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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 1 day ago

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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 16

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15

Aside from bathroom breaks, Eddie doesn’t leave his room for two days. Friday bleeds into Saturday, bleeds into Sunday, and Eddie wallows in it. Wayne knows him well enough to not bother him, but Wayne also knows him well enough to barge into Eddie’s room Sunday morning without even knocking.

“Up, boy,” he says gruffly, turning Eddie’s overhead light on. “Your eggs are getting cold.”

Eddie groans, and tries to roll over to bury his face back into his pillow, but Wayne grabs him by the ankle and yanks until he goes tumbling out of the bed.

“Wayne!”

“I ain’t asking,” Wayne says, storming out of Eddie’s room without closing the door.

As is his right, Eddie whines and rolls around on his floor for a minute until he can finally find the will to get up. Clearly knowing that it would take Eddie a minute, Wayne’s just plating eggs and potatoes as Eddie walks into the kitchen, still clothed in only his boxers and the same shirt he’d been wearing when Carver’d kicked his ass on Thursday.

They settle across from each other at their dingy table, Wayne letting him get a few bites of breakfast in him before the interrogation he knows is coming begins.

“What happened?” Wayne asks, pushing his own plate away so he can focus on staring Eddie down.

Eddie swallows his bite of potatoes, throat suddenly dry. But, he wants to tell someone, he wants to tell Wayne, who, no matter how Eddie fucks up, is always in his corner.

“I’ve been getting these letters,” Eddie starts, using his fork to play with his food so he doesn’t have to meet his Uncle’s eyes as the whole sordid tale comes out.

He tells it like he experienced it: thinking it was a joke at first before getting wrapped up in the letters, finding out it was Chrissy, trying to connect the living, breathing girl to the words on the page.

And then, Harrington, strong and sure as he defended him from Carver, taking care of his wounds in the aftermath, lying to him for months until he couldn't get away with it anymore.

Wayne just listens without interruption while Eddie talks about Jeff’s betrayal, the fear in Chrissy’s eyes, the defeated slope of Harrington’s back as he’d walked out the door, going god knows where with his car still at the quarry where he’d left it.

When Eddie’s finally done, Wayne hums and pulls his now-cold food back in front of him, picks up his fork and starts to eat. Eddie watches him, gobsmacked.

“Wayne?” Eddie asks, moving his hand up and down in front of his Uncle’s eyes, checking to see if the old man can even still see him. “That’s all you’re going to say? Hmm, and then back to breakfast?”

Eddie scowls as he forks another potato into his mouth, chewing as he continues his tirade. “Where are your wise words, old man? Why the hell’d you even make me get up if this is all I was going to get?”

Wayne hums again, clearly just to piss Eddie off, then finally answers, “you needed to eat.”

Eddie stares at him, mouth hanging open half-masticated potatoes on full display for anyone to see. Not that anyone’s going to because Wayne’s gone back to polishing off his breakfast.

“That’s it?” Eddie demands, throwing his fork down in a huff.

Wayne sighs, like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here and finally puts his fork down to meet his nephew’s eyes.

“Finish your breakfast, and we can talk.”

Eddie whines, but dutifully scarfs down his plate, never breaking eye contact with his uncle, like they’re in a stand-off. And in a way, they are.

Once done, Eddie tosses his fork across the room into the sink just to prove a point, leans across the table and glares at Wayne. Because he’s an asshole, Wayne takes another sip of his coffee, maintaining eye contact, before finally opening his mouth to speak.

“You like this boy?” Wayne asks.

Eddie sputters and stalls out. “You—I—what?” Eddie asks, fisting his hands into his greasy hair.

“It ain’t an unreasonable question,” he replies. “You’re talking about the kid like he’s a knight in one of those little games you like so much.”

“I—no I wasn’t!” Eddie cries, cheeks burning at the implication.

“Mmmhmm,” Wayne replies, eyebrow raised as he drinks more of his coffee like what he’s saying is of no importance at all.

“Wayne,” Eddie says, leaning over the table to clutch at his shoulders, ribs protesting at the pull. “I’m not gay.”

And that, out of everything, is what gets Wayne to put his mug back down and take Eddie seriously. “You ain’t?” Wayne asks, eyebrow raised. Eddie shakes his head, eyes wide. “You sure? There’s an awful lot of men in leather on your walls.”

Eddie squawks, sinking painfully back into his seat. “That’s Metallica.”

Wayne squints at him. “Is that one of them code words y’all use to stay safe?”

Eddie stands up, chair screeching against the linoleum floor. “It’s a band, Wayne!” Eddie cries, at a loss for what the fuck is happening. “I’m not gay!”

Wayne looks up at him, both eyebrows raised enough to scrunch up his forehead, wrinkling his mostly-bald head. “Well, alright then.”

Eddie stares at him, brain buzzing with even more questions than he’d had before. How long had Wayne thought he was gay? Why? What did he do?

Was he really okay with it?

Eddie turns on his heel and marches out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom without another word. He slams the door and collapses onto his bed, gut squirming with all the thoughts churning in his head.

***

Chrissy isn’t surprised when Eddie doesn’t come to school on Monday; she is surprised when Steve does. He’s got bags under his eyes and Robin Buckley super-glued to his side, but he’s still there.

She can’t help the way she runs into his arms, leaving Jeff behind without thought. Steve catches her—he always does, pushing his hands beneath his letterman jacket to grab at her waist and pull her in. They sway there in the middle of the hallway, all their classmates jeering around them.

Chrissy doesn’t care; she’s spent the entire weekend thinking about the crushed look in his eyes as he walked out of the Munson trailer without a backwards glance

“You’re okay?” she asks, face pressed into the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

He runs his hand up and down her back as he responds, “I will be.”

She pulls back to smile up at him and reaches up to brush a floppier-than-usual lock of hair behind his ear. “Walk me to class?”

He links their elbows, and does just that, Jeff and Robin falling into line behind them, Robin prattling on about some movie marathon her and Steve had had at her house over the weekend.

Chrissy’s just glad he wasn’t alone.

Steve sighs, shoulders slumping as he says, “I’m sorry, Chris,” he says, not looking her way. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess.”

She stops abruptly enough that Robin stumbles into them and bounces back, cutting off her stream of words mid-babble to squawk at them. Chrissy doesn’t acknowledge her, too busy standing on her tippy toes so she can grab Steve’s shoulders and yank him down to her level.

“You listen to me, Steve Harrington,” she demands, looking into his big, bewildered eyes. “Your mess is my mess, okay?”

He’s still just staring at her, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, so she digs her nails in hard and says, “forever,” with as much finality as she can muster.

He keeps staring at her, looking like he’s about ready to burst into tears in the middle of the hallway. Finally, he says, “come over tonight?” more a demand than a question.

She drops her grip on him and nods, content.

Chrissy doesn’t ask questions when Steve leads her over to Robin in the cafeteria. It’s easy to take that last, final step into social suicide with him at her side.

They fall into their usual routine that night—they watch trashy TV neither would admit to liking to another living soul, and paint each other’s nails.

The lack of letter writing sits like a dead body between them.

“He won’t tell anyone,” Chrissy says, tightening her grip on his hand when he jerks. Chrissy keeps carefully painting his nails, her favorite pink, not looking up at his face. The color suits him—it’s not fair, but everything does. “He promised.”

Steve doesn’t ask for clarification, they both know who she’s talking about. “You believe him?”

She thinks about that torn, guilty look on Eddie’s face and replies, “I do.”

She finishes his pinkie and settles his hand down on her own knee to dry, knowing from previous experience that if she gives it back, he’ll ruin all her work running his hand through his hair.

“That’s good,” he mutters, looking down at his own hand, tilted so far forward that even when she looks up, his hair’s flopped too far into his face to see his eyes. “It still hurts.”

Chrissy sighs. She’d seen this coming all those months ago when she’d helped pen the first letter. Had seen the writing on the wall like it was she herself that was writing it. But, she’d helped him anyway, hoping to salvage his safety, if not his dignity.

She can only hope she has.

“I know,” she replies, biting her lip against apologies he won’t accept. “But, we’re in this together, okay?”

Steve’s fingers twitch on her leg, but he doesn’t pull away. “Even with you and Jeff?”

“You figured that out, huh?” she asks, and that’s what finally gets him to look up at her with a raised brow, making her laugh.

“I mean, you told me you were going to ask him out,” he starts, before leering over at her. “And you two aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Tell that to Eddie,” she replies, wanting to swallow the name back down once it comes out of her mouth, but it’s too late—it’s already been said.

Steve smiles wryly as he says, “well, he’s not exactly the most observant, is he?”

He has her there. Steve himself, no matter how hard he tried, wasn’t subtle with his affections: the compliments, the stuttering over his words, the blushing. But none of it had done more than make Eddie give Steve suspicious looks, like there was some sort of game he wasn’t in on.

There was, but even without knowing he was playing, he’d still beaten Steve.

“No, he’s really not.”

Steve hums, picking up his hand to check if it’s dry before moving onto painting her nails. He picks his favorite yellow for her, even though he knows it washes her out. She holds out her hand and doesn’t complain.

“I really like him,” Steve says, quietly enough that it’s barely audible over the murmur of voices coming from the TV.

“I know,” she whispers, watching the flickering sadness on his face by the illumination of the Harrington’s big television screen. “I love you. You know that, right?”

He pauses in painting her nails to meet her eyes, smiling for real now. “I know,” he says, stroking the skin on her wrist with the free fingers not holding the nail polish applicator. “And you know what? This was all worth it if I got you out of it.”

And then he just goes back to painting her nails like that wasn’t the most romantic thing anyone has ever said. Eddie Munson can fuck himself; Chrissy’s going to be buried in Steve’s letterman jacket and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

***

Eddie doesn’t go to school on Monday. He’s too busy rereading the secret admirer notes—the notes Steve Harrington left him—like if he reads them in the right order, it’ll all snap together in his brain in a way that makes fucking sense.

And it does, sort of. It’s like sorting out a bunch of puzzle pieces after finally knowing what the shape of the puzzle even is. Some parts of the letters just jump out of the page, the longer he looks. In the end, he processes this the way he processes everything: he makes a list.

Proof that Steve Harrington is my Secret Admirer:

1. I’m not trying to bully you.

2. I wish I was brave enough to tell you. Brave like you.

3. I know you don’t like them, but I like sports.

4. My favorite color is yellow, like the sun, and sunflowers, and all those happy, bright colors.

5. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours.

6. I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty.

7. Do you hate all of them, or just the bullies?

8. You laughed, but it wasn’t your real laugh like when Mr. Danver accidentally said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’.

A jock afraid of Eddie labeling them as a bully? Check. Favorite color, the same one Steve Harrington had painted his nails all those weeks ago? Check. Rich enough to have a piano that’s just not played? Check. But the most damning part of all: Chrissy was never in Mr. Danver’s class with him last year, but Harrington was. And Chrissy? Her eyes are bright, translucent blue.

The longer he looks at those two incriminating bits of evidence, the stupider he feels. It was never her, and from the looks of it, they hadn’t put much effort into pretending it was. It was always Harrington from that first, forever-lost letter that they’d stuffed in his locker.

And the longer he pours over the letters, the less he can picture Chrissy sprawled on her bed, writing each letter with a shy flourish before spraying it with a puff of her favored scent. No. It’s Harrington, frowning down at the page because words have never come easy to him; it’s Harrington sleeping with Eddie’s letter placed gently beneath his pillow; it’s Harrington who’d made Eddie smile like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

And now that he thinks about it, wasn’t it Harrington whose eye he kept catching from across the cafeteria? Harrington who’d stutter over his words around Eddie, but still told him he was a good storyteller?

Harrington who wanted to go to his show. Chrissy hadn’t even remembered Corroded Coffin’s name.

Harrington had–of course he had.

And he can picture that, too now. Harrington in the crowd in his stupid polo with his bright yellow nail polish, sticking out like a sore thumb in the gruff crowd at the Hideout, beautiful brown eyes trained solely on Eddie.

He can still feel the way his pulse had ratcheted up when they were in the bathroom, Harrington between his spread thighs, palms warm against his tender ribs, sucking all the oxygen out of Eddie’s lungs with how close he was.

It’s too much.

“Hello?” Jeff’s mom sounds curt over the phone, already fed up with Eddie calling before he’s even said anything. Eddie doesn’t care; he can’t when he needs Jeff this badly.

“Can I talk to Jeff?” he cries out, hand shaking around the receiver as he listens to her grumble, but she still shouts for her son to come pick up the goddamn phone.

“Hello?”

Eddie should wait until he’s sure Jeff’s mom is no longer in hearing vicinity, but he can’t, too wound up tight to keep from blurting out, “am I gay?”

There’s a moment of silence that Eddie can barely breathe through before Jeff says, “uhh, Eddie?” in such a bewildered voice that Eddie sort of wants to punch him.

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” he says, words spilling out over each other. “And I’m sorry about what I said, and you’re sorry that you kept secrets from me—we can do that later, Jeff!”

“Uh, oka—”

“Now, am I gay?” he’s panting by the time he’s done, not having taken a single breath during his tirade. He’s waiting for Jeff’s confirmation or denial, but all that comes down the line is his quiet breathing. “Jeff?”

“Uh, shit, we’re doing this? Okay.” Eddie can almost picture the fed-up palm Jeff’s rubbing against his face, as if it’s somehow Eddie’s fault that Jeff is taking so long explaining the squirmy nebulous feeling in Eddie’s gut. “I don’t know man, why do you think you’re gay?”

Then, Eddie does what he should have done all along, and spills everything to Jeff, from the first letter all the way up to Steve Harrington’s bitchy little speech in the quarry as he put himself bodily between Eddie and Jason Carver.

“—and then he kneeled between my knees like that’s a normal, straight guy thing to do and just like, put his hands in my shirt!” Eddie whines, long since having settled onto the cold linoleum of his kitchen floor. “I mean, what the hell?”

“I think you’re forgetting one important fact, dude: Steve’s not straight.”

“Which brings me back to my question!” Eddie replies, trying for breezy and landing on whiny. “Am I gay?”

Jeff hums down the line like he’s really thinking about it this time. “Well, when he was touching you,” he starts, like that already doesn’t have Eddie’s face flaming, “what did you feel?”

Eddie puts himself back into that moment, thighs splayed pressed open by the heavy weight of Harrington’s body, Harrington’s big, warm hands running over his skin, his worried golden brown eyes roving over Eddie’s face.

“I felt like I was on fire,” Eddie whispers, feeling that same heat now pooling lower in his gut.

“…in a good way?” Jeff asks.

Eddie’s brain goes static, full of too much to differentiate good from bad, if that’s a distinction that ever existed at all. Eddie makes a questioning noise in his throat, knees twitching restlessly where they’re crossed in front of him.

“Okay, okay, uhh—hmm,” Jeff hums across the line. “Did you want to move closer or away?”

Eddie closes his eyes and thinks, imagining that trapped, warm, overwhelming feeling of being caged in by Harrington’s body. “Both?”

Jeff hmms again, clearly trying to think it through. Eddie can’t blame him—this is the most confused he’s been in his entire life, and Jeff doesn’t even have an all-access pass to his brain to try to pick answers out of–not that it’s currently doing Eddie much good.

“Do you want to try kissing a guy?” Jeff asks. “I’d do it, if it was for you, dude.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles, lips puckering in disgust, “ew, you’re like my brother.”

Jeff laughs at him and replies, “so you don’t want to, not because I’m a guy, but because we’re like brothers? Sounds pretty gay, dude.”

“Oh.”

Jeff doesn’t say anything; he’s always been good at sensing when Eddie just needs a minute to think. But this time, he doesn’t think a minute will cut it, so he continues with a, “hey Jeff?”

“Hmm?”

“I really did mean it, you know.” He squeezes the phone tighter against the side of his face, like that will help his sincerity ring down the line. “I am sorry, and we should talk about it, but I can’t yet.”

Jeff still doesn’t reply, but his breathing is steady and sure down the line, settling Eddie’s anxious heart down to a little flutter.

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, dude,” Jeff replies gruffly. “So, you’ll still call me?”

Eddie smiles. He’s missed Jeff, is the thing. They’ve been so distant lately, and no matter how well Eddie and Gareth get along, he’s no Jeff. “Or accost you at school, whichever comes first.”

That makes Jeff laugh; Eddie lets the sound warm him. “Okay, but I’m serious about the kissing thing!” Jeff replies, “Come over and I can plant one right on y—”

Eddie hangs up on his friend, feeling more himself than he has in days. No matter what happens, he has Jeff.

PART 17

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic #jeff is the real mvp here putting up with all of eddie's issues #well. him and wayne

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half-oz-eddie · 1 day ago

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The very first time Buck spent the night at Tommy’s, he couldn’t shake the excitement. Tommy invited him over a handful of times beforehand, and Buck loved learning about all the things Tommy collected. Many of his belongings had some history, or a great story and Buck loved to hear every single one.

Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d peruse Tommy’s shelves, or read some of the old books he picked up from a rare book store in some little town he flew to.

This one particular night, though, Buck was feeling restless and uneasy. He had a rough shift, and it left his body in a world of pain.

When he stumbled down to the kitchen for some water, Buck accidentally knocked over a vase on an end table.

His heart dropped and shattered right along with that vase.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He whispered to himself, frantically glancing up the steps and hoping Tommy didn’t hear anything. He scrambled to pick up the glass, mentally berating himself for being so stupid and careless.

Tommy trusted him. He trusted him in his house with his belongings that he collected over the years. A house he lived in alone and when he finally lets someone his space after so long, he breaks something that was probably incredibly valuable.

Buck assumed this vase was rare and expensive, probably the only one of its kind and Tommy was going to be so disappointed in him. What if Tommy thought Buck didn’t respect his space or how much time he put into his collections?

Buck hissed in pain when a shard of glass nicked his finger. He hopped over to the kitchen to toss the glass into the trash and grab a broom to finish cleaning up.

His heart was racing, practically beating out of his chest. He was so worried about hurting Tommy’s feelings, letting him down—

“What’re you doing, Evan?”

Buck jumped the moment he heard Tommy’s voice.

“Ah—he-hey, Tommy, I-I didn’t see you there.” Buck nervously laughed. “I was just uh…getting some…water. Yeah, water.”

“Are you okay? I heard noises—“

“I’m fine!” He exclaimed, quickly withdrawing. “I’m fine. A-all good.”

“You sound nervous. What’s up?” Tommy asked worriedly.

It wasn’t like Buck could hide it. He sighed, walking around the counter to face Tommy in the dim light.

“I uh…broke that vase you had on the end table. My legs were wobbly and I kinda lost my footing and bumped into the table. I’m so sorry.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes. “That blue vase?”

“Yeah…the-the blue one.”

“Hm…I bought that at a flea market because the end table looked pretty bare. I paid, I think…2…no, 3 dollars for it.” Tommy chuckled. “It doesn’t mean anything, if that’s what you were worried about.”

“I thought you’d be upset. I know you have a lot of valuable stuff that means a lot to you—“

“Oh, Evan.” Tommy cupped Buck’s cheek. “It’s just stuff. You mean more to me than anything in this house.”

“Really?” Buck’s eyes widened. “Even your home brew kit?” Buck asked with a smile.

Tommy sighed before nodding reluctantly. “Yes, even that.”

“You hesitated.” Buck’s smile widened.

“I do love that kit more than a little bit, I suppose.” He pulled Buck into his arms. “But I love you even more than that.”

Buck let himself fall into Tommy’s embrace, sighing in relief.

“Let’s get you back to bed, okay? I know you had a long shift and you really shouldn’t be up and about.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Buck murmured into his shoulder.

“It’s no bother.” He promised. “You’re never a bother.”

Buck let Tommy carry him upstairs and back into bed while reassuring him that he was the most precious thing he’d ever had.

#something from my drafts for you #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #firebeast.doc

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peachdues · 3 days ago

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Work has been kicking my ass the last couple of weeks, so I haven’t really had time to write. This is all I’ve got for y’all right now 🤍

Lovers of Compass!Sanemi and Reader discussing books, rejoice. They’re still a couple of fucking nerds (no matter how horny)

It’s almost one in the morning when your phone buzzes.

A message; one from the only person you text, who also happens to be your favorite. On your screen is a picture of the front cover of the book you’d given Sanemi before he left the day before; beneath it, the chat bubble signals he’s sending a follow up.

You caught up yet? Sanemi’s text reads.

You toss your own book to the side, straightening up in bed. Though no one is around to see, a smile unfurls across your lips and your thumbs hurry across your phone’s keyboard.

How far are you?

Sanemi’s reply is instant. Halfway. Can’t finish tonight but I’ve got a few things I need to discuss right the fuck now.

You glance at the time. It’s nearing one-thirty, and your alarm is set for six. Dragging yourself out of bed after less than five hours of sleep is a kind of stupidity you know better than to indulge.

You hit the call button anyway.

Sanemi picks up on the second ring. “I’ve got five minutes,” he warns, voice low, like he’s wary of being overheard. “So if I hang up all of a sudden, it’s ‘cuz of work —“

“Hi to you too,” you tease, settling back against your pillows.

A pause. “Hey there, beautiful,” you can hear his smile even through the phone. “You okay?”

“Better, now that I hear your voice,” and you can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed by the cheesiness of the admission. Texting him is one thing; hearing him, actually hearing that wonderfully gravelly voice of his soothes a tension in your limbs you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying.

He’s okay. He’s unharmed — safe, even. For now, that has to be enough.

Sanemi’s laugh comes through the phone as a staticky exhale of breath. “Normally, I’d ask what you’re wearing, but I’m dead fuckin’ serious — if they don’t win this war —“

“Which battle did you get to?” You sit up, wracking your memory for the approximate place Sanemi has reached in his book. “Did the cadre reunite?”

“No, half of ‘em are still across the fucking continent.”

“Ohhhh, yeah. Okay. I know where you are.” You tug at a loose thread on your comforter. “I can’t say anything. You’ll just have to keep reading.”

“God dammit,” and you imagine he’s rolling his eyes, maybe even glaring down at the book in distaste. “Shit’s got me stressed the fuck out. I don’t know how she’s gonna wrap this up —“

You giggle as he launches into a rant over loose plot ends. Squaring the mental image of your boyfriend — the one currently ranting about the various loose plot ends to still be tied up in his current read — with the one you know must be sitting in some alley or warehouse, waiting to do things he’ll never speak of, feels impossible at times. But here, for this small moment, Sanemi isn’t a Hashira. He’s just a boy, spouting off theories and guesses as to his book’s ending with an almost childlike enthusiasm. Here, there are no orders to leave, no bruised knuckles or bloodstained hands he has to scrub clean in your bathroom sink.

It’s just you and him; your Sanemi. Your wonderful, gentle, sweet Sanemi.

“Ah shit,” he cuts his impassioned tirade off with sigh. There’s a rustling on the other end of the line, but it’s too muffled to be distinguishable. “‘M gonna have to go —“

Just like that, the moment ends and the smile you’d been wearing slides from your face.“Oh.” And you hate how small your voice sounds. “That’s okay — I’m glad I got to talk to you for a sec.”

The rustling stops. “Me too,” Sanemi says softly. “Fuck, I miss you.”

This is the part you hate most; the part when he has to stop being yours and go be theirs, no matter how much you know he doesn’t want to.

Your moments with him are pennies to the hours the Corps gets to demand. As long as they keep their claws in him, this will always be how your moments with him end: in abrupt, hushed voices, Sanemi’s shoulders sagging with a guilt he shouldn’t have to feel.

You grimace. This forced distance between you is bad enough, and you don’t want him to feel worse than he likely already does. You knew what you signed up for by telling him you loved him. You can’t be mad for getting exactly what you’d known to expect. And besides, your ire is reserved for the Corps and the Corps alone. Sanemi doesn’t deserve it. You can’t leave him on your sour note.

He’ll be yours again soon enough, even if only temporarily. That has to be enough, for now. Better to give him something to look forward to, rather than reminding him — and yourself — of what you’re both currently without.

“If you still wanted to know — I’m wearing your shirt. Only your shirt.” You smirk. “A thong, too. The lacy green one.”

A favorite of Sanemi’s, as he’d mentioned a handful of times. One that always set his eyes wide, made his tongue flick out to wet his lips.

Your distraction works. A strangled groan crackles through the phone. “You’re killin’ me, woman.”

#sanemi shinazugawa #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny x reader #kny fanfic #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa x reader

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 1 day ago

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Lucifer x Reader - Use Your Words (NSFW)

As a surprise for Lucifer's birthday (or day of creation), you decided you wanted to make it a special night

You had bought a new set of lingerie just for him along with covering every square inch of your shared bedroom in rose petals and candles

It's cliche, sure, but you knew Lucifer was a big romantic, so this was right up his alley!

Although, you did have a trick up your sleeve~

Lucifer walked into your room after you had messaged him to meet you there

His eyes went bug-eyed when he saw what you were wearing and immediately went to kiss you, but you stopped him, resting your hands on his shoulders

"It's your birthday, Luci, so you can have anything you want tonight. But you have to be specific, do you understand?~"

Lucifer shook his head vehemently

"So, what do you want?~"

"I-I...I want to kiss you..."

You smiled at him and leaned in, pressing your soft lips against his; you loved it when you could feel his smile when he kissed you

He brought you down to the bed gently and began to trail his hands down the sides of your body before stopping at the curve of your hips

"I want to taste you, love...please..."

"You have to do better than that, birthday boy.~"

Lucifer swallowed hard; you knew how easily flustered he could get when it came to being direct in the bedroom, but getting him to blush was your favorite activity

"C'mon hon, use your words.~"

"Fuck, you're going to be the death of me...I want to eat you out...I-I want to taste your pussy..."

"That's a good boy.~"

Without hesitation, you spread your legs open for him; your cunt already wet from the anticipation

Lucifer waisted no time diving between your thighs to lick up every last drop you had to offer

You placed your hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to go as deep as he possibly could

It didn't take long for you to cum on his tongue; he knew exactly what made you tick and you loved that about him

He lifted his face up, giving you an adoring smile with your slick hanging from his chin

You smiled back, but instead of kissing him, you threw him back against the mattress and hovered over him

"What else do you want, my king?~" you asked teasingly as you rocked your hips against his obvious hard on

"F-Fuck...need you...need you to touch me..."

"Touch you where, Luci?~"

All of the blood in his face rushed to his cheeks as they turned a bright yellow. "Damn it...my cock...Please touch my cock...stroke it...darling, I'm begging..."

"You're doing so well," you praised him as you began to undo his belt, tossing away his pants in an instant

You grabbed a hold of his aching cock and began to run your hand up and down his shaft, admiring his leaking tip

You watched as Lucifer writhed under your touch; you knew it wasn't enough but that was the point; you were only doing as he asked.

"Sweetheart...I-I need more, I can't..."

"Tell me. Whatever you want is yours.~"

"Your mouth...use your mouth, p-please! Please suck my cock!"

His desperate begging went straight back to your core; you loved hearing the way he needed you

You rewarded him by lowering your lips down onto the head of his cock, licking away the precum that had formed

You gave him no time to react before you took on more and more of him down your throat before he was screaming in pleasure

You adored his taste, but even more so, you adored him, and you wanted to give him everything he deserved

And right now, what he deserved was to cum down your throat~

You felt his tail wrap around your thigh, signaling to you that he was close to finishing

You responded by picking up your pace, your mouth and hand working in tandem to bring him to his climax

After a few more pumps, Lucifer cried out your name as he came, his warm seed spilling onto your tongue

You swallowed him happily, making sure to lick him clean

But then, something in Lucifer snapped

His eyes flashed a crimson red, and his horns had burst from his temple

But he wasn't angry, far from it

He needed to devour you

Shame had been replace with pride as you found yourself pinned to the mattress, having no time to wonder how you got there

"Angel, it's my birthday, is it not?~" You nodded, your face getting hotter and hotter by the second. "If this is what you want, then I'm going to tell you EXACTLY what I want now."

You gulped, feeling your cunt ache with anticipation for what your lover had planned

"I want you to get on all fours for me, my love.~"

You did as he said wordlessly, turning away from him and facing the headboard

You felt the tip of his cock press up against your entrance; you couldn't hold back the whine that escaped your mouth

"Good girl.~ Now, I want to fuck you until morning, and I want you to scream my name as I make you cum over and over and over again. Can you do that for me?~"

"M-Mhmm"

"Come on, sweetie, use your words.~"

"Y-Yes, Lucifer..."

"Such a good girl for me.~" he murmured as he plunged his cock deep inside you

True to your word, you gave Lucifer exactly what he wanted, and he fucked you until the bright red sky began to shine through your window.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #my my how the turntables~

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winwintea · 1 day ago

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my apology letter

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!zhong chenle x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ heavy angst. some fluff. no happy ending this is a breakup fic you have been warned

SUMMARY ↬ Chenle always thought that love truly wins all. Your relationship with him was filled with joy and connection. But lately, cracks have begun form. Between small misunderstandings, unspoken frustrations, and the growing sense that he’s not enough for you, Chenle begins to doubt his theory. Is love enough to bridge the gaps between you or is letting go the ultimate act of love?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.0k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ i'm sorry in advance !!!! not really. suffer. happy birthday chenle. i hate (love) you so. very. very. much. title and fic based on my apology letter by kim yeon woo!

PLAYLIST ↬ my apology letter - kim yeon woo, who - lauv (feat. bts), lie with you - ten, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, the scientist - coldplay

CHENLE SITS DOWN, AND BEGINS WRITING HIS LETTER.

He’s lost track of how many times he’s sat in this exact seat. It used to be different. So different. At first it was nice. You were beautiful in every way possible. Kind, patient, and thoughtful. You always made him feel like the most important person in the world, even while surrounded by others. This table was a place of warmth, laughter, and love. Now the mood was only as tense as ever.

He takes a deep breath, letting his thoughts consume him as he begins to write.

I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us.

He remembers how the mornings would go. You’d both sit at the table, sharing a simple warm breakfast that you or him had prepared. All that really seemed to matter was the two of you in that moment of time.

He looked at you, the sunlight reflecting off of your face. You were always smiling at your phone, lips quirking as your fingers began typing. You placed your phone against your chest after hitting send, waiting for him to react.

As Chenle was absentmindedly scrolling through the news, he noticed a notification pop up on his screen.

My Love: “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”

Quiet, huh? You always enjoyed texting him to get his attention. Thought it was funny. He looked up to see you smiling at him with a concerned expression. Not wanting you to worry too much Chenle smiled and shook his head, but did not say anything else.

The two of you continued eating in silence.

Chenle sets down the pen, this burden in his chest growing heavier. Where did it all go wrong with you two?

The two of you used to be inseparable. Days consisted of stolen glances, shared jokes, silly photos and videos, small moments that brought this intimacy together. Now, you barely interact with each other, barely talk to each other. His mind drifts to details of last night.

You sat on the floor, folding the laundry in front of the TV. Your movements were slow and graceful, thoughtfully folding every article of clothing. Chenle sat on the couch behind you, staring mindlessly at the TV, playing some show he couldn’t care less about. He didn’t look at you, you didn’t look at him.

The silence was tense and deafening, yet neither of you made moves to break it.

Chenle picks up the pen again with a stronger grip.

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

Chenle’s mind drifts to a day where everything seemed perfect, but always something tugging at the back of his mind.

The amusement park date. Your laughter was vibrant and warm, eyes sparked with determination as you tossed beanbags, threw balls at cans, aimed darts, always determined to best him. The two of you definitely had a competitive streak, but Chenle always made the sacrifice for you. You ended up winning a small stuffed dolphin, holding it high above your head like a trophy.

Chenle mock pouted, and laughed, “Guess I’ll stick to basketball.” He pulled you into his arms, the dolphin nearly squished between you as he pecked your cheek, while the two of you broke out into fits of giggles.

But even in the moment of happiness and joy, there was still something eating at him from inside.

Chenle grips his pen tighter as he recalls those fleeting moments of joy, moments that now feel bittersweet. He lets the ink flow on the paper again, writing some more.

I think about how happy we’ve been, and yet there’s always this weight, this worry I can’t stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. It’s not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.

Later that evening, the two of you had dinner at your favorite restaurant. Chenle thinks about the way your face lit up when the waiter placed your meal in front of you. He could never get over these small things that you did that make his heart feel giddy as well.

You slipped out your phone and took a photo of the meal, sending it to him with a caption to the photo.

My Love: [Photo Attached]

My Love: "We should make this at home sometime! You’re practically a chef. 😊"

Chenle chuckled, replying out loud, “Only if you clean it up afterwards.”

You smirked and rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you dove into your meal. For a while, everything felt easy, like it used to.

But then you got home.

It started with something small. Just a simple misunderstanding about weekend plans. Chenle couldn’t even remember the exact details now, only how frustrated he felt when his words seemed to fall short. He’d tried to explain, stumbling over his thoughts, but the look on your face never changed. You remained calm, patient, nodding along as if you understood every word.

You always did that—nodded and smiled. But had you really understood him?

Chenle sets the pen down again, and stares at the words he just wrote on the page.

"You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner."

He swallows hard, glancing toward the bedroom door. The stuffed dolphin you won that day lay peacefully tucked away in the closet. It reminds you of the time when things were simpler, or maybe just felt that way.

He stares at the words, hoping they’ll somehow fix what’s broken. But words alone aren’t enough.

They never have been.

Chenle’s been so lost in his memories and thoughts that he hasn’t noticed how much time has passed. He lifts his head and sees you standing in the kitchen. You’ve been here the whole time.

Preparing a lunch for the two of you, you move quietly, chopping the vegetables and stirring a pot on the stove. He barely hears your movements, soft and careful. He wonders if you feel the tension between you two as acutely as he does.

And for that moment, he just watches you. Your posture is relaxed, your head tilted slightly as if you’re caught in your own world. You seem so at peace, and it breaks him.

Chenle wants to reach out to you. To stop this moment from becoming what he knows it has to be. He wants to take your hand, to hold on to you just a little longer. But he knows that’s selfish. This cannot wait.

He swallows hard, his throat tightening as he tears his gaze away from you. His hands clenched into fists on the table, fingers trembling slightly. This is it.

Taking a deep breath, Chenle forces himself to speak. His voice is low, almost breaking, the words that come out of his mouth are barely audible.

“Y/N, let’s break up.”

Chenle had been distant lately, but you didn’t press him. He always had this quiet side to him, and you figured he’d come around when he was ready. You trusted him.

Lunch was extra special today. You were making tteok-bokki—Chenle’s favorite. It wasn’t a particularly hard dish, but he appreciated the effort you put in for it. You focused on the ingredients, the soft sizzle of the stove and the aroma that filled the kitchen. Smells like these made everything feel brighter.

You lost yourself in the rhythm of cooking, chopping vegetables and stirring the sauce until it thickened just right. He had taught you how to make the dish originally, cooking it to perfection until you got it just the way he liked it.

You glanced over your shoulder at him briefly. He was at the dining table, hunched over something. A notebook? His phone? You couldn’t tell. He didn’t look up.

It wasn’t like him to be so withdrawn. He’d always try—he’d send funny memes or silly videos to make you smile. Lately, though, his texts had seemed less and less. You told yourself he was just busy, and would make time as usual to make it up to you.

When the food was nearly ready, you began washing the dishes in the sink, suddenly remembering something you’d been meaning to ask. You turned around, leaning slightly on the counter, and smiled.

“Chenle,” you said, your voice soft but clear. “Take off early for work today and let’s go out to eat dinner together, alright?”

Your hands begin to move, signing something quickly as you mouthed the words out, the gestures being full of emotion to convey your thoughts and feelings. It was your way of making sure he understood. He didn’t know a lot of sign language, but he always made the effort to try and guess.

He initially looked at you with a serious face, his lips in a tight thin line. His eyes were conflicted. Why he looked so pained for some reason, you had no idea. But as soon as you started signing his lips curved into a smile once more, a familiar smile that you loved looking at all day long.

Eventually after no reaction, Chenle seemed to process your words and nodded his head. He held his hand up in a ‘ok’ position to ensure that he had understood and got the memo.

Pleased with his response, you turned back around and finished up your task in the kitchen.

Chenle had asked you to prepare him lunch. You suggested his favorite. He needed this moment to himself, to let the words leave his mouth and test the weight of them in the air.

“Let’s break up,” he had whispered while your back was turned. The words had tasted bitter, like ash on his tongue, their weight heavier than he could have anticipated.

But you hadn’t heard him.

You’d been deaf since the moment he met you. He could still remember your first conversation. It was brief and awkward, with you typing out sentences on your phone and holding the screen in front of him. He’d smiled at how patient you were. A patience you still had today. From that moment, he was hooked.

Yet now, after all this time, he hated himself for how little he’d tried to understand you better.

Chenle leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The guilt felt like a heavy weight, weighing his shoulders down.

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. But it wasn’t enough. Love alone wasn’t enough to bridge the gap of happiness between the two of you.

He thought about all the times you had signed something to him, your gestures full of emotion, but he could only guess their meaning. You never scolded him for not understanding, never grew angry when he needed you to repeat yourself or resort to texting instead. You were always kind and understanding. Patient and calm.

But you shouldn’t have to be patient. You shouldn’t have to wait for him to change. You shouldn’t have to wait this long.

He had taken advantage of your patience, convincing himself that things would work out eventually. He would catch on quickly. Or so he thought.

He had barely scratched the surface of learning sign language, and didn’t put in as much effort as he should’ve.

He wasn’t enough for her. His mind flooded with these thoughts and revelations. These words were sharp and seemed to pierce his heart, filling him with immense pain.

The gap between his hearing and your not hearing had grown too large, too large to ignore. At first, he had thought together you could leap over it, that your love would be enough. But he was wrong.

You deserved someone who would dive into that gap and build a bridge, piece by piece, brick by brick. Someone who would work to understand every gesture, every look you made, every unspoken word.

He wasn’t that person. He would never be that person.

Chenle glanced at the letter on the table, the words he had written laid out before his own eyes. He wanted to say goodbye, but he couldn’t find a way to do it face to face. Not properly. Not without him breaking down.

Maybe he wasn’t strong enough to say the words. Call him a coward. He couldn’t face you. He couldn’t even say he wanted to break up with you outright. Yet he wasn’t brave enough to stay and keep letting you down.

He heard you call his name again, your voice soft and light, the way you always spoke just for him. Your hands moved as you spoke, signing the words with ease, your face glowing after looking at him.

And in that moment, he realized: no matter who he met in the future, he would never love anyone the way he loved you.

But that love wasn’t enough.

The apartment felt emptier than ever when you walked in one day after work.

You’d noticed the change the moment you opened the door: the subtle shift in the air, the absence of his shoes by the entrance, the way the quiet seemed louder than usual, some space seemed emptier than you remembered. Your chest tightened as you stepped further inside looking around the living room.

That’s when you saw it.

A neatly folded envelope sat on the table, your name written on it in Chenle’s familiar handwriting. Beside it, the small dolphin you’d won at the amusement park laid out next to the letter on the table, its glossy black eyes staring back up at you.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your hands trembling as you picked up the envelope. You didn’t open it right away. Instead, you stood there, staring at the letter, trying to steady your breathing for a bit. You knew this was coming. You tried to ignore the signs, but you were correct.

When you finally sat down, it was in the same chair Chenle always used. You never sat in it, since it always seemed like his spot. The cushion still felt warm somehow, as though he had been there just moments ago. You placed the envelope on the table in front of you, staring at it for what felt like an eternity before you finally gathered enough courage to open it.

The letter was written in his careful handwriting, each word deliberate, each line heavy with emotion. As you began to read, tears blurred your vision.

My dearest Y/N,

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be gone. I know you probably saw it coming—I’ve been distant for a while now. And I know you deserve more than this. A goodbye in words rather than on a page. But this is the only way I could say everything I need to.

From the moment I met you, you were the brightest part of my life. You lit up every room you walked into. You taught me so much about patience, about kindness, about love.

And I failed you.

Things have been different, haven’t you noticed? I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us.

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

I’ve tried to convince myself that our love would be enough to bridge the gap between us, that I could make up for my shortcomings. But the truth is, I haven’t. I’ve barely tried to learn about you and your world. You’ve carried so much of the burden, of the weight of our relationship, and I just let you.

You deserve someone who won’t let you do that. Someone who will learn every gesture, every sign there is in the vocabulary of sign language, who will work tirelessly to meet you where you are.

That someone isn’t me.

I hate myself for not being enough for you. I hate that I couldn’t give you what you deserve. And I hate that my love for you isn’t enough to fix this.

You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner.

I hope that someday, you find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved. Someone who will put in the effort I didn’t, someone who will never let you feel alone.

I’ll never stop loving you, Y/N. I just hope that letting you go gives you the chance to find the happiness I couldn’t give you.

I’m so sorry.

- Chenle

Your hands trembled, shaking the letter slightly, your tears dripping onto the paper and smudging the ink. You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sobs threatening to escape, but it was no use.

The dolphin on the table stared back at you as if it held all the memories you’d shared—the laughter, the quiet moments, the love.

You folded the letter carefully, placing it back in the envelope as your tears continued to fall. Sitting there in the silence, you felt the weight of his absence settle around you.

And yet, even through the pain, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame him.

Because you understood. And that hurt the most.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung @peterm4rker @sleepyvic @chenlesfavorite (u too pookie)

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littlefireball · 2 days ago

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ᴊʜ|ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ʙᴀᴅ (ᴀ)(ᴍ)

ᴘᴇʀᴠ!ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ x 9ᴛʜ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.3ᴋ

Part 2 of perv!JH x 9th member

One day, while you were tidying up your closet, you noticed that your underwear collection was getting pretty sparse. It struck you as odd since you hadn't tossed out that many. You figured maybe you had stashed some in a different closet and didn't think much of it. So, you picked up a few more pairs and moved all your underwear to another cabinet.

When Jongho opened your drawer like he usually does, he couldn't find your underwear. Just then, he heard someone say something from behind.

"What are you looking at?Panties thief."

Oh shit. He fucked up.

He jumped up nervously when he heard your voice. As he turned around slowly, he rubbed his hands together, only to find your angry gaze waiting for him. But instead of feeling nervous or guilty, he was turned on more. There you stood once more, clad in a towel that barely covered you. Your exposed thighs were visible, and your chest appeared even more alluring as you pushed it up by crossing your arms.

"What can you explain?Huh?" You yelled angrily. Jongho stammered, no words formed even if he opened his mouth. You stepped forward, locking your gaze onto the man who gulped nervously, your enchanting fragrance enveloping him. Gosh. You smelled so good and he found himself drawn to breathe in your captivating aroma.

"Say something, asshole!"

"Yah!Fuck!" He stepped in even nearer, his large frame casting a shadow over you. Towering above, his height made you instinctively flinch and look away. Then, with a soft touch, he bent down and cradled your chin in his hand. "Then who is always wearing only a towel?Don't tell me you forget your pajamas every time."

"That's not the main point!Don't try to distract me!" You said that with a sheepish expression, which made him smile. He knew you so well. You're definitely the most reserved one in the group, and you keep your daily style pretty polished, avoiding anything too flashy. Only wearing a towel before your members? He couldn't believe you were not doing it on purpose.

"You fucking stole me panties!You fucking pervert!!What're you doing with it?!" You pushed away his hand, totally pissed off.

"You guess?"

"WHAT THE FUCK!" You smacked at him, but he held your wrists tight to stop you.

"Hit me harder or your towel will slip down." He spoke with a serene demeanor, his smile only fueling your frustration. You clenched your arms, feeling the towel slip further down. As the realization hit that you were on the verge of exposing yourself, heat rushed to your cheeks, leaving you utterly flustered.

"You fucking bastard, let me go." You tried to shake off his hands but he was too strong.

"How can you say this to your oppa?"

"You…shut up!"

"But I don't want to." He grabbed your wrists, pulling you to his embrace. Leaning down to meet your gaze, his hot breath pooled against your skin. "Unless you want to be naked in front of me."

"You…you totally a pervert!" You looked away, pursing your lips.

"Don't tell me you are not."

"Why am I?" You shouted back.

"So tell me why you are wearing a towel?"

"I…I…forget my clothes." You trailed off, feeling too shy.

"Is it?" A playful smile danced across his face as he straightened up to gaze at the bathroom. In the mirror, he caught sight of your pajamas draped casually behind the door. "And what about that dress? Isn't that your sleepwear?"

"I-"

"Forget to wear clothes when I'm here?" He sneered, pressing his chest against your fists. "Aren't you a pervert?"

"I-I'm not…"

"Are you going to continue to be tough, cutie?"

"Then…then what 'bout you?!You…you stole my panties!"

"I admit."

"What?" You gasped in surprise, your eyes growing wide. He pulled you close, his arm encircling your waist, prompting you to rise onto your tiptoes and lean into him.

"Because I want you so bad, love." He stared at your rosy lips before shifting to your eyes. "Then what about you?"

You couldn't deny that you were intentionally drawing him in. Each time he took your hand or brushed against you, a swarm of butterflies danced in your stomach. You were fully aware of the way he gazed at you, like a hunter eyeing his target, yet you feigned ignorance. Whenever he entered your room, a part of you secretly wished for him to linger, prompting you to conjure up reasons for him to stay—suggesting movie marathons or gaming sessions, all while seeking those fleeting moments of closeness.

"Cat gets your tongue, honey?" The name he said gave you shivers, even stirring the depressed desire within you.

"So can you tell me what would you do if I admit I'm doing all the things on purpose?" Your hand found its way to his nape, wrapping around it to pull him closer.

"I will kiss you so hard and give my girl all the attention she needs." With a warm smile, he bent closer, his lips brushing against yours as you nodded in agreement. The initial kisses were a bit awkward, a reflection of your inexperience, but soon Jongho's confidence took over, igniting a fiery passion between you.

Suddenly, a chill enveloped you as your towel slipped away, landing on the floor with a soft thud, causing you to gasp in shock. Seizing the moment, Jongho deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring as you instinctively recoiled in surprise. Yet, he gently but firmly cradled the back of your head, ensuring you remained lost in the intoxicating kisses.

You both laughed softly as you broke away from the kisses, only to reconnect as he lifted you with ease. With a playful shove, he sent you onto the bed, the mattress releasing a soft puff as you landed. He shrugged off his coat and unzipped his pants, his eyes roaming over your naked figure. You were undeniably stunning, really.

"I don't have a condom." He tossed his clothes aside in a frenzy, unconcerned about the time it took to search for them.

"Me either."

"Well, one kid doesn't kill. Damn it." Your lips met again as he cupped your face and loomed over you. That was much rougher than last time. He kissed you without care. Lips sucking and smacking were the only sound in the room, fueling your desires even more. His arched crotch pressed against your velvet clit, every friction made from his movement caused you to moan in his mouth. Your legs found their way to wrap up his waist, trying to get more friction as you rub harder.

"Someone is horny, huh?" He spoke between the kisses, his face diving into your neck as he planted kisses on that.

"Aren't you?" You replied with a soft voice, tilting your head to give him more access. He smirked at your response, licking your skin to find you trembling.

"So sensitive." His voice flowed like warm honey, pulling you into the enchanting whirlpool that was him. You relished the way his breath caressed your skin, a soft melody that seemed to savor you like a delicacy. His hand reached down to press your clit, causing you to let out a soft whimper as his touches went further. His fingers glided over your body, a gentle friction on your sensitive spot that made you whimper with delight. He suddenly flattened his fingertip to give a hard press and circle on it and you couldn't help but moan loudly. Stretching your fold slowly, he inserted two fingers into your tightness in one go.

"Jjong…!"

"Shh…gotta prepare you well."

He went as deep as possible until his finger reached your limit, pulling them out fully and shoving back to the depth. Your choppy moan was swallowed by his kiss, only a muffled sound flew from your lips. His pace quickened enough to ruin you, a loud water sound echoed the room as he plunged to your cunt without mercy. You moaned so loud and your face turned red as if oxygen got out of your lungs.

Your toes curled as you were pushed to the edge, a knot forming in your stomach that urge to release. The wall wrapped around Jongho's fingers tightened and he knew you at the limit. "Cum for me, honey." "Mhm…" His words were just like a trigger, combined with his fingertip kissing your sweet spot suddenly, tugging you to the climax. Your whole body shook as the hot juices released from your lower core, soaking his hand.

"Good,dear. Look at you." He said, his voice deep and attractive. Your fuzzy eyes met with him sucking his fingers deliciously and left a pop sound when he pulled out.

"Ready for me?" A smirk crossed on his lips as he climbed on the bed, the mattress dipping down due to his weight. He grabbed his length to pat on your clit, entering your cunt after you nodded as a non-verbal agreement. Shutting your eyes tightly, you arched your back and wrapped your arms around his board shoulder. You leaned back as he hovered you, meeting your lips gently. He stayed still for a while to let you adjust his size. Even if he stretched you but that was not enough for his big fat cock.

His hand once again reached down to caress your clit, giving you more excitement to make you relax. Once he found you not that intense, he slid deeper as if testing water. Everything was slow and gentle. You naturally got used to his size as his length kept rubbing along your curve deliciously. The way his hard tip kissed your sweet spot caused a wave of pleasure to rush through your body.

You swore his pre-cum filled your cunt everywhere as it was so hot inside you. He became more impatient as he deepened the kisses. He pulled up your hands above your head, tucking them together so that he could grab them in one hand. Sitting up straight, he slammed his hips toward you as a long, deep moan left his rosy lips. "Damn it, you are so good. I gotta be rough with you."

"Yes…yes…please." You gasped, tilting your head back to reveal your neck adorned with his marks. With each powerful thrust, a flicker of concern crossed your mind about the bed's stability. The creaking noise echoed around you, making you wonder if it would give way at any moment. Jongho was unfazed; he collided with your warmth, disregarding any potential fallout. Sure, dance practice might be off the table tomorrow since your backs were aching. But who cared? He brushed aside the thought with a carefree attitude as he pounded your cervix with a different angle.

"Slow…slow down…jjong…"

"Nope." Withdrawing his cock, he spun you around in an instant, your head hitting the pillow as he held you down, your backside elevated enticingly. With a firm grip on your wrists, he secured your arms behind you, pinning them down with an unyielding strength. One of his hands moved to your nape, grasping it tightly as he continued to roll his hips into you. You moaned so loud that your neighbor must complain tomorrow. But the roughness behind left you no choice. The messy moaning mixed with skin slapping sound, bouncing off the wall to make Jongho go rougher.

"No…I can't take it…anymore." You huffed, but soon replaced by a high-pitched moan as he spanked you.

"Just take it, honey." Smack, again. His hand sneaked under your body, reaching to your chest. Cupping it with his palm, he teased your nipple, rubbing it up and down. "So soft." You could only whine, feeling his cock ruin your sensitive, little body. "Hm…" His ball slammed your ass each time he thrashed back to your cunt at a steady pace. You couldn't help but squeeze hard around his cock with your wall, pulling him deeper to kiss the deepest part.

This sensation made Jongho lost control. "Ah fuck!I'm cumming." A long throaty moan flew from his lips as the climax was approaching. It seemed that all the blood gathered on the tip, urging him to release. "Jongho…oppa…I'm so close." Your fist clenched around the sheet, making your fingertip turn white. "Show me what you get. Honey. Ah fuck!" His moaning was just like a beautiful melody rang in your ears, pushing you to get close to the limit.

"Oh…oh…!" The harsh trusting lost its rhythm as Jongho became slow. He left his head each time he pushed deeply, staying for a while before another thrusting. A soft whimper left your body as all was overwhelming, the urge of releasing caused your heart to race.

"I can't take it anymore…" Tears gathered in your eyes, your bottom lips shaking as soon as his hard tip kept kissing your spot.

"Cum…cum with me…Oh fuckkk…" He gasped and strained, releasing his warm essence against your wall, and in that moment, you both reached the peak of ecstasy together. The warmth filled you completely, spilling over onto the sheets. As he laid you down tenderly, he turned you over, only to find your tear-streaked face. He reached down to kiss you as if giving you a tender comfort.

"You okay?" The words slipped from his lips with a soft pop as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You nodded, pulling him closer by wrapping your arms around his shoulder.

"What about tomorrow's practice?"

"Uh…just tell them your back hurts because I fucked you too hard."

"Yah! Choi Jongho!" You playfully hit his chest, but he just grinned at you with that charming smile.

"I can see you're still full of energy. Want a round two?" He laughed, teasingly pushing against you once more.

"No way…" A soft moan escaped you as the sensations overwhelmed you. You quickly pressed your lips together, but he caught every bit of your reaction.

"So, you're not denying it?"

"Wait─" Before you could finish your thought, he captured your lips in another kiss and pulled you into a cozy embrace.

Well, this night was turning out to be incredibly long.

tag list: @angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615, @monsta-x-jagi

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kaynanarie · 2 days ago

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Eyes of Gold (Part 2)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (Part 1)

While staying in a cave did offered protection, the same could not be said for a good night’s sleep. You tossed and turned on the stone floor, kept awake by the noises of the forest and the constant itching of your skin. When dawn broke, you were still tired but happy to have survived your first night on the mountain.

With the morning light came your new monkey friend, Shihou. He appeared at the cave entrance carrying various fruits for breakfast.

“Good morning!” he greeted, tail swaying cheerfully despite the early hour. You grumbled in reply, picking out a peach to munch on. Shihou grabbed a fruit for himself and sat by your knee. “So, I spoke with the King about you.”

Anxiety woke you like a cold plunge, your appetite suddenly gone. “He’s not going to kill and eat me, is he?” you asked cautiously.

“Eat you?!” Shihou burst into high pitched, chittering laughter. “Of course not! On the contrary, he officially welcomes you as his honored guest. The King also gave me some good news about your so-called ‘curse’.”

It was the first positive thing you had heard relating to the Monkey King. “What did he say? Does he know a cure?”

“Well, you see…” When Shihou held out his paw, you could see a similar rash across his palm. Knowing he now shared your affliction filled your heart with guilt and shame.

“I’m so sorry!” you cried, backing away. “I didn’t think it was contagious.”

Shihou waved his hands, trying to calm you down. “It’s okay, I’m fine. You’re not contagious. This is where I grabbed your sleeve yesterday,” he said, pointing to your robes. “It’s not a disease; it’s poison ivy. Someone must have ground up some dried leaves and put the powder in your clothes. That’s what’s causing your rash.”

You tugged at your robes curiously, noticing that everywhere they touched was where the rash had spread. Instantly, you knew who was responsible. “This seems like something my sister would pull.”

“Perhaps,” Shihou shrugged. “But it’s nothing that can’t be cured. Hurry up and eat, I have something to show you.”

With a flick of his tail, the monkey scampered out of the cave. You quickly finished your breakfast and stepped outside, finding Shihou waiting in one of the trees. Seeing you, he leapt to another branch, waving for you to follow. “Come on, peach friend! You’re wasting the sun’s time!”

“Peach friend?” you asked with a giggle, keeping pace with his swings and jumps.

“Yep! You shared a peach with me so now we’re peach friends!”

As you walked, the distant sound of rushing water grew louder until the forest gave way. Beyond the trees, a waterfall tumbled from the peak of the mountain, cascading into a crystal blue river below. All the surrounding trees were green and laden with colorful flowers and fruits despite the wintery season back in the village.

“Over here, peach friend!” Shihou called from the riverbank. Next to him was a folded bundle of clothes and plants organized into piles. “These herbs should help with your rash. If you bathe and wash your robes out, you’ll be healed in no time.”

“You want me to wash here? In the river? Out in the open?” you asked, glancing around. “What if someone sees me?”

Shihou just laughed. “You’re the only human on the mountain.”

“What about demons? I don’t want them spying on me, either.”

“Only Monkey King’s subjects come this close to the waterfall,” Shihou said. When he noticed you still weren’t convinced, he sighed and patted your knee in reassurance. “I’ll keep watch if you want but this place is pretty private.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “And you aren’t going to peek?”

He waved your concerns away with a scoff. “I’m going to be too busy making your medicine over here. Now hurry up, your rash will only get worse at this rate.”

Shihou turned away and started mixing leafy fronds and purple flowers together before smashing them with a stone. With your given privacy, you shimmied out of your robes and slipped into the pool at the base of the waterfall.

The water was cool but not cold, immediately soothing the itch and burn of your rash. You gently scrubbed your skin and rinsed away the dirt from your night in the woods. By the time you swam back to shore, you felt clean and refreshed.

You found Shihou lounging on a tree branch above the water. His ears perked as you splashed closer but his eyes remained respectfully closed. “Rub the paste on your skin; it’ll stop the itch and speed up the healing process. There are some clean clothes over there as well.”

The plants had been mashed into a green poultice and left waiting on a stone. You rubbed the medicine over the worst of your rash, already feeling the soothing tingle as it started to work. Once you and the paste were dry, you unfolded the waiting clothes and quickly dressed.

“Where did you get these robes?” you asked, feeling the silky material under your curious hands. It was smooth and light as a breeze against your sensitive skin. Delicately embroidered clouds decorated the hem while ornate swirls flowed down the sleeves. Despite being from a noble family, you had never worn anything so extravagant before.

One of Shihou’s golden eyes peeked open before he sat up, looking quite pleased to see you in his fancy clothes.

“The King sent them,” he answered, a smug satisfaction in his cheeky smile. “Consider them a welcome gift.”

The robes suddenly feel much heavier draped over you. “These are much too precious, I can’t except such royal clothes. They’ll be ruined in the forest.”

“Don’t you know it’s rude to reject a King’s gift?” Shihou’s mood suddenly grew annoyed. The gold of his staring eyes seemed to faintly glow, a frown pulled at his lips, and his tail dangling from the tree swished in irritated lashes. “Besides,” he continued, gesturing to the pile of discarded clothing. “What else do you have to wear while your old robes still need washing?”

It was strange to be chastised by a monkey but his logic was sound. Even if wearing gifted robes from the Monkey King himself seemed strange, you had few other options. Even worse, you had offended your new friend by insulting his King.

“I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect,” you finally amended. “Would you be willing to pass on my thanks for your King’s generosity?”

Shihou’s bristling softened at your acceptance. “You can thank him yourself. He’s invited you to stay at his palace in the mountain once you’ve healed up.”

“His palace?!” you gasped, careful not to reject the offer as you fought down your growing alarm. “Why?”

“You’re his honored guest, remember? I’ll lead you up the mountain myself once preparations are ready.” A sly smile lit up Shihou’s face. “Unless you’d rather stay in your cozy little cave down here?”

Your answering grimace sent him into peals of howling laughter.

“Fine,” you sighed, crossing your arms in defeat. “As long as the preparations don’t involve me being dinner.”

He shook his head with a chuckle. “I swear, no one will put you on the menu no matter how tasty you look. I already promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you and I plan to keep my word.” Despite his teasing words, Shihou’s tone was surprisingly serious.

“I trust you to keep me safe,” you said, grateful for whatever protection he could provide.

“I’m honored to do so. Now that that’s settled!” Dropping from his perch, Shihou landed on your shoulder, throwing you off balanced as he clung to the fabric of your robe. On instinct, your hand reached up to steady him as you found your footing. His golden-brown fur was surprisingly soft, almost as silky as your new robe. Instead of shying away from your touch, he leaned into it, chirruping at your tentative pets. Once he was satisfied, Shihou shook himself to focus and pointed at the tampered clothes. “Laundry time. Let’s get rid of this poison ivy mess, peach friend!”

#Journey to the West #JTTW #Monkey King #Sun Wukong #Monkey King x Reader #Sun Wukong x Reader #Beauty and the Beast #Lutung Kasarung #Fairytale and Folktale inspired #KayNanArie #Eyes of Gold #Black Myth Wukong #BMW

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ponyosmom35 · 2 days ago

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once he finds you, you're fucked

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: reader is questions about ghost and his whereabouts

warnings: torture, blood, gore

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

Her head throbbed as the cold, damp concrete floor pressed against her back. Her hands were tied tightly behind her, raw from the strain of the ropes. The room around her was dark, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb overhead. She had no idea where they'd taken her, but she could already feel the tension in the air, thick with the scent of oil and decay. Her throat was dry from screaming, but she had no intention of giving them the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

Her mind raced, the thought of Simon filling her thoughts like a storm. Every part of her being screamed for him to find her, to save her. She knew he would. There was no way he would leave her in this place.

Her captor, a gruff man with a scar running down his cheek, paced in front of her, a cruel grin playing on his lips. The others in the room stood back, watching her, waiting for her to crack. He held a folder of photos, his fingers flicking through them like a deck of cards. Then, he paused.

One of the photos was of Simon. Ghost.

The next was of the two of them, taken on a warm spring day. They were laughing, her hand resting on his arm as they stood in a park, the sun casting a glow on his face. She could almost feel the warmth of that day again.

Her jaw tightened. Don't let them see you break.

"You know him, don't you?" The man's voice was low, cruel. His smile widened when he saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes.

She remained silent, staring at him with defiance.

"You're his little girlfriend, aren't you?" he taunted, taking a step closer. "It's not surprising. You've got that same fire in you. Feisty, just like him."

Her lips curled into a sneer, but she didn't answer. She wasn’t about to make this easy for him.

The man's patience was wearing thin. He tossed the photos aside and grabbed her by the hair, jerking her head back. "Tell me what I want to know, sweetheart. Where is Ghost? Where is your little boyfriend?"

She spat at him, the blood in her mouth from previous blows splattering across his face. His expression darkened, and with a growl, he slapped her hard across the face, the sting of his hand leaving a trail of heat behind her ear.

"You're a tough one," he said, wiping the blood from his face. "But I'll break you. I'll make you talk."

Her heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t flinch. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"You want to know where he is?" she hissed, her voice full of venom. "He'll be here soon. He'll find you. And when he does, you’ll be fucked."

The man’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she saw a flash of doubt in them. But then the rage returned. He picked up a knife, the steel gleaming in the dim light, and without a word, he plunged it into her stomach, twisting it deep.

Her scream echoed in the room, the pain consuming her like wildfire. Blood poured from the wound, soaking her shirt as her body lurched forward. The man grinned, his face twisted in sadistic pleasure as he pressed the blade deeper.

"Tell me where Ghost is!" he shouted, his breath hot against her face.

But her eyes never left him, even as her body fought to stay conscious. She was shaking, every part of her telling her to just give in, but she refused. She would not break.

Her vision blurred as she struggled to stay awake, the weight of the darkness pressing in on her. Her body ached in ways she hadn’t thought possible, the pain from her wounds only adding to the suffocating despair threatening to consume her. She felt the coldness of the concrete beneath her, the rough ropes digging into her wrists, and her breath came in ragged gasps, each one more difficult than the last.

She could hear the harsh footsteps of her captors pacing around her, the creaking of the wooden floorboards in the corner of the room as they waited for her to break. But she wouldn't. She refused to.

The man in front of her, the one who had been speaking to her with such cruel amusement, stepped closer again, his face twisted into a grin as he watched her closely, his fingers brushing the edge of her bloodstained shirt. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" he sneered, his voice thick with mockery. "Tougher than most. But that's not going to save you."

Her lip curled in a defiant sneer. She wasn’t about to give them what they wanted, not even if it meant her life. "Go ahead," she spat, her voice hoarse. "I don’t know where he is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. He’ll find me. He always does. You’re wasting your time."

The man's grin faltered for a split second before he recovered, his fingers tightening around the knife in his hand. He moved so quickly that she barely saw him coming, but she felt the sharp sting of the blade as it sliced across her stomach, the pain searing through her like fire.

She couldn’t suppress the scream that tore from her throat. Her whole body lurched forward, the ropes digging deeper into her skin, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of begging. She had to hold on.

"You're still not talking?" the man growled, his eyes narrowing. "You think Ghost is going to come and save you? You're nothing but a liability to him now. You're going to break, sweetheart, and when you do, I’ll be the one who gets the answers."

Her head swam with the agony, but she clenched her teeth and glared at him, her gaze unwavering despite the tears that welled in her eyes. She felt the warm trickle of blood from her wounds, but she refused to show weakness. The man’s grip on the knife tightened, and with a low snarl, he cut her again, this time across her arm, the blade slicing through flesh with sickening ease. She gasped, her body jerking involuntarily, but she didn’t give in. She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t let him break her.

Her eyes never left his as he loomed over her, his face twisted in anger. "When we’re done with you, you’ll wish you had talked."

She couldn’t stop the flicker of fear that crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a cold smirk. She knew Simon. She knew how far he would go to find her. He would come. He had to.

"You don’t get it," she said, her voice steady despite the pain. "Once Ghost comes for you, none of you will be left standing. He’s ruthless. And you’re just making it worse for yourselves."

The man sneered, his patience running thin. "I don’t need you to tell me how dangerous he is, sweetheart. But if you’re going to be difficult about this, maybe we’ll just have to make sure you look pretty for him."

At that, she felt a chill run down her spine, the implication clear. They would break her in ways that even Simon couldn’t stop. They would use her to get to him, and they would do it in the most brutal, unforgiving ways.

"Go ahead," she whispered. "Do your worst."

The man looked at her, eyes cold with malice. Without warning, he slapped her across the face, the force of the blow snapping her head to the side. She felt a sharp pain in her jaw, and her vision blurred for a moment, but she fought to stay conscious, to stay defiant.

"You think you’re tough?" he sneered. "We’ll see how long you last."

The pain from her wounds was becoming unbearable now, the world around her spinning in and out of focus. She could feel herself slipping, her body growing weaker as the blood poured from her wounds, but she held on. She had to.

She couldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they had broken her.

The man turned his back on her, muttering something to the others in the room. Her vision was fading fast, the black spots crawling into the edges of her mind, but she heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Then, footsteps moving toward her again.

When she looked up, the man was standing in front of her once more, and this time, he was holding a gun in his hands. Her heart lurched in her chest, the weight of her situation hitting her with brutal clarity.

"You’ll die before you see him again," he said coldly, pressing the barrel of the gun against her temple.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye. But even in the face of death, she didn’t break. She wouldn’t. She had promised herself that she would never let them see her scared, never let them know how much she longed for Simon to come and save her.

She heard the door creak open. Footsteps. Low voices. But none of it registered in her mind. She was fading fast.

And then, as everything went black, she heard the softest whisper.

The last thing she felt was a wave of calm, as if her body knew what she couldn’t accept: he would come for her.

#smut #angst #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #soap cod #cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish

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greengoblinswifey · 3 days ago

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𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒆’𝒔 𝑬𝒅𝒈𝒆 ・₊✧🩶 Part I

Pairing— Nicholas Chavez x Model!Reader

Warnings— Mentions of drugs and alcohol, Substance Use, Mature Themes.

A/N— Comment to be a part of the tag list, hope you enjoy this series <3

Series Masterlist

The glossy conference room table reflected the headline of the magazine tossed unceremoniously in front of you.

“America’s New Wild Child: From Runways to Rock Bottom”

Below it was a photo of you stumbling into a hotel lobby, visibly intoxicated, mascara smeared, and your once-iconic dress askew. It wasn’t just one headline, it was everywhere. Every blog, tabloid, and gossip page seemed to have some variation of your downfall plastered across their pages.

Your manager, Angela, sighed heavily from across the table, rubbing her temples. “You see this, right? The Shade Room picked it up. TMZ is all over it. Even Vogue is doing a piece on whether or not you’re the next Kate Moss, but not in a good way.” She leaned forward, her voice sharp. “You’re toxic right now. Nobody wants to touch you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “This isn’t true. My ex-best friend—she’s jealous. She made this all up.”

Angela gave you a pointed look and slid her iPad across the table. On it was a video—paparazzi footage of you from a few nights ago. You were stumbling out of a car, practically being carried by someone, slurring your words as you waved off photographers.

You groaned and pressed your fingers to your temples. “Y’all please, that was one time.”

“It’s never just one time with you!” snapped Melanie, one of the executives at your agency. “This is becoming a pattern. And we’re not here to babysit you.” She stood, exasperated. “You’re one of the highest-paid models in the world, and now look at you. You’re a liability.”

Angela raised a hand to calm the room. “Give me a few days,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ll clean this up. We’ll fix her image. She’ll be the ‘it girl’ again. I just need time.”

Melanie crossed her arms but didn’t argue. “Fix it fast. Otherwise, we’re done.”

As the meeting wrapped up, you sat silently, staring at the incriminating headlines. After years of grueling work, endless runway shows, and clawing your way to the top, it was all unraveling because of your past addictions and your inability to leave it behind.

Angela pulled you aside as the others left. “You need to clean this up. No more excuses. No more scandals. And definitely no more drunken or high paparazzi shots. Got it?”

You nodded numbly. “Got it.”

“Good. Now, start small. Let’s use that mansion of yours. Throw a party. Invite everyone who matters. Show them the glamorous, sophisticated version of yourself. Make them forget the messy headlines.”

Your lips curved into a small, defiant smile. “A party? That, I can do.”

2 Days Later

The house practically glittered under the LA moonlight, perched in the most exclusive part of the city. Your glam team buzzed around you, perfecting every inch of your hair and makeup as you sipped champagne. Outside the window, you noticed the usually dark house next door was now bustling with activity.

“Looks like someone’s moving in,” you said absently, gesturing with your glass. From the corner of your eye, you saw a guy carrying a box inside. He looked young, around your age maybe two years older, and vaguely attractive, though you didn’t pay much attention.

“Maybe he’ll be better than the last neighbors,” you joked to your stylist, smirking. “If he’s cute, I might even invite him to the party.”

As the night fell, the party roared to life. The mansion was packed with models, actors, and influencers. Music pounded through the walls, and laughter echoed in every corner. You danced like you had something to prove, the champagne flowing freely. At one point, you made out with a fellow model on the balcony to the cheers of a crowd. You were chaos incarnate, and you loved every second of it.

Around midnight, you were helping a tipsy friend into a waiting limo when you noticed someone approaching from the house next door.

“Excuse me.”

You turned, your vision slightly blurred, and found yourself face-to-face with the new neighbor. He was dressed casually—jeans and a hoodie—but his sharp jawline and piercing eyes caught your attention.

“I’m Nicholas,” he said, offering a tight smile. “Nicholas Chavez. I just moved in.”

You arched a brow, leaning lazily against the limo. “And?”

“And I have an audition tomorrow,” he continued, his tone calm but firm. “Your music is loud, and I can’t sleep.”

You laughed, the champagne fizzing in your head. “Well, didn’t you know who you were moving in next to?”

His lips twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I found out too late,” he said dryly, a pointed reference to the headlines.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Funny. I’ve never seen a single headline about you.”

This time, he chuckled softly, though it was more condescending than amused. “Well, I’ll try to keep it that way.” His gaze flicked down briefly before meeting your eyes again.

You noticed, scoffing. “Nice try, but staring at my chest isn’t going to make me turn the music down.”

“Noted,” he replied smoothly, his tone unreadable. “But seriously, could you tone it down? Just a little?”

You waved him off, turning back toward the house. “Good luck with your audition.”

The door slammed behind you as the party continued to rage on. Whatever Nicholas Chavez wanted, it could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, you were untouchable—or so you thought.

You weren’t worried Nicholas would turn out like your last neighbors, the ones who had gleefully run to the press with tales of your ‘wild, disruptive parties’ adding fuel to your already blazing reputation as a noisy party girl.

The party raged on, and you weren’t exactly innocent in keeping it under control. The music blasted as guests danced, smoked, and drank with abandon. Lines of coke were casually set out on mirrored trays, and you caught more than one person lighting up joints in the corners. Even you, despite promising yourself you were done with that lifestyle, gave in after a few glasses of champagne, doing a line or two when a friend coaxed you into it.

By the time the sun started to rise, people were passed out on your marble floors, the air heavy with the stench of spilled liquor and smoke. You stumbled to bed without bothering to clean up, the haze of the night swirling in your head.

You woke to the sound of chaos downstairs—your housekeepers already hard at work, scrubbing every inch of the aftermath. Your head pounded as sunlight streamed in through your curtains. Groaning, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and blinked at the time. It was already midday.

Dozens of missed calls and messages from Angela stared back at you. She’d been blowing up your phone about a last-minute shoot, one you had completely missed. You cursed under your breath, knowing she’d be furious.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled into the bathroom for a long, scalding shower. As the water poured over you, you couldn’t help but rethink the night before. You’d promised to get it together, to clean up your image, but it was getting harder to hold yourself accountable.

After drying off, you wrapped yourself in a silk robe and walked to your window. Across the lawn, you noticed Nicholas pulling into his driveway. He stepped out of his car looking exhausted, a coffee in hand, wearing a nice suit. You figured he must have just returned from his audition. It must’ve been early. For a brief moment, guilt pricked at you. If he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, it was probably your fault.

Angela didn’t wait for you to sit down when you arrived at her office. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, slamming her laptop shut as you walked in.

“I’m sorry, A,” you began, your voice hoarse from the night before.

“Sorry?” she cut you off, standing up and pacing the room. “Do you know what I’ve been dealing with all morning?” She grabbed a folder from her desk and threw it onto the coffee table in front of you. A stack of printouts slid out, screenshots of articles and photos from the party.

The headlines were brutal: “A Drug-Fueled Disaster: Is Y/N Destroying the Modeling Industry?”

Photos showed passed-out models, trays of coke, and worst of all, a video of you taking a line.

You froze, your stomach twisting into knots.

Angela slammed her hands on the desk. “This was supposed to be elegant, extravagant, a chance to clean up your image. Instead, you turned it into some rockstar-adjacent drug den!”

“I didn’t know people were recording,” you said weakly, avoiding her glare.

“That’s not the point!” she barked. “You were supposed to set an example. Little black girls look up to you. This is the image you’re giving them?”

You exhaled sharply, frustrated. “Angela, with all due respect, I’m not their mother. I didn’t ask to be anyone’s role model.”

She rolled her eyes, her frustration palpable. “Well, congratulations, because you’re not much of one anyway. This is your last chance. Do you hear me? Last chance.”

You nodded quickly, desperate to make it right. “I’ll fix it. I swear.”

“I already have something cooking up,” she said sharply, leaning against her desk. “But in the meantime, go downtown, look beautiful, and give them something positive to talk about. No booze, no drugs, no nonsense. Just smile, shop, and sign autographs. Sober.”

You groaned inwardly at the thought of dragging yourself out in public, especially hungover, but you didn’t dare push back. “Got it.”

Your driver dropped you off at one of the most exclusive shopping districts in the city. Bodyguards lingered in the background as you strolled from boutique to boutique, taking your time and letting the paparazzi get their shots.

Every time someone asked for an autograph, you smiled warmly and obliged, posing with fans here and there. This was your coping mechanism—shopping your problems away, hoping the public would eat it up.

“Looking good, Y/N!” one of the paparazzi shouted as you exited a store with bags in hand.

You forced another smile, playing your part, and waved at the cameras before ducking into the backseat of your car.

When you arrived home, the guilt from last night gnawed at you. You couldn’t undo the noise and chaos, but maybe you could soften the blow. After all, Nicholas didn’t deserve to suffer because of your mess. Deciding to make amends, you ordered a small cake from a local bakery with “Welcome” scrawled neatly in frosting.

Holding the cake, you made your way next door and rang his doorbell. At first, there was no response, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he was ignoring you. Maybe he had seen the articles and already formed an opinion. The thought annoyed you, but just as you were about to turn away, the door opened.

Nicholas stood there in joggers and a fitted t-shirt, his face a mix of surprise and curiosity. His hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. His eyes dropped to the cake in your hands.

“Hi, neighbor,” you said with a small, sheepish smile.

He raised an eyebrow, reading the icing. “Welcome?”

“It’s for you,” you explained. “To welcome you to the neighborhood. And, uh, sorry about last night.”

His surprise lingered as he stepped aside to let you in. “Didn’t strike you as the generous, ‘welcome-with-cake’ kind of girl,” he said as you followed him into his sleek, modern kitchen.

The place was immaculate—white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, and tasteful art on the walls. He set a glass down on the counter and gestured toward a barstool for you to sit.

“Well,” he added with a smirk, “especially not after a night like that. I’m surprised you’re even standing.”

You groaned, slumping into the chair. “Please don’t tell me you’ve seen the articles.”

He grabbed a knife to cut the cake. “The articles, the pictures, the videos, yeah, I’ve seen them.”

You groaned again, covering your face with your hands. “Great. Just what I needed. My new neighbor thinking I’m a train wreck.”

“Not thinking anything,” he said casually, slicing into the cake. His tone was calm, nonchalant. You couldn’t read him, and it annoyed you. Was he judging you? Laughing at you? You couldn’t tell.

You cleared your throat. “Anyway, welcome to the neighborhood. And again, sorry for the noise.”

He placed two plates on the counter, handing one to you. “Thanks. Want to eat this with me? That’s if you’re one of those rare models who actually eat carbs and don’t starve themselves.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Don’t joke about that. And yes, I’ll have a slice. Or two.”

He chuckled softly, taking a seat across from you. As you ate, you studied him a little closer. His face was sharp, striking, he was definitely good-looking, though in a boy-next-door-meets-Hollywood kind of way. Then it hit you where you’d seen him before.

“You’ve been everywhere lately,” you said, setting your fork down. “You were in that Lyle and Erik Menendez show, right?”

He looked up, surprised. “You watched it?”

“I caught the first episode,” you admitted. “It was really good. Intense, but good.”

“Thanks,” he said, his expression softening. “It was a tough project, but worth it.”

You leaned back in your seat. “Hollywood’s a mess. Be careful.”

He nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

The conversation felt easy, almost too easy. Sitting across from him, you couldn’t help but notice how his t-shirt hugged his chest and arms, or the way his jaw tensed when he chewed. You realized, with a twinge of irritation, that you were definitely attracted to him. The idea of tearing his clothes off flashed through your mind, but you quickly shoved it aside.

You had too much going on to add that kind of complication to your life. Besides, sex was supposed to be the last thing on your mind right now.

Standing abruptly, you pushed your chair back. “I should go. Thanks for letting me crash your place. Enjoy the cake.”

He walked you to the door. “If I need anything, should I come knocking?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t plan on babysitting you, but sure, I guess.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Noted, neighbor.”

The moment you stepped through the door, your phone buzzed. Angela’s name flashed across the screen.

“Good,” she said briskly when you answered. “You’re home. I’ll be at your place first thing in the morning.”

“Why?” you asked cautiously.

“There’s a plan,” she said, her tone leaving no room for questions. “I’ll explain everything then, and we’ll put it in motion. Be ready.”

She hung up before you could respond. You stared at the phone, curiosity swirling in your chest. Whatever she was planning, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. If this was your chance to claw your way back into the spotlight, you’d take it.

For now, you poured yourself a glass of water, settling into the couch as you tried to shake off the day. Tomorrow was a new start—or so you hoped.

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sunvzt · 2 days ago

Text

Prettied Up

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: NSFW -> sexual foreplay, fingering & mirror sex.

ft. max verstappen, charles leclerc, carlos sainz & oscar piastri.

Summary: you and lando are getting ready to go to dinner with carlos and max when he sees you doing your makeup in the mirror, he decides to eat you out while you do your makeup.

Y/N [curly hair]: fantasise whomever you want, go crazy.

y/n is dusky with curly hair, has piercings and wears rings.

Y/N and Lando were getting ready for dinner with Carlos, Max, Oscar, and Charles. We were in Monaco for a few weeks, and we wanted to get together before the Silverstone Grand Prix. I stood at the mirror, starting my makeup, while Lando was in the shower.

“Ughhhh!” I sulk in front of the mirror, trying to fix up my curls, but my hair just isn’t hairing like it’s supposed to.

I spent so much of my morning washing and doing my tedious curl routine just for my curls to look somewhat fucking mediocre—or at least, that’s what I thought.

“Y/N , can you hand me that towel, please?” he asks, his finger pointing through the shower curtain. I walk over to the towel and hand it to him, quickly returning to my mirror, still frustrated.

Lando comes behind me and wraps his arms around my stomach, laying his head on my shoulder.

“Lando, you’re getting my dress all wet,” I say, pushing him off me slightly.

“That’s not too bad, though, right—” he says, hugging me from behind again. This time, his hands trail to my bare waist. “dress will dry…” he murmurs, reaching up and cupping my breast.

“Lando,” I warn, watching him run his hands all over my body in the mirror. “I’m trying to do my makeup and fix my hair,” I say, blending out my eyeshadow and trying to shake off the goosebumps. I can feel myself throbbing in need as I take a deep breath.

“You gettin’ all prettied up to fuck me?” he teases, slipping on his underwear and then his pants. I grin and turn around. “Lando, stop making me—”

He steps closer and grabs my jaw. “Stop making you what?” he asks in a husky voice, his grip soft but commanding enough to make my knees buckle weak.

I look up at him with wide, pleading eyes, and he lets me go.

“Can I make you feel good, baby? Give you a little reward after all , your hair isn’t helping me right now it looks so good ...”

“For what?” I ask quietly.

“You deserve it... but keep gettin’ prettied up for me, Y/N.”

He gets down on his knees in front of me, a ballsy rare move from him. It’s always me on my knees for him—was he really going to do this with no returns at all? His hands fiddle with the button on my zip, unzipping the backless dress i picked up last week, and pulling them down to my ankles before completely removing them. His eyes trail up to mine, and he places a soft kiss on my lower waist.

“Keep doing your makeup. Don’t watch me,” he instructs, pulling my underwear off and tossing them aside. Without hesitation, his mouth quickly attaches to my clit. I gasp, my head tilting back involuntarily. He taps the back of my thighs, urging me to keep working on my makeup.

Trying to line my lips with all this pleasure is impossible. As in respectfully, fuck the makeup.

“Oh my—god, Lando...” I moan as my legs begin to shake. I can’t focus on just my makeup; the image of him pumping his fingers in and out of my wet pussy while his mouth eating my clit is overwhelming. “I’m gonna cum, Lando! Oh my fucking god...” I cry, grinding my hips on his face.

“Mmm, yeah, grind my face, i’m looking at you in the mirror right now Y/N. You’re so good, Cum all over me,” he groans. I continue grinding my hips, my release building with each movement. With a final cry, my legs jerk as I cum all over his face.

Luckily, I managed to finish my makeup. It doesn’t look exactly how I wanted it to, but it’s good enough, I mean I got it done while being eaten out after all.

“Lando! Y/N, come on! We have to leave!” Carlos yells from the other side of the door. In a hurry, I pull my pants back on while Y/N pulls up her lacey undie and slips onto to her dress and finishes getting ready.

“Don’t let your curls affect you too much, baby,” he says with a smirk. “We still have dinner to eat—and then, you can have me.”

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

#landonorrisxreader #landonorris #f1 #formula1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 oneshots #f1smut #smut #oneshots #imagines #mv1 #op81 #ln4 #cl16 #cs55

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the-winter-spider · 9 hours ago

Text

Waiting Room | Part Two

Bucky x reader (as always )

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Angst i guess sorta

A/N: So this is the next part to waiting room that was suppose to be just a One Shot but in easily convinced lol and I didn't really have a direction for the story to go in and this is where I landed, so hope you enjoy. There will be maybe another part or two so I can wrap it up.

The night was cool as you walked away from the compound, the silence almost soothing despite the ache in your chest. You hadn’t made any plans, hadn’t packed anything more than a single bag. You just knew you couldn’t stay in that place anymore—not with the memories pressing in around you, with the sense that every hallway, every room, was echoing with what used to be between you and Bucky.

The city lights were ahead of you, casting faint glows against the dark sky, and for the first time, you felt completely unmoored. Your thoughts tangled in every step you took, as if each pace was a step away from the life you had built with the Avengers, and more painfully, from Bucky.

Hours passed as you wandered the city, barely aware of where you were going. You ended up at a small motel on the edge of town, paying cash for a room that barely had any light, just a bed with thin sheets and an old TV on a dresser. The emptiness of the room felt like it mirrored the hollow ache in your chest.

You set your bag down on the bed, letting out a sigh as you sank onto the edge, staring at the wall as thoughts of Bucky washed over you in waves. Images of him smiling, his quiet laughter, the way he’d hold your hand when no one else was around—all of it clung to you, heavy and unrelenting.

Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts to his name, thumb hovering over it. You knew he wasn’t waiting for your call; he’d made that clear. But part of you, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be wrapped in his arms, wanted him to pick up, to tell you this was all just a mistake.

Instead, you tossed the phone aside, burying your face in your hands as tears began to fall. You wanted to scream, to do anything that would make this feeling go away. The anger, the heartbreak, the deep sense of loss—the betrayal it all felt like it was crushing you.

The next morning, you took a breath and tried to piece together a plan. If Bucky wanted nothing to do with you, if the team was moving on without you, maybe it was time for you to do the same. You didn’t know how, but you’d figure it out. And maybe, someday, the memories would hurt a little less.

Days turned into weeks, and you managed to stay under the radar. You took on a few odd jobs here and there, avoiding anywhere that felt remotely familiar. You kept your phone turned off most days, keeping a low profile as you tried to settle into a new rhythm.

But at night, alone in that tiny motel room, everything came flooding back. The emptiness, the loss of the life you’d left behind, and the hollow ache that reminded you of the man you’d once thought would be by your side forever. You didn’t wanna feel anything at all anymore.

The motel was your base for now, a temporary haven between jobs. You knew eventually you would have to move but for now the dull hum of a broken fluorescent light above the bed was your only company most nights. You’d buried your old life, the Avengers, and everything you once fought for. Your existence was pared down to survival and the cold efficiency of violence.

You used old contacts from your past—people you’d hoped never to need again. Mercenaries, informants, shadowy figures from the underworld who didn’t ask questions as long as you delivered. And you did. Each contract was a blur, each mission a mechanical task you completed without hesitation or remorse. Slowly you were becoming less of who you were and more of what you were supposed to be before him.

Your skills made you valuable. Assassinations, high-stakes retrievals, contract killings—you took them all. It was work, and it kept you moving. You didn’t feel anything anymore, not the fear, not the guilt, not even the satisfaction of a clean job. You became a ghost, slipping in and out of places, leaving behind a trail of red.

Every kill was precise, methodical. You didn’t stop to consider who your targets were or what they’d done. The moral compass you once clung to was shattered, left in pieces back at the compound. You moved like a machine, your thoughts dulled by the monotony of violence. The whispers of self-destruction were your only companion now.

Weeks blurred into months, the days bleeding into each other. You didn’t follow the news, didn’t check your phone, didn’t want to know what was happening in the world you’d left behind. You didn’t see the press conference Tony had to hold, standing stoic as reporters peppered him with questions about your sudden disappearance.

“Agent Y/N has taken a leave of absence,” he’d said, his voice cool, calculated. “For personal reasons.”

That was all he gave them. No details, no promises of your return. When the questions turned toward your mental health, your stability, Tony’s jaw tightened, and he ended the briefing. Behind closed doors, the team was scrambling, doing everything they could to track you down. But you were a ghost, and ghosts didn’t want to be found.

In the quiet moments between jobs, you sat in the shadows of your rented room, staring at the ceiling. The weight of your kills didn’t register anymore; it was just a tally in your head, numbers climbing higher each week. You didn’t care who you were working for, as long as they paid and kept you busy. The emptiness was consuming, but you welcomed it. It was better than the pain.

You stopped dreaming. Stopped thinking about him, about any of them. The warmth of Bucky’s touch, the safety of his arms around you—it was a memory you refused to let surface. You buried it deep, alongside every other part of yourself that once cared, once felt.

When you weren’t working, you spent your time in dingy bars or cheap motels, drowning in silence. The weight of your solitude was your only companion. You avoided mirrors, avoided looking at the hollow shell you’d become. It didn’t matter anymore. You didn’t matter anymore.

Back at the compound, things weren’t much better. The team was holding together by a thread, every day marked by your absence. They didn’t talk about it openly, but everyone felt the weight of the void you’d left behind. Tony buried himself in his work, throwing up defensive sarcasm whenever your name was mentioned. Steve was more reserved, quiet, his concern etched into every line of his face, his thoughts a constant whirl of guilt, of what if, he was your leader, your friend, your family he should have done better. Natasha, Clint and Sam worked tirelessly to trace your steps, but you were always one step ahead, your trail going cold each time they got close.

Bucky, though—Bucky was a different story. He was unraveling. The stoic front he tried to maintain crumbled more each day. He’d catch glimpses of your room, still left untouched, and it felt like a dagger in his chest. Every lead that turned up empty, every mission he went on without you, only deepened the chasm of guilt and regret.

He didn’t show it around the others, but late at night, when the compound was quiet, he’d sit in the dark, gripping his dog tags as though they could anchor him. He replayed every moment, every word he’d said to you, the pain in your eyes when he told you it was “for the better.” He’d thought he was protecting you, sparing you from a life tethered to his darkness. But all he’d done was push you into your own.

Meanwhile, you continued to slip further into the shadows, your humanity fading with each passing day. The girl who once fought alongside Earth’s mightiest heroes was gone. Now, you were just a weapon, a tool for hire, drowning in blood and regret.

And you didn’t care if you ever came back.

The common room was silent, the atmosphere suffocating. The team sat around the dining table, their plates mostly untouched. It hadn’t been the same since you left—no, since you vanished almost a year ago. Conversations were hollow, laughter a distant memory. Every mission, every meeting, carried the weight of your absence.

Bucky sat at the far end of the table, his eyes fixed on his plate, though he hadn’t touched his food. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the clink of utensils against ceramic as Sam and Natasha picked at their meals. Steve was deep in thought, brows furrowed, while Tony sipped at a cold cup of coffee, his usual bravado long since dulled.

Suddenly, Tony’s tech pad beeped, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he read the data. Without a word, he stood abruptly and made his way to the common room, his pace quick and determined.

“Guys,” he said, voice sharp as he entered, the pad clutched tightly in his hand. The urgency in his tone snapped everyone to attention. “I think we’ve got something.”

The team immediately straightened, all eyes on him. Bucky’s heart lurched in his chest, a flicker of hope and dread surging through him.

“What is it?” Steve asked, his voice steady but tense.

Tony didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he tapped on the pad, and a hologram appeared above the table—a blurry snapshot of surveillance footage. The image was grainy, taken in some dimly lit warehouse, but there was no mistaking the figure in the frame.

It was you.

Your hair was shorter, your face leaner and paler than they remembered. Blood spattered your cheeks and clothes, your eyes sharp and cold. You looked like a ghost, hollowed out and deadly, a shadow of the person they once knew.

The room went deadly quiet, the weight of the image sinking in. Natasha leaned forward, her jaw tightening. Sam cursed under his breath, while Steve’s grip on the edge of the table tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“Is there video footage?” Steve asked, his voice low, barely concealing the mix of hope and fear in his tone.

Tony nodded grimly. “FRIDAY, play the video.”

The hologram shifted, and the grainy footage began to play. The scene unfolded in a dingy, run-down warehouse, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights. Armed men moved through the space, clearly preparing for some sort of deal. But then you appeared, stepping out of the shadows like a wraith.

You were fast, efficient, and terrifyingly calm. Without hesitation, you took out each man with precision—gunshots, blades, hand-to-hand combat. It didn’t matter how many came at you; they all fell. The blood spattered across your face only made your pale skin look more ghostly, more detached from humanity.

What shook them most wasn’t the violence—it was you. Your expression never wavered, your eyes cold and emotionless. It was as if you were on autopilot, a machine programmed to kill. Even when a bullet whizzed past your face, barely missing you and sending a strand of hair flying, you didn’t flinch. You simply moved on to the next target, cutting through them like they were nothing.

Bucky’s stomach churned as he watched. His hands gripped the edge of the table, his breathing shallow. He could barely process what he was seeing. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t the person he’d loved, the person he’d pushed away to protect. This was someone else entirely—a hollow shell, deadly and unrecognizable.

When the video ended, the silence in the room was deafening. Tony rubbed a hand over his face, his usual sarcasm replaced with grim resolve. “That’s the most recent hit we’ve got. It’s from a week ago.”

Steve was the first to speak, his voice strained. “She’s not just surviving out there. She’s… she’s lost herself.”

Natasha crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. “She’s always been a fighter, but this? She’s not fighting for anything anymore. She’s just… existing.”

Sam shook his head, his voice low. “She didn’t even blink when that bullet came at her. It’s like she doesn’t care if she lives or dies.”

Bucky pushed himself back from the table, standing abruptly. “We need to find her, I got to find her” he said, his voice rough, barely containing the storm of emotions threatening to spill over. “Now.”

Steve nodded, his resolve hardening. “Agreed. We’ve waited long enough.”

Tony tapped on his pad, pulling up a map. “I’ve got the warehouse location. It’s a start, but if she’s smart—and we all know she is—she’s already moved on.”

Natasha stood, her eyes locked on the map. “Then we track her. We use everything we’ve got.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with thoughts of you. The footage replayed in his head, the cold, detached look in your eyes, the way you moved without hesitation or fear. He knew he’d pushed you away to protect you, but now… now it felt like he’d only sent you spiraling further into darkness.

And he wasn’t sure if he could bring you back. But he’d die trying.

The hologram of the warehouse lingered in the air, casting a dull blue glow that accentuated the tension in the room. Tony continued scrolling through surveillance feeds, his movements precise but edged with frustration. No one spoke at first, the weight of your absence hanging over them like a storm cloud.

Sam finally broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Where is she even finding out about these deals? She’s not exactly walking into a coffee shop and picking up intel from strangers.”

Clint, seated at the far end of the table, narrowed his eyes, his mind already turning over possibilities. “Maybe old contacts?” His gaze shifted to Natasha, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and her face was set in a mask of unreadable tension.

She didn’t look at him immediately. When she did, her eyes were distant, filled with memories she rarely allowed to surface. “Yeah,” she said quietly, almost reluctantly. “That’s likely.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Someone from your Red Room days?”

Natasha hesitated, her jaw tightening as she nodded. “Before SHIELD. Before the Avengers.” Her voice was cold, clinical, the tone of someone recounting a story they wished wasn’t their own. “There’s a guy… a fixer. He operated out of Eastern Europe, connected to black market arms deals, high-profile hits, anything illegal you can think of. If she’s working for him now…” She trailed off, swallowing hard.

Sam leaned forward, frowning. “Anything you’d like to share with the class, Nat? Because this feels like something we should’ve known before.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her gaze flickering toward Clint before settling on the table. “Before SHIELD, before Clint and I found her… she was lost. When she escaped the Red Room, she had nothing—no resources, no one to turn to. This guy took her in, gave her jobs, gave her a reason to keep moving. But it wasn’t a life. It was survival, barely.”

Clint leaned in, his voice lower now, as though he didn’t want to disturb the fragile truths being unearthed. “She was in deep. Mercenary work, hits, anything he wanted. She carried everything she owned in a backpack. She was running on scraps and rage. And the person she was back then compared to the one we know now…” He shook his head. “Night and day.”

Natasha’s expression darkened. “She was like a machine. On autopilot. He kept her that way with modified Red Room mind control.” Her voice softened, though her words cut like a blade. “Not enough to erase her, but just enough to suppress doubt, hesitation. Enough to make her compliant.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Bucky, standing slightly apart from the others, stared at the hologram of your face, his jaw clenched. His chest ached, a sick mixture of guilt and disbelief twisting in his gut.

Tony’s voice broke the quiet. “That wasn’t in her file.”

Natasha smirked bitterly. “Of course it wasn’t. Fury redacted it. He thought it would protect her if it ever came up.”

Clint’s voice dropped further, the weight of the memory heavy in his tone. “When Nat and I got her out, it was like detoxing someone from a drug. She fought us every step of the way. We had to tie her down to keep her from running back to him.”

Natasha nodded grimly. “She didn’t sleep, didn’t eat unless we forced her to. She was reciting mission protocols in her sleep like she was still under their control. It took months to bring her back to herself. And even then…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Even then, it was fragile.”

Steve’s eyes shifted to Bucky, whose hands were gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles were white. “Buck, did she ever tell you any of this?”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged slightly, his face shadowed with pain. He shook his head, his voice hoarse. “No. Not like that.” He paused, swiping a hand over his face as he blinked away tears he couldn’t stop. “She… she never pushed me to talk about my past. She let me open up in my own time, my own way.” He let out a shaky breath. “I thought… I thought she’d do the same eventually. And she did, bits and pieces. But it was always vague, like she didn’t want me to see just how bad it was.”

He looked back at the hologram, the image of your face burning into his mind. “She risked her life for me, over and over again. And I didn’t even know the extent of what she’d been through.” His voice cracked. “She deserved better than that.”

“And now,” Natasha said softly, her eyes fixed on him, “she’s back in it.”

Bucky’s head dropped, his fists clenching as he whispered, “Maybe worse this time. She’s not just surviving—she’s destroying herself. And it’s my fault.”

“Buck,” Steve said gently, but Bucky shook his head.

“I thought I was protecting her,” Bucky said, his voice louder now, trembling with emotion. “I thought pushing her away would keep her safe. But all I did was push her right back into the darkness she fought so hard to escape.”

Natasha’s voice softened further, though it carried an edge of warning. “If she’s with him again, he won’t hesitate to use that mind control on her. And if he has… there’s no telling how far she’ll go before she burns out.”

Tony paced, rubbing his temple. “We need to find this guy. Shut him down. If she’s working for him, she won’t stop until someone makes her.”

Steve straightened, his face hardening with resolve. “Then we find him. Find out where he’s operating now.”

Clint nodded, pulling out his tablet. “I can dig up some old intel. He moved a lot, but if he’s still running the same kind of jobs, I can find a pattern.”

Natasha glanced at Bucky, her tone quieter now. “We find him, and we find her. But she’s not coming back willingly, Bucky.”

Bucky lifted his head, his eyes dark and resolute. “I don’t care how far gone she is. She’s still in there, and I’m not giving up on her.” His voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “She has to be.”

Tony tapped the screen again, zooming in on the hologram of your face. “Then we better move fast. Because from the looks of it, she’s already gone too far.”

The team exchanged grim looks, the unspoken weight of what lay ahead settling over them. For Bucky, though, there was no hesitation. No doubt. He would bring you back, no matter what it took.

The quinjet hummed softly as it cut through the night sky, a stark contrast to the tension filling the cabin. The team was locked in silent focus, each member mentally preparing for what they might find at their destination. Natasha sat at the controls, her face unreadable, though her grip on the steering controls was tighter than usual. Clint was beside her, reviewing maps and old intel on the fixer, his expression grim.

Bucky sat alone, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His metal hand flexed and clenched rhythmically, the only outward sign of the storm raging inside him. His thoughts churned relentlessly, replaying every moment since the breakup, every mission where he’d chosen to keep his distance, every chance he had to reach out and didn’t.

Steve, seated across from him, finally broke the silence. “We’ll get her back, Buck,” he said quietly, his voice steady but reassuring. “She’s still in there. We’ll bring her home.”

Bucky didn’t look up, his jaw tightening. His voice was low, almost a whisper. “And what if we don’t?” His eyes flicked up to meet Steve’s, and they were filled with a raw vulnerability that Steve hadn’t seen in years. “What if she’s too far gone, Steve? I thought I was protecting her, keeping her safe by pushing her away. But all I did was shove her right back into the darkness.”

Steve sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “You did what you thought was right. You were trying to protect her from getting hurt.”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And now she’s out there, risking her life every day because I made her believe she wasn’t worth saving.” He paused, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what I’ll do if we can’t bring her back. If she’s too far gone…Steve if we cant get her back….”

Steve reached out, placing a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She’s not gone, Buck. She’s still in there. We’ve seen her come back from worse, and she’s stronger than you think.”

Bucky’s eyes fell back to the floor, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. “I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me. Hell, I’m not sure I can forgive myself.”

Natasha’s voice cut through the cabin, calm but commanding. “We’re coming up on the last known location of the fixer. This isn’t a guarantee, but it’s our best shot.” She glanced back at Bucky, her expression softer than usual. “You’ll get your chance to fix this, Barnes. But you have to be ready. She’s not the same person you knew.”

Bucky nodded, his resolve hardening. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll do whatever I have to.”

The quinjet began its descent, the lights of a small, industrial city coming into view below. Natasha expertly landed on the outskirts of the city, near an abandoned factory that matched the coordinates from her old intel. The team geared up quickly, their movements efficient and quiet.

As they approached the factory, Clint pulled up the blueprints on his tablet. “Looks like a standard setup—main entrance, back exit, and a few access points on the roof. If he’s still using this place, he’ll have guards posted. We’ll have to go in quiet.”

Natasha nodded. “I’ll take point with Clint. Steve, Bucky, cover the rear. Sam, Tony you’re our eyes in the sky.”

Bucky didn’t say a word as they moved into position, his focus entirely on the task ahead. His grip on his rifle was tight, his breathing controlled. But inside, his mind raced with what they might find.

As they entered the factory, the air was thick with dust and the faint smell of oil and metal. The sound of distant machinery hummed through the walls, but the place seemed otherwise deserted.

Clint scanned the area with his thermal scope, whispering, “Two guards up ahead, near the control room.”

Natasha nodded, and within moments, the guards were taken out silently, their bodies crumpling to the floor without a sound. The team moved deeper into the facility, tension building with every step.

Finally, they reached the main floor—a vast, open space filled with crates and scattered equipment. And there, in the center of the room, was a man seated at a desk, his back to them.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “That’s him.”

The fixer turned slowly, as if he’d been expecting them. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. He smiled, a cold, predatory grin. “Well, well. The Avengers. What an unexpected pleasure.”

Bucky stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Where is she?”

The fixer chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Ah, you must mean out little shadow, our ghost. Quite the asset, isn’t she? A real work of art, that one.”

Bucky’s fists clenched, and Steve put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Where is she?” Steve demanded.

The fixer sighed, feigning boredom. “She comes and goes as she pleases. I simply provide the opportunities. She’s quite effective, you know. Doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question. Just like old times.”

Natasha stepped forward, her gun trained on him. “What have you done to her?”

The fixer’s smile widened. “Only what she wanted. She came to me, broken and desperate. I gave her purpose, focus. She’s free now, free from all those messy emotions that held her back.”

Bucky’s voice shook with rage. “You didn’t free her. You turned her into a weapon.”

The fixer shrugged, unbothered. “She’s exactly where she wants to be.”

Bucky stepped forward, his voice deadly calm. “And where’s that?”

The fixer’s grin faltered for the first time. “You’ll never find her. She doesn’t want to be found.”

Bucky’s eyes burned with fury, but before he could move, Natasha pulled the trigger, shooting the fixer in the leg. He cried out, clutching his wound as he glared up at her.

“Where. Is. She?” Natasha repeated, her voice ice-cold.

The fixer coughed, blood dripping from his mouth as he chuckled weakly. “She’s already gone. But you’ll find her soon enough. If she wants you to.”

The quinjet touched down silently on the outskirts of the city. The team disembarked quickly, weapons drawn and senses on high alert. The abandoned office building loomed ahead, its shattered windows and graffiti-covered walls a testament to its long-abandoned state. Inside, though, it was anything but empty.

Tony’s voice was a low murmur as he held up his tech pad, showing the heat signatures inside. “Multiple targets on the top floor. Armed, moving in formation. Y/N’s in there, too.”

“Looks like another hit,” Natasha said grimly, her eyes scanning the building. “She’s taking out another crew.”

Bucky clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “We’re not letting her walk out of here alone.”

Natasha nodded, her voice steady. “Stay focused. We get in, neutralize the situation, and bring her back.”

The team moved as one, slipping into the building and making their way up the crumbling stairwell. The sound of muffled voices and footsteps echoed from above, the tension rising with every step. When they reached the top floor, they could hear it clearly now—the sharp commands, the clink of weapons, and then, suddenly, a scream cut short.

Tony raised his hand, signaling them to stop. He brought up the thermal view on his pad. “She’s already started.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as they crept toward the open doorway. From their vantage point, they could see you in the center of the room, moving with deadly precision. You were a blur of efficiency, taking out the armed men one by one, each movement calculated and lethal. Blood spattered across the floor and walls, and your face, but you didn’t falter.

The last two men in the room scrambled to take aim at you, but you were faster. You disarmed one with a quick twist of his wrist, driving a knife into his chest without so much as a flicker of emotion. The final man backed away, terror in his eyes as he aimed his gun at you, his hands trembling.

Before he could pull the trigger, you grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. His struggles were futile, and the sound of his choked gasps filled the air.

“Y/N!” Bucky’s voice rang out, desperate and raw, cutting through the chaos.

You froze, your grip tightening on the man’s throat as your eyes snapped to Bucky. For a moment, the room seemed to stand still. The team watched, their weapons drawn but hesitating, waiting to see what you would do.

You stared at Bucky, your face blank, eyes devoid of the warmth they once held. Slowly, deliberately, you tightened your grip, and without breaking eye contact with him, you snapped the man’s neck with a sickening crack. His lifeless body fell to the floor with a thud.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bucky took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest. “Doll,” he said again, his voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

You stood there, blood splattered across your face, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Your eyes flicked over the rest of the team—Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, and Tony—all standing ready, but hesitant to make a move.

The room was suffocatingly silent, the air thick with tension as you stood amidst the bodies of the men you’d just killed. You looked at them—at all of them—as if they were nothing more than an inconvenience. Your once-bright eyes were now cold, lifeless, your pupils blown wide, a sharp contrast to the dim light of the room.

Sam was the first to break the silence. “Her pupils are huge,” he said, his voice low, uneasy. “That’s not normal.”

Natasha’s face tightened. She took a step forward, speaking in Russian, her tone steady but filled with quiet authority. “Ты идешь со мной, младшая сестра. (You’re coming back with me, little sister.)” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Ты сделаешь это легко или трудно? (Are you going to make this easy or hard?)”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you nudged the last man’s lifeless body with your foot, shoving him out of your way with a detached, almost bored expression. Then, finally, you spoke, your voice flat, emotionless.

“ Трудно(Hard).”

Steve sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Are we really doing this? All of us, against her?”

Natasha didn’t break her gaze from you. “No. Just me.” She reached for her baton, switching it on with a low hum of electricity. “Let me try.”

Clint, standing off to the side, silently switched the arrow in his quiver to one tipped with a sedative, his fingers steady but ready. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were locked on you, his movements precise and deliberate like he’d done this before, which of course he has.

Natasha stepped forward slowly, her baton raised but not yet striking. She muttered under her breath, almost to herself, “Дежавю. (Déjà vu.)” Then, in a softer tone, she added in Russian, “Я тебя люблю. (I love you.)”

The words didn’t even register. You moved without hesitation, launching yourself at her with lethal precision. Your first strike was a blur, and Natasha barely had time to block it with her baton. But you were faster, stronger, and more relentless than she remembered. Within seconds, you had her on the defensive, your blows landing harder and faster than she could counter.

Natasha grunted as you landed a kick to her side, sending her stumbling. “Something’s off,” she groaned, clutching her ribs as she stood. “You’re stronger than before.”

Bucky had been standing on the sidelines, his fists clenched, watching you tear through Natasha with ease. His heart broke with every blow you delivered. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward, his voice cracking slightly.

“Sweetheart, please,” he said, his voice filled with desperation. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

You turned toward him, your face still expressionless, and in one swift motion, you pulled a knife from your belt and hurled it at him. Bucky’s reflexes kicked in, and he caught the blade mid-air, but the force of the throw pushed him back a step.

He dropped the knife, his hands raised in a defensive posture. “I’m not going to fight you,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes. “But I’m not letting you hurt anyone else.”

You didn’t hesitate, launching yourself at him. Bucky blocked every strike, his movements precise, never once retaliating. He didn’t want to hurt you, but you gave him no choice but to defend himself.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted over his shoulder as he deflected another of your attacks. “It’s the serum! She’s got some kind of super-soldier serum!”

Steve’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on his shield. Sam glanced at Clint, who still had his bow drawn. “Will that sedative arrow even work on her if she’s got the serum?”

Clint shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

He loosed the arrow, and it flew toward you, but you moved faster than expected, catching it mid-air. The tip still grazed your arm, injecting just enough of the sedative to make you falter slightly. You wobbled for a second, your movements sluggish, but it wasn’t enough to stop you. You turned the arrow back around, flinging it directly at Clint with lethal precision.

Steve’s shield flew through the air just in time, blocking the arrow before it could hit Clint. The sound of metal striking the arrowhead echoed through the room, but before anyone could make another move, Tony stepped forward, his repulsor glowing.

“This is enough,” Tony said, his voice cold and decisive. He raised his hand, preparing to knock you out.

But before he could fire, Natasha, now back on her feet, grabbed a heavy metal pole from the wreckage around them. She moved quickly, her face set with grim determination.

You turned back toward Bucky, ready to swing at him again, your eyes still filled with that cold, mechanical focus. But Natasha was faster. She swung the pole with all her strength, aiming for the side of your head.

The impact was immediate. Your eyes widened briefly before your body went limp, collapsing to the floor in an unconscious heap.

The room was silent except for the sound of everyone’s heavy breathing. Bucky dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he gently cradled your head.

Natasha dropped the pole, her chest heaving as she looked down at you, a mixture of relief and sorrow in her eyes. “Я сожалею, сестра. (I’m sorry, sister.),” she whispered softly.

Steve stepped forward, his shield still in hand. “Let’s get her back to the jet. We’ve got work to do.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes au #bucky fanfic #james barnes x you #james barnes imagine #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky banres #bucky barnes x avenger!reader

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the-froschamethyst4 · 1 day ago

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Cold Season, Hot Drink

𖤐Pairing: Husband!König x Wife!Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Smut, some fluff, language, teasing, married couple, dirty talking, kissing/making out, groping, nipple play, food play, blowjob, Dom! König, Innocent! Reader, mention of nudity,

𖤐Summary: The cold season is upon König and Y/n, and Y/n needed a bit of a hot drink to keep herself warm while König was thinking about something else

————

Winter, the best time of the year, where you can finally wear comfortable clothes and not get looked at like a psycho, Y/n sat in front of the fireplace where there was a fire dancing in it, her husband König came inside from being outside and chopping wood for the fire.

He comes in kicking his boots off by the door and started to strip out of his outdoor clothes, and got cozy with Y/n by the fire. Y/n had already made herself some hot chocolate but it was getting low.

"You're so cold," Y/n says.

"Then warm me up," König smirks knowing what he was doing, but Y/n thought he was just joking around, she slightly pushes away from him because of his body being so cold.

"No way," she giggles. She gets up off the fluffy white rug that was in front of the fireplace and heads to the kitchen to make herself some more hot chocolate.

König looks at her in the kitchen and gets off the rug as well, he walks behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder, and his hands then going under her shirt, she shutters at his touch.

"Jesus! König! You're hands are s-so cold," she laughs and looks at him over her shoulder.

"Sorry," he chuckles and kisses her neck.

"Do you want some?" She asked, talking about the hot chocolate.

"No, I have another way to warm myself up," he smirks, he starts messing with his belt while he starts attacking her neck with soft kisses. His cold hands going under her shirt to grope her breasts, and then run them down her waist sending shivers down her spine.

As the kiss became a heated make out session, König just barely opened his eyes and saw the whipped cream Y/n was putting on top of her hot chocolate along with the green and red sprinkles she was using. He smirks into the kiss and moved his left hand to grab the red can.

He shakes the can and pulls away from Y/n's lips, she sees the can in his hand and tilt her head back almost like she knew what he was going to do, he sprays the cream into her mouth, he sprayed a lot and when Y/n closed her mouth some seeped from the corner of her mouth, König smirks and licks the corners of her mouth to taste the cream.

König's hands moved quickly back under her shirt and lifted it up over her head and tossed it on the ground, his hands go behind her back and then unhook her bra tossing it on the ground next to her shirt. He shakes the can once more and sprays it all over her chest.

She moans when feeling the coldness on her chest, her nipples harden. He takes the sprinkles off the counter and shakes a large amount onto her chest, once he was done, he steps back to admire his work and smirks.

"Oh how fucking sexy you look," he says, smirking.

"I feel too exposed," she says. He smirks and he leans forward running his tongue over the mess he made all over her chest, earning moans from her lips.

"I feel sticky," she whines.

"Not yet," he picks her up and takes her to their shared bedroom, he placed her on the bed, whipped cream still in hand and shakes it spraying some cream on her nipples, earning some soft moans from her.

König pulls his pants off along with his boxers, his dick was a bit limp but no problem, once he showed it to Y/n, she starts giving him a hand job, moving her hand up and down on his dick making it hard almost instantly.

Once hard he sprayed the whipped cream on his dick, he smirks while Y/n takes his thick cock into her mouth, her head bobbing up and down, she starts moving fully down on his cock her nose touching his lower stomach, and the cream seeping from the corners of her mouth again.

He put his hand under her chin and smiled down at her as she takes his cock just fine. He chuckles and pulls her off his cock, he gives himself a few pumps and sees the cream that was resting on her nipples was slightly falling off.

The cream soon did land on her thighs. He pushed her on her back, her legs resting on his shoulders, he smirks and starts pinching her hard and sensitive nipples.

He starts pushing his hard cock inside of her, her head goes back hitting the pillow behind her head. His thrusts were sloppy and has no rhythm, but soon he figured out a patterned to make his girl feel good.

"Does it feel good?" He asked, going a bit slow. She nods and squeezed the sheets under her till her knuckles turned white. He starts picking up the pace, watching her bounce up and down, and watched her breasts as well.

He moved his hands from her waist to her breasts, squeezing and pinching at her breasts.

"K-König," she moans, she looks at him letting him know she was close. König leans down as their hot, sweaty, sticky body touch each other, he cups her face kissing her lips and starts picking up the pace almost ungodly.

Her head goes back and she felt herself tightening around him, he keeps going at the pace and soon felt her release on his dick, he pulls out watching the cum start spilling out of her, he gives himself a few pumps till he comes on her stomach.

"Well, I'm warmed up," he teased.

"Cute, I'm hot and sticky," she says.

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

König had cleaned up around the house, picking up clothes, etc. as Y/n was in the bath cleaning herself up but she had gotten out of the bath, she comes downstairs seeing him clean up and looked at the fireplace seeing some mug of hot chocolate.

"König did you make some hot chocolate?"

"I did, figured you might want some," he says, walking to her and resting his hands on her back to pull her close to his body. "Go warm up," he says.

She goes and sits by the fire and König placed a new log on top of the fire. He sits next to her and rubs her side, he kissed the top of her head and brought her weighted blanket on top of her to make her feel even more comfortable. Her head resting on his lap as they watched the fire dance in the fireplace. His thick thigh was a good pillow for her head.

"You comfortable?" He asked.

"Yes," she says.

König and Y/n stayed in front of the fireplace cuddled up to each other keeping warm, König loved the cold season for one thing to being able to cuddle his wife and give what she wants.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig x you #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig

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m00nl1ghts1vt · 3 days ago

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City of Love III - Matt Sturniolo

Requested by anon I II Parings - neighbor!Matt x fem!Reader Summary - Even though your confession leaves Matt uneasy, he still invites you to dinner at his place, that's only if you cook, of course. Warnings - strong language, fluff, W/c - 3208 A/n - Sorry for the wait, I was debating on continuing because part two didn't get that much love, but I really like the concept of City of Love 🥲 Not sure how many parts I'll be doing yet. Enjoy! Masterlist Top Liked - Pierced II Most Recent - Mama Request & Asks are always open

Opening the drapes, you were greeted by warm sunlight beaming through and lighting up the room. You made yourself useful this morning, going for a jog, and finishing your morning routine, even though you woke up around noon. The sequence of events from the night before made sleep almost impossible for you. You tossed and turned for a while, the image of Matt’s face engraved into your brain. Deciding to distract yourself, you stayed up late, unpacking the rest of your belongings, and blaring your go-to playlist throughout the house. The night ended with everything unpacked and you passed out on the fuzzy rug in your living room.

Not being able to shake the harsh feeling of Matt’s pained expression, going for a jog was your only escape so, that’s what you did as soon as you finished your breakfast. Little did you know, Matt and his brothers would be arriving at their house right as you’re ending your morning jog. Plastic bags wrapped around his fingers as he shuts the car door, his eyes land on you, quickly followed by his two look-a-like’s. You plaster an awkward smile on your face, waving, and jogging past them, not wanting to be held up by any more uncomfortable conversations. The AirPods in your ears and beads of sweat dripping down your face being the main indicator you weren’t up for chatting. You didn’t dare to look over your shoulder, entering your house, and heading straight for the shower.

After opening almost every curtain in your house, letting in as much natural sunlight as possible, you go downstairs to your living room. The only tv you had was in the living room and your couches were still in shipment. You take a seat on your fuzzy rug, turn on your tv, and scroll through Netflix. Once you finally land on something that sparks your interest, your phone dings. Quickly selecting the movie and tapping your screen, you see it’s a text from Matt.

A toothless smile pulls at your lips. Maybe Matt wasn’t thrown off by your confession like you thought he was. If roles were reversed, him telling you that he just got out of a serious relationship months prior, you would cut all ties right then and there. In all honesty, if your past relationship hadn’t ended so badly, you would still be in Seattle, in contact with him. You couldn’t blame Matt for how he felt about the recent revelation, but you certainly did blame yourself for letting it slip too soon. Something about Matt made you want more of him every time he left, and the last few nights you had been restraining yourself from walking next door to talk to him. Every conversation was light and easy-going, making you feel like you two had known each other for a lifetime. You weren’t much of a talker so feeling comfortable around him had you shook for words, leaving you wondering how much the bond meant to him. It meant the world to you.

Even though you knew leaving Seattle was the right idea, you couldn’t help but feel homesick, missing your friends and family. Matt had a special way of making you forget about all of when he was around. You still made sure to keep in contact with your loved ones back in Seattle, nightly calls to your best friends and parenting showed them how much you really liked him. It had only been a week, and you couldn’t shut up about him

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

You spend a couple hours at Target, picking up numerous things for your house, and ingredients for dinner. You decided on your classic ‘Marry Me Chicken’ - mainly because it was the first dish you were ever taught, and you had mastered it by now - you wanted to impress Matt and his brothers. First impressions were everything to you. Even if things might’ve been too far gone with Matt, you at least wanted to knock him off his feet with your cooking skills.

Your arms stacked with plastic grocery bags; you stumble up to his front door. Struggling to get a hand up, the front door flies open, “Y/n! Matt, Y/n’s here!” One of Matt’s lookalike’s scoop bags out of your hands, you couldn’t tell if it was Nick or Chris, but you at least knew their names. You watch as he nods his head for you to follow him. Stepping into their house, you kick off your shoes out of respect even though he still has his on his feet. He yells, “Matt, get your ass in here!” just as Matt rushes around the corner, locking eyes with you. His face quickly turns a light shade of pink and a smile pulls at his lips, “hey.”

You could’ve sworn his flustered expression was contagious by the way your face matches his almost immediately, but you try to play it off, forcing a toothless smile, "hi."

Matt reaches for the grocery bags that are still weighing you down and his brother snorts at the interaction, “wow oh- kay.” His comment makes Matt’s face twist in embarrassment and irritation, “this is my brother, Nick.” Matt collects the rest of the groceries and sets them on the island, “the loud one.”

“I think we’re all pretty loud Matt,” Nick shoots back sarcastically and turns his attention, “I prefer ‘the gay one’ in case you were wondering.”

You let out a little giggle, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Making your way to the islands to help Matt unload the groceries. His gaze is stuck on you as he carelessly sets the tomatoes on the counter, only noticing they’re rolling off when it’s too late to catch them. “Matt!” you exclaim, a little too loud for your own liking, “you’re gonna bruise my tomatoes!”

“Shit, sorry!” He quickly crouches down to pick them up before turning the knob on the sink and running them under cold water. You make your way to him, “sorry,” grabbing the tomatoes to inspect it, “a bruised tomato makes a shitty sauce.” After deciding it’s okay, you look up to see Matt’s eyes still glued on you, “I’ll be more careful next time.”

You watch as he presses his lips in a thin line, attempting to hold back the grin that’s trying to break through. Matching his energy, you playfully furrow your eyebrows at him, “you should be. How am I gonna show off my killer cooking skills when you’re damaging the most important ingredient?”

He cracks a smile, “you haven’t even told me what you were making yet. How am I supposed to know it’s the most important ingredient?” You let out a laugh, being able to go back and forth with him was something you loved. It’s like all the momentary awkwardness from the series of events the night before didn’t matter. It disappeared for the time being, but your intuition told you it’d be brought back up later in the night.

“Marry me chicken,” you tell him. Matt raises an eyebrow, “it was the first recipe I learned,” you deadpan, not wanting him to get the wrong idea of the title. You didn’t make up the name for the recipe, and you had no idea if you were preparing this dinner as Matts friend or as his situationship that lives next door.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“Okay, now the heavy cream,” you hold your hand out. Matt takes notion, handing you the carton of heavy whipping cream almost immediately., making you nod to him as a way of saying thank you. Matt had been a big help in the kitchen all night. He handed all the ingredients to you as you needed them, making small talk to keep you company while his brothers watched a movie in the living room. You step away from the stove, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel nearby, and leaning against the opposite counter from Matt.

“So,” he stretches out, crossing his arms over his chest, “about last night.” You shift awkwardly, not wanting to bring the conversation up, but you knew it had to be done. Your intuition was dead on. At this point the topic was the elephant in the room, like a big boulder sitting in the middle of the kitchen that you and Matt had to constantly shuffle around. IYou watch as he clears his throat, his eyes darting from your lips to your eyes, “I asked too many questions.” You shake your head at him, “questions are good. I don’t mind,” you ramble like an idiot, mentally face palming yourself. Talking about your ex made you nervous, you didn’t want to say or do anything that made Matt distance himself.

An anxious chuckle falls from his lips, “maybe I made some assumptions too soon,” he states before pinning his bottom lip between his teeth, “I really like you. I don’t want you to think I’m not into you for any reason.”

His words take you by surprise, and you open your mouth to speak, “finally being straightforward,” you poke at him. Matt being so to the point, telling you how he felt about the situation, was new. The little time you had known him, you always found yourself searching for answers without actually asking questions. Maybe it was because he was too interesting to you. He could tell you his whole life story, and you’d still want to know more. A smile creeps onto Matt’s face, “figured I’d try something new,” he jokes, keeping the same playful tone as you. The butterflies in your stomach dance and your face heats up a bright shade of red, “well I’m glad you told me 'cause I definitely thought you hated me after last night. I snapped on you, I’m sorry. I felt really bad afterwards.”

Matt scrunches his face, shaking his head, “don’t apologize. The attitude was on point,” he tells you, holding his fingers up to form an okay sign. You giggle, “you like ‘em a lil spicy, huh?”

Matt snorts, letting a small laugh escape his lips, “only the kind of spice you have.” He lets his face contort, cringing from his own words, “sorry, that was too much,” making you burst into laughter. You double over holding your stomach, “no, that was cute - a little cheesy - but cute.” Your infectious laugh brings a bright smile too his face and he quickly joins in with you, “cheesy pick-up lines are a given with me, just to let you know.”

“At least I’ll get a good laugh every day,” you coo back at him, running a hand through your hair before pushing yourself off the counter and approaching the stove that he’s standing next to. You stir the sauce gently and bring the spoon up to your mouth for a taste test, “yeah, I’m a chef. Let Gordon Ramsey know I’m coming for his spot!” you exclaim before taking another spoonful for Matt. Blowing on it a few times, you cup your hand under the spoon as you guide it to his lips. Matt locks his eyes on your, taking a slow slurp from the spoon. The intensity of his gaze makes you want to break eye contact and hide your face like the true shy girl you are, but his piercing blue orbs are too strong to let you look away, keeping you in a trance as your face lights up and goosebumps form on your arms.

Your eyes widen a bit, but you quickly try to play it off, relaxing your face as you pull the spoon away. “Wow, that’s really good. Somebody needs to put you on top chef,” he jokes, clearly not picking up on the effect he had on you. Lust swirls around in your gut, making the words struggle to get out of your throat, “th-that good?”

“Oh yea,” he confirms before plastering a kool aid like smile across his lips. “I’m really impressed. You're gonna have to cook for me more often,” he tells you, inching so close that you can feel his body heat radiating off you. It was clear by now Matt had a certain effect on you that nobody has ever had before. Little things like Matt holding eye contact or forcing proximity between you two made you wonder if he knew about the butterflies he placed in your stomach every time he spoke to you or accidentally brushed his arm against yours. You felt like a seventh grade girl obsessing over her first crush, except you were a grown woman crushing on the boy next door.

Matt knew exactly what he was doing. Being the gentleman he truly was, half the time he didn’t act on his impulsive behaviors. If it was up to him, he’d have you all to himself, telling you how much he really cared about you. Matt felt the same way about you as you did about him. The past relationships and random hook ups you two had weren’t anything compared to this weeklong bond you formed. As pathetic as it sounds, the connection had Matt in a chokehold and you in a death grip, not letting either of you go, and only leaving you both wanting more each time one of you pull away.

After last night, he went home and talked to his brothers about you just like he had been doing every night since the first interaction. Matt was worried something fierce about you exposing the fact you were four months fresh from a three year long relationship. He feared your ex was still in the picture, that he would text you any moment and you’d be on your way back to Seattle. Nick and Chris feeding him comments along the lines of - “so what, man? Go get some ass. You haven’t been laid in months, it’s starting to scare me,” and “you barely even know the girl. Stop worrying about her ex,” but when his bothered expression didn’t budge from his face, his brothers quickly took notice, “holy shit! You like her?!” Chris teases him immediately and Nick balances it out by saying, “leave him alone, Chris. He barely likes anyone.”

If Matt was being completely honest, he was just waiting for the moment that provided the right space and opportunity to tell you - and show you - how he really felt. When you passed by him on your morning jog, he could feel the vibes were off. Unknowingly being in tune to your energy already, negativity was practically oozing out of you, and Matt took notice right away. The torn expression on your face mixed with beads of sweat dripping from your brow, Matt felt horrible for how he reacted the night before. He had to come up with a plan to get you in the same room as him again, and once he remembered how much you loved to cook, he decided to test the waters. Luckily for him, it was working out perfectly.

“Just have to drain the pasta,” you announce before covering your hands in oven mitts and picking up the pot full of boiling hot penne noodles. Carefully taking a step back, your body comes to a halt as you crash into Matt, who didn’t take cue that you were moving with caution. The hot water splashes, coating your oven mitts, and you jut your body outward, hissing from the contact. Mentally praising yourself for using the mitts, your hands would be covered in burns if you hadn’t.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Matt blurts out before taking the hot pot from you, not caring if it was too hot to touch, and carelessly setting it on the counter. He quickly turns his attention back to you, pulling off the oven mitts, and inspecting your hands. “Are you okay? Sorry, I was just looking at you, wasn’t paying attention. It didn’t get you, did it?” he rambles, taking your hands and turning them every which way to make sure there were no visible burns.

“No, no, I’m fine. Those are some thick oven mitts,” you joke trying to ease his panic. You thought it was cute how much the idea of you being hurt put him in a frenzy. “Are you sure?” his words laced with concern, and a worried look etched across his face, as he continues to inspect you. The warmth of his hands makes you suck in a sharp breath, nodding slowly, “promise.”

Matt finally looks up at you, his eyes glancing towards your lips. He takes a step back, swallowing hard like he’s physically holding himself back from his next action. You watch as he leans over the stove, flipping the burner off you had thoughtlessly left on before taking a step closer to you. His hands snake around your waist, pulling you to him. The way your bodies fit together like two missing puzzle pieces makes a familiar weakness buckle at your knees. “I feel so bad,” he confesses. Matt sways side to side, gently rocking you with him as he plants a kiss on your forehead, “I’m really sorry.”

You pull back from him slightly, only so you can show him your hands, “no burns. I’m all good,” you tell him honestly. The worriment still plastered on his face as you wrap your arms around his neck, gently rubbing a thumb along the nape of his neck. “You’re sure?” he presses his lips in a thin line, trying to fight off a smile that was pulling at his lips. Playfully furrowing your eyebrows at him, “only if you promise I walk out of here in one piece.”

As much as Matt wanted to take you to his bedroom and leave you crawling out of his house, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. No promises. “Promise,” he lets his smile break through and yours follows soon after.

Matt lets his eyes explore, drifting from your eyes to your lips, and back up to your eyes again. You were fascinated by the meaning his held, they locked you in every time. His eyes were so blue, you felt like you were drowning every time he looked at you. You and Matt stay lost in time for a few seconds before you make your move, tiptoeing to press your lips to his. Not like other times when Matt would pull away rather quickly, letting his nerves get the best of him. Instead, he digs his fingers into your waist, pulling you so close that your body is pressed against his. He trails a hand up your arm until he's cupping the back of your neck, walking you backwards, the only thing to stop you is the edge of the countertop protruding into your back.

The built up sexual tension has your tongues dancing together like two ballroom characters from a Disney movie. In a way, this was your real-life version of Beauty and The Beast - pressed up against Matt’s counter as his hands explored your body and his tongue inspected every inch of your mouth. You didn't know where you and Matt stood, you didn't know the title of your relationship you shared with him, but you knew you enjoyed every second spent with him and you didn't want it to end anytime soon.

🏷️ - @lvrsturniolo @unknvhx @m11rx @ribread03 @emely9274 @thepubeburgler @loveparqdise @frickin-bats @sweetshuga (If I'm missing anyone or if anyone wants added, just let me know! Also pls remember to turn your tags on if they aren't already!)

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gothamite-rambler · 1 day ago

Text

"Dude, time and place!"

Red Robin (looking downcast): Sometimes I feel like the world doesn't want me around.

Spoiler (raising an eyebrow, already annoyed): Dude.

Red Robin (furrowing brow angrily): They don't get me... My mind is an enigma, and that has been my downfall in life.

Spoiler (rolling her eyes): I dated you; trust me when I say it's not!

Red Robin (ignoring Spoiler): I've been kind, highly intelligent, creative and they just tossed me aside like a sack of potatoes.

Spoiler (rubbing her forehead frustrated): You're not listening to me, I see that now.

She picked up a large rock and handed it to him, urging him to smash the window of the factory they had needed to break into for the last five minutes. However, Robin was more focused on the detrimental dilemma he was facing, releasing a long sigh while shaking his head.

Red Robin: I give and give, and everyone takes from me without even offering a simple thank you.

Spoiler (glaring at him): Red Robin, throw the rock through the window or I'm throwing you into it! For the love of Jehovah, you got passed up for a promotion at work, that's it! Bernard is still with you, you're rich, healthy, white, conventionally attractive and semi-mentally well! Stop whining!

Red Robin stared at Spoiler, offended, then rolled his eyes in disbelief. He tossed the rock up, caught it, and threw it through the window, causing the glass to shatter into pieces. Spoiler waved her hand in an exaggerated, mock manner while curtseying.

Spoiler (with a smirk): Thank you, your majesty. Please, go first.

Red Robin (walking past her with his arms crossed): I still deserve respect.

Spoiler (scoffing): Yeah and I need a father who isn't a while criminal, but we don't get the good things sometimes.

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justallmyfantasies · 1 day ago

Text

you’re nothing like mine

by the beach.

contains: smut! (unprotected piv) just nice i dont know what else to say bye.

word count: 6.1k (i think i wrote more than i should have but enjoy.)

the waves of the sea splashed against the rock you were sat on. the trim of your dress getting hit by the waves each time it came. it was chilly that’s why you had goosebumps. you hadn’t forgot to bring a jacket, you just felt like you didn’t need it. it was warm and light when you left the house, now it’s cold and the sun was beginning to set.

you’d hear the occasional laughter from behind you, a few kids and their parents running along the road behind you. or the occasional dog bark. you had the urge to go up to each dog and pet them. but you didn’t, obviously.

the sun was beginning to set once you arrived at the beach, the main reason you actually came here. it was a quiet area. you liked that.

a man came over, sat next to you. his face frustrated? stressed? you didn’t want to ask, but you analysed his facial features. noticing the stubble growing on his chin, the brown curls at the back of his head, his nose. oh god, his nose.

he looked at you, his face softening at the sight of you. not many would look at you like that, that wasn’t for any reason. he wiped his forehead, perhaps in a act of nervousness? you didn’t know.

“you come here often?” his voice was different, different to others you’d heard. he had an accent, a thick one. he was twiddling with his thumbs. the nail on one of his thumbs damaged. not anything severe, or that’s what you hoped.

you turned your head from the waves to look at him. his eyes directly on you. it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was almost comforting. you nodded. “most days.” your smile curving.

he chuckled, amused by the brief answer given. "you're a girl of few words." he teased gently, his accent becoming more noticeable. he leaned back slightly, mimicking your position. he let out a long exhale, his head tilting back to face the sky, the setting sun casting a warm glow on his face.

"you always come alone?" he glanced over at you again, his gaze lingering. the ocean wind blew through his hair, gently tousling the brown locks. his question was casual, his tone soft.

you could practically see the cogs turning in his mind as he waited for your response. the silence was comfortable, the crashing of waves providing a steady backdrop. the sun was half submerged now, the sky a mix of fiery orange and soft indigo.

"i like the solitude." you finally answered.

he hummed in understanding, his gaze returning to the seas. he leaned forward a bit, resting his forearms on his knees. you could see the small details of his profile, the faint laugh lines around his eyes and the way his hair curled behind his ear.

"i come here when i need to think." he said, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. he picked up a small pebble from the ground and began tossing it from one hand to the other.

you watched him play with the pebble, the movement of his hands mesmerizing. your eyes were drawn to the damaged nail on his thumb again, the raw imperfection fitting him perfectly somehow.

“so, what are you thinking about?” you asked, not pushing the topic.

he smiled at your question, his thumb now rubbing over the surface of the pebble. he took a moment before speaking. "the future." he shrugged, his answer purposely vague. his eyes shifted back towards the beach, his gaze lingering over a group of children playing near the shoreline.

"and what does the future hold for you?" your words echoed against the sound of the waves. you were genuinely curious. his demeanor was intriguing, a mix of mystery and a hint of melancholy.

he looked over at you again, his brown eyes locking onto yours. they were filled with a depth that intrigued you even more.

"a lot, i hope." he chuckled softly, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips. he let the pebble go, turning to face you fully. the wind picked up slightly, the loose strands of your hair now dancing around your face. "what about you?"

you couldn’t deny the allure of his presence. there was something about him that drew you in.

"i don't know." you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. your honesty seemed to make him smile, his eyes scanning your face intently.

"somehow that doesn't surprise me." he said quietly, the amusement clear in his tone. "not a fan of making plans, huh?" he teased, pushing the conversation further. the wind blew again, this time stronger. it tousled his hair further, the brown curls falling haphazardly over his forehead.

you felt yourself smiling in response, his banter was both unexpected and refreshing.

"i prefer living in the moment." you replied, a subtle hint in your voice. the sun was almost fully submerged now, the last traces of light painting the sky a dark blue.

"a free spirit." he mused, his gaze never leaving yours. his words sounded as if he had already figured you out. he leaned back slightly, his hands supporting his weight. you noticed how his muscles flexed slightly.

"is that a good thing?" you inquired, tilting your head in slight curiosity. the night had gradually begun to settle in, the sky now a deep shade of navy. the beach was a lot emptier than it was moments ago, yet you felt comforted being alone with him.

"depends on who you're asking." he joked, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. he paused for a moment before continuing, his tone serious. "but for me, it is." the confession made your heart skip a beat. he sounded sincere.

the silence grew between the two of you again. but this time it was different, there was a shift in the air. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it felt electric. he was watching you carefully, his gaze intense.

you could feel your heart beating a little faster, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coiling in your stomach.

“i’m alex.” he broke the silence, his voice soft but clear. he extended his hand towards you, the damaged nail on his thumb barely visible in the dark.

"it's nice to meet you." you replied and later on with your name, taking his hand in yours. his grip was firm, yet gently. his skin surprisingly warm against your slightly cold fingers.

"nice to finally have a name for this pretty face." he quipped, his fingers lingering before he let go. the compliment was light-hearted, yet you found yourself blushing slightly.

he glanced down at your hands, the skin at your knuckles white from the cold. "you're freezing." he observed, his brow furrowing.

"i didn't bring a jacket." you admitted, the cold finally seeping into your bones. a shiver ran down your spine, proving your point. alex noticed, his expression turning almost concerned.

he tsked, shaking his head slightly. "you shouldn't have done that." he sounded almost scolding. “do you want my jacket?” he asked, it wasn’t really asking, it was as if he was demanding you to have it. his jacket.

you considered arguing, but the sudden chills made you realize he was right. “i couldn't-" you began, but he was already taking off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. the leather jacket hitting your shoulders like a blanket, instantly bringing warmth.

the jacket smelled like him, a mix of cologne and something musky, like pine. it was cozy and comforting.

he watched you, ensuring the jacket fit you right. "better?" he asked, his voice gentle.

you nodded, the cold slowly subsiding to a more comfortable temperature. the jacket was a bit large on you, the sleeves nearly covering your fingers.

"much better." you replied, wrapping it tighter around yourself. he hummed in approval, leaning back again, his forearms resting on his knees.

the silence returned, but this time it was more comfortable. the ocean waves provided a steady soundtrack. a few stars had started to appear in the sky, the moon a crescent in the night.

you glanced over at him, his gaze still on you. his eyes were fixated on you, but it didn’t feel creepy or unsettling. it was almost like he was studying you, taking in every feature, every inch of you.

after a while, he had offered to walk you home. you didn’t live very far which is why you tended to go to the beach often. approaching three drains, you shook your head. “don’t step on them.” you said, your feet moving.

“why?” alex asked. one of his eyebrows raised.

you shrugged. “supposedly bad luck.”

he let out a giggle, his laugh quiet. “you believe in bad luck?” he asked, following you as you avoided the drains. he was clearly amused, the corner of his mouth tugging into a small grin.

“sometimes.” a small smile on your own lips. you had reached your building now, the front door in sight.

he stopped as you approached the door, a smirk appearing on his face. "so what would you consider good luck then?" he teased.

you paused, your hand on the door handle. he was now standing next to you, his body a bit closer than before. you glanced at him, his face so close you were able to see the beauty spots on his face.

“having a rockstar walk beside you telling you about his day.” you replied. a short laugh escaping your lips.

he chuckled, the sound warm. he leaned against the brick wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "is that so?" he asked, his eyes still on you. you swore you could hear the smirk in his tone.

you nodded, a small grin playing on your lips. you were surprised at how comfortable you felt, talking to him as if you’d known each other for a while. the street was dead silent, the only noise being your breathing.

“do you want to come in?” you asked, finally opening the door.

he raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his eyes. he clearly wasn’t expecting that invitation. he looked at you for a moment before answering.

"sure." he replied, his voice casual. he pushed himself off the wall, walking towards you.

you held the door open, gesturing for him to go inside. he walked through, the muscles on his back flexing as he passed by. he didn’t look around, he just waited for you to shut the door.

you could feel your heart beating in your chest as you closed the door, the click of the lock echoing around the hallway.

you turned around, facing alex. he was standing a few feet away from you, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. he looked relaxed, but there was a hint of tension in his shoulders. his eyes were on you, studying you intently.

“this place is cozy.” he commented, breaking the silence. he looked around the hallway, his gaze taking in the surroundings.

you nodded in agreement. the apartment wasn’t a penthouse or anything fancy, but it was home. it had a warm and cozy feel to it.

you gestured towards the living room, encouraging him to follow you. “make yourself comfortable, i’ll grab some snacks.” you said, walking towards the kitchen.

he followed you without a word, his footsteps soft against the hardwood floor. the living room was modest in size, but it had a cozy feel to it. a bookshelf against the wall and a worn out, yet comfortable couch in the middle of the room.

you watched him take a seat on the couch, slouching into the cushions. he looked relaxed, yet his eyes followed your every move as you rummaged through the cupboards in search of snacks.

“what kind of snack do you like?” you called out, your head buried in the cabinets. you could hear him shift slightly on the couch, his voice carrying through the room.

“i’m not picky.” he answered. you couldn’t see him, but you knew he was watching you. you could feel his gaze lingering on you, as if he was trying to figure you out.

you settled on a bag of chips. it wasn’t a fancy snack, but it would do. you walked back towards the living room, the bag of chips crinkling in your hands. alex was lounging on the couch, his eyes on you once again.

you took a seat next your him, the couch dipping slightly under your weight. you opened the bag, offering him some. he took a few, his fingers grazing against yours for a brief moment.

the texture of his calloused skin sent a jolt of electricity through you. the brief touch felt charged and almost exciting. you mentally shook away the feeling, focusing on the chips in the bag.

the room was quiet, the only noise being the crinkle of the chip bag and the occasional car passing by. alex seemed comfortable, his body relaxed against the cushions. he was watching you again, his brown eyes intent on every move you made.

“you seem to have a habit of staring at me.” you teased lightly, a small smirk on your lips. he looked slightly amused by your remark, a corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

he leaned slightly towards you, his voice low. “you’re nice to look at.” the comment made you blush, your cheeks heating up at his directness.

you looked away, trying to hide your blushing face. he chuckled, clearly aware of the effect his words had on you. his eyes were still studying you, his gaze intense.

“you get flustered easily, don’t you?” he teased, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

you glanced at him, your flustered expression giving you away. he was right, you did get flustered easily. especially when it came to handsome guys giving you compliments.

“is that a bad thing?” you asked, trying to maintain some level of composure. he shook his head, his smirk growing wider. he was enjoying this.

“not at all.” he replied, shifting closer to you on the couch. he was now sitting just a few inches away, his leg bumping against yours. his scent, the mix of cologne and musk, was stronger from this distance.

you could feeling your heart beating faster, his closeness and the scent of his cologne making your head spin. he was so close, you could almost feel his body heat radiating off of him.

he leaned back, his arm now resting on the back of the couch behind you. his fingers were playing with the edge of your hair, the action almost absentmindedly.

the feeling of his fingers on your hair sent a shiver down your spine, the tingling sensation traveling through your body. he was so close, yet not close enough.

you could feel his gaze on you, his eyes studying every expression, every movement you made. his fingers continued to toy with the end of your hair, the feel of his calloused skin against your neck sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“you’re interesting, you know that?” he mused, his voice low and quiet. his fingers were still toying with the end of your hair, sending tingles through your body.

you turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his. he was looking at you intently, a soft smile on his lips. his eyes were flickering over your face, as if he was trying to memorize every feature.

“how so?” you asked, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness. his compliments were making you flustered again, the feeling of his fingers in your hair not helping.

he hummed, his fingers now tracing your jaw line. the sensation sent a shiver through your body, his touch so light, yet so electric.

“you’re like a paradox.” he stated, his fingers now resting on your cheek. their touch was warm, the callouses on his fingers rough against your skin.

“you’re calm, yet restless. quiet, yet full of personality.” his thumb was now tracing the edge of your jawline, slowly moving towards your lips.

“and you’re observant.” you quipped, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. his touch was sending shivers through your body, the rough skin of his thumb against your lips making it hard to concentrate.

he chuckled, the sound low and almost sexy. his thumb now tracing the contour of your bottom lip. the touch was so light, yet it sent tingles down your spine. he leaned closer, his face now just inches away from yours. his breath was warm against your face, the proximity making your head spin.

his intense gaze never left your face, his eyes intently studying you. his thumb was still tracing your lip, the action almost reverent.

the air was charged, the tension between you palpable. your faces were so close, you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

his lips curved into a smile, a small, almost private smile. he shifted slightly, moving even closer. his hand moved from your chin to the nape of your neck, his warm touch sending another shiver down your spine.

he gently pulled you closer, your face now mere centimeters away from his. his lips hovered just above yours, before he decided to kiss you. the kiss soft and slow.

his kiss was gentle at first, his lips moving against yours slowly. but before long, it became deeper, more passionate. his tongue slowly making its way into your mouth, tasting and exploring.

his hand moved from your neck, to your waist, gently pulling you onto his lap. you could feel the heat rising in your body, the feeling of his lips against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth, making your head spin.

he deepened the kiss, his arms holding you close against him, your body now pressed against his.

he broke the kiss after a moment, his forehead resting against yours. his breathing slightly ragged, his eyes still closed. the moment felt almost intimate, both of you silently enjoying the closeness.

his hand was still on the small of your back, his thumb gently caressing the skin through your clothes. his eyes opened, the intensity of his gaze still present.

“do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he muttered. the compliment was genuine, his tone honest.

you shook your head, your cheeks burning slightly. compliments were not something you were used to. at least not from a guy that looked like him.

he chuckled, his laugh soft and warm. “you really have no idea, do you?” he said, his fingers tracing the side of your neck.

his fingers were sending electric jolts through your body, the sensations almost overwhelming. his touch was tender, his rough skin a contrast to your softer one. he pulled you closer against him, his lips finding your jawline, trailing small kisses down your neck.

his lips left a trail of fire on your skin, the feeling of his mouth on your neck making you shiver. his hand moved from your back to your hips, holding you against him. his lips were now on your collarbone, biting and kissing the sensitive skin.

the feeling of his lips and teeth on your skin was driving you insane. you couldn’t think straight, your mind a mix of sensation and desire.

he nipped the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. he chuckled, the sound warm against your skin.

“i love that sound.” he muttered, his voice almost a purr. his lips were back on your neck, his teeth gently biting the skin.

you could feel his hands, now on your thighs, gripping you tightly. the dress you were wearing pushed up to your thighs. his body was warm against yours, the heat almost scalding.

he continued his assault on your neck, his lips and teeth leaving love-bites on your skin. every touch was making it hard to think, the sensations driving you crazy. his hands moved higher, one of them disappearing under the hem of your dress, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

his touch was like fire on your skin, the feeling of his hand on your inner thigh making you shiver. his lips had moved to your ear, his breath warm on your skin.

he was whispering praises, his voice low and raspy. he was calling you beautiful, sexy, perfect. the compliments sent a thrill through your body, the words making you feel a mix of shyness and desire.

his hand was slowly moving higher, his fingers now tracing the soft skin of your inner thigh. the proximity was making it hard for you to breathe, the heat of his body pressed against yours, his lips at your ear, whispering words that both thrilled and flustered you. his hips were now pressed against yours, the hardness of his body undeniable.

he bit your earlobe, a soft gasp escaping your lips. his hips moved, his body pressing even more against yours. you could feel the growing hardness against your thigh.

he was murmuring praises in your ear, his free hand now moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. his body was so close, you could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes.

his hips grinded against your own, the action making the heat pooling in your stomach grow. his teeth were back on your neck, his lips sucking and biting the sensitive skin.

his breath was hot on your neck, his breathing growing ragged. one of his hands was on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh, the other tangled in your hair.

his lips were back on yours, the kiss hungry and passionate. his tongue was in your mouth, exploring and tasting. the kiss was messy, the mixture of desire and desperation making it sloppy. his hands were now wandering over your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire wherever it moved.

his hands were under your dress now, caressing the skin of your thighs, your hips, your stomach. you were panting, the sensations almost too much to bear.

he broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours once again. his breathing was ragged, the desire mirrored in his eyes. he motioned towards your dress, a question whether he could take it off or not.

you nodded, breathless and more than a little flustered. he smirked, a corner of his lips tugging into a small smile.

he carefully pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in just your underwear. his eyes roamed over your body, taking in the view. his gaze was hungry, his eyes dark with desire.

his hands were on your body again, caressing your skin. he was touching you as if you were the most delicate piece of art. his touch was light, his caresses almost reverent.

he ran his fingers over your stomach, your sides. his eyes were roaming over every inch of your body, taking it all in. when his fingers caressed the edge of your bra, he looked up at you again, silently asking for permission.

you nodded, your breathing a bit shaky from the intensity of his gaze. he smiled slightly, his fingers now gently undoing the clasp of your bra. he took his time, his movements slow and deliberate, almost as if he was savoring every second.

once the bra was off, he took a moment to look at you again. his eyes were filled with lust, yet there was a hint of something else. awe, perhaps?

his hands were back on you, one hand on your hip, the other on your chest. his touch was now more urgent, his desire more evident. he carefully pushed you down on the couch, hovering over you. his body was so close, the press of his hips against yours making the heat in your core grow.

his lips were on your neck again, leaving a trail of kisses and bites down to your collarbone. his hand was now on your thigh, pulling your leg to wrap around his waist.

he was muttering praises between kisses, his voice a low, sensual rumble. every touch was electric, every kiss like a spark to a fire.

he was biting your shoulder now, his teeth gently pulling at the skin. one of his legs had moved between your own, the friction making you gasp.

he was pressing himself against you, his hardness rubbing against your core. you could feel the heat, the need, the desire. his body was so close, yet it wasn’t close enough.

“tease.” you commented. your hands trailing down to his belt, undoing it slowly.

he raised his head from your shoulder, a smirk appearing on his lips. he bit your neck before replying. “you’re one to talk.”

his hips were now pressed against yours, the heat of his body making you feel like you were burning. he was watching you, his eyes on your hands, undoing his belt.

you had his belt off, his jeans now hanging loosely on his hips. the desire in his expression was clear, his eyes following your every move.

he leaned back, watching as you unbuttoned his jeans. his breathing had grown ragged, his patience slowly running out.

“i want those off.” you breathed, pointing at his jeans.

he grinned, a devilish smile appearing on his lips. “yes, lady.” he teased, but still did as you asked, pulling his jeans and boxers off.

he was back over you, his body pressed against yours in only a moment. the feeling of skin against skin was almost overwhelming, and you could practically feel the heat radiating off of his body.

his lips were back on your neck, his teeth and tongue leaving a trail of kisses down to your collarbone. his hands were caressing your sides, your hips, pulling your body close against his.

he shifted a bit, positioning himself between your legs. the feeling of his body against your core was intoxicating, the heat making everything feel more intense. his breath was hot against your ear, his voice a low, sultry murmur. “you’re driving me insane.”

he pulled your panties to the side, the tip of him touching you slightly. you gasped aloud, the feeling of him against you almost making you shiver. you could feel the heat pooling in your core, the need growing with every passing moment.

“please,” you gasped, your voice a needy whisper. you were desperate, the feeling of his hardness making you crave more, more, more.

he chuckled, the sound low and seductive. “please what?” he teased, his lips hovering just above your ear.

you were almost desperate now, the need overwhelming. you whimpered, your hands moving to his shoulders, gripping him tightly. “you know what.” you managed to say, your voice a ragged whisper.

he chuckled again, enjoying seeing you so flustered and needy. “okay ma’am.” he replied, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

he leaned back, his body still hovering over you. his eyes were locked on yours, his gaze intense. you could see the restraint in his expression, the need to be gentle and careful with you.

he shifted again, positioning himself at your entrance. the heat was almost unbearable, the anticipation making every second feel like an eternity.

“you sure?” he muttered, his voice a low, rough whisper.

you nodded, your words caught in your throat. the need for him was overwhelming, your body almost trembling with anticipation. “yes, god, yes.” you finally managed to say, your voice a desperate, pleading whisper.

he smiled slightly, his eyes still locked on yours. “okay.” he muttered, his voice low and seductive. his hand was on your hip, gripping tightly.

he pushed himself in slowly, his eyes watching your every reaction. every gasp, every intake of breath, every small whimper and moan. he was going slow, carefully, every inch making you feel fuller, more every second was agony, the need for more almost overwhelming.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. your legs wrapped around his hips, your body begging for more.

he leaned down, his lips by your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “god, you feel good.” he breathed, his voice a rough whisper.

he started moving, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. it was torture, the pace leaving you craving for more. you gripped his shoulders tighter, your fingers digging into his skin.

his lips were on your neck, his teeth biting and licking the sensitive skin. his hands were on your hips, holding you in place, his touch firm yet gentle at the same time.

“so good.” you managed to gasp out, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

he grunted in response, his pace picking up slightly. his movements were fluid, his hips rocking against you in a steady, rhythmic motion. it was maddening, the combination of pleasure and need making everything seem sharper, more intense.

he was muttering praises in your ear, his voice a low, rough rumble. “you feel amazing.” he breathed, his teeth nipping your earlobe.

you felt the pressure growing in your core, the pleasure building with every move. you were gripping him, nails digging into his skin, your breath coming in gasps and moans.

he was holding you against him, his body almost enveloping you. his lips were on your neck, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses down to your collarbone. his hands were roaming over your back, your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

his hips were moving faster now, his pace increasing. it was almost overwhelming, the pleasure almost too much to bear. you were whispering his name, your voice a ragged gasp.

he was panting against your neck, his breath hot on your skin. “look at me.” he muttered, his voice rough and demanding.

you lifted your head, your eyes meeting his gaze. there was a hunger in his eyes, a raw need that mirrored your own. his movements were more urgent now, his body pressing against yours.

he was staring at you, his gaze intense. he was watching your every reaction, every expression and sound. he was devouring you, everything about you, his eyes roaming over your face, taking everything in. his movements were harder now, more forceful. his name escaped your lips, a strangled moan.

he grunted, the sound low and guttural. his head dropped to your shoulder, his face buried in the crook of your neck. he was breathing heavily, his body moving against yours with a newfound urgency.

he was almost gasping for air, his body moving with a desperation now. he was muttering praises, his voice thick and husky. “you’re so good, so perfect, so beautiful.” he was saying, his words breathless and broken.

the pressure in your core was almost unbearable now, the pleasure building with every move. you were gripping him tighter, your nails digging into his skin.

he was moving faster now, his body trembling against yours. his mouth was on your neck, his teeth biting the sensitive skin. his hands were on your hips, holding you in place, his fingers digging into your flesh.

you were almost there, the pleasure building to almost unbearable levels. you were gripping him, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your nails digging into his skin.

“fuck.. i’m close,” you managed to gasp out, your voice a desperate, pleading whisper. “please, don’t stop.”

he was almost at the edge, his body trembling against you. he grunted in response, his movements more urgent, more forceful. his mouth was on your neck, still biting and sucking at the skin. his hands were on your hips, his grip tightening, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“hold on.” he muttered, his voice thick and guttural. “hold on just a bit longer for me.”

you were on the edge now, the pleasure building to almost unbearable levels. you were biting your lip, trying to hold back, trying to hold on for just a moment longer.

he was moving faster now, his body pressed against yours, his hips rocking against you with a frantic energy. his mouth was on your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“you're doing so good,” he muttered, his voice a ragged whisper. “hold on... just a bit more."

he was on the verge, his body trembling against you, his breathing ragged. he let out a strangled moan, his eyes shut tight, his mouth on your neck. “god, you feel so good. i... i can’t hold on much longer.” he panted, his voice low and rough.

his movements now slowed down, you both reaching your orgasms. you were both panting, your bodies shuddering slightly. he collapsed on top of you, his face burying in the crook of your neck. you were both trying to catch your breath, your chests heaving. the room was suddenly quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing.

he leaned back after a moment, his expression soft and tender. he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers touching your skin with a gentle touch. he smiled slightly, his eyes warm and fond. “you okay?” he asked, his voice a low, gentle rumble.

you smiled back, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. you reached up to cup his face, your touch gentle. “yeah, i’m okay. more than okay.” you said, your voice a weary, contented murmur.

he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. “good.” he mumbled, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. he shifted off you, lying down beside you. he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close against his chest.

you snuggled into him, feeling safe and warm in his embrace. you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. you felt content and at peace, your body and mind still buzzing slightly from the aftermath of your orgasm.

he was idly running his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. the room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the occasional soft rustle of fabric. after a comfortable silence.

he spoke up, his voice soft and low. “you know something?” he asked, his fingers still playing with your hair.

you tilted your head up to look at him, a small smile on your face. “what?” you asked, your voice equally soft and sleepy.

he smiled down at you, his eyes warm and fond. “i don’t think i've ever met someone like you before.” he said, his voice gentle.

you felt your heart flutter a bit at his words. “yeah?” you asked, your voice a little shy and bashful.

he nodded, his smile growing. he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. “yeah. it’s weird, i’ve only ever seen you today and i’m astonished by you. is that too cheesy?” he asked.

you chuckled a bit, feeling a warm, cozy feeling spread through your chest. “yeah, a little cheesy.” you teased, poking his side playfully.

he chuckled too, grabbing your hand and trapping it against his chest to stop you from poking him anymore. “hey, i’m trying to be sweet here.” he protested, his voice feigning indignance.

you giggled a bit, unable to keep a straight face. “okay, okay. i’m sorry, sweet talker.” you teased, your voice dripping with mock-sincerity.

he rolled his eyes, his expression amused. “you’re ruining the moment, you know that?” he said, his voice feigning irritation.

you chuckled again, feeling a warm, happy feeling wash over you. “oh, I’m sorry. i didn’t know i was supposed to be swooning over you.” you teased, a small smirk forming on your lips.

“you’re supposed to be swooning, yes.” he said, a small smirk appearing on his own lips. “anyway, what i wanted to say was that.. i uhm.. wanna see you again.”

you felt your heart skip a beat, a small thrill running through your veins. “yeah? you want to see me again?” you asked, your voice soft and hopeful.

he nodded, his smile soft and sincere. “yeah. i know it sounds crazy considering we only just met today, but... i just really wanna see you again. spend more time with you. get to know you better.”

your heart was fluttering in your chest, a warmth spreading through your veins. you felt a little giddy, a little lightheaded. “okay. i’d like that.” you admitted, a small smile appearing on your lips.

his eyes seemed to light up, his smile growing wider. “yeah?” he asked, looking genuinely pleased. “okay. yeah... yeah, that’s great. i... yeah.” he said, his words faltering slightly, looking a little flustered.

you chuckled softly, amused by his shy, flustered reaction. you reached up to pat his head, your touch light and tender. your fingers playing with the curls of his soft hair. you couldn’t deny that you felt something for him and neither could he. but was it too soon?

a/n: wow finally writing woo!!! anyway i like this (kinda), i have a few more ideas for upcoming fics so just wait for that i suppose. i hope it’ll be good.

#justallmyfantasies #alex turner x reader #alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #alex turner smut

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