#i'm participating in the challenge again

[dollhouseassets]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Freak-ify Britney CAS Challenge ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

by @puppycheesecake. Thank you for making the challenge, it was pretty fun! There's some trivia and a little bonus under the cut.

I couldn't decide which idea I liked the most, so I did both 😌 Now on to presenting the Britneys:

🤡🍬 Haunted Doll

Just a very cute and dainty little clown ball-jointed doll. She likes pink and pompoms, and dislikes people that try taking a peek into the broken, dark crevice located on her stomach.

Treat her good, and she'll be good to you as well.

There are some absurd rumors that this doll became haunted thanks to the hatred she harbored towards the girl that broke her. As a dedicated collector, you know there's no such thing; people only make this kind of stuff up to secure rare dolls to themselves.

The newspapers that covered Britney Beigeleigh's death did prove it was suicide, after all.

😈💘 Minion of Lilith

Unwelcome criticism is everywhere and those who take it to heart shall lose themselves.

Britney was tired. It was as if there was a fault even if the way she breathed. If only she could find a way to prove there was more to her if people would just make an effort to go past the surface...

Her troubles fell on listening ears. But little did she know, the occult have a different point of view on certain things. And now, whatever remains of her soul is now forever bound to the deal she made on that night.

Can't say she didn't get exactly what she wanted, though. Now everyone can't seem to get enough of her.

♡ Succubus!Britney is buck naked so I thought it was better to censor her nips and 🐈‍⬛ just to be safe. And it's not like I couldn't put any clothes on her; they just kinda ruined the vibe for some reason? She does have an outfit though!

♡ The texture on Succubus!Britney's collar was overlapping onto the wings, but that actually made them look cooler so I kept it that way! The collar and womb tattoo are indicative of her deal with the demoness whom she made a deal with so I didn't want to take it off. The metallic part looks silly, but the rest makes it look like she has moth-like patterns on her bat wings.

♡ The saddest thing is that Doll!Britney doesn't look as clown-esque as I wanted her to because the texture on ruffle collar I wanted to put on her was overlapping with the one on her dress... 🥲

♡ I feel like they're looking rather simple but I wanted to put a ton more CC on them and things were either overlapping with one another or there were simply not enough slots to have everything all at once *head in hands*

♡ I did change their traits though! Doll!Britney is a Loner, is Proper and Evil; Succubus!Britney Hates Children, is a Cat Lover and Evil.

♡ These two Britneys may or may not be accomplices and girlfriends...

I may keep them as my OCs, I've gotten attached already 😹

[littlemoriflower]

Hello, deer-friends! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

In light of this post I made, I decided that I will be participating in the Mori Girl 30 day challenge!!!

Feel free to join in, if you want! (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

Day One

Naturally, our first question is how did you get into mori girl?

How I discovered mori is an interesting story I have told a couple of times here on my blog!

It all started in the earliest days of the pandemic, when everyone was confined to their rooms with nothing much to do, aside from scrolling on TikTok (for some). Unfortunately, I myself fell in that trap in those early days.

One day, I came across a video of MLP exploring the idea of which jfashion would fit better with each of the main characters of the show. I found this concept interesting since I was already interested in many jfashions at the time, so I kept on watching. Eventually, Fluttershy (a shy, soft spoken, timid, animal/nature loving character) showed up assigned to a jfashion I had never seen or heard of before. I kept replaying the video just to see the pictures the person had chosen for Fluttershy and rereading the name of the style.

"Mori Kei."

What the hell is mori kei?

I had no clue at the time, so I did what I know best and went to Pinterest to search it up. What followed was a crazed and endless search for more of those gorgeous looking outfits (or coords, which I later came to find out is a term we use in the jfashion community), and I fell in love harder than ever before!

This was in late 2020-to-early-2021, in which I made a pitiful attempt at putting together a mori kei coord that ended up looking more like cult party kei than anything else, but I felt so happy wearing it at the time that I never forgot the style for two years to come.

It wasn't until 2023 when I decided to make the plunge and thrift a bunch of clothes that could be considered mori. I didn't know what I was doing, but man did I feel amazing doing it! I had never felt so in tune with myself and my clothes. Before, my fashion choices always left me insecure in some way, like I didn't fit those styles I was trying out. My friends used to joke around that I changed styles with the seasons, but not this time. Mori has been the only style I can actually call my own (and everyone else's, of course!!! ╰⁠(⁠*⁠´⁠︶⁠`⁠*⁠)⁠╯), and make me feel truly comfortable in my own skin!!!

[wereh0gz]

I wish all sontails shippers go to hell no matter what

[moonfromearth]

This was done as a part of the cozy cave's monthly challenge! For this month the challenge was to create a sim based on you based off of your favorite aesthetic.

While I don't have an all time favorite aesthetic, I did have a lot of ballet themed cc leftover from a costume that got cut from my Halloween photo shoot, so I chose to do a balletcore outfit. 😁

Lila Brunner (pictured above) is a bit of an "always the bridesmaid never the bride" type of sim for me. For how much I adore her and place her in saves she never really gets a chance to be in the spotlight. Maybe someday lol 😅

[b-blushes]

YIPPEE i'm actually kind of excited to wake up tomorrow thanks to electrolytes and a hot water bottle! \o/

[would-you-punt-them]

I just want to tell you this:

Thank You So, SO Much for informing people about the horrid Mr. Beast situation occurring within his Squid Game Beast Games.

I don’t think would’ve known about this awful and disgusting event occurring as much as I do now if you didn’t post about it on this blog.

Thank you.

I do think it isn't something that should be brushed under the rug, and I also feel that the more people know about it, the worse it becomes for Jimmy when the Beast Games show actually comes out.

One thing I forgot to include in the post is that the Las Vegas shoot is going to be uploaded on YouTube as an extended qualifier to the actual show on Amazon Prime.

It's worth noting that the contestants didn't know that until they arrived at the stadium. They'd been told that the Las Vegas shoot was the Amazon show, and there would only be 1,000 competitors (which is how it is marketed by Amazon). They only learned that the player-count had doubled and this wasn't going to be on Prime once they were on set, and were shown a video message from Jimmy saying he forgot to mention that actually there were 2,000 people and this wasn't the Amazon show (though MrBeast later claimed that this was always the intent).

I don't know when the video(s) will be uploaded, but I honestly can't wait because I'm dying to know how they're planning on editing the footage to cut out the horrors that took place during the challenges.

Like, how are they going to show the Red team losing the first challenge with the rope and pulley? On the one hand, surely they've got to show the 400 people who were eliminated in that challenge. But on the other hand... what exactly do they have to work with?

The production team refused the Red team's pleas to stop the challenge and demanded they keep going to the end, presumably because they needed them to do it for the sake of the video. Instead, anti-capitalist icons that they are, the entire team abandoned the challenge mid-way anyway so they could go help their teammates who were literally being strangled, throwing the game. And once they'd abandoned the rope, they never picked it up again.

Obviously, the producers can't show competitors being throttled. But that means that they also can't explain why the Reds lost the challenge. If the throttling happened toward the end, maybe they'll be fine, but if it happened closer to the middle, there's no way for them to explain why those 400 people just gave up so early.

It also presumably means any overhead shots of all the teams are ruined, because that would require them to explain why the Reds just aren't participating.

Maybe they could show the Reds giving up, but give a different reason. But no reason I can think of works. If they say they "tried their best but knew they couldn't win", they would then also have to answer the question of why the challenge was impossible for them - the reason being that their team of 400 consisted of about 380 women, while their opposing teams consisted almost entirely of the youngest and strongest male competitors.

And I'm not sure how they're going to explain that, because if they show the challenge of everyone going for coloured jerseys, they can't reveal why the teams ended up so unbalanced, as the actual reason is that the male contestants were hoarding jerseys and were physically violent against the female and elderly contestants, and organised themselves to guarantee they were all on the same team, resulting in a gender split.

I'm also not sure how they plan to edit around challenges like the briefcase game, where in the middle of the cramped field the male contestants were attacking and trampling the women. It's going to take a lot of editing to cut around that. And while they can edit out the injuries occurring they can't edit out the fact that by the end of the challenge there are suspiciously fewer female contestants remaining than there were to begin with.

Additionally, they're going to have to justify why the contestants started off so diverse in gender and age, only for the 1,000 who made it to the actual Amazon show predominantly being young and male, without it becoming clear that no one else had any chance. They can't introduce new contestants to re-diversify the cast, because 1,000 were promised by Amazon, 1,000 qualified, and people will complain if they try to fudge the numbers or cheat by introducing last-minute entries, which is especially bad now that he's currently under fire for allegedly faking and rigging competitions.

Jimmy also can't just not upload it at all, because then he'd have to explain that as well, and this is such a massive event people, both fans and detractors, are going to notice.

The more people know about it, the worse his situation becomes, because there's just no way out of it without inviting questions he doesn't want people to know the answers to.

While this is obviously too much to hope for in this timeline, in an ideal world enough people start talking about this that Amazon cancels his show due to the controversy - Jimmy has said Beast Games is intended to be his break into more traditional media, and I think it would be nice to shut that down.

[natsaffection]

Im glad i’m not the only one who saw 4ngel1v’s ai pics!! It just brewed up another idea! I told you it would be soon.

Think about Gp Nat as a beefy bodyguard and reader is like a famous singer or actor🤷‍♀️. And they didn’t meet on great terms, but reader ends up hiring nat and whatever it was between them grew. But thing is that they couldn't distinguish their tension from hate. One thing that reader could distinguish though, was Nats jealousy. SO LIKE A YKYK ENEMIES TO LOVERS BUT RLLY SLOW PROCESS TO LOVERS n smuttyy🤭

“What’s with the attitude, you weren’t as grumpy earlier?”

“Loosen up a little, it’s fine to be a risky once in a while, Natasha”

“You’re giving me a handjob at YOUR premiere. We’re thinking of two different versions of risky.”

-💋

I'm not going anywhere. | N.R

Bodyguard!Natasha x Younger!Actress!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! G!P Natasha, Age gap ( R is 22 and Nat is 32) Inappropriate behavior, so much teasing, kinda handjob, begging, rough sex, pet names, angst

Word Count: 9,5k

A/N: Okay, when this is posted I'll be driving 200 km/h on the highway for the next 36 hours. So I hope everything works out, because I don't have the chance to reply right now 🫶🏼🥸

Thank you my lovely anon, you served again 🌚 I really enjoyed writing this, even though I was very carried away

You were born and raised in a small, picturesque town in the heart of the countryside. Your parents, both teachers, instilled a love of learning and creativity in you from an early age. Your mother, an English teacher, often read you classic literature at bedtime, sparking a lifelong passion for storytelling. Your father, a drama teacher, introduced you to the world of theater and encouraged you to participate in school plays and local theater productions.

As a child, you were curious and imaginative, often inventing elaborate stories and characters in your head. You were very popular in your community for your kind heart and lively personality. Despite your small-town upbringing, you always dreamed of something bigger and longed for the excitement and opportunities that lay beyond the boundaries of your hometown.

At 16, your life took a decisive turn when you attended a summer acting camp. The camp was located in a bustling city, a stark contrast to your quiet hometown. There, you met aspiring actors, directors, and producers and for the first time, felt like you belonged. Your talent was quickly recognized by the camp leaders, who encouraged you to pursue a career in acting.

Upon returning home, you were more determined than ever to follow your dreams. You participated in every theater production you could to hone your craft and build a portfolio of diverse roles. Your parents, though initially concerned about the uncertainty of an acting career, wholeheartedly supported you and believed in your talent and dedication.

At 18, you moved to Los Angeles, the hub of the entertainment industry. The transition was daunting, you were a small-town girl in a sprawling, fast-paced city. You faced numerous rejections and challenges, working several part-time jobs to make ends meet while attending auditions and acting classes.

Your perseverance paid off when you landed a small role in an independent film. Though the role was minor, your performance caught the attention of a prominent casting director. Impressed by your natural talent and screen presence, the director recommended you for an audition for an upcoming blockbuster film from a major studio.

Nervous but excited, you gave your best at the audition. Weeks later, you received the life-changing news: you were cast in the lead role of the blockbuster film. The film was a huge success and catapulted you into the spotlight, making you an overnight sensation.

The sudden fame was overwhelming. You went from an anonymous aspiring actress to a celebrity constantly in the public eye. Paparazzi followed your every move, tabloids speculated about your private life, and fans demanded autographs and selfies everywhere you went. Although you were grateful for your success and the opportunities it brought, the lack of privacy and constant scrutiny were challenging.

Despite the challenges, you remained grounded, thanks to the support of your family and close friends. You continued to focus on your craft, taking on diverse roles to prove your versatility as an actress. You also used your platform to advocate for causes you believed in, earning you respect and admiration beyond your acting abilities

You are known for your down-to-earth personality and genuine kindness. You cherish your close circle of friends and often retreat to your hometown to escape the pressures of Hollywood and reconnect with your roots. Your parents remain your biggest supporters, proud of your achievements but always reminding you of the values they instilled in you.

In your free time, you enjoy reading, painting, and exploring new hobbies. You are a passionate traveler and find inspiration in the various cultures and stories you encounter. Despite your fame, you strive to lead a relatively normal life and appreciate the simple pleasures that keep you grounded.

4 years later.

The evening of the premiere was a whirlwind of flashing cameras, excited fans, and palpable excitement in the air. You, dressed in a stunning gown that perfectly captured your rising star status, had just finished a series of red carpet interviews. You felt a mix of excitement and nerves; this night was special not only because of the premiere of your new film but also because you were nominated for an award for another project. It could be the night you finally take home the coveted trophy.

As the event continued, you felt the familiar but inconvenient need to use the restroom. The premiere was in full swing, and you needed to be on stage soon. You made your way through the bustling crowd, your heels clicking on the polished marble floor of the grand theater.

Finally, you spotted the restroom sign and quickened your pace. But as you reached the door, you encountered an imposing figure: a tall, striking woman with piercing eyes and an aura of authority. Dressed in black, the woman stood guard in front of the restroom door, her stance rigid and alert.

"Excuse me, I need to use the restroom," you said, trying to maintain your polite demeanor despite the urgency of your situation.

The woman, whom you would later learn was Natasha Romanoff, did not move. "The restroom is occupied." Natasha replied sharply and unyieldingly. "Okay, surely there is a second stall..." you pleaded, glancing at the closed door behind Natasha.

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly. "You'll wait.“ Your patience was running thin. You were a rising star and not used to being dismissed so abruptly. "Come on, I need to go, please. This is really important."

Natasha's expression remained unmoved, her voice cold and professional. "I don't care where you need to go. My instruction is to ensure no one enters until it's clear. Now step back."

Frustration boiled within you. You couldn't believe this woman didn't recognize you, given the number of posters and billboards plastered with your face. "Listen, I understand you have a job to do, but so do I. And if I can't use the restroom right now, there will be a disaster."

Natasha smiled and leaned in slightly, "Then you'll have to hold it, sweetheart."

You were taken aback by the dismissive tone. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could say anything, the door behind Natasha opened, and another actress emerged, thanking Natasha for her vigilance. The actress’s eyes widened when she saw you.

"Oh my God, Y/N! Congratulations on the nomination, I loved your performance in the last film.“ the women gushed, clearly impressed. You forced a smile, still simmering with frustration. "Thank you. I'd love to chat, but I really need to use the restroom." The women looked at Natasha with a mix of surprise and something different. "Did you talked to her?“

Natasha's gaze remained unwavering and ignoring the question of the Women. „The restroom is free now." she said, stepping aside without acknowledging the women’s comment. You didn't waste a second and hurried past Natasha with a grateful nod. Inside the restroom, you took a moment to breathe, still fuming from the encounter but also somehow fascinated by the unyielding bodyguard.

When you emerged a few minutes later, you felt much calmer. Natasha was still there, like a sentinel. You couldn't help but feel a sense of challenge. You weren't used to being treated like an ordinary person, and part of you found Natasha's attitude both infuriating and refreshing. Without a word, you walked past Natasha, not giving her a second glance. As you walked away, you heard Natasha call after you: "Next time, plan better."

Your cheeks flushed with anger. You clenched your fists and kept walking, refusing to give Natasha the satisfaction of a response. The audacity of this woman! You couldn't believe how rude and dismissive she had been.

The energy in the grand theater was electric. The audience buzzed with excitement as the prestigious awards ceremony reached its climax. You, still feeling the irritation from the encounter with Natasha, took a deep breath as you awaited the announcement of the award. The presenter, a well-known acting veteran, took the stage and held the envelope containing the winner's name. "And the award for Best Actress goes to..." He paused for dramatic effect, letting the suspense build. "Y/N L/N!"

The room erupted in applause and cheers. Your heart raced as you stood up, your initial frustration forgotten in the wave of exhilaration. You moved gracefully to the stage, your gown sparkling under the bright lights. As you accepted the trophy, you couldn't help but smile at the outpouring of admiration and support from your peers and fans.

With the trophy in hand, you took a moment to collect your thoughts before beginning your speech. "Wow, this is incredible. I can hardly believe I'm standing here holding this award. First, I want to thank the cast and crew who made this film possible. You are all amazing, and I couldn't have done this without you."

As you continued your speech, your eyes wandered over the crowd, taking in the sea of faces. Then you saw her. Natasha. Despite the distance, Natasha's piercing gaze was unmistakable. Your smile faltered for a brief moment, but you quickly recovered. Natasha watched you intently, a slight smile on her lips. When your eyes met, Natasha winked.

The gesture, small but significant, sent a wave of annoyance through you. You could feel your cheeks heat up, not from embarrassment, but from the irritating coolness of the woman who had previously dismissed you so rudely. You continued your speech, trying to ignore the irritation under your calm facade.

"...And finally, I want to thank my family and friends for their unwavering support. You believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself. This award belongs to you as much as it does to me. Thank you all." With a final wave, you stepped off the stage, your mind racing. The applause followed you, but your thoughts were fixated on Natasha. It was infuriating.

Backstage, you were surrounded by well-wishers and photographers, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Natasha. You couldn't shake the feeling that your paths would cross again in a significant way..

A few days after the awards ceremony, your agent called you with concerning news. "Y/N, we need to talk about your safety for your tour. There have been some..incidents." You frowned, recalling the increasing number of intrusive paparazzi and overly enthusiastic fans. "What kind of incidents?"

"Threatening letters, suspicious individuals trying to get close to you. It's getting serious, and we think it's time for you to consider a professional bodyguard." You sighed. The idea of having a bodyguard felt like a double-edged sword. You valued your privacy, but recent events had made you feel vulnerable. "Alright, who do you have in mind?"

Your agent hesitated for a moment. "There's someone highly recommended, but she has a... unique style. Natasha Romanoff.“ Your eyes widened. "You must be joking."

"No? She's one of the best in the field. Her methods are unconventional, but she gets results. Given the current situation, I think she's the right person for the job, plus she’s available now.“ Your mind raced back to the Gala night, the unyielding stance, the cold demeanor, and that infuriating wink. But if Natasha was as good as they said, it might be worth a try. Reluctantly, you agreed.

The next morning, Natasha arrived punctually at the agreed time at your residence. Dressed in her usual black, she looked every bit the seasoned professional. You opened the door, your expression a mix of annoyance and curiosity. "So, we meet again." Natasha nodded, her face impassive. "Hello, sweetheart. Patience today?"

You crossed your arms and stood firm. "Just so we're clear, I don't need you to treat me like a child. I can take care of myself." Natasha's lips twitched into a barely perceptible smile. "Noted. But my job is to protect you, even if you don't like my methods." You felt a flicker of the same irritation you had experienced at the Gala. This was going to be an interesting arrangement, to say the least.

A few weeks after the charity gala, you attended a book signing event for one of your favorite authors. The bookstore was packed with fans and media, all eager to catch a glimpse of the rising star. Natasha, as always, was nearby, scanning the crowd for potential threats.

As you chatted with fans and signed autographs, you felt a growing unease. One particular fan, a middle-aged man, lingered closer than seemed appropriate. His intense gaze and the way he approached you made you uncomfortable.

"Hello, can I take a photo with you?" the man asked, his voice overly eager. You forced a polite smile. "Of course," you said, posing for a quick photo. As you tried to move on to the next fan, the man grabbed your arm.

"Wait, you looked so good in the last movie... your style and all..." he said, tightening his grip. Your smile faded, and you tried to pull your arm back. "Please let go."

The man's grip only tightened, and he began reaching into his pocket. Before you could react, Natasha stepped in. She moved with lightning speed, prying the man's hand off your arm and positioning herself between you.

"Step back." Natasha ordered, her voice cold and commanding. The man looked startled but did not move. "I just wanted to give her something!"

Natasha remained unmoved. "I said step back. Now." The intensity in Natasha's eyes and the firmness of her voice finally got through to the man. He stepped back and disappeared into the crowd. Your heart was racing, but you felt a wave of gratitude toward Natasha. "Thank you.." you said, your voice shaking. Natasha nodded, her eyes still scanning the crowd. "Time to go."

At home, you couldn't shake off the day's events. You sat on the couch, replaying the encounter in your mind. Natasha stood nearby, her stance as rigid as ever. "Are you okay?" Natasha asked, her voice softer than usual You nodded. "Yes, just... a bit shaken." Natasha sat across from you, her expression unreadable. "You handled it well. But you need to be more aware of your surroundings. Fans can be unpredictable." You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude. "I know. I just didn't expect that."

"That's why I'm here," Natasha said, her tone firm but not unkind. "To expect the unexpected and keep you safe." You looked at Natasha, seeing her in a new light. Despite the rocky start, you realized how much you had come to rely on Natasha's presence. "I appreciate it.“

Natasha gave a crooked smile, a rare expression on her otherwise stoic face. "Just doing my job, princess." You rolled your eyes at the nickname but couldn't suppress a small smile. "You're impossible, you know that?" Natasha's smile widened. "And you're stubborn. I think we make a good team."

In the following weeks, your relationship developed further. There were still plenty of tensions and your share of arguments, but a mutual respect began to grow. Natasha's relentless professionalism and your determination to live your life on your own terms created a dynamic that was both challenging and oddly comforting.

One evening, as you were preparing for another public appearance and saw the crowds you had to move through, you stood closer to Natasha, her presence calming you. Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips forming a teasing smile. "Careful, princess, it almost looks like you actually like me." You laughed and shook your head. "Don't push it, Romanoff. But, since you're here..." Natasha's smile softened a bit. "Anytime."

Despite the nicknames and teasing, there was an unspoken understanding between you both and you couldn't deny Natasha's skills and dedication. Natasha, for all her toughness, began to see the determination and drive behind your fame and youth that had brought you to this point. Slowly, you began to understand each other and formed an uneasy alliance.

Next up was another film premiere, where you were the guest of honor. The tension between you was palpable again, fueled by your contrasting personalities and constant proximity.

While you were getting ready, you felt Natasha's eyes on you, checking every detail. "You know, you don't have to watch me like a hawk." you said, your tone sharper than intended. Natasha leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "It's my job to watch you."

"I can take care of myself." you snapped, turning fully to face her. Natasha's eyes narrowed. "Really? Because from where I stand, you've been pretty naive about the dangers around you."

You felt stung by the implication. "Naive? Just because I'm younger doesn't mean I'm clueless. I've worked hard to get here, and I don't need you undermining me." Natasha pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer. "And I don't need you questioning my every move. You hired me to protect you, and that's what I'm doing. If you don't like my methods, find someone else."

You glared at her, frustration boiling within you. "Maybe I will! I can't stand you treating me like a burden." Natasha's jaw clenched, her eyes flashing with anger. "You think I enjoy this? Looking after a spoiled little girl who doesn't appreciate what I do?"

The words hurt more than you cared to admit, and tears sprang to your eyes. "I'm definitely not spoiled! You don't know anything about me! And you know what? You are i-impossible, Natasha! I've had enough of your condescending attitude."

Natasha took a deep breath, clearly trying to rein in her temper. "Fine. Maybe I'm impossible. But at least I'm doing my job. You want to fire me? Go ahead. But don't come to me when everything falls apart."

You refused to let your tears fall. But Natasha saw them. "You're so arrogant... Do you even care about anything other than your job?" For a moment, Natasha's eyes softened, and you thought you saw a hint of regret, but it was gone in an instant. "I care about keeping you alive, even if you don't see it."

You turned away, struggling to compose yourself. "Just leave me alone for a moment." Natasha gave a curt nod and walked out, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You felt a mix of anger and guilt, knowing that despite everything, Natasha was right. The world you lived in was dangerous, and you needed someone like her to protect you.

Later that evening, you stood on the balcony of your hotel room, staring at the city lights. The day's events played over in your mind, and you felt a pang of guilt for the harsh words you'd thrown at Natasha. You heard the door open and turned to see Natasha, her expression unreadable. "Can I join you?" Natasha asked, her voice surprisingly gentle. You nodded, and Natasha stepped onto the balcony, leaning against the railing next to you.

"I'm sorry," you said after a moment of silence. "For what I said earlier. I didn't mean it." Natasha glanced at you, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have called you naive... and a little girl." You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. "It's just... this whole situation is new to me, okay? I'm not used to someone constantly having to watch over me."

"I know," Natasha said quietly. "And I'm not used to working with someone so... spirited as you. But I'm here to protect you, Y/N. Whether you like it or not." You couldn't help but laugh. "Spirited, huh? That's one way to put it." Natasha's smile widened. "You're tough, I'll give you that. But you need to trust me."

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "I trust you. Even if you drive me crazy sometimes." Natasha chuckled. "The feeling is mutual, princess." You rolled your eyes at the nickname but couldn't suppress a smile. "Thank you, Natasha."

"Anytime," Natasha replied, her tone sincere. She looked at you, and before you could think too much about it, you turned and impulsively kissed Natasha on the lips. Natasha stiffened for a moment, then returned the kiss, her lips moving confidently against yours.

Your heart raced as you kissed Natasha, a surprising warmth flooding through you. As you pulled back slightly, you felt something firm press against your hip. Your eyes widened in surprise as you realized what it was. Natasha smirked, clearly noticing your reaction.

"Surprised?" Natasha asked, her voice deep and teasing. You nodded, still a bit stunned. "A little. I didn't see that coming.“ Natasha's smirk widened, a hint of pride in her eyes. "Well, I'm full of surprises."

You felt a blush creep over your cheeks, but you couldn't help but joke to cover your own nervousness. "Didn't know bodyguards got excited so easily." Natasha's eyes darkened with something more than just amusement. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "Only when it's worth it."

Your breath caught as Natasha's hand lightly traced over your back, sending shivers down your spine. Natasha's presence was overwhelming, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. Natasha leaned over you slightly, her lips brushing your ear. "You're playing a dangerous game, princess," she murmured, her voice husky with desire.

Your cheeks burned, and you felt a wave of excitement that both thrilled and embarrassed you. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Natasha straightened up, an amused glint in her eyes as she stepped back. "Get some rest," Natasha said, her voice returning to its usual calm tone. "You have a big day tomorrow."

With that, Natasha turned and walked back into the hotel room, leaving you standing on the balcony, your mind racing and your body buzzing with emotions. As you stood there, the cool night air brushing your skin, you knew that things between you and Natasha would never be the same again. When you lay down that night, replaying the memory of the kiss and Natasha's teasing words, you couldn't help but smile, your heart racing with excitement and curiosity about what the future would bring.

Your schedule had become a whirlwind of appearances, interviews, and fan interactions as you toured to promote your latest film. Everywhere you went, enthusiastic fans awaited you, clamoring for autographs and selfies. Natasha was always close by.

One afternoon, you were at a signing event in a busy city. The line of fans stretched around the block, and you took time with each person, chatting and taking photos. However, Natasha noticed a pattern: you were livelier and smiled brighter when interacting with your female fans. It was something you did unconsciously, but Natasha picked up on it.

During a break, Natasha couldn't resist commenting. "You really come alive around the ladies, don't you, princess?" she said, her tone teasing but with a hint of something else. You raised an eyebrow, noting the subtle undertone in Natasha's voice. "What's that supposed to mean?" Natasha shrugged, a smirking smile on her lips. "Just an observation. You seem to enjoy their company more."

You felt a spark of defiance. Remembering the balcony scene and Natasha's teasing nature, you decided to push it further. If Natasha wanted to tease you, you'd give her a taste of her own medicine. "Maybe I do," you said, your tone playful. "Is that a problem?" Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly, but she maintained her cool demeanor. "Not at all. Just interesting to watch."

You decided to take it up a notch. For the rest of the event, you made an extra effort to be even more attentive with your female fans. You laughed louder, leaned in closer for photos, and gave their conversations more attention. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha watching, her jaw tensing slightly.

You found it immensely amusing. You liked seeing the usually unflappable Natasha show a bit of emotion, especially jealousy. It gave you a sense of power in your otherwise tense dynamic.

Later that evening, you returned to the hotel. You were in high spirits, still buoyed by the interactions of the day and the success of your plan to annoy Natasha. As you entered the hotel suite, Natasha finally spoke. "You really enjoyed today, didn't you?“ You turned to her, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, I did. It was a lot of fun. Especially to see how you lose your composure"

Natasha's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and something deeper. "My composure? I have not lost my composure." You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a teasing whisper. "Sure looked like it to me." Natasha's gaze hardened, but there was no denying the hint of jealousy there. "Careful, Y/N."

You felt a thrill at the challenge in Natasha's voice. "Nope." Natasha stepped closer, the tension between you crackling like electricity. "You're testing my patience." You smiled, enjoying the power you held in this moment. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Natasha's eyes darkened with desire, and she stepped closer, her body only inches from yours. "Do you really want to know?" Your heart pounded in your chest, the air between you thick with tension. "Maybe I do.“ Natasha leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "Don't forget who you're playing with, princess. I don't give in easily."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you refused to back down. "Good. Neither do I." Natasha's smile widened, and for a moment, you thought she would kiss you again. But when Natasha turned and walked away, you couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and excitement. You had pushed Natasha's buttons and gotten a reaction, but you knew that this game you were playing was far from over.

In the following days, you continued to tease Natasha, finding new ways to provoke her jealousy. You found it incredibly amusing to see the normally composed bodyguard show signs of possessiveness. And despite the tension, there was an undeniable thrill in your interactions. Natasha seemed to enjoy the challenge as well. She never backed down and always met your provocations with her own brand of teasing and intensity. Your relationship was a constant back-and-forth, filled with playful banter and underlying desire.

The evening of the final premiere had arrived, and you were in your hotel suite, getting ready for the event. Your hair and makeup team were putting the finishing touches on your look, ensuring every detail was perfect. You wore a stunning dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, the shimmering fabric catching the light beautifully. You looked every bit the star you were, ready to captivate the crowd and cameras.

As you admired your reflection in the mirror, the door to your suite opened. Natasha walked in, looking as composed and confident as ever. She wore her usual black ensemble but had her jacket casually slung over her shoulder, and her blouse was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of her toned chest. The sight made your heart skip a beat, and you hated yourself for finding Natasha so attractive.

Natasha's eyes scanned over you appreciatively, a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, don't you look like a million dollars tonight." You rolled your eyes and tried to hide your blush. "Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself."

Natasha chuckled and stepped closer. "You really know how to turn heads, princess. Try not to cause too many heart attacks out there." You felt a mix of irritation and something warmer, more exciting. "I'll do my best." you said, your tone half teasing, half serious. Natasha's smile widened. "Remember, I'm here to protect you. Can't have you distracting me too much." You laughed and shook your head. "I'll try not to be too much of a distraction."

Natasha's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded. "Good. Ready to go?" You took a deep breath and cast one last look in the mirror. "Ready."

The red carpet was a flurry of activity, with flashing cameras and cheering fans. You moved gracefully through the crowd, stopping for interviews and photos. Natasha was always nearby, her eyes scanning the surroundings for potential threats. Despite the busy environment, your mind was elsewhere. You had been thinking about the ongoing game with Natasha, the back-and-forth of your interactions, and the growing tension between you. Tonight, you decided, you would take it a step further.

As you entered the theater for the premiere, you could feel the electricity in the air. You excused yourself from the group of people you were with and moved to a quieter part of the lobby. Natasha followed you, her vigilant eyes missing nothing. "Everything okay?" Natasha asked, her tone professional but with a hint of curiosity. You turned to her, a playful glint in your eyes. "Oh, I just needed a moment. It's so hectic out there."

Natasha nodded, her stance relaxed but alert. "You should have thought of that before." You stepped closer, your hand lightly brushing Natasha's arm. "You weren't so grumpy earlier. What's with the attitude now?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. "I'm not grumpy. I'm just doing my job." You smiled, your hand sliding down to Natasha's waist, your fingers tracing the edge of her pants. “Loosen up a little, it’s fine to be a risky once in a while, Natasha.”

Natasha's eyes darkened with desire as she realized your intentions. "You're giving me a handjob at your premiere. We're thinking of two different versions of risk." You leaned in, your breath warm against Natasha's ear. "Maybe I like my version better." Your hand moved bolder, stroking over the bulge in Natasha's pants. Natasha gasped, but quickly placed her hand over yours to stop your movements. Her grip was firm, and a smirking smile played on her lips as she leaned closer, her voice a soft, seductive whisper.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Natasha murmured, her breath hot against your ear. "If you keep this up, I'll have you on your knees, begging for more. I'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight for a week." Your heart raced at Natasha's words, a shiver running down your spine. You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness, your breath hitching.

Natasha stepped back slightly, her eyes meeting yours. "You have no idea what you're getting into, princess." You tried to regain your composure. "Then show me." Natasha's smile turned dangerous and seductive. "Not here. Not now."

Your heart raced, your mind buzzing with anticipation. You stepped back slightly, your eyes meeting Natasha's. "When then?" Natasha's smile was dangerous and seductive. "You'll see." You felt a thrill run through you. You had challenged Natasha, and now you were ready for whatever came next. As you returned to the premiere, the tension between you was palpable, an unspoken promise of things to come.

The premiere went smoothly, but your and Natasha's thoughts were elsewhere. The silent promise you had exchanged hung between you, intensifying every glance, every touch. As the event came to an end, you felt both excited and nervous about what would happen next. Natasha's presence, as always, was a calming force, but now it was charged with a new kind of tension.

As you finally returned to the hotel, you couldn't resist teasing Natasha one last time. "So, what's next, bodyguard? Do you still think I'm playing a dangerous game?" Natasha's eyes were dark with promise as she stepped closer. "Oh, princess, the game has only just begun." You felt a shiver of excitement. "Good. I wouldn't want it any other way."

You turned to head to your room, thinking you had the upper hand. But before you could take more than a few steps, Natasha grabbed your arm and effortlessly swung you over her shoulder. You gasped in surprise as Natasha carried you into the bedroom.

"Natasha! W-What are you doing!?" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of shock and excitement. Natasha didn't answer immediately. Instead, she gave you a quick, firm smack on your butt, making you gasp. "You wanted to play games, princess. Now it's my turn." Your heart raced as Natasha carried you into the bedroom and tossed you onto the bed. Natasha stood at the foot of the bed, removing her jacket and unbuttoning her blouse with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving yours.

"You've been teasing me all night," Natasha said, her voice deep and commanding. "Now it's time to show you what happens when you play with fire." You felt a wave of heat wash over you as you watched Natasha undress. You bit your lip, your breath catching in anticipation.

Natasha climbed onto the bed, her movements predatory and deliberate. She leaned over you, her hands pinning your wrists above your head as she kissed you deeply and possessively. You responded eagerly, your body arching into Natasha's. She broke the kiss, her lips brushing your ear. "You belong to me tonight, princess. And I'm going to make sure you remember it."

Your faces were only inches apart, and you could feel Natasha's breath on your skin. The tension between you crackled like electricity, a mix of anger and desire. Your teasing had always been a game to provoke Natasha, but now, faced with the intensity of Natasha's gaze, you realized how far you had pushed her.

"You drive me crazy, Y/N," Natasha whispered, her voice rough. "Now it's my turn." Your heart skipped a beat, your body trembling with anticipation. "Then don't hold back, please.." you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. Natasha's smile widened, and she leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "Oh, I don't plan to."

Natasha's lips crashed onto yours, the kiss fierce and demanding. You responded eagerly, your body arching into Natasha's, your skin tingling with the intensity of the moment. Natasha's hands moved purposefully, one sliding down your side, her fingertips tracing the hem of your dress before slipping underneath.

You gasped into the kiss as Natasha's fingers drew patterns on your skin, sending waves of pleasure through you. You had never experienced such a touch, so firm, so assured. It was as if Natasha knew exactly how to unravel you. "Natasha.." you breathed, your voice trembling with desire. "Please..." Natasha pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her gaze fierce and intense. "Oh, I like that. Please what?" she demanded, her tone commanding.

"Please... more.." you begged, your body aching for Natasha's touch. A satisfied smile spread across Natasha’s face as she obliged, her fingers finding their way to your most sensitive spots, drawing moans and gasps from you that filled the room. Your world narrowed to the sensation of Natasha's touch, your body responding with an intensity you had never known.

Natasha's hands moved expertly, teasing and pleasing you until you trembled with desire. Just as you thought you couldn't take anymore, Natasha pulled back slightly, her gaze dark and full of promise. "You're not ready for what's coming next," Natasha said, her voice deep and husky. She stood up, her movements intentionally slow, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

You watched with wide eyes as Natasha unbuckled her belt, your gaze following her every move. As Natasha's pants fell to the floor, you caught your breath. There, proud and ready, was Natasha's member. Natasha reached into her pocket and pulled out a condom, rolling it on with practiced ease.

"You were prepared," you teased, your voice breathless. "Did you know the night would end like this?" Natasha gave you a sly smile. "I had a feeling. And by the end of the night, you won't have that attitude anymore."

Your body responded to Natasha's words, a mix of excitement and anticipation coursing through you. Natasha climbed back onto the bed, positioning herself between your legs. She leaned in to capture your lips in another searing kiss, her hands roaming over your body, stoking the flames of desire even higher.

As Natasha slowly entered you, you gasped at the sensation, your body arching into hers. The feeling was unlike anything you had ever experienced, a perfect blend of pleasure and connection. Natasha moved with a careful rhythm, watching your reactions to ensure every movement brought you joy. "Do you like that?" Natasha whispered, her voice deep and rough. "Do you like feeling me inside you?"

"Y-Yes, oh God, yes.." you moaned, your hands clutching at Natasha's back, your nails digging into her skin as waves of pleasure washed over you. "Good," Natasha growled, increasing her pace slightly. "Because I'm not stopping until you've learned your lesson." Your breath grew heavy, your moans louder with each thrust. Natasha's lips found your neck, kissing you, making you tremble. Natasha's hand slipped between you, her fingers brushing over your clit in teasing, light touches.

"Natasha!" you gasped, your body jolting at the sudden rush of pleasure. "Please, stop..."

"Just a taste of your own medicine," Natasha murmured, her voice a husky whisper against your skin. She kept her slow, torturous rhythm, her fingers lightly dancing over your sensitive spot, driving you wild with desire. Your frustration mingled with your arousal, the teasing making you desperate. "Please, Natasha... I need more.." you begged, your voice trembling.

Natasha's smile deepened, savoring your pleading. "You need to learn that actions have consequences," she said, her pace increasing, each thrust deeper and harder. "Is this what you wanted, Y/N? To be dominated, made to beg?"

"Yes, yes!" you whimpered, your body arching, seeking more. "Please, Natasha, I need you..“ Seeing your desperation, Natasha finally relented. She increased her pace, her thrusts becoming rougher, harder. Her fingers pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing in perfect rhythm with her movements. "You feel so good," Natasha groaned, her own arousal evident in her voice. "So tight around me. You love being fucked like this, don't you?"

„God.." you cried, your body shaking with the intensity of your pleasure. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

"I'm not," Natasha promised, her voice rough with desire. She began slowly, her thrusts gentle and deliberate, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation. Each movement was measured, designed to build the pleasure slowly. Her fingers pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing in perfect rhythm with her movements. "You feel so good," Natasha groaned, her own arousal evident in her voice. "So tight around me. I told you how it would end."

"Oh God!" you cried, your body shaking with the intensity of your pleasure. "Don't stop, please don't stop..“ Natasha's breath came heavy, her movements becoming more urgent. "You're going to take everything I give you," she growled. "And you're going to love it." Natasha's eyes burned with a mix of desire and something deeper. "Turn around," she commanded, her voice rough. "I want to take you from behind."

You complied, your body trembling with anticipation. Natasha positioned herself behind you, her hands gripping your hips firmly. With one swift motion, Natasha entered you again, the new angle sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body. "God, you feel so good," Natasha groaned, her pace rough and relentless. "Do you like this, Y/N? Do you like being fucked like this?"

"Yes, Natasha, y-yees.." you cried, your body pushing back against each thrust. "Harder, please, harder..“ Natasha's grunts filled the room, her movements becoming more powerful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. "Fuck, what would your fans say if they saw you like this?" she growled.

Your world was a whirl of sensations, your body burning with pleasure. "Please, please, please!" you gasped, your voice breaking with need. "Please, I'm so close.."

Natasha's hands slid to your shoulders, pulling you back with each thrust, her pace unrelenting. "I want to see your face when you come," Natasha demanded, her voice rough. You turned, your eyes meeting Natasha's intense gaze. Natasha didn't break the connection, her thrusts deep and powerful, her eyes locked on yours. "You're so beautiful," Natasha murmured, her voice filled with raw emotion. "Come for me, Y/N. I want to see you come."

Your body obeyed, the intensity of Natasha's gaze and the power of her movements driving you over the edge. You called out Natasha's name, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm, your eyes never leaving Natasha's. She followed you, her own orgasm hitting her hard, her body tensing with the release. She held you close, your bodies entwined, the intensity of your connection overwhelming.

When it was over, Natasha collapsed beside you, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. You looked up at Natasha, your eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper. "That was... incredible," you whispered, your voice shaking. Natasha smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You're incredible," she replied softly, her touch now tender, filled with affection.

You snuggled into Natasha's embrace, feeling safe. You had challenged Natasha, teased her, but now you understood the depth of it and the passion that lay beneath your banter. It was a night you would indeed never forget.

The next morning, the sunlight filtered gently through the curtains of your hotel room, casting a warm glow across the bed. You stirred slowly, a pleasant ache in your muscles reminding you of the intense connection you had shared with Natasha the previous night. A contented smile spread across your face as you replayed the events in your mind. The way Natasha had made you feel cherished and desired was unlike anything you had experienced before.

As you stretched lazily, you noticed Natasha already up and moving around the room, her movements efficient and purposeful as she dressed in her black uniform. Still feeling the warmth of the night, you sat up and instinctively pulled the blanket around you.

Natasha caught sight of your movement and smirked. "You don't have to hide under the blanket, princess," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I've already seen everything." You felt a blush rise to your cheeks but managed a small smile. "Force of habit, I guess." Natasha chuckled softly and walked over to the bed, sitting down beside you. She reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "How are you feeling?"

You leaned into her touch, savoring the intimacy. "Good. Better than good, actually." Natasha's smile softened, and she pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "Good. We've got a busy day ahead. Remember, it's the final interview for the film today." You nodded, the reality of the day settling in. "Right. The last interview." Natasha's eyes searched yours, a hint of concern flickering in them. "Are you ready for it?"

You sighed, feeling a pang of anxiety. "I think so. Just... nervous, I guess." Natasha squeezed your hand reassuringly. "You'll do great. And I'll be right there with you."

As Natasha continued getting ready, you reached for your phone on the nightstand. Unlocking it, you saw a barrage of notifications. Among the messages was one from a close friend, marked urgent. Curiosity piqued, you opened the message thread.

The message read: "Y/N, have you seen these articles? Be careful with Natasha Romanoff. She's got a reputation." Attached were several links to articles and gossip columns detailing Natasha's past relationships, her numerous one-night stands, and her professional life as a bodyguard. The headlines screamed warnings about her dangerous allure and the trail of broken hearts she had left behind.

Your heart sank as you scrolled through the articles, each one chipping away at the happiness you had felt just moments before. The friend’s message continued: "I just don't want to see you get hurt. She might be good at her job, but she's also known for not sticking around."

Natasha's teasing smile from this morning flashed in your mind: "You don't have to hide under the blanket, princess. I've already seen everything." What if you were just another conquest for her? The memory of her passionate words from last night seemed suddenly tainted "You belong to me tonight, princess. And I'm going to make sure you remember it."

Natasha noticed the shift in your expression and the way you had gone quiet, your eyes glued to your phone. "Y/N, is everything okay?" she asked, concern lacing her voice. You quickly locked your phone and forced a smile. "Yeah, just... some messages." But the seed of doubt had been planted. Despite your efforts to focus, the words from the articles lingered in your mind. Was last night just another notch on Natasha's belt?

As you got ready, Natasha left you alone for a moment to gather your thoughts. The anxiety gnawed at you, turning the warmth you had felt into a cold pit in your stomach.

The day passed in a blur of preparations and travel to the interview location. Your mind kept drifting back to the articles, the warnings, the doubt. By the time you arrived at the studio, the unease had settled deep within you.

When the time for the interview finally arrived, you found yourself sitting in a brightly lit studio, facing a well-known interviewer. The cameras rolled, and the interview began. You tried to concentrate, but your mind kept wandering, haunted by the headlines and Natasha's reputation. "So, Y/N, this film has been a huge success. How has the journey been for you?" You forced a smile, trying to gather your thoughts. "It's been incredible. The cast and crew were amazing, and I learned so much."

But even as you spoke, you couldn't shake the memory of Natasha's voice from last night"Do you like feeling me inside you?"

"Can you share any particularly memorable moments from the set?" You hesitated, your mind momentarily blank. "Uh, there were so many great moments. I think... the camaraderie we shared off-camera was really special."

Natasha's teasing smile from this morning flashed in your mind "You don't have to hide under the blanket, princess. I've already seen everything."

"What are your plans after this film? Any new projects in the pipeline?" You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. "I'm exploring a few options, but nothing's set in stone yet."

Natasha's concern earlier replayed in your mind "Are you ready for it?" The interview continued, but your responses grew increasingly mechanical. Natasha, standing just off-camera, noticed the shift in your demeanor. Her brow furrowed with concern as she watched you, sensing something was wrong. She began to worry that she had overstepped last night, that perhaps she had pushed you too far.

When the interview finally concluded, you left the studio feeling drained and unsettled. Natasha was by your side immediately, her eyes filled with worry. "Y/N, what's wrong?" Natasha asked, her voice gentle yet urgent. "Did something happen during the interview?"

You shook your head, avoiding her gaze. "No, it's not that. I just... need some space right now." Natasha's heart clenched at your words. She followed you silently back to the hotel, the worry gnawing at her. Had she misread the signals? Had she taken things too far last night? The thought of having hurt you in any way made her feel sick.

Back in the hotel room, you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Natasha hovered nearby, her concern evident "Y/N, please talk to me," Natasha said softly. "I can't help if I don't know what's wrong." You took a deep breath, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm.. scared, Natasha..“

Natasha's heart ached at the vulnerability in your voice. She stepped closer, her hand gently cupping your cheek. "Scared of what? Talk to me, please." You finally met her gaze, the tears spilling over. "I'm scared that last night... that it was just a one-time thing for you. That you only wanted me for my body."

Natasha's eyes widened in shock, and she immediately knelt in front of you, taking your hands in hers. "W-What?“ You reluctantly lifted your gaze to hers, seeing the sincerity and depth of her feelings reflected in her eyes. "Last night was not just a one-time thing for me," Natasha said firmly. "I didn't just want you for your body. You mean so much more to me than that."

You searched her eyes, your voice trembling. "But what if... what if this changes things between us? What if it's just a fling?" Natasha shook her head, her grip on your hands gentle but steady. "It won't be. Because I care about you, Y/N. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time. Last night meant everything to me, and I don't want it to end there." Tears flowed freely now, and Natasha wiped them away with her thumbs, her gaze never leaving yours.

"But what about all these articles and rumors about you?" you asked, the fear and doubt still lingering in your voice. "They say you've had so many one-night stands and relationships that didn't last. How do I know I'm not just another one?" Natasha sighed deeply, her expression turning serious. "Do you remember the actress you met at the restroom at the Gala?" You nodded, recalling the striking woman who had seemed so authoritative.

"Her name is Jessica," Natasha continued. "We were in a relationship a few month ago. It was toxic and manipulative. When I finally managed to leave her, she was furious. She threatened to ruin my reputation if I ever left her." Natasha pulled out her phone and showed you a message thread. "Here, look at this." She scrolled to a particular message and handed you the phone. The message read:

"If you leave, I will destroy your life, your reputation, everything, Natasha. No one will ever trust you again."

You felt a chill run down your spine as you read the words. Natasha's voice was steady but filled with pain. "She's the one who started those rumors and spread the articles. I'm already taking legal action against her, but these things take time."

You looked up at Natasha, seeing the sincerity and anguish in her eyes. "I had no idea..." Natasha cupped your face gently. "I would never use you, Y/N. What we have is real, and I want to protect it. Protect you. Please believe me."

You searched her eyes, feeling the sincerity in her words. "But how can I be sure?" Natasha's grip on your hands tightened, her gaze unwavering. "Because I'm standing here, telling you this. I'm not going anywhere, Y/N. I want to be with you, not just for a night, but for as long as you'll have me."

You felt a flood of relief and emotion wash over you. "I want that too, Natasha. I just... I needed to know." Natasha pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." You clung to her, feeling the warmth and strength of her presence. The fear and doubt that had plagued you melted away in the face of Natasha's unwavering support.

As the day continued, you felt a renewed sense of connection and understanding with Natasha. The bond between you had deepened, forged through honesty and vulnerability. With the whirlwind of your film promotion tour finally over, you felt a mix of relief and excitement as you arrived back at your home. For the first time in months, you had some well-deserved time off. Natasha, your steadfast bodyguard, was right by your side as you walked through the front door of your cozy house.

"Home sweet home.." you sighed, dropping your bags and stretching your arms. The familiar surroundings brought a sense of peace that you had missed during your hectic schedule.

Natasha smiled, leaning against the doorway. "It's nice to see you relax." You turned to her, a question lingering in your mind. "So, what happens now? Do you move on to another client with a tour or something?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Actually, I took some time off too."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really? You took time off to stay here?" Natasha nodded, stepping closer. "Yes, I wanted to spend more time with you. I meant what I said a few days ago, Y/N."

A wave of warmth and happiness washed over you. "You really do care," you whispered, feeling your heart swell with affection. Natasha cupped your face gently, her eyes soft and sincere. "I care a lot, and I want to make the most of this time we have together."

The next few days were blissful. You and Natasha spent time just enjoying each other's company, something you hadn't been able to do during the tour. The bond between you grew stronger, built on trust and genuine affection. One lazy afternoon, as you lounged on the couch together, you started discussing potential vacation destinations. "We should go somewhere special," you suggested, scrolling through various travel websites on your laptop. "How about a trip to a secluded beach resort? Just the two of us."

Natasha leaned in, looking at the screen. "That sounds perfect." You found a beautiful resort that offered private bungalows by the ocean and various activities for couples. "This one looks amazing," you said excitedly. "Let me book it."

Before you could click the "book now" button, the doorbell rings, "Food is here!" You sprint over and meanwhile Natasha took the laptop and made the booking. When you come back with two pizza boxes, you pouted playfully. "Hey! I wanted to pay for it!“ Natasha chuckled, pulling you into her arms. "I know, but I wanted to do this for us." You gave her a mock glare. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Natasha silenced you with a gentle kiss, her lips soft and tender against yours. "Shush," she whispered against your lips. "Let me take care of you for once." You melted into her embrace, feeling the love and care she poured into every touch and kiss. "Okay," you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips. "I guess I can let you spoil me this time."

The anticipation of your upcoming trip added an extra layer of excitement to your days. You spent your time planning activities and daydreaming about the sun, sand, and sea. The more you got to know Natasha in this relaxed setting, the more you realized how deeply you felt for her. As the departure date for your vacation approached, you and Natasha packed your bags with a mix of excitement and eagerness. The thought of being in a beautiful, secluded place with her made your heart race.

Finally, the day arrived, and you both boarded the plane to your dream destination. The flight was smooth, filled with laughter and light conversations about the adventures you planned to have. Upon landing, you were greeted with warm ocean breezes and the sound of waves crashing on the shore.

Your bungalow was even more beautiful than the pictures, nestled right on the beach with a stunning view of the turquoise waters. As you stepped inside, you felt a sense of tranquility wash over you. "This is perfect," you sighed, looking out at the ocean from the large windows. Natasha wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. "It really is. I'm glad we're here together."

You turned in her arms, looking up at her with a smile. "Me too. Thank you for everything, Natasha." She leaned down and kissed you softly. "Anything for you, Princess." The days that followed were filled with pure bliss. You and Natasha spent your time exploring the beach, swimming in the crystal-clear waters, and enjoying romantic dinners under the stars. Each moment felt like a precious gift, strengthening the bond you shared.

[mismatched-sockss]

Follow my lead

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader » Word count: 5,8k (help, i got a little carried away..) » Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI, squint and you'll miss the plot, established relationship, reader hasn't been able to orgasm from masturbation alone, mentions of using sex toys to cum (f), guided masturbation, masturbation (f and m), praising / praise kink, dirty talk, unintentional edging (f), voyerism, multiple orgasms, some begging, a lot of check ins, unprotected p in v, creampie, i think this already counts as (soft)dom!Spencer, pet names (good girl for reader, baby, love) » A/N: and here we have my first entry for the bingo! it's my first time participating in a bigger challenge, i can't tell you all how excited i am about this whole thing. don't ask me what happend here, i was shocked when i checked the word count... also, this is the first time writing smut again after years, so bare with me please. hope you enjoy!

⚶ bingo masterlist | masterlist ⚶

“Never?”

“Never. I don't know, it just doesn't do it for me.”

“But you are- I mean, when”, Spencer mumbled, waving his hands around and pointing at you then him, back and forth a couple of times. “When we-”, he trailed off, his cheeks blushing as he got shy and a bit insecure.

“Oh? No”, you started but when his eyes slightly widened you realized it came out wrong. You stepped closer to him and took his hands in yours, softly squeezing them as you looked up at him with a reassuring smile. “Yes, it works when we are sleeping with each other. You do make me cum.” He huffed out a small laugh and blushed a bit more, but the insecurity that had bubbled up was leaving him again.

You pulled him in to you and placed his hands on your waist, then leaned against him and rested your chin against his chest, looking up at him. Shrugging, you wrapped your arms around his mid. “I just can't finish from only touching myself. Not without using toys that require batteries at least.”

Spencer softly squeezed your waist and started drawing circles with his thumbs. He slightly squinted his eyes and nodded his head a couple of times in thought; you could practically hear the gears turning as an idea formed in his mind. You raised your chin. “What?”

“Show me.”

“Huh? Show you? You mean, you...”, you trailed off. Now it was your turn to get shy, the heat rising up in your body, creeping higher until your face grew hot. “You want to watch me.. masturbate?”

Spencer nodded, one side of his lips turned up in a teasing half smile. “Yes. You said I make you cum, so there must be something I'm doing right.” Both of you chuckled at that. “You could show me how you touch yourself and I could talk you through it. If you'd like to try, I mean.”

Subconsciously you pressed you thighs together, which Spencer didn't miss. You licked over your bottom lip, then pulled it between your teeth as you thought about what he was saying. Spencer's eyes followed the motion as he was studying your face, studying your reaction to his proposition.

The thought alone made your heart beat faster and it ignited a raging fire in you. The thought of his eyes watching closely as you lie before him, legs spread and with your hands between your thighs. His voice and words guiding and aiding your pleasure, telling you what to do and how to do it...

Your breath hitched and you swallowed hard. He raised one of his hands to cup your cheek, his thumb softly brushed over the corner of your mouth. “Is that a yes?”, he asked, his voice low. Spencer already knew the answer just by watching your reaction, but wanted you to say it out loud. His other hand sneaked under your shirt, his fingertips caressing your skin on their way higher and higher until he stopped at your ribs.

If he would give you a second, just one second without him touching or teasing you in some way, you would be able to form a sentence and answer with more than a nod. As if he had read your mind, Spencer slightly pulled back, giving you space to breathe and without his hands on you.

And even though this was what you had wanted a few seconds ago so you could properly answer him, you immediately missed his touch and a whine escaped you. He just chuckled and raised an eyebrow, encouraging you to speak, still waiting for an answer.

“Okay. Yes”, you breathed out and nodded, “wanna do it.” A desperate plea still on your tongue, he cupped your cheeks and pressed his lips to yours.

You sighed against his mouth, your lips parting. Spencer deepened the kiss and both of you moaned when your tongues met. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hands slide down over your neck and collarbones, over your chest where he was careful not to touch your nipples through the fabric and down to your sides, where he pushed them back under the hem of your shirt, slowly making his way up..

The kiss only broke for a moment when he pulled your shirt over your head, his lips instantly reattaching to yours and his hands back on you, now able to roam freely over your skin without any restrictions. You slid your own hands over his chest and started to unbutton his dress shirt. You just undid the last button when you gasped and bunched up the material in your hands; Spencer slowly slid one of his hands under the hem of your panties and groaned against your lips when he felt how wet you were.

His finger slid through your folds, teasing at your entrance before he drew slow and gentle circles on your clit. When your breath hitched and you began to grind your hips against his hand, he stopped and pulled his hand out of your pants

“Nuh-uh, the deal was for you to make yourself cum; with your own hands”, he taunted, as if he hadn't started this himself just now. He lifted your chin and pressed a kiss to your lips. When he leaned back you tried to chase his lips, whining when he left you hanging and took a step back, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders as he did so. Then he took another step. And another. “Take the rest of your clothes off.”

The buckle of his belt rattled as Spencer opened it, your eyes followed his hands. You watched him pull it out of the loops and drop it to the floor next to him before he unbuttoned his pants – but kept them on – and sat down in the armchair. His eyes never left you, following each of your moves. You hooked your thumbs into the hem of your pants and underwear and pulled them down, letting them pool around your ankles.

“Sit down, spread your legs and put your hands on your knees.”

You stepped out of the pile of fabric and kicked them to the side, right onto the rest of your discarded clothes, then you did as he told you and sat down across from him on the sofa, slowly opening your legs.

Being naked in front of Spencer was one thing, but this? It was a totally new feeling for you; a different – a special – kind of vulnerability you had never experienced before, not with him, not with anybody.

You felt like your skin was on fire, inch after inch getting ignited as Spencer's eyes wandered over your naked body, lingering here and there for a moment; on your bottom lip when you licked over it and pulled it between your teeth, the swell of your breasts and your hardening nipples, down over your soft stomach to your glistening pussy, already wet from his teasing, and your hands loosely resting on your knees.

“Like that. Good girl.”

This wasn't the first time he called you a 'good girl', but today... Fuck... A shiver ran down your back and you were barely able to hold back a whimper, the ache in your core getting stronger and you felt yourself clench around nothing. God, you wanted to feel him deep inside you; tongue, fingers, cock. What ever you could get. What ever he would give you. Your hands shook in anticipation and you felt yourself getting wetter and needier.

Spencer's eyes darkened when he saw your intense reaction to the praise and his jaw went slack for a moment before he fixed his gaze back on your face, trying to gain back some composure. His hands held a tight grip on the armrests, his knuckles almost white, as if he had to physically hold himself back from just getting up and ravaging you right then and there.

You loved the effect you had on him, that just seeing you drove him crazy. It made you feel powerful.

He took a deep breath in through his nose and slowly breathed out, calming himself down. His grip on the armrests loosened then and he leaned back. “I want you to start by moving your hands over your thighs”, he instructed, his voice low and raspy. “Slowly.”

Without having to think about it you followed his words and let your hands glide over your soft skin with a gentle pressure; from your knees over the outsides of your thighs until you reached your hips, then you moved them up to slide them back down to your knees again.

“You can touch your inner thighs as well, but don't touch your pussy yet.”

You nodded and took a shaky breath. The insides of your thighs were more sensitive and you shuddered as you got closer and closer to your core and a soft moan escaped your lips. Even though Spencer told you not to, you wanted nothing more than to play with your clit or slide two of your fingers inside, thrusting them in and out.

And when he moved his hand to his bulge, palming himself as he watched you, you thought that maybe, he would let you do it. He didn't give you permission and you didn't ask, but you didn't stop moving your hands further up. But when your fingertips got too close to your folds, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“Sorry”, you mumbled breathless and pulled your hands back. You slid them back down, closer to your knees, and grabbed your thighs.

“'s okay, baby.” Then Spencer chuckled. “And you can sit more comfortably if you want, by the way. You don't have to sit up with a straight back.”

You pouted with a smile on your lips as you looked beside you and grabbed a pillow to put it behind your back. “I knew that.” You leaned back, testing if the pillow was in a good position and when you where satisfied with the placement you scooted back some more and fully rested your body against it.

“Anything you feel like doing right now?”, Spencer asked. You opened your mouth, but before you could say anything he added with a smirk: “Except for touching your pussy.”

You grinned at him. “What about for you to fuck me?” But he just shook his head, chuckling.

“Patience, love.”

Well, it was still worth a try. You held back the disappointed and needy whine that wanted to come out and for a moment you tried to think about it, you really did. But you made the mistake to look down his torso and Spencer's hand was just too damn distracting. He was still palming himself over his pants, softly squeezing from time to time. And while he was waiting for your answer, he lazily stroked his thumb back and forth over his clothed shaft.

The words came out choked and barely audible when you finally forced yourself to answer, your fingers digging hard in to your flesh. “Don't know...”

“First thing that comes to mind.” His voice was lazed with amusement; Spencer was enjoying this so much and he knew exactly what he was doing to you right now. His tongue darted out to lick over his lip and the softly bit down in the tip.

After a deep breath you made yourself look at his face and softened the grip you had on your thighs. “Maybe... touch my breasts? My nipples?”

He smiled softly. “No wrong answers here.” With a tilt of his head he raised his chin as confirmation. “Go ahead. Keep your hands on your body.”

With a tender touch your moved your hands up your body, softly caressing your skin, up to your tits and cupped them with your hands.

“Gently massage them, play with your nipples.”

You gasped when you followed his instructions and rolled your hard nipples between your fingers, the sensation shooting waves of pleasure down to your core. With every flick and twist you grew needier. Impatient.

"Feels good?", he asked breathy, his voice shaking a bit when he moved his hand faster and with more pressure over his cock.

"Not as good as when you do it”, you whined.

Spencer chuckled again; his tone teasing. "Want me to touch you?"

You nodded your head eagerly, your back slightly arching into your hands. "Mh-hm, please."

"Wanna see you make yourself cum first, okay? You can do it. I'll touch you as much as you want after."

If you wouldn't get some kind of release soon, you would go insane, completely feral. Closing your legs to press your thighs together for some friction wasn't an option and with the way you were sitting you couldn't exactly try and rub yourself against the sofa. And maybe it was written on your face in big, bold letters, because Spencer – finally – gave you the go.

“Slide your hands down your stomach, move your fingertips over your lips and tease yourself for a moment – yes, good, like that. When you are ready, go ahead and touch your clit. Soft circles.”

The first stoke of your fingers over your clit felt like heaven and ecstasy flooded through your whole body. Your head fell back and you moaned loudly; it felt so good to finally be able to feel your fingers where you so desperately had wanted them that your body started to tremble. A string of mashed together words fell from your lips, you didn't even realize you were saying them. ”Thankyouthankyouthankyou-”

You melted back into the pillow, gasping and moaning as the pleasure became more and more; your other hand found its way back to your tits on its own, groping at the soft flesh and teasing your nipple as your fingers between your legs moved in slow, tight circles.

The sound of clothes rustling made you lift your head; Spencer lifted his hips to slip off his pants, letting them pool around his ankles. He adjusted his position and leaned back, his knees slightly falling apart and he wrapped his hand around his hard cock.

The sight made you whimper, the need to taste him and feel him overtaking your whole being. But you knew, even if you would ask – beg – him to fuck you, he wouldn't do it, not now; you hadn't cum yet. So you did the next best thing and pushed two of your fingers into your leaking cunt.

A breathy laugh fell from Spencer's lips as he watched you start to thrust your fingers into yourself as soon as you had seen him. His grip on his cock tightened and he started to pump his fist faster, not holding back his own moans. He so desperately wanted to bury himself in your tight walls and it took everything in him to hold back. “God, you look so perfect right now... So fucking pretty.”

The both of you worked each other up, the pleasure getting more intense with every stroke; hands moving, touching and teasing with more and more want and desperation.

But somehow it still wasn't enough. “Can I go faster?”, you whimpered, your voice wavering.

“Of course, baby. Go as fast or as slow as you want.”

The room filled with both of your moans and panting, and the sounds of skin hitting on skin – Spencer's fist hitting his pelvis and the palm of your hand slapping against your slick cunt – as you gradually picked up the pace until you were franticly fucking yourself with your fingers.

After a while you slowed down your pace again, trying to catch your breath. You felt the familiar knot form in your belly as you pumped your fingers in and out of your heat, your walls fluttering around them.

“Think I'm getting close...”, you breathed out, followed by a high-pitched gasp when your palm rubbed over your clit.

A groan formed in the back of Spencer's throat. “Touch your clit again; you can go slow or fast, in circles or not, however it feels right.”

You pulled your fingers out and swirled them over your clit, your fingertips effortlessly sliding over it. The muscles in your stomach tightened as your orgasm built up. You fought against the urge to thrust your hips up, trying to keep your focus on rubbing your clit. You didn't want to get distracted, this was the closest you had ever gotten yourself and if you had to concentrate on moving your hips as well as your hand and fingers, you wouldn't be able to keep up with both movements.

Your breathing got quicker and heat was rising up in your body. Just when you felt like you would burst – it stopped; instead of falling over the edge your body refused to go further, keeping you right on the ledge. As if it was taunting you, the sensation became weaker, not even leaving you on the edge any more.

It was always like this when you tried to finish without a toy; your managed to make yourself feel good and when you got close – which also felt like it took forever to even get there – your body refused to give you the release you had been chasing.

A whine left your lips, you were borderline sobbing, as you squeezed your eyes shut. The need to cum and the frustration that it wasn't working, together with the unintentionally edging had you close to tears. You slowed your movements, but kept going nonetheless. “I can't. Told you it doesn't work for me.”

“Don't fight it, you almost had it. Let your body take control and let it guide you.”

You nodded eagerly and met his eyes. “Okay, I- I'll try.” You tried to hold his gaze and after a deep breath you slowly pick up the pace again. Spencer matched your pace, the slow lazy strokes getting faster as he pumped his cock with the same speed your fingers were circling your clit. Your eyelids fluttered as your gaze flickered between his face – all flushed, desire burning in his eyes and slack-jawed, with his lips slightly parted – and his hand stroking his erection.

This time when your hips jolted, you let it happen and shifted your focus to what you were feeling instead of what you were doing. It took you a moment or two to fully let go and give into the pleasure, your movements faltering a couple of times until your mind cleared and your hips and fingers synced up to work together in a delicious, steady rhythm.

“That's it, baby. Just like that. You are doing so well.” Spencer's voice was low and his tone had gotten so gravelly, he was almost growling.

You leaned back, your moans getting louder again as heat spread under your skin until your whole body was on fire , the knot in your stomach began to tighten again. It got tighter and tighter until –

“Oh fuck”, you screamed out in between your moans as your legs began to shake, and when the coil in your lower belly snapped your thighs clamped shut. Your hand stilled and your fingers stopped working your clit; instead your hips kept jolting, thrusting up into your fingers and prolonged your orgasm on their own accord. Your back arched off the sofa and you slapped your other hand on the cushion next to you, tightly gripping it in your fist.

When your body finally calmed down you gasped for air and through the foggy haze clouding your mind you vaguely registered moaning and a string of words – probably an array of curses, maybe even some praise about how well you did, how pretty you looked when you came, good girl – but the blood rushing through your ears was too loud, making it hard to make out any words.

As your muscles relaxed more, your body got limb and let yourself slide along the back of the couch until you were lying down; pulling one leg onto the couch, the other still hanging down. The more oxygen you got, the more you came back to. The shaking in your legs had almost stopped, instead your shoulders started to shake as you began to giggle. “Holy shit.”

A low laugh made you turn your head to the side and open your eyes. Your were met with Spencer's face right next to yours, a proud smile on his lips as he took in your blissed out state. He had just knelt down next to you, his hand found its way to your forehead and brushed away a few sweaty strands. “See? Knew you could do it, 'm so proud of you, baby.” He moved his hand to cup your cheeks, then further down to curl it around the back of your neck.

Your smile grew bigger and you took a shaky breath to say something, but before you could Spencer pulled you closer and kissed you desperately; the need to be near you, touch you, feel you, overpowering him. You kissed him back just as feverishly and buried your hands in his hair. Spencer let his hand wander from your neck down to your breasts, his fingers leaving your skin burning up and begging for more. He cupped one of them, gently massaging it and started playing with your nipple, rolling it between his fingertips and pinching it with just the right amount of pressure that made you tremble and arch your back into him.

You whimpered and softly tugged on the strands at the back of his head. He groaned into your mouth in return and you felt him shift his position as he got up, pulling his knee up to hold him self up so he could lean over you. His touch and his lips, finally feeling his hands on your body, made you feel dizzy and reignited the ache in your core, your clit throbbing, desperately waiting for his attention.

The sudden feeling of his hand between your thighs made you jump a little, you broke the kiss and gasped which quickly turned into a high-pitched moan when he slipped one of his fingers in between your slick folds, only grazing your entrance as he collected some of your arousal. You were still sensitive from your orgasm, but the rush of him finally touching you was stronger and you started to move your hips.

He didn't make you wait long and so after a few tight circles over your clit, he slid his fingers down to your entrance and sank two of them into you, filling you up so much better than your own had done and reaching that spot deep inside you that you couldn't quite reach yourself.

The both of you quickly fell in an easy rhythm with each other and he had you a moaning and blabbering mess in a matter of seconds; it would almost be embarrassing if you would care about it. It blew your mind every time – every god damn day – how much power Spencer held over you, both body and mind. And if he would be anybody else, it might even scare you.

“You looked so beautiful, love, you have no idea”, Spencer breathlessly cooed against your delicate skin, kissing and softly nibbling along your neck and throat. “Could watch you play with yourself all day.”

You wouldn't be able to say anything to him even if you wanted, your mind getting blank and fuzzy; all what left your lips where breathy moans and pleas. A whiny gasp left your throat when he curled his fingers, pressing his fingertips against the very spot that made you see stars.

Spencer kissed his way to the sensitive spot under your ear and when he spoke again, whispering into your ear, his lips grazed it. “Can feel how close you are, it's okay, baby. Come for me.”

He asked and your body complied.

With his name on your lips, repeating it over and over like a prayer, your orgasm washed over you. Your eyes rolled back and when your whole body tensed up, you tried to hold on to something to anchor yourself. You blindly reached for his wrist and held it in a tight grip, your other hand curled around his arm, clawing at his biceps. Spencer kept the pace he was circling your clit with his thumb with and pumping his fingers into you as you clenched around them, trying to suck him in deeper.

Your walls were still fluttering around his fingers when you released his wrist from your grip and moved your hand to the back of his head, pulling him even closer to you. The vibrations of him chuckling against your pulse tickled your skin and you whined quietly when he slowly pulled his fingers out of your cunt, leaving you empty. He slightly leaned back and looked at you, a crooked smirk stretched on his lips. “Still want more, huh?”

“Please, baby, need you, please.” You keened, not at all caring how needy you sounded.

He shook his head at you, not to say no, but in a affectionate you are something else kind of way. “Think you got enough strength left to hold yourself up a little?”

“Yes, think so.” You swallowed and breathed deeply, nodding your head as you held his gaze. ”I will.”

“That's my good girl.” Spencer closed the small space between you and kissed you, swallowing the whiny sound you made, his lips lingering on yours for a moment, then he helped you to sit up. You watched him reach for the other pillows that had scattered around the couch and bunch them up, piling them against the back of the seats, right next to you. “C'mere.”

His hands found your hips and you let him guide you in to the position he had wanted you in, right against the pillows. He guided you to sit – kneel really – in front of the piled up pillows, chest facing them and gently pushed your upper body with a hand between your shoulder blades down. You lay against the pile, letting it support your body and after adjusting it a bit, you crossed your arms on top and placed your head down; you were practically hugging the whole thing.

He nudged your leg with his knee to spread your legs more so he could kneel behind you. With a sigh you relaxed your muscles and enjoyed Spencers hands roaming over your back. He planted a couple of kisses on your neck and shoulder, then placed his hand on the backrest behind you to hold himself up and craned his neck to catch your eyes. You shifted the position of your head slightly so you could look at him better.

“Are you comfortable?”

You smiled at him and hummed, nodding your head. Spencer returned the smile and leaned closer, to capture your lips in a kiss. It was supposed to be a quick one, just a small peck, but his front was now flush against your back and his dick had fit so perfectly between you, with his shaft splitting your folds and pressed against your entrance that he couldn't hold back any more.

So instead, he moved his hand from the sofa to the back of your head, holding you close as he slid his tongue into your mouth and deepened the kiss. You moaned into each others mouths, desperately rocking your hips against each other. He pressed himself against you as close as possible, leaving no space between your bodies, as if he wanted to make up for the time he hadn't touched you all evening.

All it took was for him to pull back just a bit more and his cock slipped right into you, bottoming out at once. “Shit”, you hissed at the sudden stretch, directly followed by crying out his name in pleasure when he pulled out just an inch or two and slowly thrust back in, even deeper.

His forehead fell to your shoulder and Spencer let out a long, deep moan. He placed his left hand back on the backrest – closer to your front this time so his arm was circling around you, more like he was holding you in a hug – and his other took a tight hold on your hip. For a long moment neither of you moved, just basking in the feeling of each other and trying to catch your breaths.

Every time you exhaled, a soft whimpering sigh left your lips. You pulled your left arm out from under your body and reached for his hand on the backrest, slotting your fingers between his. He moved his fingers slightly so he could gently squeeze yours.

Spencer was the first to move. You felt him lift his head and press his lips to your shoulder, before he repeated the same slow and deep thrust from before, not moving his body away even an inch from yours. He kept rolling his hips into you in a slow pace, pushing in deep and hard rather than fast.

Your whole body was pushed hard against the pillows in front of you every time he rocked into you, every thrust eliciting a low moan from you. You let your head fall back against him, leaning the side of your face against his. “Fuck, feel so good around me”, he groaned right by your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin.

He kept the slow and hard pace for a while, only moving faster when you pushed back against him, needing to feel more of him. You gasped with every quickening breath, the ache in your stomach was growing again. “'m close”, you breathed out, your hand tightening the hold on his.

With his nose he gently nudged your cheek. “You know what to do”, he said breathless.

You shook your head quickly, whining desperately. “No, no, no, nonono, please, need you to touch me. Please.”

“Aw, but you did so well earlier.” He planted a kiss to your jaw, then moved his lips to your ear and pulled your earlobe between his teeth, gently nibbling on it.

“Promised...Ah... Said 'yd touch me.. all I want...” You got quieter with every word, your voice high-pitched and shaky with need.

Spencer chuckled and leaned his forehead against your temple. “Mmh, I did, didn't I?” All you could do was nod, not trusting your voice any more. But there were no more words needed. He sneaked his free hand between you and the pillows to give you what you wanted, needed.

You hadn't expected to be this sensitive, but when his fingertips slid over your clit you jolted forward, crying out his name. “Fuck...” His chest rumbled with a deep laugh against your back and he pushed your body against the pile of pillows with his own to hold you in place. In sync with the quick flicks of his fingers, he picked up the pace he was thrusting into your pussy, his hips snapping against you faster and faster.

You tried to hold yourself up, leaning your forearms against the backrest, but your arms had gotten too weak so all you could do was hold onto it with your hands in a tight grip, taking what Spencer gave you; your head hung low and nothing more then moans left your lips.

When he felt you clench hard around him, Spencer groaned and leaned his temple against yours, his mouth near your ear. “Such a good girl, taking me so well”, he panted and increased the pressure on your clit; the praise did exactly what he had intended and it sent you over the edge, with a choked out cry your back arched against him and you came, your whole body shaking. He had been close before, but it took him by surprise when you pussy clenched so hard around him that you pulled him right with you, his dick twitching and he spilled himself into you.

Both of you collapsed against the back of the sofa, breathing hard, and you let out an uff when Spencer's weight got too much. “Sorry”, he said breathlessly and immediately pulled back; you hissed when he pulled out in the same move. He moved his arm around your torso and helped you holding yourself up. You tiredly grabbed pillow after pillow and just threw it blindly to the side to let them fall to the floor. The last one was a bit difficult to get out from under you, but after you got it out you moved it to the end of the couch.

You let your body fall into the cushions, ringing for air and with your eyes closed. Next to you, Spencer got up. You reached out to him, alarmed when you heard him stumble; he luckily had regained his balance before he fell over his own feet, but his knees were still a bit wobbly. “Are you okay?”, you asked, your lips stretching into a worried smile. He huffed out a laugh and took the hand you had reached out into his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Yeah, I'm good. Just wanted to get us some water.” He gave your fingers a gentle squeeze before he let go and bend down to get his boxer shorts to put them back on before he slowly walked into the kitchen. Not even a minute later he came back and handed you a glass of cold water, his own already half empty.

When you had finished your water he took your glasses and put them down on the coffee table. You lifted your arms and reached for him, beckoning for him to come back and lay down on the couch with you.

“Five minutes”, you said softly, a wide smile on your lips; you already knew Spencer was about to shoo you up and into the shower.

He huffed, but took your hand and joined you. You made him some space and rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. You hummed content, nuzzling your face deeper into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes. After a short moment you mumbled: “Maybe ten minutes...”

Spencer just laughed and pulled you closer.

[gottagobuycheese]

I forgot there was. a second part to this exam. in an entirely different format

[michaellangdonswhore]

warnings: again, smut. put me in a fucking hospital.

word count: 5.5k

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

You were, by far, Jonathan Crane's least favorite student.

You knew it, and it was complete bullshit. You were always on time, always in every class, and always completed the work. You had always had such good grades in every class, but not with him.

While not giving you the worst grade imaginable, you were never able to get over an A-, which pissed you the fuck off. Obviously, to any other normal student studying psychology, they'd take the A-, but not you.

And again, nothing over an A-. There was the frequent B+, sometimes B, and when you really pissed him off he would go as low as a B-.

You've done everything you could to get him to like you. You would ask questions, clearly put extra effort into the homework, and even applied to laboratory studies that he ran. You hated not being liked.

However, at this point in the year, you had given up on trying. You still did everything you were supposed to do, because you wanted a good grade, but you hadn't bothered participating or showing any interest anymore. You had decided to focus more on your other classes. Due to this, you had been working late into the night, causing you to be exhausted for your 8 AM lectures with Crane.

You were exhausted, trying to pay attention. Your head hurt so much for looking at a screen for so long last night.

Crane is flipping through a slideshow, and you find yourself dozing. It's not that this stuff bored you, you had just already learned it back when you took AP Psych your sophomore year of high school.

You snap back into reality when you hear your name being called.

Crane is singling you out with an annoyed expression on his face. You turn red because everyone, all 400 other people in the class, are staring at you.

"I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He puts his hands on his hips.

"No-" You begin.

You're stammering. You normally don't have such a rough time with public speaking, but being downright exhausted and being singled out for nearly falling asleep in class is extremely embarrassing.

He pauses for a moment and stares you down.

You feel as if you were naked, as if you were completely exposed to him. You didn't like him looking at you like that, like he was taking into account every imperfection.

"As I was saying..."

Thank god.

He resumes to what he was talking about before and you're more alert, heart pumping full of humiliation. You're taking notes now, typing quickly and probably annoyingly loud (you can tell because he keeps shooting you small glares every time you hit the spacebar).

Finally, the hour is up and he reminds everyone about the homework due that Friday. You collect your stuff and head out the door. You don't realize, but he watches you leave.

Everything you do irks him.

Maybe it was because your first paper challenged his psychological beliefs, or because your intelligence challenged him in general. But literally everything about you pisses him off.

Your loud typing, your questions that challenges his lectures, how you turn everything in on time, how you flawlessly converse with the other students. He is so desperately waiting for you to slip up.

As previously stated, you were putting less effort than before into his class. He picked up on this. You were turning your papers and chapter readings in the last minute, you weren't asking questions, and you were even falling asleep.

You had three days to complete a portion of the assignments given. You completely forgot about it.

Due to your tiredness and your weakening desire to try for the class, you had forgotten to write down the homework in a planner that you always checked daily.

Crane is a quick grader, and usually he always grades your homework first; more specifically, as soon as you turn it in.

You realized you didn't do the work as soon as you woke up that morning for your 8 AM class. You had never ever missed an assignment. Ever. And you had no time to do it and make it to his class on time. You were freaking the fuck out.

It's okay. Maybe he hasn't graded it yet.

But no. He was such a strict grader. He was harsh.

Whatever. You may as well hope for the best.

To distract yourself from your predicament, you talk to the boy who sits next to you in the class. It's just smalltalk about the workload and about an upcoming test.

You stop talking when Crane clears his throat. You shift back in your seat and open your laptop.

"It's a Friday. It's 8 AM," Crane begins. You think this is going to be the introduction of a psychological speech. "For all 399 of you that did your homework last night, go enjoy your Friday morning."

People being looking around and whispering, not sure if this is a trick, but you know it's not.

You're freaking out. Your heart is racing and you cannot believe that he would actually do this to you. Usually teachers will just give you a bad grade and call it that, but to single you out and have the entire class leave except for you is an all time low.

"I'm not messing with you," Crane continues. "Go. You know who you are."

He's looking at you dead in the eye and you stay put as people slowly get up to leave, looking around to make sure others are doing the same. You avoid his gaze, looking at your computer screen.

Soon enough, everyone is out of the large lecture room, some looking back to see the one person who didn't do their work.

Once the door is shut, and everyone is completely out of sight, Crane locks both of the doors and looks up at you.

"Are you deliberately trying to fail my class?" He questions. "I thought you wanted to be outstanding."

You can't find words to say. He scoffs and moves to his desk, shuffling through papers and bringing out a decently large stack to over to you. It feels like hours pass by as he walks up the steps to you and drops them onto your desk.

You look at them, confused.

"This is the homework that was due at midnight." He explains.

"It's never so much..." You stammer. You can feel his hatred burning into your skin.

"It's what's due next Wednesday, Friday, and the following week too. Let's see if you can get this done by.... hm," He checks his watch. "By the end of the period?"

"All of this?" Your eyes widen.

"When's your next class?" He asks.

"You're my only one today." You continue to avoid his eye contact.

"Then you can stay." He says. "Until you finish all the work."

"But-"

"I can't trust that you'll do it." Crane says, taking a step back from you. "You need to complete it. In front of me."

"Please, Professor," You try to defend yourself. "I've been-"

"I can assume what you've been doing, you've almost fallen asleep in my class." He scoffs.

You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment over him getting the wrong impression. Does he really think that low of you?

You take a deep breath. You'll just have to deal with this.

"Do you have a pencil?"

He grabs a black pen from his desk and looks up to you, motioning to sit in the front row. Close enough. You swallow your pride and grab your things and the stack of paper, walking down to the seats in the front.

The class itself is an hour, but it took you almost five to complete the amount of homework he gave you. The readings were long, and the quality of work was demanding. You were eager to do well, to prove yourself.

You hate that he hated you.

His eyes were on you the entire time you did your work. The silence was loud, but you pushed through it. You got three weeks of homework done, and proudly put the stack back onto his desk.

"I'll see you Monday, Professor," you smile, then walk away.

After that, you tried harder; harder than you tried compared to every other class you took. You did this, not to get him to like you- but to get back at him with the fact that you knew your shit; you were a good student. You sat in the front, did side research, and spent nights studying for his endless quizzes. And he wanted to fail you to make you stop what you were doing, but you were getting all the answers right and you both knew that. He wouldn't want you taking anything to the next level.

With you in the front, it made it harder for him to not be distracted by you. Mid speech he would find himself locking eyes with you, disrupting his words and leaving him stammering for a brief moment. Ever since you've upped the eye contact, you've gained more control of the situation.

You arrived in class that Wednesday; the situation in which Crane forced you to stay and do two weeks worth of work in front of him occurred around three weeks ago. You're sitting in the front in between two empty seats; no one likes to sit in the front in Crane's class. It's usually only filled with around three to four people. Crane isn't in class yet, which is weird considering he's always there early, before anyone else even gets there. The class is almost about to begin and he's never been late.

Soon enough, it's one minute after the class is supposed to start and he's still not there. You start feeling antsy, wondering where he is.

Finally, he walks in; two minutes after class is supposed to start. So unlike him.

He places his briefcase on the desk and begins setting up his computer while everyone takes out something to take notes with.

"Now, you all know what I specialize in, I hope," He states, not breaking eye contact with his computer.

He specialized in phobias. Apart from dedicating his time to teaching you, he was a therapist mainly for fears.

"I'm sure we all know what exposure therapy is, correct?" He asks. Pretty much the whole class nods in unison. "Good. For those of you not on the same page, it's the type of therapy which someone is exposed to their fear or trauma."

He begins flipping through his slideshow, giving more and more information and lecturing about it, but you can't help but notice it's an almost bias review.

You're left with homework to write a review on some boring documentary on the history of exposure therapy and a pretty long excerpt of the textbook you all were reading.

So, you did your work and followed all of the instructions. You wrote a review on exposure therapy.

The next Monday, you get to class and you sit in the front row. There's a big stack of paper on Crane's desk, and you assuming that you're getting a pop-quiz, but no, that's not the case.

Crane's waiting for everyone with his shoulder rested on the large stack of papers. Once the time hits 8, he begins.

"I printed out all of your outlines," He begins. "I've made some comments and given some feedback. We'll spend the class working on them."

He starts calling out names and one by one, people receive their papers. You're sort of anxious- you left a pretty negative review on exposure therapy, something that he seemed so passionate about.

"Y/N Y/L/N." He says, saying your voice with more of an annoyed tone than the other students. You get up and grab your paper from his hands, tugging harder due to his firm grip. Clearing his throat, he continues calling out the following names. You go back to your seat, nervous to look at the paper. When you sit and look at it, your stomach dropped.

There's nothing on the front page. Then you look at the second.

See me after class.

There is literally nothing but a see me after class.

Oh my god.

What did I do?

Was he offended at all by what was written? Surely, that wasn't your intention... yes, you wanted to piss him off, but you had some respect for him. You didn't want to actually maybe- make him insecure about his work?

Class seemed to take hours to go by; you didn't even know what to do about your paper. He gave no other feedback other than to see him after class. How were you supposed to work with that?

You looked around at your classmates typing away. You're annoyed that he actually helped them.

See me after class.

At least give me feedback on my fucking paper.

Everyone then realized the time and began to pack up. Crane stood up from his desk and took his glasses off.

"Remember, papers are due Friday!" He manages to get out before people start heading out the door.

You put your things in your bag, trying to act out to your classmates as if you were leaving. You felt so embarrassed. You hated how he kept embarrassing you and how he had the power to do that. It was infuriating. You felt him staring at you as you packed your stuff up, moving slower, nervous that he would call you out.

You took your time, though, waiting till everyone was out of the room.

With everyone else there, you felt so confident. You were one of the smart ones and you at least had witnesses, but alone with him? You were completely inferior. He could quite literally ruin your life with a bad grade and could easily tarnish your image, being the head of Arkham and all that.

"I found your paper quite interesting," He says, emphasizing quite.

"I'm sorry-" you begin. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" He scoffs. "You think you offended me?"

"I just- I know this is what you do, right?" You stammer.

"I'm interested in your point of view." He says. "About the pain, how it's long term. I'm interested as to why you seem so against it."

You shrug.

"What's your biggest fear, Y/N?" He asks you. "What is it? Failure?"

"I'm not trying to fail."

"Oh, yes, you've proven that." He clicks his tongue. "Sitting in the front, turning things in quickly, wearing shorter skirts. Don't think I don't notice what you're doing."

"What?"

"You write intensely about the struggle that people with PTSD-"

"Wait," you interrupt him. "What did you say?"

"I'm trying to discuss with you what you've written."

"Professor, my clothing choices have nothing to do with me wanting to do well in this class," you say. Now you're offended.

Instead of apologizing, which is what you think any decent person would do, he looks you up and down and scoffs.

"You're wearing tights."

"What?"

"Surely, those must be uncomfortable. You're not wearing those to satisfy yourself," he says.

You grow red, and angry.

He keeps humiliating you.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"Will you stop?" you groan in frustration. "Why don't you just let me get by like you let everyone else get by? I do everything you ask!"

"I want to know who you're trying to impress."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," you hiss, finally looking up at his crystal eyes.

You know it's disrespectful, but you turn to walk away and to leave.

"No, no. We're not done."

You ignore him, walking towards the door, but he quickly beats you to it, shutting it and locking you in.

"I said we're not done." He said, completely composed. "Sit."

"I want to leave."

"Your biggest fear is failure, yes?" He questions. You don't nod or shake your head, but it is pretty much true; you hate failing. You need to succeed and be good at everything you do. "Sit. I can very much make that fear come true."

"I do everything," you repeat. "Everything. I do it on time, I'm here always, I'm prepared for everything."

"Can you just fucking-" He pushes you down onto the seat next to his desk. "Sit?"

You weren't expecting him to physically force you to sit down, but you could pick up on the pent up frustration he had with you.

"The off the cut sweater, no bra-" He points out.

You weren't wearing a bra. You were surprised he had picked up on the fact- you could've been wearing a strapless, but no. He was right.

"Are you even wearing underwear?" He whispers.

You're flushed.

What the fuck was going on?

You thought he hated you.

And yeah, you knew he was an attractive man, that's what made this whole thing pretty exciting, but you never thought you would be sat down with him leaning over you saying things like this.

"Let me see."

"Professor?"

He grabs you off the chair and pushes you onto his desk, spreading your legs for you. Everything was moving too quickly; this all felt like a fever dream.

He tugs at the middle of your tights, ripping them open to expose your- and he was right- bare pussy. He lets out a chuckle.

"You're not trying to impress anyone?" He questions, again, peering up at you.

You try moving your thigh to cover yourself, but he forcefully keeps them open.

"Who was that boy you used to sit next to... Tim, is it?"

To be honest, you really didn't know that kids name. He was just someone you sat next to out of habit since you had picked that seat the first day of classes. But you hadn't been sitting with him for weeks at that point.

"Is Tim who you're trying to impress?"

"No!" You argue, still trying to fight the grip of his hand off your thigh. "I told you... I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Hm." He says, placing two fingers on exactly the right spot of your clit, slowly rubbing in circles. . "You're not even trying to impress me?"

You stay silent, for a brief moment.

"Not in this way..."

But it's past that point now. He's already touching you, rubbing faster, and your exposed pussy is laid out right in front of his face. You're embarrassed and self conscious. He's too close for comfort.

"Yeah?"

The fingers once on your clit are now entering you. You still can't comprehend the situation.

But for him, he was putting you in your place. It was enough of the looks in class, the semi sexual and revealing clothing, the obvious need for his approval and to show him she was as smart- maybe even smarter than him himself.

"Is that why you're letting me touch you like this?" He asks, using the two fingers to pump your pussy.

It's out of your control but you're getting wetter the longer and faster he fingers you. It's beginning to show, beginning to drip down his fingers and onto his wrists. He notices this, then stops and looks.

"Disgusting," He huffs before licking his fingers clean.

"That's disgusting," You repeat at him, glaring a little, but you can't help but want his finger- more of him back inside you. You feel empty, desperate for his hands back on you.

"I don't see you asking me to stop."

You're silent, again.

He smiles, kneeling back down and spreading your legs open again, this time with a more forceful grip. He doesn't use his fingers this time, devouring you with his hot mouth and basically digging in.

He was really good at this. To be fair, no one had ever actually eaten you out, but you had never felt anything like it. He moves his fingers towards you again and fucks you with them as he sucks and licks at your clit. He was freakishly good. You felt something drip down your thigh; you didn't know if you were sweating or if you were fucking leaking. By the sound of it, probably the second one.

He removes his fingers and dives deep into your pussy more, making obscure sounds as he does so. He stops and looks up at you.

"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits," he demands.

You comply; he's already seen a lot.

"Fuck, they're perfect." He says, now standing over you, playing with them and poking and twisting at your hardened nipple. He's pushing his hardened clothed dick into your bare pussy, giving you some friction has he sucks on your neck and plays with your nipples.

He grabs your hips and flips you over, putting you on your stomach and leaning you over the desk.

He kneels back down, eating your pussy again; he can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of the small whines escaping your throat and the way you leak and how you shake when it feels good- or when the pleasure becomes too much.

He adds his fingers in again, this time three, and you let out a louder, but not too loud, moan than usual.

"Professor-"

"You can take it." He assures you. "You better take it. If you can't take this how can you take my cock?"

You just weren't used to it- you had been fucked, but not for so long. He keeps licking and devouring your clit while pumping in and out of you. You feel so full- on the brink. You feel hot, and god you feel good. You don't even realize it, but you're riding his mouth and his fingers.

"You know, I wasn't going to let you come," Crane begins between breaths, keeping his face close to your pussy so you could still feel him. "But now that I think about it... I want you cum drunk on my dick. I wanna make you cum over and over again until you're a fucking mess."

He goes back to sloppily and messily eating you out again. It was so dirty; the noise, what was leaking out of you. You then felt that familiar feeling and you couldn't stop it; no matter how wrong this felt or how humiliated and exposed you felt, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning like a mess and cumming all over his mouth.

You needed a second to recover, but he stood up and grinded his clothed dick against you. You weren't ready for the friction, wincing over the contact with you sensitive clit. He grabbed your neck and pulls your back to him, kissing you, continuing to grind.

He unbuttons his pants and undoes his boxers, his large thick cock springing out, begging to be touched. He pushes one of your legs up onto the desk to give him better access to you.

"You're fucking soaked," He says as he teases himself some more, collecting what's came out of you as some lubricant.

He keeps rubbing your clit and the outside with his dick, back and forth. It feels good, but it's not enough. He pushes harder with his dick on your clit, continuing to hump you.

"Professor, please," you look back at him, trying to guilt him into giving in and fucking you, but it's not that easy.

"Shut up, and let me take my time." He says. He continues this for a little, before getting a new idea. "I want you to cum on my cock without me fucking you."

"What?"

He pulls you towards him then on his lap on the chair next to his desk.

"Grind on it." He demands, holding you in place by your hips. "Get it soaked."

You hesitate, but he's impatient. He pushes you down and moves your hips for you until you begin to do it with him. You grind your pussy against his cock, stimulating your clit once more. It didn't feel as good as his mouth, and god it probably didn't feel as good as his dick would feel inside you, but it felt good. And you were so fucking horny, you were on the brink of cumming again.

"Yeah, yeah, you got it," he praised you, rocking your hips back and forth. He digs his nails into your hips, definitely leaving some cuts in your skin, but you didn't care. You were so close. He begins to bounce up, pretending to thrust into you, adding to your pleasure. "That's it, you- oh fuck, yes, cum on my fucking dick."

You're dripping onto him as you ride out your high, clenching around nothing. It seems to last for a while, wrapped up in all the pleasure combined with his dirty talk.

He angles his cock towards your entrance and pushes into you- he feels hot and he's sensitive due to teasing himself. But no- he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to put you in your fucking place. And even if he does cum, he has no issue continuing and even fucking a baby into you. Then, you'd have to walk around with the shame.

He gently picks you up, but then harshly slams you up and down repeatedly onto his cock. You've had no time to readjust after cumming a second time, and you were extremely sensitive.

"Slower, professor, please," You cry, burying your face into his shoulder. "It hurts..."

"Shut the fuck up."

He grabs you by the neck and pounds up into you, rubbing your clit as well to add to the sensation.

Yes, it feels good, but it's so overwhelming you can't help but tear up. Crane notices this and it goes straight to his head.

"Are you fucking crying?" He scoffs. "Fucking crying for me?"

He picks you up, keeping you firmly attached to his dick, and throws you over the desk again. He's fucking you deeper and at an animalistic pace; like he fucking needs this.

"Keep crying for me. Keep fucking crying."

He harshly grips your tits, twisting your nipple in the process.

"Fucking perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything. You fucking strive for perfection- but you're letting me fucking ruin you. Is this how far you'd go for a good grade?" He laughs, fingers deep in your clit.

You can only moan in response, but this doesn't satisfy him.

"Fucking answer me."

"Yes," you cry out.

"Yeah, you're just a fucking whore who'd sleep her way to the top if that's what it took." He says, tugging your hair back, your sweaty bodies pressed closer together.

His words are filthy, but you're fucking cumming again.

He's laughing, mocking you for doing so.

"You fucking like being treated like a bitch, don't you?" He says, fucking you through your third orgasm. You don't know how he's not tired. As you expect, he doesn't give you a fucking break. You're worn out at this point; almost numb.

"Professor, I don't know-"

"You don't know if you can keep going?" He questions. "Yeah, you can. I'll fucking make you keep going. What was that... your third orgasm? Let me see if I can double that."

"Professor..."

"I'll stop when you give me three more."

You feel like you're going to pass out; the pleasure had become too much, but you were so fucking sensitive that a fourth one had come quickly. Your pussy was so swollen and red, but he had not gotten off of you.

"You're fucking..." He brings you back to the chair and places you on top of him. "You're fucking leaking all over me, fucking hell. So wet... do you hear yourself?"

You could hear yourself. It was disgusting. It was filthy.

"Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks. He slows down his pace, and you know he's teasing you. "Embarrassed that you're whoring yourself out to me like this? To a professor that so clearly disliked you? This is what you do for my approval."

He slows his pace some more.

"Would you do this for any other professor, Y/N? Let them fuck your pussy till you have nothing left to give? Bounce on their cock the way you do for me?"

"No, professor," you shake your head, trying to bounce faster but he keeps your hips in place, restricting you. He had succeeded- made you cum drunk and fucked you stupid, but this wasn't enough. He needed more. "No, no, only you. I'd only do this for you."

You're squirming around on his dick. He's stopped moving at this point, just staying in you.

"Stop fucking moving around. Don't you want to impress me?"

"Have I not?" You begin to regain some of your strength with this somewhat of a break he was giving you. "Have I not impressed you, professor?"

You give him puppy eyes as you gain some control of the situation, his grip loosing and you bouncing on his cock at a pace you like.

"I want to impress you, professor," you say seductively. "I want to- fuck!"

You start chasing your high again, you didn't even realize that you'd ever be able to cum this many times.

"Fuck!" You repeat. Crane is letting you take control, enjoying the show of you riding his cock, using him for your pleasure. "Do you like this, professor? Do you like when I fucking bounce on your dick like this?"

You had never heard yourself like this, or ever expected to talk like this. You had never felt so confident.

"Have you imagined this professor?" You continue. He's obviously at a loss for words, not expecting this side of you. "Have you imagined fucking me? Have you imagined bending me over your desk and eating me out till I came all over your face? My tits? Putting me in my fucking place?"

His hands found your hips again and he's helping you ride his cock. He's loving the words coming from your mouth.

"God, I think you wanted this more than I did," you laugh. You're so close. You wanted him to talk, but his reactions to your words were enough for you. "Make me cum again, professor, please. I- fuck!"

He's pushing into you and bouncing you up and down quickly and you're riding out your fifth orgasm.

He pulls you off of him and lays you out on the desk again, licking up your sore pussy. He hums while doing this, telling you how you taste so good. You're so- so sensitive, though, and you can't help but cumming on his tongue again not even seconds later, letting out a string of incoherent words.

That's six.

You look at him, but he's positioning himself in you.

"You said six-"

"I say a lot of things. I want you to cum on my cock again." He says, kissing your neck. "Last time. I promise."

He pumps into you, at a softer, but still quick pace. You feel so incredibly numb, but he still manages to work you up quickly while fondling your breasts and pressing hot kisses into your neck.

"Ah- fuck." He pants, fucking himself into you. "Fuck... gonna cum in you. Want you to fucking carry me around for the rest of the fucking day."

You don't object- your hearing was probably a little impaired at this point.

"Yeah, you want that, don't you. It's like a fucking award to you."

He's holding you closer now. You both are so sweaty and sticky.

You're about to cum again, but he grabs your throat tightly.

"Fucking wait for me. Don't be impatient."

As hard as it is, you listen to him. He speeds up, becoming sloppy before he cries, "Fuck, cum! Cum all over my fucking- ahhh, yes, fuck."

He shoots hot loads into you as you clench around him, milking more out of him. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until every last bit of his seed has marked you. Even after he's done, he gets a few more strokes in before he pulls out, showing the combination of you and him leaking out of your pussy. He pushes you onto the floor and presents his dick in front of him.

"Clean it."

You obey, wrapping your mouth on his cock and licking away the filth that the two of you made. He groans and pulls you off of him.

"You'll get me hard again." He says.

He puts all his clothes back on and hands you your sweater. Your nipples are hard, poking through them now.

"I look forward to your next draft of your review." Crane says calmly, as if what just happened didn't happen.

"You- um..." you stammer, brushing your fingers through your hair. "You didn't give me any notes."

"I didn't?" He questioned. You shook your head. "Well, stay again after class next session. I'll go over it, personally, with you."

"Oh." You blush. "This wasn't a one time thing?"

"Y/N..." Crane looks at the floor. "I'm your professor."

You felt awkward. Of course it was a one time thing; how could it not be?

But then he looks back up at you.

"You don't want to fail my class, do you?"

[flightlessangelwings]

To Feel Your Body Against Mine

Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Word count-4.5k

Prompt- secret relationship

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), secret relationship, feelings, praise, sex in a public bathroom, softness, oral (f receiving), creampie, alcohol mention, a shitty ex, attempted assault (not detailed), mild violence (not against reader), happy ending, reader is a bartender/waitress, reader is Santi's sister but not physically described at all other than body parts, no use of y/n

Notes- For @burntheedges Roll a Trope writing challenge! I'm so excited to be able to participate and I got such a fun trope too! And I definitely made myself hot and bothered writing that second spicy scene lol! I hope everyone enjoys this!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

~

“Mmm… Frankie…” you moaned as you leaned your head back against the bathroom mirror.

He hummed your name in your ear as he smirked against your face.

“We’re gonna get caught if we take too much longer,” you huffed as you felt the warm embrace of his body against yours. 

“Yeah,” he groaned as he thrust into you, “But you feel so fucking good, baby,” his tone dropped as he thrusted again, “Can’t fucking stop.”

“Oh fuck,” you cried out as your eyes rolled back into your head.

Frankie had you on the bathroom counter in the employee bathroom at the bar you worked at. The moment the two of you had the chance to slip away, you took it, and quickly you clawed each other’s clothes off, desperate for one another. To have his cock fill you up again filled that need that left you feeling empty. To be connected to him once more was something that your body, and your heart, craved more than anything. To feel his strong arms around you as you wrapped your legs around his waist made everything feel perfect, even if you were currently in a dirty bathroom. 

And Frankie’s feelings reflected yours. From the moment he first met you all those years ago, he instantly fell for you. And to finally have you in his arms, to feel himself inside your pussy, to be able to call you his… it was better than heaven for him. Even from the second he walked into the bar and saw you with the drink mixer in your hand, the way your breasts swung then you shook it, he knew he was going to fuck you in the bathroom the moment he got the chance.

Your relationship was perfect. Even from the first night you spent together, it felt as if the two of you had been together for years. Everything just fell into place perfectly, like you were two puzzle pieces that finally clicked together to form the picture that was your life. Everything felt right. Everything felt perfect, like things were the way they should be.

It was almost perfect that is. There was only one problem: no one knew. No one could know. Because you were Santigo’s sister. 

“He’ll freak out if he finds out about us,” you had once told Frankie, “Let’s just keep it between us for now. We’ll figure out the right time to tell him later.”

But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered to Frankie now was you. You were the entire world to him as he fucked you in the bar bathroom. The way your mouth dropped open to let the beautiful cries flow freely was more intoxicating to him than the drinks you served. The way your breasts swung with his every thrust was captivating. The way your inner muscles clenched around his cock sent jolts of pleasure up his spine.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good,” he groaned. 

Sweat lined your brow as you clung to Frankie. One hand buried itself in his hair, tugging hard, while the other dug into his broad shoulder. All you could do was scream in pleasure as he rocked faster into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Fuck! Frankie, right there!” you moaned as you arched your back.

With one harsh grunt, Frankie thrust forward and both of you fell apart at the same time. You and Frankie both cried out as your bodies trembled against each other. Clinging to each other for dear life, you moaned loudly. Thankfully, the loud music from the bar drowned out your screams, yet at the time neither of you cared about that. All you cared about was the other as you rode out your climaxes together. 

Frankie huffed as he stilled himself inside you for a moment, hot and sweaty from the passionate lovemaking in the tiny bathroom. He let out a deep breath as he opened his eyes for a moment before closing them again to kiss you deeply. He savored the taste of you on his tongue as he slowly and carefully pulled out of you, swallowing the whimper you let out. His hand cupped the side of your face as his thumb stroked your cheek tenderly.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he mumbled as he rested his forehead against yours.

“So are you, Frankie,” you smirked back at him before you kissed him again. But, as much as you wanted the moment to last forever, you knew time was against you. “We really do need to get back now,” you sounded disappointed, “Don’t want anyone to get suspicious.” 

Frankie’s face dropped; he didn’t want the moment to end yet either, “Yeah,” he nodded as he helped you dress before slipping his own clothes back on.

Placing his trusty hat back on his head, you gave him one last kiss, “You go first. I’ll be behind you in a second.”

His dark, pleading eyes looked into yours as three words rushed to the tip of his tongue. But, just like every time before, they remained unspoken as he unlocked and left the bathroom.

You let out a deep sigh as you turned to the mirror and adjusted yourself for a moment before you also left your little hideaway and went back to the real world. The real world where as far as anyone was concerned, you and Frankie were just friends. 

*

You grinned from behind the bar as you watched the guys at their table. Santiago, your brother, and the guys who got each other through tough times that you couldn’t even imagine all laughed together. The four of them best of friends, brothers in arms. You couldn’t hear their conversation, but you could tell they enjoyed their time together, as they always did when the four of them convened. 

“There you are, nena!” Santiago exclaimed as you walked up to the table with a tray of drinks, “Where’ve you been?”

Frankie swallowed nervously, but hid it under the brim of his hat.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s busy in here,” you gestured over your shoulder to the crowd at the bar, “Some of us work for a living,” you added with a smirk. Glancing over for a brief moment, you caught Frankie’s eye and saw him relax his shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah,” Santiago shrugged, “As long as these assholes keep their hands to themselves and off my sister.” He shit a pointed glare towards another table of guys who made no effort to hide the way they checked you out when you walked by.

Will and Benny burst into laughter before Will spoke up, “Man you really have the overprotective brother thing down pat, don’t you, Pope?”

“Yeah,” Benny added as he sipped his drink.

Santiago rolled his eyes, “Shut up, assholes.”

You mirrored your brother’s eye roll before you turned and walked away, aware of a pair of eyes stealthily on your ass as you did so. A grin lit up your face while your back was to the guys.

Chatter echoed around him as he lost himself in your figure as the guys went back to their conversation. Vaguely, he was aware they were reminiscing about good times in the past before they turned their attention to Benny’s upcoming fight. The Miller brothers seemed to focus more on each other as Will gave his usual encouraging words to his little brother.

“Que pasas, hermano?” Santiago asked, noticing Frankie’s distant expression.

Frankie shook himself out of his thoughts and back to his best friend, “Nada,” he replied a little too quickly, “Nothing,” he repeated in a more leveled tone, “Just thinking is all,” he said as he took a sip of his drink and savored the taste that mixed with your that lingered on his tongue.

“That’s dangerous,” Santiago quipped playfully.

He rolled his eyes as he adjusted his hat. After a breath, Frankie chose his words carefully so as to not arouse suspicion, “Would it really be so bad if your sister found someone? Like found the right someone who treats her well?”

He pointed a stare at him for a moment before he took a swig of his drink and answered, “If it were the right person, yeah. She has a habit of picking real shitty ones though,” Santiago made a face as he pictured a particular ex of yours. But, he decided Frankie’s question was harmless, “But for now, I got my best friends watching over her when I can’t,” he placed a hand on his shoulder, “Thanks man, I know I can count on you.”

Frankie gave him a smile that hid the way he truly felt, “Anytime, man.”

*

“Oh Frankie… Ay mierda,” you moaned as you writhed on his bed.

The moon was high in the sky, illuminating Frankie’s bedroom. It was just the right amount of light to make for a romantic night in, and Frankie took full advantage of it. In between your legs he found a bliss unlike anything else. There was only one place he loved kissing you more than your lips…

Frankie groaned into you as he dug his hands into your thighs. As much as he wanted to tell you how beautiful you were or how delicious you tasted, he just couldn’t break himself away from your pussy. He slurped loudly, not caring how obscene the sounds he made were, especially when they made you moan and make such lovely sounds.

“Ay dios mio,” you cried out as one hand landed in his hair while the other clutched onto the sheets for dear life. The way his tongue so expertly found all your sensitive spots never ceased to amaze you… and always left you breathless.

Another growl emitted from deep within Frankie’s throat as he devoured you with even more fervor. His tongue swirled around your clit, making you whimper with every pass, and he could tell you were close.

Let me taste your cum, baby, he thought as he ran his tongue up and down your folds. The tip of his nose hit your clit as he dipped his tongue into your entrance, darting it in and out a few times before running back up. The moment his lips wrapped around your clit, you screamed and tugged at his hair.

“Frankie! Fuck!” you cried out as your legs trembled on either side of his head.

He tightened his grip on you as he sucked hard on your clit. And that was all it took to send you over the edge. With a loud scream, you came hard against his face, rocking your hips against his prominent nose as you rode out your climax.

Like a man dying of thirst, Frankie greedily lapped up your release as he kept his rhythm with his tongue. He didn’t want to waste a drop of your sweet juices, and he didn’t want to stop until you were entirely spent. His cock strained with need, but he ignored it in favor of your pleasure.

With one last gasp, you flopped down limp on the bed, and Frankie broke away from your cunt with a loud pop. He wanted your body through glazed over eyes as his chin glistened with your cum. He watched with fiery eyes as your breasts rose and fell with your heavy breaths as you came down from your high.

“Fuck you are so fucking sexy, baby,” he growled as he lunged forward and captured your lips with his own.

You moaned into him as you wrapped your arms and legs around his body as he covered you. A rumble from Frankie’s chest reverberated between your bodies as he rutted against you.

“I need you, baby,” Frankie sounded so desperate, “Fuck I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then fuck me, Francisco,” you mewled as you bucked your hips against his, feeling his rock hard cock against your slick pussy.

All he could do was growl as he angled his hips against you. Frankie slipped a hand between your bodies to guide his cock to your entrance, and the moment the tip hit your wetness, you both gasped.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed as he easily slid into you, your pussy still soaking wet from how avidly he devoured you.

“Oh my god…” you dropped your head back onto the mattress as you felt his cock stretch you out. You groaned and dug your nails into his back as you surrendered yourself to him completely. 

“Shit I’m not gonna last long with how fucking good you feel,” Frankie muttered as he started to rock in and out of you, feeling your walls around him with every thrust.

Any words escaped your mind the moment he started thrusting in and out of you. All you could do was moan and hold onto him as his cock filled you over and over again. In the moonlight, Frankie fucked you with everything he had. You felt the passion behind every thrust of his hips, and the way he held you while he ravaged you was unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

This was not just fucking. Frankie was making love to you in both the sweetest and roughest way he could. And it was everything you needed and more. Just as he was addicted to you and your pussy, you were addicted to him. You clawed at his back, pulling him closer as if you couldn’t get enough of him. You wanted to feel every inch of his body against you while his thick cock filled you up over and over again. You wanted… need him more than air.

Frankie was mesmerized by you. Before you pulled him closer, he watched as your breasts swung wildly with every thrust of his hips. And as he covered you with his body, he could feel your heart pound in your chest. He couldn’t get enough of the way you wrapped your arms and legs around him, wordlessly telling him you needed more, needed him closer. 

And he was happy to oblige. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he murmured your name over and over with every thrust, “Baby I’m close.” Sweat lined his brow, making the thick locks of hair stick to his forehead.

“Cum in me, Frankie,” you whispered as you pressed your forehead against his, “Let me feel you.”

Your words alone almost made him lose control. But Frankie wasn’t going over the edge without you, so he snaked his hand in between your bodies to rub at your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you cried out as his touches sent jolts of pleasure up your spine, “Frankie…”

“I know baby,” he moaned, “I’ve got you…”

His thrusts became erratic as the room spun around him. Moans and cries of pleasure echoed between your bodies, and neither of you were sure who made which sounds. It didn’t matter anyway, you were connected at one, fitted together perfectly as if you were meant for each other.

Frankie felt his orgasm quickly approaching; with every thrust he was closer and closer. And from the way your inner muscles squeezed his cock, he could tell you were just as close. Pounding into you with fervor, Frankie growled your name as he came hard enough to see stars.

You screamed against his lips as your second climax hit at the same time. Clutching onto Frankie tightly, you trembled underneath him as you came together. Passions exploded between your bodies as Frankie rode out both your climaxes. Tears fell down your cheeks as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through your body. And a shiver ran up your spine as you felt Frankie’s release fill you to the brim while he moaned against your face.

With one last huff, Frankie thrust as deep as he could into you before he collapsed down on top of you with a grunt. You wheezed as the added weight was sudden, but you both burst into laughter as you both went limp against each other. Frankie planted light kisses on the side of your head as he caught his breath and his cock softened inside you. A chill of his own ran up his spine as your laughter sent shocks to his overstimulated cock.

“That was amazing, baby,” Franie murmured in your ear.

“You’re amazing, Frankie,” you whispered back, kissing him wherever you could while you ran your hands up and down his broad back.

Frankie broke away to gaze into your eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. Again, three words were on the tip of his tongue. He could have said them. He should have said them. You looked so beautiful underneath him in the moonlight. There was no better time than now…

Yet, he didn’t. Instead he said, “I got you,” as he slowly pulled out of you, causing you both to hiss. Frankie gave you an apologetic look when he was fully out of you, and he couldn’t help but glance down and watch his release spill out of your pussy.

He licked his lips, and for a moment he contemplated devouring you once more. But, his muscles ached, and Frankie felt the overwhelming need just to hold you close, to feel your body against his.

Reaching for a tissue on his bedside, Frankie gently, tenderly cleaned you up as you whimpered from the touch. You were overstimulated as well, but in the best way possible. Not wanting to leave your side even for a moment, he just tossed the tissue aside and laid down next to you, gathering you in his arms. You sighed contently as you pressed a light kiss to his chest before you laid your head down comfortably. 

“Hey baby?” Frankie broke the silence after several moments. 

“You alright, Frankie?” You noticed the change in his tone, which made you worry. You rested your hand on his chest, feeling his heart under your palm. 

“Do you ever think maybe we should tell Santiago about… us?”

You let out a deep sigh as you savored the warmth of his embrace for a moment, “I do hate hiding from him,” you admitted, “But I’m just scared to, you know?” Truthfully, you were sure he wouldn’t be as mad as you feared, yet something nagged at you about it. Perhaps because he reacted so badly to the last person you dated, yet he had good reason to. This time, however, it was Frankie, and who would deny Frankie? And the longer this went on, the more frightened you became. You dug yourself in this hole and the longer you hid in it, the more difficult you knew climbing out of that hole would be.

“I know,” he comforted you with a squeeze, “But we can do it together. He can’t be mad for too long,” he let out a soft laugh.

You chuckled, “You’re right,” you hummed in agreement, “We’ll pick a time to sit down with him and tell him the truth, and Will and Benny too.”

“Sounds good, baby,” he kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right there with you, I promise,” Frankie paused and took a deep breath, “But for now, let’s get some sleep.”

*

It was a quieter night at work, which you were thankful for. So many crowded nights were great for your paycheck, but left you completely exhausted. A few regulars and some newcomers sat scattered around the bar, but you still had some time to just lean against the wall and rest for a bit. It was a calm, peaceful night.

Until the one person you never wanted to see again walked through the doors.

Immediately you were on edge from the moment you saw his sly face, “Ernesto,” you spat through gritted teeth, “What are you doing here?”

His grin sent shivers down your spine, “I missed you, sweetheart.”

“I don’t miss you,” your tone was cold as you held yourself strong, “Get out of here.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” he leaned in close, invading your space and placing a hand on your shoulder, “Give me another chance. I’ve changed.”

“No!” you pushed his hand off your shoulder. But, before you could step away from him, he grabbed your wrist, “Let me go, Ernesto!”

Just as he tried to yank you close enough to him to kiss you, he was ripped away in a flash. Before he could even grunt in confusion, Ernesto found himself stumbling away from you and a man stood between you and him.

“Who the fuck are you?” he snapped.

“Frankie,” you breathed in relief.

“She told you no, so get the fuck out of here before I have to hurt you,” Frankie growled, sounding very unlike his usual self. 

“Fuck off, she’s mine,” Ernesto lunged for Frankie, fists winging.

Frankie clenched his jaw and waited for the opportunity to present itself. In between the flurry of hands from Ernesto, there was an opening. It only took one hit, one precise punch from Frankie right in his nose to send him careening back. Ernesto landed on the floor with a grunt, and all the air was forced out of his lungs as he saw stars from hitting his head.

In a rage, Frankie stepped forward and grabbed Ernesto’s collar, peeling him off the floor, “Have anything to say now, pendejo?” he growled.

It took him a moment to re-orientate himself before he stuttered, “N-no,” all the fight had left Ernesto’s body, “I’m going. I’m going,” he pleaded as he scrambled away and bolted for the door. Frankie watched to make sure he left before he quickly rushed over to you.

*

Santiago hopped out of his truck before he strolled toward the bar you worked at. He had some free time and decided to come see you, especially since he noticed you had been acting differently lately. He cared for you more than anything, and he only ever wanted the best for his sister and only family. He was in a good mood, but as he got closer to the bar, someone burst through the doors and slammed right into him.

“S-sorry,” Ernestro muttered as he looked up from where his gaze was pointed at the ground, “I didn’t mean to… You!” he gasped, recognizing Santiago.

“You!” he snarled as he grabbed Ernesto’s shirt, “What the fuck are you doing here?!” Santiago was ready to hit him, enraged when he thought about how he treated you in the past, but when he noticed the broken nose and blood from his face, he paused.

Ernesto took the opportunity in his hesitation to slip out of his grip and run away. Santiago thought about going after him, but his priority was more on his sister’s safety, so he ran inside to check on you. And when he rushed through the doors, the sight that met him froze him in his tracks.

Frankie was there, holding you tightly and whispering into your ear as you nuzzled into his shoulder. He couldn’t hear what exactly he said, but he could tell Frankie was whispering words of comfort into your ear in between feather light kisses. Santiago wasn’t sure how to feel and he stood in dumbfounded stillness for several moments.

“What the hell is going on here?” his voice was a low grumble as the emotions slipped out before he could stop them.

You gasped as you snapped your head up from where it rested on Frankie’s shoulder, “Santi…” you breathed, tears still fresh in your eyes, “I can explain,” you scrambled out of his arms and up to your feet.

Frankie followed right behind you, “Pope, I…” he started before he was interrupted.

“Wait,” you hissed to both of them, noticing the stares from the few patrons in the bar, “Can we take this outside?” You really did not want an audience.

Santiago remained tense, but looked around and nodded. In silence, the three of you slipped out and towards your brother’s truck for some privacy. The tension was palpable as you made your way out of the bar. Yet, Frankie still slid his hand in yours despite the glare from Santiago.

“Santi, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you blurted out, “We just…”

“How long?” Santiago cut you off with a simple question, “How long have you kept this from me?”

All the breath felt like it was punched out of your lungs and suddenly you realized why he was so angry. All your life, it had been just you and Santi; brother and sister alone in the world. You trusted each other with everything, and you were all each other had. This was the first time you kept something from him, and you noticed the hurt in his eyes that you felt like you had to hide this from him.

“A few months,” Frankie answered for you in a quiet voice.

Santiago let out a heavy sigh as his shoulders dropped and the tough person melted away. Putting his hands on his hips, he looked between the two of you, “And you couldn’t tell me this whole time?” his tone was softer than before, and the hurt was apparent. 

“Santi,” you started, taking a step forward, “I’m sorry.”

He glanced at you before he stepped past you and met Frankie face to face, “Will you take care of her?” he asked, “You’ll never hurt her?”

Frankie’s eyes softened, “Yeah,” he breathed, “I swear, man,” he continued, “I’d never do anything to hurt her,” he paused, “I’m in love with your sister, man.”

The confession made both you and Santiago’s mouths drop open in surprise. “Frankie…” you gasped in a whisper from behind your brother.

Santiago recovered first, “Fuck, bro,” he smiled through the emotions, “Guess I can’t be too pissed at you… You did kick her ex’s ass pretty damn good.” He turned over his shoulder and smiled genuinely at you before turning back to Frankie, “Just don’t make out or do any of that shit in front me, ok?” he said, putting his hand on his shoulder. 

The relief showed on Frankie’s face as he too broke out into a smile. His hand landed on Santiago’s shoulder as you also sighed in relief behind them. “Deal,” he said before the two friends embraced.

Santiago turned to you and took you up in his arms, hugging you tightly.

“I’m sorry I kept this from you, Santi,” you whispered to him as you hugged him back.

Breaking away from the hug, he kept his hands on your forearms, “I get why you didn’t,” he said softly, “I can be a little much when it comes to my family.” He turned between you and Frankie, “How about we celebrate? Drinks are on me.”

“Do I have to make them?” you teased.

Santiago and Frankie both laughed as you all embraced each other. Your brother patted you both on the shoulder before he ushered you both to his truck. Frankie slipped his hand in yours, happy to finally be able to take your hand in public without the fear of getting caught. A new chapter in your lives was just starting, and finally everything was absolutely perfect. 

[jen-with-a-pen]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is. 

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter–  to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day. 

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week. 

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.  

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together. 

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’ 

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door. 

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger. 

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder. 

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit. 

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip. 

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing. 

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.  

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink. 

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it. 

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time. 

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell. 

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear. 

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below. 

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape. 

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully. 

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium. 

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form. 

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.” 

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan. 

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours. 

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.” 

You wanted to take his finger and break it.  

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.” 

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion. 

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance. 

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles. 

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. 

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously. 

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side. 

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?” 

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward. 

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard. 

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body. 

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!” 

“No! Fuck– Get off me!” 

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.” 

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone. 

“Is that all, Sergeant?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.” 

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged. 

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you. 

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.” 

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why. 

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door. 

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy. 

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however. 

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?” 

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release. 

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core. 

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs. 

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass. 

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.” 

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him. 

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure. 

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you. 

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!” 

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you. 

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode. 

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile. 

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

[astralis-ortus]

you're always enough

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— losing you was not an option.

w.count → 2.3k genre → angst, fluff, a dash of comedy warning → mild cussing, mention of infidelity, insecure chan :( a.n → based on this request! it honestly was a challenge for me hahahㅠ i think it's been a while since i wrote something with this quick of a vibe change in a while but i'm glad i got to try again! ⋆ see masterlist

the clock at the bottom right part of his monitor shows its lingering around the 1pm mark—a mere 2 hours since he had stepped foot inside the building—and yet, he’s already stressed.

one block and straight to another, work hasn’t been looking good for him so far. he’s so ready to call for another break—but the soft knocks to the melody of twinkle twinkle little stars on chan’s studio door could only mean one thing.

“well hello there, miss producer,” chan’s frown turned into a smile in the split second you peeked your head between the crack of the door, eyes turning into a pair of beautiful crescents you oh-so adore. you couldn’t even stop yourself from smiling—chan just looked so adorable with his messy natural curls decorating his forehead, beanie discarded somewhere on his leather couch. “come on in. i missed you.”

4 years ago, you were graced with the opportunity to participate in a song camp with the 3racha—one of, if not the, biggest producers in your company. it was a great experience—you got to learn a lot of new things, and somehow, your luck seemed to prolong as you kept in touch with the boys; occasionally called in for inputs while some other time just to hangout while grabbing a bite when the three realized the unidentified voice bleed turns out to originate from your producing room.

“oh really?” your smile easily mirrored his as you stepped inside the cold room, not forgetting to close the door behind you, “you missed me?”

taking his extended hand, the wide grin painted on your face soon met the end of its reign as your boyfriend pulls you into his lap—tiny yelp involuntarily left your lips while chan had his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug. you couldn’t even continue with the witty remarks on the tip of your tongue when his complimentary dozen of butterfly kisses fell across the span of your face; all replaced with the series of giggles and ‘oh my god—stop!’s as you attempted to free yourself from his trap.

you thought your little crush on the oldest of the three was going to remain as a silly little crush—but as life turns out, it has somehow been around 2 years since chan asked you to be his girlfriend, and a little over a year since you two gradually came clean to your closest friends and coworkers; though the thought only came after repeatedly being caught secretly meeting up or sneakily holding hands during your increasingly overlapping recording sessions.

“you little monster!” a high pitched squeal slipped past your upturned lips when you finally caught his rosy cheeks between your hands, keeping him still as you brought your lips onto his for a few quick pecks—which seemed to work, seeing how chan’s antics now reduced to a simple giggle as he held you close.  “you really missed me that much?” you hummed, gently running your thumbs on his freckled cheeks.

“of course i do,” chan pursed his lips in protest, warm hand gently running down your side, “it’s not every day i couldn’t see my girlfriend both at home and at work. 24 hours a day alone wasn’t enough, and now it’s reduced? of course i’m bound to miss you!”

swarms of butterflies fill the hollow of your chest while you let laughter echoes through the familiar green walls, feeling both warm and ticklish from chan’s cheesy line. “gosh,” your wide set grin now completed with a tinge of rose-colored flush on your cheeks, “you’re so head over heels for me, aren’t you?”

chan’s reverberating low hum became his reply, nodding his head confidently. “of course i am,” he smiled, eyes twinkling as the pair of deep brown eyes peered right into yours. “aren’t you?”

“well,” you grinned, arms wrapped around your boyfriend’s neck, “maybe if—”

your train of thought was forced to a halt when you felt a buzz in your pocket, quickly hopping off chan’s lap after a quick glance at the name. a short apology was muttered before you finally took the call outside the studio, leaving chan feeling a little dumbfounded and… hurt.

chan knew it’s probably work—despite the promised time off since the artist you’re working with is on their vacation, as someone who works behind the scenes, you’re never actually off duty. there’s bound to be urgent matters you need to deal with, and chan understood that.

he's just… confused.

and his confusion certainly multiplies in size when he heard another voice laughing with yours, right outside of his studio.

“no! geez, didn’t i—oh!” your attention instantly shifted when you heard the studio door crack open, eyes catching your puzzled boyfriends’ as he looked at you and the figure across. “channie, this is kyungho sunbae. he’s a new addition to the team but i met him in college. kyungho sunbae, this is—”

“bang chan-ssi, of course,” kyungho cheerily greeted chan, extending a friendly hand. “i’ve heard a lot of good things about you!”

“oh,” the confusion on chan’s face turned into a tight smile—which equally reflected on his grip on the stranger’s hand. even through a quick scan of his eyes, chan notices a lot. “couldn’t really say the same, but welcome. i hope you’re adjusting well so far,” chan continued, returning his hand to the small of your back.

“i am, thank you! i—”

“i’m sorry i can’t really talk much right now, i have my things to return to,” chan was quick to cut kyungho off, surprising both you and the latter. “it was nice meeting you, though,” chan quickly bowed before disappearing behind the metal door, leaving you slightly bothered.

“well, i gotta get going too,” kyungho finally broke the awkwardness between you. “i’ll text you later about the details?” he smiled despite the peeking confusion behind his eyes, to which you nodded before sending him off.

it was unlike chan to behave like that. sure, he might grow a little rough with his actions when work hasn’t been going the way he wanted things to be, but he was doing just fine. he was all lovey dovey with you less than 5 minutes prior, wasn’t he?

“baby,” cracking the door open, you were met with a stern-faced chan—eyes locked to his monitors with a muffled bass resonating from the headphone over his ears. the sight led you to a defeated sigh; you knew better than anyone to not bother the lion when he’s in this state.

but little did you know,

when you decided to back away and close the door, chan felt as if his worst nightmare had come true.

he knows it’s stupid to think that you’d ever cheat on him, but there’s also no guarantee that you would never fall for someone else and realize that maybe your happiness wasn’t with him. it terrifies chan to realize that maybe one day, you’d meet someone and realize that there’s someone better than him—someone better looking, someone who could treat you better, someone who could give you everything that you could ever wished for.

chan is scared that he’s not enough, and never will be.

for someone who’s been in his seat for so long, chan understands that at times his life does feel rather fleeting—like he’s simply going through the motions as he tries to stay afloat. everything—everyone—goes by so fast, and along the way, chan somehow learned how to shut down his feelings just so he could survive. he knew—he hoped, that as life gets better, he’ll come to find the opportunity to learn how to feel again.

but then, again, not everything he knows he needed to do proves to be easy.

it took him a while, but when he finally reached a point where he felt like life’s doing better for him, chan finally realizes that he now has love within him to give. he tried sharing them with his bandmates, he tried sharing them with his friends and family—hell, he even tried to share them with every single soul he met, but nothing fills him with the sense of content he was looking for…

until he met you.

chan knew he shouldn’t—you were his coworker, but despite him trying his best not to view you in a special light, he couldn’t help but return his gaze to your bright smile whenever you’re in the room. sure, you’re passionate about what you do, and it sure inspires him—but to see how your shoulders relax whenever you pop open a new book, or how happy you looked browsing through the convenience store aisles while trying to find what kind of new snacks you’ve never seen before,

it feels like he finally found what to be at peace felt like. he finally knew what love should look like—and it’s you.

a soft touch on his shoulder snaps chan out of his trance, eyes wide as it met your worried pair. your gentle smile was the second thing he noticed, and his eyes finally trailed down to the box of pineapple juice and a few snacks along the roll of kimbab perched on his desk.

“i know you’re busy,” your voice finally came clear as soon as chan took off his headphone, “but you need to eat first, okay? it’s almost 2, and i know you didn’t eat much earlier before you left. i’m not gonna bother you again if you eat now—i’ll even head home if you need time to focus, but that’s as long as you eat. okay?”

“…then i’m not eating.”

“baby—”

“i don’t want you to go home,” chan reiterated—and that’s when you finally see the tinge of sadness behind his eyes. “i’m not eating if you’re gonna go.”

“oh baby—what happened?” your voice turned gentle as you took his face in your hands, gently grazing the pads of your thumbs over his skin. “are you okay? do you—”

“i’m sorry.”

“sorry?” you tilted your head, now confused. “for…?”

“just… everything,” chan exhaled, arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close and rested his forehead on your stomach. “i know i’m difficult, but please. don’t leave.”

“baby you’re not difficult,” you furrowed your eyebrows, puzzled. what happened in the 30 minutes you were gone? did something terrible happened? all sorts of thoughts were running through your head.

“and i’m not leaving,” your voice were stern, and you felt the way chan slightly tightened his arms around you. “where am i supposed to even go anyway? i’m already home.”

if chan wasn’t tearing up before, then he sure is now.

“even if i’m not perfect?” he quietly muttered—and you’re slowly piecing the puzzles together. “even if i’m not tall enough? even if my hair is always messy? even if i’m not fashionable? even if—"

“stop right there, mr. bahng,” you stopped him, peeling yourself off from chan and gazed right at his flushed face, “why are you being mean to my boyfriend? where does this came from, hm? no one’s allowed to say shit to my boyfriend like that!” your pursed your lips and gently lowered yourself to place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, only then smiling when chan let out a soft giggle.

“were you upset about me talking to kyungho sunbae earlier?” you questioned, and despite the lack of reply from your boyfriend, you’re pretty sure you knew what his answer was based on the minuscule shift on his face.

“i’m sorry, baby. i thought our interactions wasn’t important enough, so i never really brought him up to you. had i known you’d feel differently about that, i would’ve told you right away,” you apologized, smiling as you noted the faint glint returning in his eyes. “we did met in college, but he was just a senior i came to shadow a couple times when i started out in the industry.”

“i was really surprised when he turned out to be the new guy in my team,” you continued, fingers gently tracing his features, “but what really shocked me was turns out, i actually know his wife.”

you watched as your boyfriend connected the dots, jaw falling upon realizing the tiny detail he had skipped through despite catching a short glimpse of thin silver band on his finger.

“i met his wife a few times since we were pretty close in high school, and he’s been trying to dig out some information from me since their anniversary is just around the corner and he wanted to surprise her. he was just making sure he got the details right without texting me since his texts are synced to their shared device,” you explained, letting a giggle slip when you caught the blush creeping up your boyfriend’s face.

“…i see.”

the echo of your laugh only grew in volume when your boyfriend began to avoid your eyes, resorting to him burying his face on your stomach. adorable.

“it’s okay, baby. i understand why you’d get jealous,” your lips were set into a wide grin as you held your boyfriend close. “i’m still really sorry, though. i really wasn’t trying to hide this, i promise. i’ll tell you straight away if anything like this ever happened again.”

“okay.”

“so…” reducing your giggles to a smile, you gently run your nails on your boyfriend’s scalp, trying to soothe him, “am i forgiven?”

a muffled whine and a nod after, chan finally gazed up at you and added, “if only you’re eating with me.”

“oh baby,” cradling his face in your hands with a smile, you inched closer and placed a light peck over his pouting lips, “i’ll even stay here and cuddle all day with you.”

only then, chan finally allowed himself to laugh.

“well, then don’t mind if i say yes to that.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[incognit0slut]

Better for you

Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)

words: 4.6k Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work) warnings: kissing, suggestive content a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts: 1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B. 2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.

"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.

Everyone but one person, that is.

She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.

How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.

It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—

What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.

"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."

His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.

She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"

His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."

"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."

"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."

"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."

He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"

"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."

"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."

"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."

"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."

She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."

Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."

Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"

"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."

"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."

She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.

His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."

She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."

Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."

"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."

"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."

"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."

Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.

She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.

"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."

He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."

"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."

"Alright, I won't."

That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."

"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"

She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.

"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"

Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."

“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."

Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"

Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."

Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."

"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."

She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.

She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."

He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"

"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."

"Must have been Garcia."

He grinned. "You know her well."

She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.

"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprised? Should I be offended?"

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."

"Including me?"

“Especially you."

Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.

"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.

Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."

She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."

"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"It's what we've always been doing."

"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."

She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"

"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."

Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"

"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.

Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."

She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.

"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.

She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"

Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."

"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.

"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.

Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."

Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.

Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."

"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.

She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.

"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.

Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."

"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."

He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."

He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.

Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.

"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."

They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.

But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.

"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"

She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."

JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."

She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."

Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."

"You mean manipulate."

He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."

"And you both look good together," Will added.

"Thank you."

"We're not together."

They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."

She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."

Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."

"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."

"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."

"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."

"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."

She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"

She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.

"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"

She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."

"What do you think they're saying about us?"

She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."

His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"

She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"

He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."

Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.

“…you don't hate me?"

"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."

She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"

"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."

She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."

Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."

She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."

"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"

Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."

His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."

His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."

There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."

"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"

"To be a better person for you," he corrected.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.

The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"

"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."

His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.

But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.

As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.

And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.

She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?

A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.

Oh, fuck it.

Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.

Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.

Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.

The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.

"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."

His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."

He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."

She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."

"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."

The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"

His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.

"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."

The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.

"I suppose one more won't hurt."

His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.

She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.

.

a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3

.

Oneshot taglist

@simpingforharryandcevans @strawbeerossi @lightvixxen @dim-i-try @annabellexox @baby-banana @nataratacat @wolfbeanpotion @nagemasstuff @alexander-arcturus-black @rosieee491 @s00dastereo @no-honey-no @donttrustlove @tylevx @kailey-rae @sailorholly @ducksong @infinitegalaxiesworld @dreamsarebig @brilliantreid @boimlers-gonna-boim @pastanest @queermaxwooo @sky2nd @jay-2s-world @comeonatmebruh @mcira @wannabewolf @silverhetdanes @thegeniusreider

PLEASE READ: If any of you asked me to be added and you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched by anyone or I can't tag you. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[silverynight]

Eight years and counting

Contains manga spoilers

The first year comes with so much planning and preparation, Katsuki barely has time to keep up with graduation and the agency interview. He's a war hero, he knows it'll be easy for him to get in any agency he wants and even though that'd make his middle school self excited, he's not that kid anymore.

He cares more about Izuku now. No, he only cares about Izuku now.

Katsuki watches closely as the last ember dies and Izuku pretends it doesn't take his last bit of hope with it; he wants Izuku to be more open with him, to tell him how he truly feels about being quirkless again, but Katsuki knows him well enough at this point to expect something like that.

But he also knows his Izuku won't be completely happy with being a UA teacher, no matter how much he loves that school. Izuku is meant to be a hero, like Katsuki. Actually, he's meant to be a hero and fight by Katsuki's side.

And Katsuki is going to make sure that dream comes true.

So he plans; Izuku needs a new suit, one that can emulate OFA to perfection because if Katsuki is going to give anything to Izuku, he's going to make sure it's absolutely perfect.

It takes a while for him to finish the design and as soon as he does, the first step is to show it to All Might. Katsuki knows he used a mecha suit during the final battle so he probably has an idea if Katsuki's design is possible or not.

"For young Midoriya?"

All Might already knows it's for Izuku, but the question is not exactly about that and Katsuki is perfectly aware of it; he can see it in the soft smile of Izuku's mentor, he can see it in the way his blue eyes shine with knowledge.

Katsuki blushes, but he doesn't look away from the former symbol of peace. He's not that middle schooler hot-heated kid anymore. He's done hiding his feelings behind anger and he's not ashamed about what he feels for Izuku. He's pretty sure All Might knows about that, he's probably waiting for a confirmation.

Katsuki nods, blush spreading down his neck.

"It'll take years to make something like that."

"I'm aware."

"And a lot of money," All Might keeps staring into his eyes, and Katsuki suddenly feels like he's being tested, but he doesn't care. He's going to get Izuku his suit no matter what. "A lot."

"I'll work hard. I can pay for it."

All Might smiles fondly at him before putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You should talk to young Midoriya."

Katsuki shakes his head with a fierce determination. He's not going to get Izuku's hopes up only to shatter them when something doesn't work. This is just an idea and he's not sure how long it'll take.

Katsuki will rather stab himself than breaking Izuku's heart.

"I can't do that. Not until it's ready."

"I'm not talking about the suit."

His cheeks are warm again as what All Might is trying to say finally sinks in.

"I will, but not yet."

***

By the second year he's already mailing the designs to All Might's friend in the US and constantly sending texts and visiting Hatsume in her new lab. She's excited about it and happy to start working on it; she's fond of Izuku too and loves challenges so Katsuki knew she'd say yes.

It takes a little bit more to convince Shield, but she agrees after reading Katsuki's long mail, that looks dangerously close to an essay about the amazing things Midoriya Izuku could achieve with it.

Maybe Izuku is right after all; he's kind of a nerd too.

She agrees to the project and assures Katsuki he can send her low amounts of money every month until the suit it's completely done. After a few weeks, both Shield and Hatsume start working together on it.

Then he contacts his former classmates, because All Might told him they'd want to know about it.

Not only they seem really excited about the project, they offer their help and tell Katsuki they'd like to give him a bit of money for the suit too.

He agrees gladly because he knows Izuku will be happy to know everyone participated in the making of the suit. Besides, he knows it's important to let people help when they can and want to.

***

He's not going to lie, the third year is harsh for him.

Between the videocalls with Shield, the visits to Hatsume and the extra hours he has to work to make more money, Katsuki barely has time to hang out with his friends, although it's not like they have much time either.

He stills sees Izuku a few times a week though because he's physically incapable of being away from him for too long. Sometimes Katsuki wonders if he has noticed, and then he remembers he's a nerd who won't recognize unconditional love even if it hit him in the face.

They talk about Izuku's students, about the UA and Katsuki's hero work; he was a bit reluctant to say anything about his job in front of the nerd at first, but he realized that Izuku genuinely gets excited and happy about Katsuki's pro hero journey.

He notices the nerd gets a bit sad sometimes, especially when he mentions their other friends, because they all are professionals now and Katsuki knows Izuku would like to share that kind of feeling with them.

It only makes Katsuki want to work even harder.

And he does, even if he ends up half dead on his couch after a very long shift; he somehow manages to wake up early next morning with Izuku's dream in his mind.

It's enough motivation to keep him going.

However, his body does get tired and it shows sometimes in the way he acts around others; that's probably the reason why he starts snapping at annoying fans and the videos end up on Tiktok and Instagram; his hero name trends for a while, but he honestly doesn't give a fuck. He's still making money and saving people.

Although, even if he doesn't care, he knows others do.

Because of that, Aizawa starts scolding him about his public image and the way it'll affect to his current ranking.

But Katsuki doesn't care about rankings anymore; Izuku is not there to compete against for the number one spot so it's not remotely interesting to make an effort now.

He'll save that for when Izuku becomes a pro hero.

***

By the fourth year, Aizawa decides to play dirty and use Katsuki's only weakness, so he starts showing Izuku the videos of him growling at civilians.

"Kacchan!"

It's ridiculous how Izuku's sad puppy eyes and his worried expression is the only thing he needs to make Katsuki do as he pleases, but Katsuki has been acting that ridiculous since the war ended so it doesn't matter.

It's not like he's gonna stop now.

"Fine! I'll try not to punch them in the face!"

"Did you actually do that?" Izuku finally snaps his head up from the homework he's grading and looks at him with shock, concern and disbelief at the same time.

"Of course not!" He rolls his eyes. "No matter how much I want to sometimes..."

"Kacchan!"

He does behave a bit better after that and Ashido makes fun of him because of it.

Then All Might figures out he's working too much, and also uses Izuku to make Katsuki take a break.

"Are you overworking yourself, Kacchan?"

Again with the sad puppy eyes! He needs to develop a shield against them. Izuku can't keep using them like a weapon all the time.

"I'm fine!"

The nerd is even better at handling him; Izuku nods and smiles before changing the topic to one of his students (he adores them as much as they adore him) and Katsuki visibly relaxes.

Which is a huge mistake.

"When's your next day off, Kacchan?" Izuku casually asks three days later. He smiles sweetly at him and Katsuki wonders for a moment if he actually knows how much power he has over him. "I would like you to stay over at my apartment someday. We can watch a movie and order takeout!"

"You mean like a... sleepover?" he clears his throat, cheeks turning slightly pink. He crosses his arms over his chest as a shield because he doesn't want to think of any of his multiple daydreams about spending a night with Izuku. It's too dangerous.

"Yes!"

It's not fair. Izuku looks so excited he basically has stars in his eyes as he looks up at Katsuki.

The next thing he knows is that he's asking Hawks for a day off and the whole agency starts gossiping about it because he hasn't taken one of those in years.

Only when he's sitting on Izuku's couch, completely relaxed and happy, it occurs to him it was a trap to make him take a break. And even though he knows now, he keeps falling for it every single time.

Because he can't say 'No' to Izuku.

***

Izuku's gauntlets are completely ready five years after Katsuki designed them. They look exactly like the ones he used before, but they have OFA's puch power and release energy threads he can use as he did with Blackwhip.

They're perfect.

Katsuki stares at them for a moment with a stupid, fond smile on his face and he decides to do something sentimental and even more stupid because he's an idiot.

"Can you change mines?" He asks Hatsume after a while. "I want them to look like Izuku's."

"You want them to match your boyfriend's?" She says so casually that Katsuki realizes she's been thinking of Izuku and him as a couple for a long time now. "Sure! He'll probably love that too!"

Katsuki can tell her she's mistaken, but he doesn't. Instead, he thinks about how it'll look when Izuku finally wears his hero suit and stands next to him.

His grin becomes even wider.

Izuku tears up when he sees Katsuki for the first time wearing his new gauntlets; he immediately recognizes the design, even though they're a different color.

He doesn't ask why Katsuki decided to change his gauntlets, he just walks towards him and pulls him into a tight hug.

"It... it doesn't bother you?" He's so drunk in Izuku's scent and physical closeness, his voice shakes a bit. Katsuki hadn't realized how starved he was for Izuku's touch until that moment. "I mean, are you okay with them looking almost like the ones you used to wear?"

The last thing he wants is to make Izuku upset with his own need to feel close to him, even if it's something stupid like making his gauntlets match his.

Izuku shakes his head, smiling up at him.

"I think it's really sweet."

Blushing to the tip of his ears and making Izuku giggle in the process, Katsuki realizes how much he has changed over the past years.

He's a completely different person from who he was in elementary, middle and even the first year of high-school.

The old Bakugo was made of various layers of anger issues and insecurities that were falling off of him as he grew as a person, leaving only Bakugo Kacchan in their place.

He's Izuku's Kacchan now. The version of himself that was born the moment he met little Izuku and wanted to be a pro hero with him; he's always been Izuku's Kacchan.

And he's mature enough to admit and embrace that now.

***

It's the second time, in years, his parents pay him a visit; Katsuki has been avoiding that moment as much as he could, going to their house instead, but his mother probably got suspicious and decided to find out what was going on by herself.

She takes a look around and quirks up a brow at him, even though Katsuki is doing everything in his power to ignore her.

He focuses on his Dad instead, but Masaru has a terrible poker face so Katsuki can tell he's noticed his son lives exactly the way he did when he started working as a pro hero.

"You haven't redecorated the place yet, huh?" he offers kindly, prompting Katsuki to roll his eyes.

He's aware of what's coming. It doesn't matter how much his Dad tries to dismiss the subject because he knows his son doesn't want to talk about it.

But Bakugo Mitsuki doesn't like that type of approach.

"Why do you still live in this crappy ass apartment?" There it goes. His mother crosses both arms over her chest and Katsuki knows she will not leave until he gives her a good explanation. "I thought you made good money! It's been years, brat! Don't tell me you somehow got attached to this place?"

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep breath, sits both his parents on the couch and offers them tea as he start explaining everything to them.

By the time he's done he looks up only to find them staring back at him with a very proud smile on both their faces.

Masaru hugs him before his mother starts ruffling his hair in a way she hasn't done since Katsuki was in elementary.

"He's going to love it," his father assures him; a little bit of the weight Katsuki has been carrying over his shoulders vanishes because even though he knows Izuku, part of him was sightly afraid he wouldn't like it.

They spend the rest of the afternoon looking at Katsuki's first designs as he tells them in detail how each piece is going to work.

"We've been testing them for a while and they work quite well," he says with a satisfied smile.

"What about the measurements?" Mitsuki asks then. "If you want to keep this a secret from him, how do you plan to make this fit to his body type?"

"I know Izuku's measurements," he says with a confident smirk that quickly vanishes as soon as he watches his parents exchanging a look. "Not like that! I've know him my whole life! I know him better than anyone!"

There's an uncomfortable silence before Mitsuki shakes her head with an amused grin on her face.

"You know an engagement ring would have been way cheaper than this, right?"

"Shut up!"

***

The UA students know him quite well now, especially Izuku's students. Uraraka and Todoroki help Izuku too every now and then, but Katsuki is the only one who's always available when Izuku calls.

And no, not all the students are fond of him, especially because he plays the villain quite often and he easily defeats them in the blink of an eye.

"Don't be too hard on them, Kacchan!"

"How will they learn what a real battle looks like if I'm not, Izuku?"

After a while, Katsuki hears a couple of students calling him Midoriya-sensei's boyfriend and he doesn't correct any of them.

Then the rumor reaches social media and Katsuki doesn't bother to deny it during interviews either; he only says he doesn't like to talk about his private life, which only makes everyone think it's true.

He's being selfish and he knows it, but he doesn't care at all.

However, Izuku apparently does because he corrects his students when they call them a couple, and even though he's telling nothing but the truth, it hurts Katsuki a bit.

"What is it, Kacchan?" Izuku notices immediately of course, and looks back at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he manages to smile, reminding himself that Izuku's suit is almost done and they'll be hero partners soon.

It's all that matters.

"You're an idiot!" Ashido hits him on the back of his head as they have lunch together outside her agency; it's been years since he has actually seen her face to face, and that's the first thing she does? He shouldn't have come. "Why haven't you told him?"

Katsuki huffs, getting slightly irritated.

"We have already discussed this. If the suit is not rea–"

"Not about that!" She rolls her eyes before taking her phone and showing it to him, almost shoving it to his face. "I'm talking about this!"

It's a picture of Katsuki in his hero suit talking to Izuku; they're in the UA so one of the students must have taken it.

Katsuki doesn't need her to say anything else for him to understand what she's talking about; it's written all over his face, in the fondness of smile and the glimmer in his eyes.

He's sure out of all the pictures of pro hero Dynamight on the internet, that's the only one in which he's smiling that softly.

Because it's the only picture of him looking directly at Izuku.

"I will tell him... eventually," he mumbles in a tone that lets Ashido know he doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

Izuku needs to focus on fulfilling his dream first.

***

It's been eight years since Katsuki started this project and now that Izuku's suit is finally done, he has decided that the right person to hand it to Izuku is All Might.

"You should be there too," the man insists, giving him an encouraging smile.

Katsuki shakes his head, looking at the floor; it'd be too overwhelming for him, he's sure he'll tear up if he sees Izuku's face when he gets the suit.

He asks All Might to tell Izuku that everyone funded his suit, that they contributed the same amount to it.

The next day he's back at the agency to keep himself busy; he's about to head to his first patrol of the week when Izuku walks in, wearing his hero suit.

Katsuki chokes, blushes and almost tears up at the same time.

He looks perfect.

"Thank you, Kacchan."

The blinding smile and the happiness in his voice is what ends up undoing him, because what he realizes in that moment is that Izuku hasn't smiled so freely, so sincerely in years and Katsuki is the reason he does now.

He starts tearing up the way he did that day at the hospital, the only difference is that it's happiness what makes him so emotional this time.

Izuku takes a few steps closer and presses their foreheads together.

"Thanks for making my dreams come true."

"It wasn't just me," Katsuki manages to say, but his voice sounds choked. "Everyone-"

"I know you planned it, designed it, got everyone together to work on it and paid the most for it. All Might told me everything."

"The old man can't keep a damned secret now..."

Izuku chuckles and his laughter is music to Katsuki's ears; it's true, he doesn't care how sappy it sounds. Izuku's happy chuckle is the best kind of music to him.

Then, Izuku takes his face in his hands and makes him look down at him.

"I love you too, Kacchan."

Katsuki is sure he's dreaming; it must be getting late, he needs to wake up.

But then Izuku kisses him and the kiss is clumsy and wet, but it's perfect because it's their first and now Katsuki knows it's real.

***

He doesn't need to work extra hours now, which means he has time to help Izuku train to get used to his new suit and the quirks it comes with.

It takes him just two months to accomplish that, and another one to feel ready to apply to Hawks' agency.

"I'm ready to get a hero partner now."

"Really?" Hawks looks at him in disbelief before grinning. "Alright, I have a few suggestions..."

"I want Deku."

Hawks rolls his eyes, but doesn't look surprised in the slightest.

"At least wait for me to hire him first," Hawks continues, staring up at Katsuki with a little bit of irritation. "I just got his application."

"Well, when you do, make him my partner," he's aware that he sounds demanding and although he's not like that anymore, he can't hold back the urgency in his voice because he has waited for that moment for eight years.

"I can't," Hawks says, taking a deep breath, bracing himself for a long discussion. "Even though Deku is a war hero and I'm sure he'll become an excellent pro hero, he has to start at the bottom, like everyone else. However, if I put you with him, you'll have to endure all those boring patrols and easy missions that are given to new heroes in training."

"I know that. Just put me with him. We'll get to the top in no time."

Hawks stares at him and blinks a few times before chuckling.

"Well damn. Guess they weren't rumors after all," he smirks. "Alright. Just invite me to the wedding."

"Will do."

***

Katsuki hears Izuku ramble excitedly about being hero partners and their first patrol together in the comfort of their shared apartment, one that his mother finally approves of, although he has the feeling that she doesn't care that much about the place, but the person her son is living with.

Mitsuki has always loved Izuku.

They have breakfast, Katsuki prepares two bentos for the both of them and they head to the agency, directly to the locker room.

Even though it's not his first patrol, Katsuki notices his heart beating faster as he walks out as Dynamight, right next to Izuku wearing the suit he worked so hard for.

The suit that made their dreams come true.

"Come, Deku," he says, because he can do that now, he can offer his hand to Izuku, knowing he'll take it without hesitation and a blinding smile on his face.

They're partners now, in more ways than one.

It's been eight years to get to this point, but Katsuki know it's just the beginning for the both of them.

***

Patreon

[untitled-tmnt-blog]

Rise August 2024

-- Day 1: Mad Dogs --

First day of Rise August! Rise August 2023 was the first daily drawing challenge I'd ever participated in, so of course I had to do it again in 2024!

Some of these may be pretty quick & rough. Some may be a bit late. But I'm determined to get through all of them one way or another!

(Rise August 2024 Masterpost)

Still image:

And in case it's not immediately obvious, the poses are from this scene in the finale: