We love each other. We're good together. That's what matters.”

You smiled, kissing him gently. “You always make me feel better.”

His expression softened, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “That's all I've ever wanted.”

You spent a few more minutes cuddling, pretending the rest of the world didn't exist, before you got dressed and went downstairs, hand in hand as a united front.

Your dad was flipping pancakes while your mom was cooking bacon. “Good morning,” your mom chirped.

“Can we help?” Azriel asked, squeezing your hand slightly.

Your mom hummed, seemingly thinking. “You could set the table, if you want. We're almost done.”

You led Azriel to the plates and the silverware, passing them to him and leading him to the table where you both quickly set up everything.

Azriel pulled you into a hug when it was done, kissing the top of your head. 

Breakfast was ready by then, and you caught your mom smiling slightly as she saw you and Azriel.

The meal went by surprisingly smoothly. Maybe your parents felt bad for how tense and awkward things were yesterday, because they were definitely less cold towards Azriel this morning. 

You could see Azriel visibly relax, and he squeezed your thigh under the table for a moment, seemingly saying I told you it would be okay.

But you couldn't help but wonder how long it would last.

---

When you had suggested to your parents that the four of you go mini golfing, Azriel couldn’t stop the swell of emotions that came with it. The first time he had gone mini golfing with you had been your first date, and you had suggested it because it was something you were comfortable with, something that you had grown up doing with your family. 

He was supposed to be acting then. Supposed to be getting you to fall in love with him so Claire could have her stupid revenge. 

But, even then, he couldn’t bring himself to act around you. He found himself forgetting what he was supposed to be doing and just having fun with you, getting to know this intriguing, brilliant bookworm. 

So, needless to say, he had mixed emotions of guilt and love and about a million other things when it came to this particular activity. 

You could see it on his face, he knew, as soon as you mentioned it. The guilt, particularly. You smiled slightly, taking his hand in yours. 

God, he did not deserve you. 

At the mini golf course that your parents had been taking you to since you were a kid, you picked up a tiny pink putter with a grin, handing him a taller black one. 

He couldn’t help but smile despite the looming presence of your parents behind him, placing a hand on the small of your back and a kiss to the top of your head as the two of you walked out to the first hole, your parents trailing behind. 

It was actually fun to see all three of you drop your guard down a bit and relax. Your family joked around and seemed to be in a much better mood as you made your way through the course. He mostly stayed quiet, happily observing at your side. 

He sighed as he overshot the hole again, holding everybody up. You laughed, grinning up at him, and he stuck his tongue out at you teasingly. “I still suck at this game, sweetheart. We’re going to need to practice more before we come back to visit again.” 

To Azriel’s surprise, your parents laughed too, and for the rest of the day, they were clearly making more of an effort to bring him into conversations and ask him questions that didn’t seem like they had a clear wrong answer. You kept looking at him, your eyes shining, whenever this happened, and Azriel’s heart soared to know how happy it was making you. 

The whole day went by really smoothly, actually. 

That is, until Azriel came out of the shower and heard a conversation he absolutely was not meant to. 

He came out of your room in shorts and a t-shirt, drying his hair with a towel, about to go down the stairs when he heard your raised voice carrying up the stairs and stopped dead in his tracks. 

“I thought things were going well today,” you said, your voice breaking. “What could your problem possibly be with him?”

“Do you remember what you were like last summer?” your dad answered, his voice rising. “Because I do.”

Azriel’s stomach lurched, his hands shaking. He didn’t want to think about how hurt you had been because of something he had done. It broke his heart completely. 

You sighed. “I’ve forgiven him for that, Dad. You need to do the same.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” he sighed. 

“Dad, I love him. He’s so good to me, can’t you see that?”

“What I see is that the kid is covered in tattoos, doesn’t care about his grades, and used you for the better part of a year!”

Azriel flinched from his hiding place on top of the stairs. 

Your voice became incredibly quiet as you said, “Maybe we should just go.”

Azriel’s heart broke, remembering how excited you had been to see your parents again, despite the trepidation at what their reaction to Azriel would be. 

He couldn’t take it anymore, clearing his throat and going down the stairs to see your arms wrapped around yourself, shielding yourself, while your dad pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, clearly frustrated. 

Your dad looked shocked to see him there. 

Azriel came up beside you, wrapping his arm loosely around your waist in a feeble attempt to comfort you. He looked to your dad. “Sir, I understand your reservations about me. I really do. What I did last year… how she and I started dating…” Azriel winced, glancing down at you to find your eyes glossy with tears. “It was horrible, what I did. I have no excuse. I am so, truly sorry that I hurt your daughter. But, I am begging you to believe me when I say that I am so in love with her. She’s the kindest, most brilliant person I’ve ever known. Honestly, she’s pretty much the only good thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“And Rhys and Cassian,” you cut in. 

He laughed lightly, smiling down at you, and pulling you tightly closer against him. “Yes, but we both know I like you better.” 

Your dad was looking at Azriel with a furrowed brow, studying him, before flicking his eyes to you. “He treats you well?”

Azriel could see the emotion in your eyes. “Yes, dad. He brings me food when I forget to eat because I’m buried in textbooks. He makes me go to sleep when my eyes are burning. He took care of me when I had a fever, and he got notes from this awful girl for me because I was too sick to do it myself. He tells me he loves me every day and he shows me that he means it.” You broke off, your voice cracking, and looked up to Azriel with tears brimming in your eyes. 

On reflex, he gently brushed his thumb under your eye, wiping the tear away, his heart swelling with emotion. 

Your dad sighed, his gaze bouncing back and forth between the two of you before settling on Azriel. “I think I owe you an apology, son.”

Azriel’s eyes widened slightly. “No apology necessary. I get it.”

Your dad nodded, clearing his throat. “We’ll do better.”

---

As soon as Azriel shut the door to your bedroom, you jumped into his arms. 

He laughed, catching you as you wrapped your arms and legs tightly around him, burying your face in his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” he said, kissing the top of your head. 

“That was a beautiful speech,” you said, pulling back to look at him. 

Azriel smiled, leaning forward and kissing you slowly. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your mouth.

Slowly, the kiss got deeper, as Azriel slipped his tongue into your mouth and laid you down on the bed, hovering over you. 

Heat flooded through your body as he started kissing down your neck. “Az,” you whined quietly. “My parents…”

“Don’t hate me anymore,” he smirked into your skin. 

“They're not even asleep yet,” you whispered.  

“We’ll just have to be quiet then,” he murmured back, pointedly pressing his growing hardness into your pelvis.

You gasped. “We shouldn’t.”

“But you want to?” he asked, his eyebrow raised, his fingers grazing the inside of your thigh. 

“Of course I want to,” you said, your hips involuntarily rising to meet his. “I want you…” 

Azriel groaned quietly, his hand raising slightly higher on your thigh. “I want you, too, sweetheart.”

“It’s a really bad idea,” you said, sounding more and more breathless, even to your own ears. 

“It absolutely is,” Azriel said gruffly, kissing your neck again. 

You raked your nails down his back. “You’re going to have to help me be quiet,” you whispered. 

Azriel moved immediately, smirking at you as he slid your shorts and panties down your legs. “I think I can handle that.”

Within a moment, his mouth was in between your legs, relentlessly licking and sucking all the right places.

You wound your fingers through his hair, biting your lip to stay quiet. 

“Az,” you gasped, as he laid his hand flat on your stomach to keep you in place. “This -- I’m not going to be able to stay quiet.” 

“Yes, you are,” he growled into you. Your thighs involuntarily tightened around his head. “I want to taste you.”

“I can’t -- ahh.”

He tossed a pillow at you, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you held it to your face, biting the fabric to keep quiet. 

When you truly couldn’t handle it anymore, Azriel kissed his way up your body, pulling your shirt off over your head as he did so. “You ready for me, baby?”

You could only nod, still clutching the pillow. 

Azriel chuckled as he stripped down, then took the pillow from your hands, tossing it over his shoulder. 

“But--”

He silenced you with a kiss, his length prodding at your entrance. “You don’t need it anymore,” he whispered, then gently covered your mouth with his hand as he pushed himself fully inside you, his eyes on yours the whole time. 

You drew a breath in against his hand, your eyes widening as he started thrusting gently in and out of you. You could tell he was trying not to shake the mattress too much. 

One of his thrusts hit particularly deep and you couldn’t stop the moan that came out of your mouth.

“Shhh baby,” he murmured in your ear. “You don’t want me to have to stop, do you?”

You shook your head and he chuckled into your ear, making your toes curl, your legs clamp tighter around him. 

He groaned quietly, and when he raised his head to look at you again, you covered his mouth with your hand, raising your eyebrow at him. 

Azriel laughed and you pulled your hand back, holding his face in your hands, looking up at him dreamily. 

Your legs started shaking as he kept moving in and out of you, and he smirked down at you, his hand still covering your mouth. “You doing okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded. 

“Are you going to come for me?” 

You nodded, and he laughed, his face lighting up. 

“Yeah? You’re close?” He asked. 

Your back arched off the mattress, and he grinned. “Oh, yeah, you’re close. Be a good girl and come for me, baby, but remember to stay quiet, okay?” 

Even if you had been able to respond, you didn’t have time. You bit back a groan as you finished, your legs tightening around him. 

Azriel sighed into your neck, pounding into you faster and faster until he met his release. 

He slumped against you, slowly moving his hand from your mouth. “You okay?” he asked. 

“Mmhmm.”

He rolled off you, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone with a smile. “Did I make you sleepy?”

You nodded, too exhausted to talk, and his smile widened, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Nooo,” you whined as he got out of bed and pulled his shorts on. 

“I’ll be right back,” he laughed before disappearing out the door. 

True to his word, he was back a moment later with a glass of water and a towel. He cleaned you up with the towel and handed you the water after taking a sip himself. 

“Thank you,” you sighed. 

He slid back into the bed, wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. 

After you laid there in silence for a few moments, Azriel said, “I can’t believe your dad called me son.”

“I know,” you yawned. “I’m telling you, you really moved both of us with that declaration of love,” you teased, kissing his temple.

He held you a little tighter. “I meant it, you know. I didn’t mean for it to be a big speech.”

“I know,” you said.

You held onto each other like that until you both drifted off into the first peaceful sleep you had gotten since you arrived. 

---

Your dad must have talked to your mom because both of them were acting vastly different for the rest of the trip. The four of you played board games, went to their favorite restaurants, they even went to a barbeque in the neighborhood where Azriel met a bunch of the neighbors. 

Though it still wasn’t perfect, Azriel felt way more included, and if he was honest, he felt a little emotional about it. 

This is what it feels like. This is what having a family is like.

You were always able to read his thoughts. You sidled up to him in the neighbor’s backyard while people milled about. 

“Are you okay?” you asked. 

“I’m great,” he said, slinging an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead.

“You are family, you know,” you said quietly, looking up at him. “You’re my family.”

He had to blink back tears as he looked down at you, your eyes shining with so much love. “And you’re mine.”

Azriel suddenly couldn’t wait to go home with you, to the place that you two shared together. He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you. 

He thought of the envelope of money that he had been saving in the back of his sock drawer for the past few months. As he looked down at you, looked at your parents who had finally accepted him, he knew that he would be spending it much sooner than he had originally planned. 

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @melmo567 @sillysillygoose444 @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @headacheseason @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @halibshepherd @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria @marina468

[lulualuana]

Cry For Me

woke up from my second nap and this shit formed so eliquently in my mind, yet my valentine's special is just staring at me unfinished oops

wc: 873

cw: rough, somehow feels more crude than anything else i've written idk why, p in v sex, mating press (fav position sue me), mentions of creampies, overstimulation, mild (not so mild) dumbification, crying kink bc mmm yeah, i think that's everything of note..

enjoy?

It didn't hurt. That's what kept running through your head despite the tears running down your face. You weren't in pain, you just felt too good and your default reaction is to practically sob your eyes out over it. You'd always been a bit of a crybaby. Leon liked it. Loved it, actually.

The way you'd cry when overwhelmed and overstimulated. The way you would push at his head and damn near claw at his scalp when he ate you out, trying to pull free before you burst into tears. The way you would hiccup and tense up trying to bite back the tears when he fucked you into the mattress, only to end up with the sheets covered in tears and come anyway.

It was fucking delicious. It’s what he aimed for honestly. He’d never admitted it up until now, but he loved watching you cry. It gave him a rush he didn’t understand but couldn’t get anywhere else. 

It was all he was thinking about when he came back from work, particularly pissed off. Some rookie had fucked up exponentially and he was the one who had to stay later and fix his mistake when all he wanted was to go home and cuddle his cute girlfriend. Needless to say, he wanted something a little more stress relieving that cuddling now. 

You were all for it, of course, the caring girlfriend you are. You wanted him to be healthy, happy and stress free. So you didn’t protest when he was impatiently tugging off the cute outfit you wore out with your friends earlier, didn’t protest when he bit your neck harder than he usually did, bit down your protest when he tore your favorite panties and bra. You sure as hell didn’t complain when he was pressing his hands underneath your knees, pressing your legs up to your chest as he stuffed his cock so deep inside you, you swore you could feel it in your chest. 

No, the complaints only came with how good it felt, as always. His body caging you down against the mattress, holding you open as he thrusted over and over and over again with no end in sight. He wasn’t gentle about it and fuck, if that didn’t only make it feel ten times better. He kissed you, unabashedly groaning against your mouth as he fucked you so good your saw stars. Maybe that was also from the lack of oxygen as he kissed you. 

Either way, it wasn’t long before it became too much for you. Wasn’t long before you were pushing against his thrusts, your lust-drunk mind incapable of forming the right words to tell Leon you were going to come so you just did. Clamping down so tight around him, he knew you came, but that didn’t make his relentless pace stop, and that’s when the waterworks started. 

Your hands met his shoulders with no malicious intent, even as your nails sunk into his skin, pushing as tears built up in your eyes, clouding your already hazing vision. His thrusts only jostled them free, sending them free falling down your cheeks and the sides of your face. You stuttered out incomprehensible words, something or other about it being too much and needing a break, yet your pussy fluttered and sucked him back in so welcomingly that he couldn’t help but not believe you. 

He tutted down at you, slowing his pace as if to give you the recess you thought you craved, yet as his thrusts slowed, the strength behind them increased. “You feel so fucking good around me, sweetheart. So tight and warm, do you really want me to give you a break?” Whatever you babble in response is met with a particularly deep and hard thrust that just seems to pull the tears right from your eyes along with a pretty little sob from your lips too. 

“And look how pretty you are,” he coos, leaning down over you and pressing more weight down onto you as he just admires you. His eyes are sharp as they trail your figure from this close up position. How you’re wrapped so tight around him, the way your chest heaves, your smudged lip gloss that he’s sure he’s rocking too, all the way up to the mascara running down your cheeks that’s chased by more tears. He can’t help himself when his tongue slips out, lapping at your tears and groaning at the salty taste as he bucks into you. “You’re a fucking vision, baby. I love seeing you cry for me.” 

While that would’ve been alarming to hear from any other person, it was intoxicating to hear from Leon. It was enough to make the overstimulation worth it. It was enough to stir you back up when his thrusts picked back up with a fervor and more weight behind them, his mouth down by your ear. “I wanna’ see how you cry when I come inside you, baby. Wanna’ see your pretty face covered in tears when I stuff your pretty pussy full over,” a thrust, “and over,” a deeper thrust, “and over again.” 

His words leave no room for misinterpretation. You’re not getting a break, and neither are your tear ducts. 

~~~

sobs (but sexily)

[tangirlisfangirl]

going fucking. INSANE with thoughts of taking care of curly post-crash.

like on one hand idk bout y’all but i would immediately put him in the cryostasis pod so he doesn’t develop any infections and doesn’t perceive any pain???

but also. imagine the tender moments.

insisting on helping anya take care of him so she never even has to ask jimmy.

little by little you take up all the duties with pure concern and selflessness to the point where she only comes in to help with diagnoses and wound dressing.

you spend almost all your free time there, just you and him alone.

sitting and resting by the cot. even falling asleep by it just so he’s not lonely.

rambling to him or playing music so he can focus on something, anything other than the pain.

making a way for him to answer simple yes’s and no’s so he can communicate somehow, have some form of free will.

fashioning him an eyepatch so his eye isn’t constantly strained.

tearing up spare bedsheets to give him new bandages.

halving the painkillers to make them last longer— yes it’s only dulled instead of fully numbed now, but it’s better than falling off a cliff into unending agony.

stroking his covered cheeks and jaw and kissing his forehead with ghostly gentle touches. you doubt he can feel it at all.

insisting he’s still in there even when everyone can’t see him the same.

joking through tears about missing his handsome face and hair and hands.

sobbing through a confession and hearing his choked cries in return.

“it’s all your fault but you still don’t deserve this.”

outside of the medbay you’re ruthless and deadly serious, spurred by a desperate need to avoid stupid mistakes and increase your chances of survival. whatever’s left of who you were before this tragedy only peeks through when you’re with him.

caring for him is representative of your own hope, that there’s a life after all this is over. once you stop trying the crew is all but doomed.