#if mutuals are interested in seeing me on my back in a dress being fucked in my stockings shoot me a DM

[erophonemic]

I posted that kind of dommy platform boot shot earlier, but my roommate made me come over to her and she put a bar gag in my mouth and pushed me onto the bed and fingered me silly shxjdhdjd. Switch girl moments

[zyafics]

STAY THE NIGHT | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing — Rafe x FWB!Female Reader

Summary — When Rafe sees you as just a fuck buddy, you embody the role and remind him what that truly means.

Word Count — 5.5K

Content — 18+, Smut, Jealousy (From Rafe), Dominance Play, Oral Receiving (F + M), Fingering, P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cockwarming, Praise Kink, Fluff At The End

Rafe Cameron doesn't get jealous.

You two aren't a couple. You are nothing more than casual fuck buddies that are conveniently located within proximity of one another when one of you need to blow off some steam or get off. The feeling is completely mutual.

However, you've been exclusive.

It's unspoken, of course. No one is willing to admit that they don't want the other to be sleeping with other people and you settled on that ambiguity.

You thought it could mean something more.

You thought wrong.

The other day, after fooling around, you laid in his bed, wearing nothing, and asked if you could stay the night. As part of your undefined relationship, you don't do sleepovers. Rafe doesn't do sleepovers. However, he was the one who was calling you after midnight. He was the one who wanted you to sneak out of your house, where your parents placed a curfew. If you go home now, you would be caught dead in the act and get into trouble. It would be easier to save yourself and stay over.

"No." Rafe declared, not letting the suggestion linger for more than a second. You lifted yourself from the bed by propping your elbows against his mattress, staring at the man who's searching for his throwaway clothes on the floor and redressed himself. "We don't do sleepovers. I don't want to be caught with a Pogue."

"Rafe." You said with a hint of annoyance. He saw you naked, but he was afraid of being seen with you in public? "It's fucking four in the morning. My parents are going to see me."

He scoffed. "Not my problem."

"So what? You don't care if I get in trouble?"

He shrugged, pulling his shirt over his chest. "You're just a fuck."

You said nothing. You just stared at him. He quickly gets dressed and finds your clothes around his floor, throwing them on the bed for you to take. With a huff, you pull yourself from the comforts and put them on.

"I'll call you." He said as you walked out of his bedroom, but you didn't answer him. All you did was flip him off and make your way out.

The next morning, you got in trouble with your parents regarding your absence. But, you said nothing, taking the lecture they gave you and headed to your room.

And you thought, if he sees me as a quick fuck, fine. I'll be just that.

The next Kook party, you were there. You always attended Kook parties, despite being a Pogue, simply because the alcohol is all free and it tasted better. No more cheap beer on The Boneyard, but you had to admit—the music was better.

Kooks can't play for shit.

This party happened to be on Tanneyhill, the mansion where Rafe lived. You haven't seen him since the last time you hooked up, and it's been the longest you've gone without seeing each other. Sure, he called you but you let it go to voicemails and all his texts were left on read. You know, without a doubt, Rafe would be looking for you and attempting to pull you to the nearest bathroom to fuck your brains out.

But you didn't care.

(Maybe just a little).

After dancing for a while, grinding against random strangers and making conversations with some friends of yours, you settled into a seat next to a Kook. He introduced himself as Ethan, and you chat with him as you drink from your cup, making small talk about what you're doing this summer.

He seemed interested enough. His eyes shamelessly glance down at your top, which practically shows off your tits, and floats back to your lips a couple of times. You knew if you wanted to, he would've follow you to a bedroom and fuck you.

But you didn't.

You laughed at his jokes. You told some of your own.

All while having an nagging feeling of a pair of eyes on the back of your head.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. You know exactly who.

And Rafe Cameron is fuming.

He noticed you when you first walked in, in a top that shows off too much and a skirt that covers practically nothing. You walked into Tanneyhill as if you owned the place, despite being a Pogue, and that's one of the things that irritates him about you.

But it also made him attracted to you.

Your confidence. Your demeanor. You never backed down when Rafe tries to put you in your place and you never let him gain control without a fight. He likes that you make him work for it; there's a thrill in the chase. Because he knows, at the end of the day, it's his bed that you ended up in. It's his cock that you're sucking.

But, at this moment, he isn't so sure. Instead of being in his arms, talking to him, you were talking to some random fucking guy who attended Kook Academy and is making you laugh.

You didn't even bother to tell him you were coming.

Rafe thought he could hold it in until he got you alone.

But that was before the guy put his hand on your upper thigh and you let him.

It takes mere seconds for Rafe to cross the yard, and when he comes behind you, it surprises you at how silent he was. "Get your hands off my fucking girl," he snapped at Ethan and before Ethan got the chance to back off, Rafe grabs your arm and pulls you off the chair, taking you inside of Tanneyhill.

You let him drag you for a few moments. The booze in your system is making your reaction sluggish, but when the realization dawns on you, you finally pull away when you reach in front of his bedroom, hidden in a dark hallway.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

He scoffs at your words. "What am I doing?" He repeats. You nod. He jabs an accusing finger in your direction. "What the fuck are you doing?"

You lift the cup to your lips. "I'm drinking."

His eyes are livid. "With that guy?" He gestures outside where Ethan is, jealousy pouring from his words and he sounds like he's using every inch of restraint he has to hold everything together. You shouldn't be enjoying it so much, but you are. When you don't answer him, feigning a bored expression, Rafe gets more frustrated. He doesn't like that you aren't reacting. He doesn't like it at all. "What's your fucking problem?"

You lift your shoulders in a casual shrug, pressing the red solo cup against your lips and says, "thought I was just another fuck."

He knows you were throwing his words back at him. He knows that this is some fucking test that you're doing to drive him bad. He also knows it's working, so much so that he knocks the cup out of your hands, causing the content to spill all over his marble floor. "Fuck you."

You scoff, unfazed by his aggression. "You already did." You say, and while Rafe is silently raging underneath, you decide to take it a step further. Closing in the distance until you're right in front of his face, you smirk, "and you fucking loved it."

Rafe is breathing hard, his blue eyes searching your face, his chest raising and falling in rapid beats as frustration rolls off of him, all while you tip your head to the side, raising your brow, challenging him to respond.

He does.

By slamming his lips against yours.

One of his hands catches the back of your neck as he presses a bruising and punishing kiss against your lips, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat. Instinctively, you throw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"You're mine." He breathes against your lips when you break apart, trailing kisses down the column of your neck as you tip your head back to give him more access, feeling his mouth working against your skin. "And no fucking asshole from the Academy is going to take you away from me."

Wanting to tease him further, you say. "What if I leave?"

He answers you by sucking on a sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to arch into him and let out an involuntary moan as his free hand descends down to your short skirt and roughly palms your ass. Rafe chuckles against your skin, satisfied by your body's reaction to him. "Then no one is going to make you feel like I do."

His hands move to pull down your top, causing your tits to spill out of the fabric. The cold air pricks at your exposed skin and Rafe takes a beat of a second to admire you before lifting his gaze to meet you in an easy, cocky grin.

"So ready for me," he teases, moving his hand up to play with your hardened nipples between his fingers. You let out a small sigh. "God, you're fucking gorgeous."

"Shut up," you say, not liking how his words are making your cheeks flush with heat and a flutter of butterflies to swarm your stomach. This is just a fuck, you remind yourself. He lifts his blue eyes to meet you for a brief second before descending his mouth down to cover one of your nipples.

You always like playing with yourself there. As his tongue swirls around the sensitive tip, his teeth lightly graze against the bud, causing your moan to echo across the hallway and his hand immediately slaps over your mouth, silencing them.

Rafe's eyes lock with yours. "You don't want anyone to hear what a needy girl you are, do you?"

You clench your jaw underneath his hand, at his dominance, but when you don't answer fast enough, he asks again. "Do you?"

You shake your head and he pulls himself off of you, the cold invades the absence of his heat. But, Rafe doesn't leave you for long. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his bedroom. The moment the door slams close, his lips return on yours and his hands explore over your exposed body.

Your core clenches as Rafe slams you against the back of the door, kissing you hungrily as he lowers his hand to the cutoff of your skirt and pushes the flimsy material up to your hips before cupping your pussy.

"God, you're dripping," he says with a small laugh, looking up to you. "Are you this wet for me, baby?"

You are. Rafe Cameron has a way to make your entire body responsive to him, his touch, his kisses, his everything. But, you don't want to let him know that. You don't know how much you want it, how much you need it.

Instead of answering him, you say with a roughness to your voice, "if you don't fuck me, Cameron, I'll find someone else who will."

Humor leaves his face and his expression hardens. He cups your cunt hard, causing you to involuntary jolt forward into his hand and a small whimper to escape you. "This is mine. No other fucking man is going to touch this but me."

"Big words for someone who hasn't made me come."

His eyes darken and, with your taunting and teasing getting to him, he finally pushes your panties to the side and inserts a rough finger inside of your pussy, causing you to wince at the abrupt motion. "Can you handle it?"

You nod with closed eyes, feeling as he adds a second finger, thrusting in a steady but rough pace, his other hand fondling with your tits.

You lean back against the door with heavy breaths, moaning and clenching as your orgasm builds from his rhythm. Rafe knows your body, he knows you're about to come, and as your moans get more erratic and you grind harder into his hand, he quickens his thrusts. Leaning into you, he says to your ear, "let it out, baby."

You do.

Your walls clench around his fingers tightly as you ride on your high, so much so that you hear his muttered fuck under his breath. When you're slowly coming down from your climax, Rafe removes his hand. The loss of his touch causes you to frown but before you get the chance to open your eyes and complain, he pushes the wet digits against the entrance of your lips. "Suck."

You want to argue back, about him telling you what to do, but you can't seem to help but listen. Your eyes open and find his face, watching you as you suck his fingers clean of your arousal. "Good girl."

When he withdraws his fingers, clarity dawns on you. He's wearing too much while you're practically exposed. You didn't like how uneven the playing field is, and with a gesture to his shirt and pants, you demand. "Take it off."

His smirk is smug. "Eager, aren't we?"

"If I have to be naked, so do you."

"You aren't naked." He gestures back to you and you look down at yourself. While your tits are showing and your panties are soak, he's right, you technically aren't naked. Not afraid of backing down from a challenge, you easily pull your tiny top over your shoulders and push your skirt and panties down to your ankles.

Stepping out of them, you look back to see Rafe admiring your naked body. You can see the outline of his erection straining against his pants, and for a moment, a self-consciousness creeps up on you and you blush. With a hard swallow, you point to him. "Your turn."

The corner of his lips quirks up at how demanding you are and he pulls his shirt over his body, revealing the defined and taunt muscles of his chest underneath. Your mouth waters. You watch as he goes for his belt—knowing you’re watching—that he teases it out slowly. He messes with the buckle, taking his sweet time, that you grow impatient. 

"Goddammit," you mutter under your breath, approaching him and pushing his hands out of the way, sinking to your knees as you unbuckle the belt with ease—practices from all the other times. When you pull it out of his pants, you stop, looking up to Rafe.

"Go on, princess." He gestures, a cocky grin at the sight of you on your knees for him. "Finish what you started."

You hate how much power he has over you this time, how he is telling you what to do, but because of how needy you are, how much you want him between your legs and his cock to be in you, you listen. You unzip and pull down his pants, revealing an impressed bulge underneath his briefs. With one easy tug, you freed his cock and it stood in front of you, hard and leaking with pre-cum.

On your knees, you look up to see Rafe watching you, waiting to see what you do. His eyes are hungry and his arousal is obvious. Tentatively, you wrap your hand around the thick cock, your fingers barely connecting together because of his girth.

And slowly, you rub up and down his shaft.

A hiss leaves the back of Rafe's throat and satisfaction pools in your core at the realization that you are making him feel this way, that you have this much control. "Faster." He commands, his voice thick with desire.

Instead of listening to his orders, you open your mouth and take his cock in your mouth, swallowing the salty taste as you swirl your tongue at his head. Added with the motion of your hand playing with his balls, and rubbing him up and down, Rafe can’t help but rock his hips against your face. 

“Fuck,” he swears, his hand finds your hair and pulls your closer to him, as your grip around him gets firmer and you hollow your cheeks, creating a stronger suction. Rafe groans under your touch, tugging the root of your strands, wanting you to do anything and everything to build him closer to his climax. “Fuck, baby, I’m close.” 

With that pride of information, you slow down, your fingers loosen their pace and you pop the cock out of your mouth. Rafe feels the instant loss of touch and he looks down at you, his expression hard and angry.

"What the fuck?"

"Say please."

He says your name in a command, but you don't budge.

Rafe's blue eyes are hard. He knows you do this. He knows you like to mess with him, take back control whenever you find yourself in a small position of power and remind him of his place. Irritation builds in his chest, this time worse than the others, but so does his delayed climax. He needs it more.

With a reluctant sigh, he says, "please."

You return your motion, moving in slow, torturous strokes as your hand moves up and down his slick length, creating enough pleasure for him to feel but not enough friction to ease into his climax. Your mouth has yet to return on his cock and without the added assistance, his jaw tense and his frustration and horniness builds. 

In a desperate plea, Rafe begs, "baby, please."

His voice didn't sound like his own and his words are so rough, so willing, that you can't help but alleviate him from his misery. You reconnect your lips on his tip and begin to rub his faster, firmer, sucking him harder. With the edge of delay, Rafe comes fast with a guttural groan, spilling in your mouth as you lap over the taste, swallowing all of it.

Rafe lowers himself and guides you back to your feet, pulling you towards the bed and pushing you flat against the mattress, laying on your back.

He lowers himself off the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees as he steps in front of your exposed pussy, and looks up to see the self-satisfied smirk on your face at the little stunt you pulled back there. In a low voice, he says, "you're going to regret that."

A finger drags up your slit, in a slow motion, gathering your wetness on the digit but producing enough pressure that it makes you whine. You try to grind yourself against his hand but he lays his palm on the flat of your stomach, holding you in place. 

When his eyes connect with your needy gaze, he says, “my turn.” 

Dipping his head between your legs, he kisses your inner thighs in slow, agonizing touches. It produces an aching feel to your core as he gives careful attention to both of your thighs, slowly creeping up to your throbbing cunt, but not quite giving you a release. 

Rafe lingers on a particular sensitive spot near your pussy, sucking and kissing the placement until you're writhing in pleasure and frustration, desperate to feel his tongue in you.

"Rafe," you say with a throaty beg and he grins against your skin.

"I said you're going to regret it."

"Yeah, and if you take any longer, I'm going to go downstairs to find Ethan."

Rafe hates it when you mention other men, or even think of other men, especially when he’s fucking you, but it does the trick as he moves between you and his fingers spread your folds. “You are this wet for me, baby, not Ethan,” he reminds you, before lowering himself to your pussy, flattening his tongue against your center before moving up and down in slow strokes. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he finds your sensitive clit and sucks on the nub, the sound of wetness fills the bedroom as the low volume of the music thumps from downstairs. He lets one finger enter your cunt, beginning at a slow pace. “Rafe, ohmygod.”

He moves faster, rougher, lapping out your taste as if he was dying of thirst. With his finger quickening and his tongue working a miracle on you, another orgasm builds. 

“I’m close,” you whisper and he nods. He moves with precision and god, Rafe Cameron is good at eating pussy. When his tongue enters into you and the pad of his thumb rubs circular motions around your clit, you can’t help but arch into his pleasure and come on his face. 

You fall against the mattress with a heavy breath, but Rafe doesn’t stop. He continues to suck and lap and rub, causing you to wrap your thighs tightly around his head. You’re already so exhausted, so sensitive, coming down from your high, but that does nothing to satiate the man between your legs—fingers and tongue buried inside of you, still hungry. 

Your thighs violently shake and your fingers rack through his hair, pulling, “ohmygod, ohmygod,” you moan as he works another orgasm from you, your stomach tightening and the pressure being so unbearable you feel as if you’re going to cave and explode. 

“Come for me, baby, I want another one.” He mumbles against your cunt, the low hum of his voice vibrates through your body in a pleasurable sensation. With a rougher pace and a harder suction around your clit, you come for a second time in a row. 

You’re an absolute wreck when he pulls away and, assessing the damage he caused, Rafe chuckles at the sight before him. You splay out on the mattress, breathing heavily with low lids and the prettiest pussy. He lowers himself, placing both hands on either side of your head to carry his weight, he plants a soft kiss on your lips. 

His eyes set on you, a gentle gaze, and whispers. “Can you take another, baby?” 

Though you are weak from all the orgasms you endured, you still nod, looping your arms around his neck as he descends closer to you, planting kisses against your lips, the corner of your mouth, to the edge of your jawline. You can feel his erection grazing at your entrance, waiting to enter, and the thought itself ignites another round of passion and need within you. 

Rafe pulls back just enough to line his cock against your wet folds. Before he enters, he looks up to you, waiting for a confirmation sign. When you nod, he slowly pushes the length into your aching core and you jerk forward. 

He goes in slow at first, allowing your walls to adjust to his size because, no matter how many times he’s been inside of you, it still takes a moment for your pussy to register that this is him. That this is his pussy. A hiss escapes the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

You, with what little strength you have left, push yourself up as he rocks against your hips, beginning his thrusts. You get closer to him, grabbing his shoulders, while he takes the opportunity to play with your tits. 

This new position allows him to enter deeper inside of you, hitting a new angle, causing you to let out a cry from the explosion of pleasure. In addition to the remnants of the orgasms you had a few moments prior, as Rafe pounds into your very sensitive core, you begin to feel as if you’re seeing stars. 

Rafe leans down, closer to your ear as he asks, "who's fucking you?"

You feel your stomach knot and tighten, knowing he’s getting you close. But, you also can feel his cock twitching inside your walls, alerting you that he’s also getting close. With this dynamic power, you turn your head to face Rafe, connecting your heavy-lid eyes with his. 

“Ethan.” 

Rafe stills. His eyes darken at your words, watching the way your lips curl with an innocent look and he decided he hates it. He hates this little power play you're doing to him, he hates how it's working. He knows that you two are nothing more than fuck buddies, but without the reassurance that you are his—fully, devotedly his—he doesn't know if you haven't fucked another guy before. If you haven't had Ethan's name on your lips.

His hand lowers between the two of you, lightly grazing against your sensitive clit. You jolt into his touch. "Did you fuck him?"

His voice is low, dangerously low, as you watch how serious he turned with the tease of another man's name. You tilt your head to the side, challenging him. "And if I did?"

He pinches your clit and your hips arch forward, but he uses his other hand to grab it still. Your core throbbing while he remains inside of you and does nothing. You realize, in this moment, that you might've gone too far. You feel full and have everything in your possession to make you reach your highest peak but you chose to delay it with a joke that wasn't even that funny.

Especially not now.

Rafe slowly rubs your clit with his fingers, painfully light, teasing and punishing you all in one. You gasp into his touch, but he doesn't let you move. His grip remains firm on your hips, holding you in place as you ache around his cock, as he can feel your walls clench around him, begging to be fucked.

But he needs to hear you say it.

"Rafe," you choke, and his eyes connect with yours. Your eyes are teary, your breathing is erratic, and you are trying desperately to produce some friction between your legs and give you some semblance of pleasure. "Rafe, move."

"No, princess," he says with a deadly calm, shaking his head. "You want to play mind games with me all night, fine. But tonight, I'm going to fucking hear you say my name." He repeats himself with aggression, his fingers skims across your sensitive nub. "Who. Is. Fucking. You?"

You grip his shoulders, your eyes meeting his, and your core aches painfully. You try to grind yourself against him, trying to produce some friction of your own, but he uses both hands to grab your hips, stilling you in place with a deadly grip you are sure is going to leave a mark.

He shakes his head, firm on getting the answer out of you.

With teary eyes, you beg. "Please, Rafe. Please."

He grins with that self-satisfying charm. He loves it when you finally break your dominance. He loves it more when he can break you.

His thrust begins at a slow rate, still on the edge of punishment, but at least you can feel some friction producing between your legs. You look down at his cock entering and leaving your cunt, the image gratifying, but Rafe roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look back up.

"Look at me." He commands, his voice shallow as the slow thrust is killing him, but he needed to teach you a lesson. "I want you to remember this when you're looking at anyone else. Talking to any other fucking guy. Remember how I make you feel."

You nod frantically. Desperate at this point to say anything to get Rafe to move faster, harder, providing you with your climax. He sees it in your eyes, how he finally got you, that it makes him smile. 

"God, look at you," he chuckles. "You want me to fuck you so bad."

"Yes," you beg, "yes, please. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" He asks again, the proposition is too nice to tease out.

You nod, blinking through the tears. "Anything."

He grins at this exchange of power, when he holds all of it, that he finally relents and quickens his pace. You grip harder on his shoulders as Rafe thrusts into you, rocking his hips against yours.

You claw and moan against his skin, using it as an anchor for all the pain and pleasure ripping through you, and he takes it as a mark of honor. When he lowers one hand between the two of you, using the pad of his thumb to rub small circles around your clit, you see stars float in your vision. 

"I'm coming," you pant against his skin. "God, please, I'm coming."

Rafe's hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, and nods. "Come for me, baby."

When you feel your orgasm hit its all-time high, you slump in exhaustion against his shoulders, while he continues to move in and out of you. It takes a few seconds later before Rafe comes, feeling his hot cum leaking out of you.

He doesn’t remove his cock from your pussy and honestly, you don’t want him to. You want to stay like this for a moment, to catch your breath and come to the dawning realization that this is the best sex of your life. You didn’t want it to end. 

Rafe lays his chin on your small shoulder, pushing your wet hair to the side as he recovers. 

“Be my girl.” He whispers, so quiet, that you thought you imagined it. You weakly pull back, connecting your widened eyes with his. 

"What?"

"Be my girl," he repeats once more, his blue eyes vulnerable and tracing your features to see if there's any hint of rejection on the bay. "I can't fucking stand you with other guys. I don't even want you to say their names. I want you. All of you."

You hesitate. "Rafe..."

"You said you'll do anything." He reminds you.

"You said you don't want to be seen with a Pogue."

He growls. "Fuck what I said," he snaps with a shake of his head, raising his hand to wipe the leftover tears from your face. "I want you. I don’t care about anything else. Just say yes."

You look at him and soften your gaze. You have wanted this, you admit, you wanted him to confess to you that he wants you as much as you want him. But, for a moment, in this brief second, you’re afraid that if you agree you would submit to everything you’ve fought against. The control you tried so hard to retain. 

He sees it. He knows you’re having an internal battle. Using his hand, he cups the side of your face, the heat and comfort of his palm makes you instinctively lean into him. “Please.” He begs softly, giving you one last shred of power. 

With a small chuckle of your own, you finally nod. "Okay."

He grins, and without hesitation, presses another kiss against your lips. This time, it lacks the power and control you two have been fighting for all night but rather is sweet, sensitive and patient. He pushes you back against the mattress, using his arms to hold up his weight. 

When he pulls apart, both of you are out of breath and breathing heavily. He offers you a genuine smile, at how proud he is that you’re his, and uses the pad of his thumb to rub across your flushed cheeks. “God, you’re gorgeous.” 

You blush, waiting to pull away from his touch but Rafe knows you. He grabs a hold of your face, holding you in place so you can’t tear your gaze from him. “I’m serious. Since you’re my girlfriend now, you have to get used to that or else people are going to assume I don’t compliment you enough.” 

You scoff. “You don’t. The only times you say nice things to me is when you’re in me.” 

“Yeah?” He challenges, cocking one of his brows. You nod. “That’s going to change. Prepare for me to shower you with compliments every time I see you,” he says, as he lowers himself and plants a soft kiss on your shoulder blade. “Especially when I’m in you.” 

You roll your eyes, pushing him off as your eyes find the clock in the back of the wall. You didn’t realize how late it was. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe turns to you, his brows knit together in confusion. 

"What?"

"It's almost one am. I promised my parents I was going to go home at eleven."

He glances at the clock, before returning his gaze back to you. "Stay the night."

"What?"

"You said it would save you trouble, right?" You hesitantly nod. "Just stay the night."

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You can’t believe how much he’s willing to give in now that you’re finally his. Maybe you should’ve made him jealous a long time ago. Your first instinct is to tease him about it, but you decide that you had enough power play. The both of you deserve some rest and plus, sleeping with Rafe would be a comforting feel after the sex you just had. 

When he comes to approach you, settling between your legs as he waits for an answer, you run your hands through his messy blond locks. “Okay.” 

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[andraxicated]

No Hard Feelings

Pairing: zayne x f! reader

tags: nsfw | mutual pining? | virgins in love | 69 | protected p in v | big dick zayne (cause he was my man before sylus and we love virgins who hide big packages) | small angst |

a/n: sitting pretty on my drafts since february. i love writing in this format it just lets your ideas flow | zayne is a harvard med alumni free from student debt cause he's rich and we all know it

inspired by one of my fav rom coms no hard feelings i swear its so funny

you are nothing but a broke college student looking for ways to make extra money. so what can you do when your friend shows you a totally suspicious ad?

"we are looking for a girl with experience to seduce our son and help him have a social life. preferably pretty. will be handsomely compensated"

you grab the opportunity after much thought and show up in the sluttiest dress to make sure you fit the 'girl with experience' part despite your v-card being intact.

and you never thought that you'd be sitting in a mansion's living room, listening to a rich mother yap about her worries for her beloved and only son's social life

"you see... it's because i'm deeply worried about our son! we are very proud he's doing well before going to medical school but it's summer and all his peers are going out on vacations, dating, and partying, but he doesn't seem to be interested in any of those since his time at university!"

let's say when you asked what he looked like and turned around to see a picture frame, you were instantly sold onto this 'fuck their son' plan

his parents said their beloved Zayne volunteers at the public park to tend to the flowers. he works under the hot son with his stoic face and meaty arms to which you space out a little.

imagine his surprise when his view got shadowed by your figure, looking up to see the expanse of your thighs, your boobs supported by a push-up bra. this was your best attempt at looking like a vixen

"heyyyy, can I touch your buds?" you giggle (cringing inwardly) and the rest is history.

Zayne didn't know what to fucking say but glare at you.

it was hard to get close to Zayne because that man was a brick wall. he was so reserved and quiet, always so serious despite your attempts at fun time. yet with every time you spent together, his walls break down bit by bit.

and when you saw a crack in his walls, you unknowingly tore it down along with yours.

because you are unexpectedly falling in love with him.

"I thought this was movie night" Both of you remove your tops amidst giggles and short kisses.

"Mhmm, you smell like Jasmines." Zayne pretends not to hear you as he rasps against your ear, kissing your neck as his fingers drag down to tug at your shorts and panty. You whine when he successfully removes it, cold air hitting your inner thighs as he shushes you through small, wet kisses.

"That perfume was on sale, I knew I had to buy it for you" You smile and Zayne mirrors it on his lips, making your heart skip out of your chest. He caresses your hips softly, dangerously inching closer to your core where you're positively throbbing.

"You know me so well. It's as if you were sent by someone for me."

You chuckle awkwardly, letting him trail down light kisses on your neck, all the way to your collarbones. His statement slaps you back to reality. That you were just a girl taking advantage of him and his parents' money. But with each kiss that matches with the beat of your heart, you feel that this acting of yours turned a little too real. You just wanted him between your thighs, lost in your body, drunk on your kisses, and never have him find out the truth.

Zayne looks up at you from an angle, wanting to ask for permission to dive in your pussy, but then he sees you spacing out, and it’s not the cockdrunk look he sees on porn videos. You looked sad and miserable while staring into nothing, he fears he might have bored you to death and he’s too much of a virgin to satisfy you. Zayne looked scared to snap you out of it, he lightly nudged your thigh, and your gaze finally shifted to him. You still haven’t gotten rid of that look yet. 

“Sorry, let’s not do this today if you aren’t feeling well” zayne speaks softly while sitting up, the care evident in his eyes, and you wanted nothing more than to jump in his arms. 

You shook your head, a smile on your face. “I’m sorry I killed the mood. Are you still hard?” 

“What?”

“I mean, is your dick hard?”

Zayne looks down for a moment and replies, “Yeah…I’m hard”

You giggle and reach over to give him a peck. “Let me suck you off. You’ll feel good, I promise” You say as if you sucked dick before. You were quite nervous to put something in your mouth for the first time, fearing for your throat and untrained gag reflex. Also, Zayne looks pretty big from the way he’s tenting from his shorts, it wasn’t going to be easy.

Your heart was beating from your chest as Zayne sat with his legs on both sides of your body, presenting you with his aching bulge. You tug down his shorts along with his underwear and you see his big cock that he’s been hiding all along. Zayne flushes red on his ears and neck as you stare at his size in awe. The tip was angry and leaking, twitching occasionally as the man before you winced. Its girth was impressively thicker than your wrist and length longer than what you’ve seen in videos, this guy was above average. But before you could try to touch him, Zayne coughs up to get your attention. 

You question him in your eyes and he blushes, struggling to get his words out. 

“I-I want to make you feel good too. Can we try that position?” 

“What position?” 

“...69” 

Zayne bites his lip, looking at your face for any sort of disgust but none came. A smile broke out on your face before you nodded, taking the initiative to adjust your positions accordingly. Zayne was taller than you so you had to be the one on top, your body tensing as you face his leaking cock staring at you. You wanted to put your mouth on it so bad but you knew you had to wait for Zayne to adjust at your bottom. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Zayne huffs out and you involuntarily clench, feeling his hot breath around your hole. You can’t help the heat that travels to your cheeks as you recognize yourself putting your ass up in the air for a man to gape at your hole. You could feel every bone in your body praying not to fuck this up.

“I’ll start,” You say, biting your lip and squinting your eyes before hurriedly starting the job. Your lips come into contact with the tip and Zayne moans, throwing his head back as you try to engulf him in your mouth. He feels you testing how your mouth glides up and down thanks to your saliva as lubricant. Zayne thinks he could burst right then and there in your mouth but he tries to at least save himself some dignity by not finishing through a 20-second blowjob. 

He leans forward and settles his palms on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh experimentally, making you moan at his touches. His lips press outside your pussy, shying away from the main course before steeling himself with the courage of a man. 

Choked moans left your mouth as Zayne suddenly parts your ass for a clear view and dives right in to fuck your hole with his tongue. He laps up like a man starved with eyes closed, executing toe-curling techniques that you didn’t know he could do. 

“Nghh! Mmhphh!” You’re drooling on his dick, taking what you can of his size and pumping what you couldn’t reach. He’s too much of a big fit in your mouth, struggling to hollow your cheeks since most of your wet cavern is occupied by his cock. You could only bob your head up and down, moaning to get him feeling some vibrations, and rubbing your pussy along his lips. 

On the other end, Zayne was having a very much-awaited make-out session with your cunt. He sloppily kisses your hole, circling his tongue as he tastes the softness of the flesh. His hands rubbing your ass in gentle motions causes you to clench and he groans, chasing the movement of your cunt. He does it like the boys do in those videos, he closes his eyes and imagines he’s doing a good job just like them, making their girl scream like it's the end of the world. 

“So pretty” he pulls away mesmerized by your glistening cunt. Zayne couldn’t help but be addicted to your pussy, and he gives it more attention by sucking and playing around with his tongue. To hear your muffled cries sends vibrations down his spine, making him even more hard as your eyes widen. 

You gasp for air as you fix your breathing. You wanted to complain about why he was getting bigger but you just couldn’t stop yourself from sinking deeper onto his cock. You’re positive you looked like a cockhungry slut with dick in her mouth, wiggling her ass as her man eats her out because that’s exactly what you’re doing, you could picture how dirty the position was and it makes you throb, edging you to your release.

No one was saying anything, too occupied with the job at hand as wet noises filled the room. Both of you were pushing each other at the brink of release. Zayne lightly thrusts to chase the feeling of a wet heat—challenging your gag reflex, not knowing it's your first time giving a blowjob. He suddenly hits the back of your throat as cum floods inside your mouth. You’re breathing through your nose, too full of erotic sensations, and you cum following his release. Wet spurts land on Zayne’s face as he drinks up your release, relishing in his first time making a girl cum. 

You pull away from his dick, white semen landing on the bed from your mouth and Zayne’s eyes widen seeing you keeping his release inside your mouth. He thinks you probably didn’t want to swallow it so he grabs tissues, and places them below your chin. 

“Spit it out” 

You look at the tissue on his hand and swallow the cum, wincing as the taste hits you. You just wanted to do it like others do, swallowing because you worked hard for it. Zayne was flabbergasted to even move, his flaccid member unapologetically rising hard when he saw you swallow his seed. 

It made him want to put it inside you. 

“Why did you swallow?” 

You wipe the excess off your face, “I just wanted to try” You hoped he didn’t catch on that it was your first time. Both of you were tired but you wanted to keep going, driven by lust. Zayne was trying to hide his erection and you decided to just get on with it, you wanted him inside right now.

“Zayne, do you want to be on top?” Your question left him surprised. He blinks for a few seconds before nodding and positioning on top of you as you lay down. Then it hits you.

“Wait, do you have a condom?” 

He visibly freezes before reaching over to the bedside table, pulling out the drawer, grabbing a condom, and opening the package. While he puts it on, your eyes drift to the package and you notice the XL size and the ‘super ultra-thin’ inscription. You couldn’t help but be a little nervous after reading that. 

“It’s on,” he says awkwardly, the tip of his ears reddening by the minute. At this moment, the air was thick with nervousness radiating from you and Zayne. You exchange eye contact with him as his palm rests on your hip, drawing circles to coax you and relax your walls. 

“I’m ready, are you?” 

“Yeah,” he kisses your lip to distract you from the pain of your cunt breached open by his thick cockhead. You wince in discomfort, legs shaking as the thickness stops moving. Zayne panics over your pained expression, whispering sweet nothings that it will pass soon because fuck, you are incredibly tight and wet. He almost moans at the sight of your hole struggling to take all of him. 

You look down and let your head fall back onto his soft pillow. “Move”, you let out breathlessly. 

“I’m too big for you, you need to adjust”

“Zayne, just move! Let me adjust when you’re inside me” You whine, wanting to have him inside you as soon as possible. Zayne complies and pushes in slowly, all his worries about med school and sex are completely gone when he buries himself to the hilt. You moan in unison, the stretch being painfully good for your first time.

It was the kind of pain that you’d willingly take because the pleasure was too much to lose out on. He stretches you out nicely, feeling every vein inside you, especially the tip that kisses your g spot. How did he find it in one go?

“You're so tight!—Shit” Zayne picks up on his space, letting his dick rub inside you before starting to thrust full-on. His hips smoothly roll as he pistons his cock in and out of your hole. Your wetness and the condom's lubricant make him move easily inside.

“Ohhh! Zayne!” You jolt towards the headboard as his grunts fill the room, his cockhead repeatedly locking in on your sweet spot, making you clench in response. His hair falls over his face, masquerading on his eyes as his hips put in the work for your pussy. He looks so pretty like that, flushed red, breathless, as he stuffs you repeatedly with his cock.

“Ahhhh, so big~” You could only moan and clench around his member, the movements making your boobs jiggle, and Zayne couldn't help but grope one of them—giving attention to the other by going down on his mouth. You just looked so pretty under him, so messy and good at taking his cock.

“My pretty girl” he huffs while bucking his hips into you.

Then he remembers that you probably had sex before him, and you have experienced other guys. And something deep within him tears its ugly head. Zayne suddenly had a primal urge to claim you, to make sure from now on, you're showing this lewd face to him and only him. 

He was jealous and it wasn't a good feeling.

He pounds his cock faster, pouring all the anger he has into vigor. You scratch his back as Zayne goes feral at a fast pace fucking his cock back into your hole. You thrash in his arms from the pleasure, wanting to run away because the dick was too good. But his strong arms cage you in place as he ruts like an animal in heat. 

His hand suddenly flicks on your clit, pinching the bud to edge you closer to your orgasm. He wanted to make you finish first, to feel your cum coating his length before he releases. 

Your nerves were set on fire just as you think your brain is fried from too much dick. You wanted nothing but to cum and release the knot forming on your lower abdomen. He pumps exactly at a target in a frenzied state, balls swinging against your skin. Zayne continued to grunt, letting out the manliest sounds you've ever heard.

“Z-zayne I'm Cumming—Hahhh!!!” You scream as your eyes roll to the back of your head, cunt spasming and dripping around his girth, body shivering from how hard it was. You feel like floating on cloud nine as Zayne leans down to kiss your neck, leaving hickeys in his wake. 

“That's a good girl. Now take this.” 

His pace gradually falters and he slides in one last powerful thrust before exploding his cum and flooding the condom. You cried out as he did small jerks of his hips to ride out his high while cumming buckets. You fear some cum may have slipped out but you didn't care to voice it out.

Zayne learned that it wasn't good to make you oversensitive so as soon as he finished, he took out his softening cock and watched your abused cunt close. He thinks It might have been his favorite sight.

The night ends with you receiving aftercare, drinking water, and cleaning up in the bathroom to make yourselves clean for bed. You didn't even know Zayne changed the sheets, which explains why he left the tub faster. 

But as you lay in his bed with his arms wrapped around you, there wasn't any semblance of reprieve because of your anxiousness about the arrangement. 

Sooner or later he would find out and everything would come crashing down. You'd go back to your own life, paying expenses thanks to the money you received while Zayne would also go on and continue to med school, fuck a few girls since he already had a taste with a girl who duped him for money. 

Just thinking about that brings tears to your eyes. No, you don't wanna be separated from Zayne. You wanted whatever you had with him despite having no label. 

You tried to tell him the truth a few times but fear got the better of you and you find yourself backtracking, saying something else, and laughing it off. Every moment was precious with Zayne, you couldn't cut his smiles short—it would break your heart to wipe off the soft love on his face. 

So you did nothing but let time run its course.

Zayne soon expressed his want for you to meet his family. He feels like he's known you for a lifetime despite meeting just that summer. So you took his offer and had lunch with his parents who tried their best to act as if they first saw you that day. The food was delicious yet the whole dining experience was painful. You and his parents lying to his face made you unable to stomach the food very well. So you left the house and went to their garden, gazing at the flowers that you knew Zayne himself planted. 

He was looking around for you, sighing since you didn’t tell him where you ran off. He was about to ask his parents in the dining room when he accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation that made him stop in his tracks. 

“Well that was awkward, can you believe our son actually fell in love with her? I mean, she’s pretty skilled”

He wasn’t supposed to hear that.

“This isn’t what I was expecting when we hired her. I think we need to end this arrangement soon. I’ll give her the money before this situation blows up.”

He couldn’t fucking believe it. 

Skilled? Hired? Money? It didn’t take an intelligent man to connect the dots as the conversation went on. Every word that came out of their mouth froze his heart and shattered it like glass. Anger, hurt, and confusion overwhelmed him for the first time in his life. He found it hard to stabilize his breathing. He couldn’t help but let hatred cover his eyes as he stormed into the dining room.  

“Is what you’re saying true? You hired a girl to seduce me?” he demanded, voice shaking with emotion as his parents looked very much terrified to see him there. He didn’t want to believe it was true, but as the seconds went by it was all becoming clear that this was a big fat farce all along. Zayne didn’t know what hurt but he knew he’d been played by the people he loved. And that was all it took for him to break his promise of never raising his voice at his parents. 

“Is it true?!” he roared and to see his mother flinch hurt him but at that moment, Zayne was the victim. 

“Zayne, darling let me explain—”  

“Why?” 

His mother breathed out. “We thought it would be good for you. We wanted to let you have some fun since I feel like you’re constantly buried in books! You need to take some time to socialize too!”

He could only pinch the bridge of his nose as he steeled his mouth in case he said something he could not go back on.

“This conversation isn’t over yet” he uttered coldly, leaving his parents guiltily mulling over their actions.  

Overcome by the need to confront you, he walks in long strides to the garden. He honestly does not know what he wants to hear from you. Apologies? Explanation? He doesn’t know but his feet take him to you and destroy your peaceful moment. 

He sees your figure basking in rays of afternoon sun, checking on the flowers he planted. He stops and stares before storming and grabbing your wrist to make you face him. You meet his face in shock, body tensing from the dangerous aura he was emitting. His hazel eyes were swirling with hurt and you knew it was that time. Zayne knew how much you were playing him like a fool. 

“Is it true?" he pants “That my parents hired you to seduce me for the summer? So that I could get with a girl and have some fun?” 

Tears flowed from your eyes as you nodded shakily, accepting your fate. He was disgusted by how easily you admitted it. Was it that easy for you?  

“I want to hear it from you. Speak before I kick you out” he spat out with so much venom that it wrecked sobs from you. Zayne hated hearing you cry just as he hated how this was such a cruel game you played. 

“Zayne, it was all real. I swear! My feelings are real. It’s true that I accepted a deal with your parents for money but you have to know that I needed it!” You feel like ripping your hair out just to make him believe you. You were so desperate to not be a villain in his eyes. “And what I feel for you is real! I love you and I’m so sorry that I did this to you.” You sobbed, holding your face in your hands as you wiped the overflowing tears that clouded your vision. 

You took a step forward and he took a step back, reflecting the hurt in your eyes. 

“How do I believe you now? How do I know this is still not an act?” 

“I don’t know…” You shook your head, mind at a loss for words. “I just know that it would kill me to be separated from you.”

Zayne could hear the desperation in your voice and it was constantly stabbing at his heart. He longed to believe and touch you, but the pain of deception stung deep. 

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. “Who are you? Do you have any other name?”

You whip your head in shock, shaking your head frantically. “No! (y/n) is my real name! Everything I told you is real!” 

He stood frozen so you took your chance to explain, fighting the cries that shook your body. 

“I love you. I-I wanted to give my body to the guy I love and it’s you. It was my first time having sex with you! I’m not some vixen who sleeps around. I’m just me!—a college student in need of money. Believe me, I beg you.”

It honestly didn’t matter to him if the girl he loved had his first time with him or not, he loved her regardless. But when you say it like that, he knew that trusting him with your virginity must have meant a great deal to you. That almost made him want to hug you but the rational part of his mind begged him to have some dignity. 

“You broke my trust” he exhaled, barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much pain I’m feeling. But I love you…and it would kill me if you weren’t around.”

You take a step forward and grasp his hand to place on top of your heart, making him feel how much it beats for him. 

He’s entranced to feel your racing heart, a testament to your love. This gesture was enough to repair a piece of his shattered heart. 

He uses your interlocked hands to pull you into his arms, burying your face on his chest. You snuggled close as warm tears fell slowly on your cheeks.

“I don’t wanna leave” you cried softly. 

“You’re not leaving until you make me trust you again. And if I trust you again, I won’t let you leave.” 

You nod and ask, “What do you want me to do?”

Zayne cleared his thoughts even if his emotions were a mess. But he was an intelligent and rational man, he was able to think clearly in times of distress and he knew what needed to be done. He knows how you’ll pay for your sins. 

“From now on, I want you to be honest with me. No lies or secrets between us. Tell me everything you feel because I want your full transparency.”   

It was a light sentence and you were eternally grateful to the forgiveness he showed you. Because you'd die if he didn’t.   

“I will. So let’s start on a clean slate please.” you grip his shirt, signaling him your desperation. “I’ll be that girl you met in the park. And you have to believe me when I say I loved you every step of the way. I-I won’t even take the money if it means proving my feelings are real.”

Zayne shook his head as he caressed your hair. ‘Take the money and promise me you won’t leave me. Don’t put yourself in a situation like this just for some money. If you need some, then ask me.”

“What?”

“If you need support I’ll be there to help you in any way I can. All I ask is for you to do the same for me.” 

“Of course I will!” Your voice came out louder than intended and he smiled, yet not like he used to.  

“But you’ll move to Harvard soon for med school? How-how are we going to do this?”

Zayne’s face fell at the mention of his move at the end of his vacation. He hadn’t forgotten but it was a reminder that summer was nearing its end. He had to settle all affairs before treading on a new chapter in his life. 

He sighed, arms still around you. “Long distance isn’t easy, and I don’t know how we’ll do it.” 

Fear crept into you like a snake dampening your mood.    

“But,” he continued with a promising tone. “I’m not giving up on us. I won’t let a little distance come between us. We’ll make it work.”

‘We’ll make it” 

“We will” 

He whispers in your ears, kissing the top of your head, and bathing himself with the love that he receives from you. 

You feared a second chance wouldn’t last long but if anything were the testament to your unbreakable bond with Dr. Zayne, it would be the family photo with you and the kids, standing nicely on his office desk. 

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi! So I'm currently re-reading acotar and honestly I forgot how much I love this series. Because you're such an amazing writer (and if you're taking acotar requests) i was wondering if you could write a little angsty love triangle involving Eris x reader x Azriel? She's Rhys little sister and has been pining over Azriel for years but he never gives her the time of day and because of this she develops a strong friend with Lucien (they both just want to be loved) and in swoops Eris. Or Rhys makes some sort of deal with Eris requiring her help. I'm not sure I'm just such a sucker for an angsty love triangle 🤍

It took me a hot minute so I apologize. I hope you will still enjoy it. 🤍✨

You look lonely - I can fix that

You loved him. Loved him so much that you were willing to tear yourself apart over and over and over again. Watching him fall and break himself over females that wanted nothing to do with him. Settling for a temporary glimpse of love when you were there offering him a lifetime of devotion. But it’s as if he was unseeing when it came to you. As if all of your gestures of love went right over Azriel’s head.

“I just want to be someone’s first chance”, he chuckled bitterly after an argument he had with Mor. “You are though”, you muttered, despite eyes looking up at the males clouding your eyes for decades. “Not like a friend to you, little one”, he smiled at you. Making the aching whole shape of him within your heart bleed all over again. “But you are”, you muttered. Silently begging him to see you. But all he did was brush the side of your face, “You’ll sweet but you don’t know what it means to love someone who doesn’t love you back”, his words sliced you open. But you pushed the emotion deeper within. Watching him step away from you.

Then in came Elain. You had tried to keep him away. Keep him away from the hellfire that was gonna swallow him if he chose the path that he was going down in. But that had only made his frustration pour out on you. “I’m trying to warn you because I care”, you screamed at him, bitter tears falling down your cheeks. “No one asked for your opinion on my love life”, Azriel bit back, “Stick to your tea parties and pretty dresses”. You wished you could cut him out of your system. Get rid of the flame of hope.

“Save some for me”, you flinch slightly. Dropping the bottle of bourbon on the grass before reaching back to pull the spilling bottle up. Lucien didn’t seem to mind. And you were too tipsy to care as you offered the bottle to him. “What are we drinking to?”, he sat down next to you, pulling a handkerchief before handing it to you. “Our fucked love life”, you sniffed, hating yourself for it. “Yeah, fuck them”, Lucien saluted before throwing his head back, “You and I, we are on the same boat sweetie”, he handed the bottle back to you. “Two outcasts of love”, you chuckled bitterly before taking another sip.

What you didn’t expect was to find such comfort in Lucien. You two had no mutual interest in being together. There was nothing between you romantically but the comfort of having a soul that called to the same pain was as if breathing again. So you stuck together. Going on hunting trips. Parties. Gatherings. Visiting each other in your homes. So it wasn’t that big of a surprise when Lucien asked you to accompany you to one of the celebrations that were happening in autumn.

That’s how you found yourself watching him make females swoop over the magic tricks he was casting. Not being able to suppress a light smile. Loving that his playful side was slowly coming back. “Mind if I join you”, that voice alone made a shiver run down your spine. And another one once you eyes too in a sign in front of you. In a deep shade of green stood none other than Eris. Lethal the beauty of this male was. “It pains me that my brother brought a lady of unmatched beauty with him but left her alone to play ancient tricks instead”, he stepped closer bringing a scent of pines and forest with him. “I don’t mind”, you shrugged, “I’m happy that he’s in a much brighter spirit”. Eris hummed at your words. Eyes never leaving you. “And are you?”, he asked, making your heart flutter, “Are you in brighter spirits?” You tried to open your mouth to say something. Anything. To smile. To brush off the ache that didn’t leave you. Eris reached out, brushing away a strand of your night black hair, “You look lonely, my love”, he muttered, “I can fix that”.

And to his promise Eris stayed true. And soon your time was occupied with him. And only him. He showed you Autumn. Brought you down his childhood trails. His dogs had been an immense part of your everyday walks. But all of that only mattered because he saw you. Not past you. But right through you. Into the depths of your soul. “I’m not a good man”, he muttered one night, fingers lazing and brushing over your exposed shoulder. “I don’t agree with that”, you shook your head. “That’s because you make me better. I don’t have the urge to bite when I’m with you”, he admitted, filling your heart up with so many emotions yet keeping all the scars from cracking open.

You bring him home after that. To your brother. To your family. Fueled by the same urge to show him your home. Part of it you loved dearly. Only joy was wiped off your face within a heartbeat. “What is he doing here?”, Azriel snarled, narrowing his eyes at Eris. “It’s my pleasure to see you once again”, Eris didn’t even miss a beat as his fox-like eyes followed Azriel. “I’m here because I’m courting this lovely woman”, he reached out for your hand before bringing it up to his lips. “That’s bullshit”, Azriel grunted, “Step away from him, Yn”, he ordered.

“No”, you breathed. Making Azriel frown even harder, “What do you mean no?” “I am seeing him. We’re together”, you watched all of the emotions fighting in Azriel’s eyes. From confusion. To anger. To hurt. “But…”, he muttered. “I got tired of waiting, Azriel”, you sighed, “I was ready and willing to give it all to you but you pushed me away, I was a child to you”, shrugging you looked up at him. “I can’t live like a second… no fuck that… tenth? Twentieth choice?”, “That’s not true”, he cut in, reaching out for you to be met with Eris’s firm hand, “Times up, bat. She’s my girl now. And I take pride in calling her mine”.

[maiamore]

NEW BEGINNINGS

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak

Rating: 18+ | W/C: 4.3k

Summary: You decide to go to your office's New Year's party, what you get in exchange is far more than you bargained for.

Tags: lawyer a/u, alcohol consumption, slight angst, colleagues to lovers type, able bodied reader, p-in-v, unprotected sex, mentions of anal, unrealistic sex (please practice safe sex irl), mutual pining, f!receiving oral, degrading words during sex, edging, orgasm denial, filthy FILTHY smut, unspecified age gap

A/N: got this out of my system finally, just love seeing these two fools try to be ignore their feelings. my advice to colleague/office romance? just fuck!! MAIN STORY | MASTERLIST

New Year’s Day, 2023

“They’re Dior!” 

“Oh. Are they?” You retort politely—failing in showing interest in whatever the man standing before you had to say about his cufflinks, off all things. Your voice competes against the blaring music in the bar. You’d been cornered by an associate, Marcus—you worked with him at Miller Associates. Looking around for your colleague who’d conveniently disappeared. 

“I’m gonna get a drink! Be right–...” You went silent before even completing your sentence. No, you would not be right back. 

Marcus on the other hand, nodded, eagerly letting you be. Squeezing your way to the bar, you got yourself two cocktail shots. Somehow, you’d allowed yourself to be roped into going into this year's office new years get together at some hoity toity hipster bar in Manhattan, against your better judgement. Serena—your deskmate at work, insisted that you didn’t skip this year, only for her to abandon you entirely twenty minutes in. 

You tugged the hem of the uncomfortably short dress you had on, tucking it beneath you as you sat by the corner of the bars to isolate yourself from the laughter and chaos around. Your coworkers had all been scattered around the bar by now, celebrating within their little groups. 

11:15pm. 

You were counting down too. Not for the new years—but for when you finally could slip out and not feel guilty for not trying to enjoy this time out.

The second you’d swallowed the cooled, sickeningly sweet liquid, a slow exhale left your lips. This wasn’t what you wanted to be doing, no. You flicked through your phone, empathy texts from your parents and friends telling you—don’t worry, take it again next year—not everyone nails the LSATs the second time trying. 

You cringed at the unwelcome reality. That called for another cocktail shot for sure.

“Hey! Lost you back there.” You looked back, lips pulling taut into a polite smile. Watching Marcus unsteadily drags a chair next to you. As much as he was a polite guy and all, you didn’t know how much more you could take in season two of “what other branded shit do I have on me.”

You just didn’t have it in you to say no. 

For the next fifteen minutes, you stayed and listened to him enthusiastically explain how he’d begun mining bitcoin in his free time to be able to afford all his swag. 

Downing what was definitely your fifth shot, you mustered up the courage to get up. “Um..Actually—I really need to find Serena.” You explained, cutting Marcus off mid sentence when he’d been about to dive into something about being the master of your own finances. “Oh yeah, no worries. See you next week.”

You’d only taken a few steps forward when vertigo hit you. Half from the alcohol, half from having to sit and take lessons from Mr Bitcoin back there. The ground grew closer and you didn’t have quick enough reflexes to stop it. Shutting your eyes tightly to brace the impact.

A rough tug pulls you back up, albeit—by the chains of your purse. With it, you had enough momentum to stagger backwards into your apparent savior. You blinked. Joel's deep brown eyes looking into yours. He shifts to hold the other side of your shoulder to make sure you were steady enough before guiding you to sit down by the bar chairs. Joel. Joel Miller. One of the name partners at the firm you worked in, so, your boss. 

The music thumped so loud you could feel it in your chest, the countdown clock on the wall ticking closer to midnight. Confetti already littered the floor, sticking to shoes and drink spills. It was loud, messy, and unapologetically festive—definitely not a scene you’d expected him to show up in.

“Thanks.” You managed. Brushing off the embarrassment from the way you had to be caught. At least you had confirmation that the purse chains held up. 

You tried not to gawk at the shadow that was sheltering you like a warm embrace. In the past two years of working at the firm, your exchanges with Joel were limited. For some reason—tense too. More often than not, you’d catch him staring at you with an intense look he gets like he was about to reprimand you. Despite that, you couldn’t deny how he was quite possibly the only man you were hung up on even without reaching the dating phase. It was like idolising an unreachable celebrity.  

His tailored suits, now switched out for a fitted grey t-shirt and a brown leather jacket with worn jeans. Thick silver rings on his index finger and thumb. 

He seemed different. In the best ways possible, his out of work presence was, to put it nicely, way too fucking hot. 

Joel decided he was here out of professional courtesy. 

With his mother offering to keep Sarah company for the night, he figured he’d have a couple of drinks, greet his employees and head home before the ball dropped. He had his schedule for the night down.

It all went to shit the second he saw you by the bar alone, until his associate at the firm decided to grace you with his presence.

He made an effort to know every employee that worked with him and you stood out. For all the wrong reasons. He was infatuated with you the second he had the pleasure of meeting and it threw him off kilter every. damn. time. Joel could’ve easily had you transferred to another floor in the building. Mergers & Acquisitions he supposed, you would’ve been a good fit. 

But he was a selfish man. He wanted you around him—just long enough until he’d figured out just what to do with you.

Joel finally takes a seat next to you, dragging his palms flat against the wooden surface. You pathetically were entranced at every goddamn gesture of his. His hands were so, so wide. You swallowed. The carnal need for him interrupts all civil thoughts. 

“Darlin’. You with me?”

Oh. That went straight to your cunt. His southern drawl was impossible to ignore, pulling your focus entirely. As he folded his arms across his chest, the motion made the top half of his shirt pull taut, accentuating his frame.

You were surprised he’d stuck around at all—his words barely registered. Instead, your attention was caught on the loose, dark brown curls framing his face and the black rimmed glasses perched perfectly on the gentle curve of his nose.

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry. You were saying?” You managed, after an awkward clear of the throat.

“I asked if you were a masochist.”

A perfectly rehearsed answer was about to leave your lips. Like yes, Mr Miller, I am excited for the new year. Not…whatever the fuck that was. You had to have heard him wrong. Your brows pressed into a furrow. Maybe he was referring to the uncomfortable shoes you were wearing. “Oh…I mean when you drink enough it dulls the pain and all.” You offered. Glancing at your strappy heels. 

He sucks in a breath he didn’t know he held. Joel was generally a respectful man. Gaze never lingered longer where it wasn’t appropriate. And there you were ,in the most sinful fucking dress he’d ever laid eyes on. His gaze followed the path of your own, lingering briefly at your ankles before traveling up the length of your dress.

He shifts. Hoping the rising tent in his jeans wouldn’t give his thoughts away. You were too pretty and too young for an old man like him.

You felt heat creeping up your neck and settling on your cheeks. The way he’d been looking made you feel more exposed than ever. 

“M’talkin’ about you sittin’ through…all that crap bout’...crypt coin..bit currency.” He finally says, rubbing the back of his shoulder. You bit back a smile when he’d messed up the terms. It was a little endearing. “...You were listening?”

He hadn’t meant to, not at first. He’d only stopped by the bar for a drink, or so he told himself. But then he saw you—attentively listening to Marcus drone on and on—and found himself lingering pathetically near the edge of the area where you’d been sitting.

“Hard not to. Kid was practically yellin’,” Joel muttered, his tone casual, though the faint flush creeping along his neck betrayed him.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

The corner of his lips lifted up into a slight smirk in amusement. “Course’. Because you were so eager to stay.” You frowned. He was right, you probably left a cartoon like dust silhouette of your body the moment you found the window to leave. 

“Boy like that wouldn’t know what t’do with a good girl if he had one.”

You stared at him blankly, heartbeat picking up at his words. What the hell did that mean? Maybe you were drunker than you thought. It sounded like he was flirting. His gaze on the other hand, hadn’t wavered.

“Are you implying you could do better?” You managed, forcing your voice to stay steady as you tried not to overthink the implication behind his words. Flirting with your boss was already a dangerous game, and the thought of embarrassing yourself by hitting on someone nearly a decade older only made you hesitate.

He scoffs. Thumb coming up to swipe over his bottom lips as though in thought. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m sayin’.”

You’re fixated on the way he subconsciously draws attention to his lips now. 

He takes a sip from the half filled out whiskey glass loosely between his forefingers and thumb. Settling into a brief silence.

“Are you having a good time?” He looks at you with renewed interest as you speak up again. “I mean—It’s just that I don’t usually see you in an out of work celebration.”

He raises a brow at the way you’d rambled on. “So…since you’re still here I figured…” You turned away slightly. Cringing at the sound of your own voice. How long had you been talking for?

“S’not really my scene, sweetheart,” Joel responds finally, his drawl cutting through the noise.

You eyed the rowdy crowd, the room was a blur of blue ambient lights, you could hardly make out his expression through it. “Me neither.” You offered with a smile—a genuine one at that. 

“It’s easier.” He says. Slowly. He’s finally able to see your face clearly. Features gently reflecting the dim lighting of the bar. “You make it easier.”

A bright light causes you to wince, bringing your hand to shield your eyes. Interrupting your train of thought. The bar's overhead lighting switches on. The massive speakers screeched a little as someone took the stand at the live band area. 

Folks, grab your date or friends and head down to the floors, because our five minute countdown to the new year starts now!

“Oh fuck.” You muttered under your breath, watching the swarm of people congregate in the middle. You were calling time of death at this, it was a little much for you now. 

Your heart was still thrumming at Joel’s sudden admittance, when you’d looked at him, his deep brown eyes had already been on yours. A flutter of something in the air keeps you warm. 

He leans in next to your ears. “Talk outside?” Your nose gently brushes past the scruff of his beard as you turn. The scent of Patchouli & Vanilla, with a tinge of fabric softener filled your senses.

“…Okay.”

Being shoved and pushed wasn’t on your agenda today, you’d pretty much been swallowed by the crazies around you just trying to leave the place. Thankfully, Joel had been practically wedged behind you like a sturdy wall amidst all the awkward shoves. 

Your hands instinctively grips around Joel’s arms when another particularly rough push from someone elbowing you had you careening backwards into Joel. 

“Easy, exit’s out front.” His voice sounded strained somehow. He’d finally allowed you to step away, though as you regained your footing, you shifted back into his pelvis. A low grunt rumbled in his throat at your unwitting action. Your breath hitches when you’d felt the unmistakable strain against Joel’s jeans, poking against your back.

Looking up at him with your wide eyes and down to the sizable bulge. He awkwardly adjusts the crotch of his jeans, avoiding looking directly at you.

Was he hard? Just from brushing against you? More importantly, how long had he been sporting a damn boner? 

“Sorry. Don’t know why it...” He tries. He was surprised he could even get it up with how busy he’d been as of late. 

You’d attempted not to let it show just how his discomposure at a natural reaction was presently igniting parts of you that lay dormant for years. Seeing him so visibly react to you, had your core aching with need. 

Fuck it. 

Your body twists, both palms resting against the base of his neck—tip-toeing to barely meet his height—you lean in and slot your lips against his, though misaimed. His glasses pressed at an awkward angle at your movements. Trying again, you tilt your head to kiss him more assuredly when he hadn’t pushed you away completely. He groaned in your lips. 

Joel moves to cup his palms against the back of your head. His other hand tugging you by your hips. He dips his head lower to reciprocate your soft little pecks with a much, much deeper intensity. The second you’d parted your lips a little wider, all the sweet sentiments of a first kiss dissipates. 

Though, he seems to have some semblance of the situation, pulling you out of your haze. Searching your face for a sign. Any sign of hesitation. He places a tentative, hesitant kiss against your pulse point. “Tell me to stop and I will.” His arm curls around your waist to pull you fully against his body. 

The countdown timer flashed on the screens above the bar, its sudden glow cutting through the haze of desperation that grew dangerously. The atmosphere shifts, the pulse of the moment broken, and the world outside of the dance floor suddenly seemed to return to focus. 

“Let’s just get out of here.” You managed.

—

Joel had noticed how jittery you seemed, he wanted nothing more than to take his time with you. But he feared the longer you’d both have to think, the more you’d have realised how much of a bad idea it was. Frankly, he didn’t know if he had it in him to wait any longer either.

You blinked at him in confusion when drops down to his knees against the gravel. Heart pounding in your ears watching this six foot man before you like this. 

An audible groan leaves his lips when he slides the hem of your dress up with sturdy palms on the both sides of your hips. “Dirty girl, goin’ around with no panties?” Your lips briefly quivered at his words, feeling a tinge of humiliation from it, but the way he’d looked on his knees for you drowned out every other thought. 

“I didn’t think I needed to with the dress.” You managed. Pouted, really. He pressed kisses up your knees, scruff gently brushes past your inner thighs. “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.” 

Joel kneads the softness of your hips. Bunching up the fabric above, your slick pussy glistening. 

With no warning, he licks a stripe up your already sopping wet cunt. Jolting at the sensation, Joel didn’t let you inch away from him.“Wait, Mr Miller, I’m—” His palm slides under your thigh to hike it over his shoulder, stopping when he hears your plea.

“Joel, sweetheart. I’ve got my face buried in your pussy, think we’re over the formalities.” 

A louder moan escapes your lips along with a breath you didn’t know you held when he dives back into your cunt. “O-Oh my god!” Your back arches against the alley’s walls, scratching over the gravelly surface. His fingers dig into the plump of your thighs, probing his tongue into your velvety soft walls. He didn’t care how messy & sloppy it got, no—your unrestrained moans were encouraging him further. “Shit—you’re fuckin’ soakin’ me.” He mutters against your cunt.

You involuntarily ground against his mouth when you’d felt the vibrations of his voice against your clit. The curve of his nose notches perfectly against it. “Th-...there. Right there.” He hummed against your pussy, lapping at your clit, sucking your sensitive bud relentlessly. Judging by how your tight walls were pulsating around his tongue, he knew that you were close. He drags your hand to the back of his head, allowing you to grind against him as you wished.

“Take what you need, baby.”

Your head tips back when he tongue fucks your pussy, alternating with deep sucks to your clit. The sensation causes you to clench around him. “Joel—” You stuttered out. Curling your fingers into the softness of his hair. Your hips subconsciously moved to ride against his nose, the stimulation of it all had you trembling like a baby deer. Not even your most expensive vibrators could match the intensity Joel was eating you out with. 

Joel didn’t stop what he was doing. Not even taking a moment to take a fucking breath. If he’d died eating your pussy like this, he’d die a happy man. His other hand slides to the base of your ass, dragging his slick coated fingers down to your tight little hole to probe against the entrance. You groaned out at the intrusion, your puckered hole welcoming his thick slippery finger. “T-too much–” You cried out. Tugging his head against your clit. “Y-yes, yes, god, oh my god, yes!”

You wriggled your hips backwards and away from his mouth abruptly. The absence of his fingers having stuffed you, had your pussy pulsing around nothing in your white hot release. 

As you were trying to come to, Joel sits back on his heels with a heaving breath. Admiring you in your fucked out state. He was fucked. Just a taste of you was enough for him. He needed you.

He brings up his wrists to wipe his lips a little. Standing up with his hand anchored to your hips, making sure you wouldn’t fall when your legs had threatened to give out on you.

Joel’s thumbs gently swipes over your bottom lips, lifting your face up with his pointer and middle finger. “What am I going to do with you?” He mutters, more to himself before he leans down to kiss you slowly—coaxing you out of the haze of your orgasm. You loll your head to the side to meet his deep kisses, the taste of your slick with the mix of fruity cocktails and whiskey proving to be an intoxicating combination.

You couldn’t think straight—arms falling limp around his neck to drag him impossibly close. Suckling onto his tongue in a messy, sloppy back and forth. You weren’t even sure if you could speak anymore. He pulls away from your lips with an obscene pop. Gazing deeply into your eyes.

“Need to fuck you baby. Can I?” He whispers, thumb swiping around your smeared glitter eye makeup. “Just need a nod, sweetheart.” It’d taken you a couple more seconds, after feeling Joel fix your dress. Frankly, you weren’t sure if you could take any more. But the way he’d been willing to pull out all stops despite how painfully his cock was bursting at the seams in his jeans had you feeling like you’d be in good hands.

You tipped your head slightly to get in his line of vision, you bit down on your lips, nodding slowly.

“Good fucking girl.” He praises. Rubbing the back of your waist gently. 

The sharp buckle of his jeans snapped your gaze downwards. A deep gasp leaving your lip. The coarse, neatly trimmed curled hairs guiding your vision to his thick cock, pre-come already dripping down the tip. It tenses on its own, growing harder by the second. 

He brings your hand up to your chin, right below your lips. “Spit.”  You lock your gaze with his. Your tongue swiping your lower lips and letting a dribble of your own spit collect in your palm. You swore you could see his eyes twitch slightly as you did so. 

His hands then twist around your wrist, lowering your spit-coated hand onto his cock. He groaned at the sensation. “Jus’ like that.” He rumbles against the side of your head, feeling your soft, slippery hands stroke his cock. “See how hard you make me?”

Your thighs clenched at his words. Your cunt aching and desperate for something. Anything. 

“Joel, I can’t—” He tutted at your desperate tone, kissing down your neck. “Can’t what baby? Can’t take it anymore? I should just stop, hm?” You let out a pathetic wine at your words. Pumping his cock fully, feeling his full length. It was hot, and throbbing. You wanted him in you. 

“Please.” Your cunt was aching for him desperately. He lets out a hiss at the way your thumb rubs over the slit of his cock, grabbing your wrist to halt your movements. He wanted to come inside you, one way or another. Not like this. 

“Please what? Gotta tell me what you need.” Your head falls against his shoulder. Growing increasingly frustrated.

“Need you to fuck me, Joel. Need him.” He’d pulled the filthy words out of you so damn easily. Forcing your hand despite his grip around your wrists—you jerk his cock from the base to the tip in a ring, up & down with your forefingers and thumb. His hips stuttered slightly, that particular stroke and your desperate plea nearly had him coming in your hands. 

“Fuck!” He grips painfully around the base of his cock. With a grunt, he holds your hips and turns you abruptly. Lust fueled anger filling his mind. 

“You wanna be fucked like a desperate little slut? I’ll give you what you want.” His voice was muffled against the back of your head. You’d let out a ‘unnh!’ in response to his sudden sternness. 

Joel rubbed the base of his cock, coated with your spit and slick, nudging at your entrance. His other hand cradling your forehead so the brick walls wouldn’t hurt you. With a snap of his hips, he fully buries himself to the hilt into your pussy. 

The both of you groaned at the same time. “Fuck, tight snatch swallowing me whole.” He fucks you at a bruising pace. Hoisting you against his chest. 

“This—”, he grunts. Punctuating his every word with each thrust. 

“What—“ 

“You—” 

“Wanted?” 

Your head tips back against his shoulder. “Mhnn—fuck!” Your pussy flutters around his cock, reeling at every time his hips ground in a circle in you everytime it snapped against your ass. His heavy balls slapping against your clit. 

With a sharp gasp, Joel tugged you further into him. Pressing his body weight against your back, his strong arm holding you up securely.  

Your forearms pressed against the brick walls with a heavy exhale. He readjusts to rest both his hands on your hips. He begins to pound his hips into yours, stopping to grind his cock deep into you. Watching his cock get swallowed as he fucked you from the back. “Soft pussy’s gonna devour me fuckin’ whole.” He growls against your shoulder. His sweat mixing against your cheeks. 

“Fuck—yes! Yesyesyesyes!” You’d bounced back against his cock. Slurring your words. Your thighs quivered finally in the wake of your second orgasm of the night. Warm streaks of tears trickling down your cheeks. You tiptoeing as your thighs tensed up. Your walls convulsing around Joel’s cock as you came. 

He slows his pace just so he could drag out the feeling of his cock pulsing in your tight pussy. It was embarrassing just how easily you'd gotten him stuttering at your mercy.

“Sweetheart…” He breathes out, slowly. He presses open mouthed kisses against your neck. Grinding his hips into you desperately. In a moment of clarity after your orgasm earlier, you tipped your head back. “N-Not…inside.” 

Briefly, a dark look took over Joel’s gaze. 

He pulls out, pumping his cock still. He’d respect your wishes regardless. But then, your hands clumsily felt for him, guiding his cock to your tight ring of muscle. 

“Fuck—“ Immediately, he angles his cock against the entrance of your ass at your offer, notching the cockhead in. Groaning at how greedily you were sucking him in. You moaned at the intrusion, relaxing yourself to take him in—the slick and slipperiness making it a little easier. 

He groans out, wincing at the sensation of the muscles threatening to milk him dry. With a lazy and slow thrust, he fills you with hot spurts of his spend. 

With a few heaving pants, he pulls out of your ass, watching the creamy ring pulsate with his milky white come. “You alright, sweetheart?” He tips your head to face him. Rubbing your tear stricken cheeks clean. “M-…Mhm..” You manage. Unsteadily straightening up. 

“Mhm?” He repeats. Turning you back around gently. Tilting his head to meet your eye level. “Words, baby.”

“I’m okay. I promise.”

His lips meet yours. Kissing you reverently, to the corners of your lips and then against your flushed cheeks. Not wanting to break you, as though he hadn’t spent the better half of an hour fucking you senseless. 

He grabs a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, swiping the fabric to gather the uncomfortable slick from your thighs. 

You peered up at him through your lashes. The blue lights from the signage above the both of you illuminate your features. Joel swore this feeling was what those stupid love songs were always on about. He’d never felt that, not even for the mother of his daughter. 

The wash of reality was apparent in your post orgasmic silent haze while the two of you cleaned up. Not that it mattered. “Mr Miller—”

You tried. He shot you a warning look. His own heart twists at how easily you’d shut this all down. If he wasn’t sober before, he sure as hell was now. 

“Not yet.”

He breathes out. Letting his knuckles brush down your cheeks as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. 

He’d just have to think about how he could get over you tomorrow. 

[buckyalpine]

Hello! I have a request please! Loving the idea of bucky and reader having a relationship/hookup but not staying together. Then reader gets a new bf, but bucky catches her still wearing his own shirt to bed or something, and teases her about wishing they were still together etc. you decide how it ends 😈 have been listening to “smells like me” by Charlie Puth lately and can’t stop thinking about this scenario!!

18+

I love this and ofc this is going to have a happy fluffy ending but some angst and steaminess throughout because I am a sucker for this type of scenario. 

Some angst, jealousy, possessive horny Bucky, all the smut, Bucky's filthy mouth, needy sex, some cheating but i promise it adds to the spice okay? (plus the guy is a loser)

-

It was a mutual decision to break up. At least that’s what you both told yourselves. It started off as a mutual transaction; just hooking up and staying friends with benefits so nothing would get complicated. You and Bucky fucked like rabbits in every position and every surface imaginable. Things were great, until they weren’t.

You caught feelings. He kept his hidden. 

Bucky didn’t think he could do a relationship. You wanted more. 

He initiated the break up and while it hurt you, you both agreed it was for the best since you wanted different things. 

That was months ago. 

Moving on wasn’t easy but you weren’t going to waste your life away crying over someone who didn’t want you. You started dating again and eventually you found something relatively stable. Things were fine. Good. Bucky had avoided you completely after the break up but took a sudden interest in you again after he found out you were seeing someone. 

“So, you’re actually into this guy?” He raised an eyebrow, hanging around the kitchen, unable to contain his curiosity after he saw you arrive home from your date. He felt a drop of something deep in his chest, seeing you in a dress he had never seen before. His knuckles were nearly white, clenching his hands to his sides to keep himself in check but his jaw clenched hearing the click of your heels against the tile floor. 

All dressed up for some other man. 

“Mhm” You shrugged, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, avoiding eye contact with the super solider. You were over him. You were so over him. You had a boyfriend and you were over Bucky. You had to be. “Why else would I go out with him”

“He doesn’t seem like your type” Bucky sassed, hoping to mask the bubbling jealousy that continued to rise in his chest. 

“Oh, and you know what my type is?” You spat back, turning on your heel to glare at him. “You’re an expert on who I should date?” 

“I’m just saying” He took a few steps towards you, “I thought you had better standards” He knew what he was doing, biting his lip, watching your chest heave, the eyes that used to roll back from pleasure now throwing daggers at him. 

“Well I like him. Who I date isn’t any of your concern anyway James” Your nails dug into your palms, deciding against entertaining his shit any longer, holding your tongue back. Bucky felt something pang in his stomach watching the way your hips swayed as you stormed off to your room without looking back. 

****

Bucky couldn’t stand it. 

He figured you’d drop this guy eventually but it only got worse. 

You brought your boyfriend around the compound more.

He’d occasionally stay for movie night. 

Bucky would have to watch you cuddle up with him, the both of you going back to your room after for God knows what. He’d see the guy sitting in the living room, waiting for you to get ready for your dates. For fucks sake, he was even there at breakfast after he spent the night over. 

Every time your boyfriend did something, Bucky would mentally correct him. He could see your body tense whenever he put his arm around you; you liked being held securely and this guys arm dangled lightly behind your waist. He never gave you his full attention when you spoke, never remembered the little details about you. Bucky was sure he had caught him flirting with some of the other agents, holding himself back from punching him in the jaw. 

Fuck, he didn’t even kiss you properly. It was too hesitant, too gentle, Bucky knew how you loved to be kissed, how to make you weak in the knees. He would have ran his fingers through your hair, tugging it back, tilting your face up, to look at him. He would have cupped your cheeks, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other gently wrapped around your neck, his teeth gently nipping your lips. He wouldn’t have given a fuck about people being around, if you were his girl he would have-

No. Never mind. 

Your new boyfriend clearly didn’t know what he was doing anywhere. On more than one occasion, Tony had a shit eating grin on his face because Bucky had you screaming over the sound proof walls. 

Why the fuck were you with him when should have been with..

Someone else.

Though there was one other thing Bucky had noticed. One thing he made note of multiple times, his ego growing more every time it happened. 

You wandered down to the kitchen before bed to get a glass of water, stopping when your eyes landed on the brunette super solider, his sweats low on his hips, his upper body on full display after he left his hoodie in the gym. You decided to ignore him, grabbing a cup and filling it, your breath hitching hearing his low voice. 

“I thought that shirt looked familiar” He took a few steps towards you, noting the way you kept your eyes trained on your glass.  “You look comfy”

“I-

“You what” Bucky smirked, his eyes raking up and down your bare legs, cocking his head while you backed yourself against the counter. “What is it sweets”

“Nothing” you swallowed thickly, mentally scolding yourself for getting caught wearing his Henley to bed. You had no excuse, you had plenty of your own over sized t-shirts you could have worn but....

“Does your boyfriend know where you got that shirt, why you sleep with it almost every night” You couldn't bring yourself to speak, shaking your head, heart racing. “You know I noticed you wear it all the time, even when your snuggled up with him. You just can’t stop yourself can you, he’s not the same” 

He’s not you. 

“You still think about me, hm?” Bucky couldn't help himself, a part of him knowing he had no right to look at you like that, you had a boyfriend but his body was moving on its own, pressing you against the counter, his lips dropping to your ear. “Does he fuck like I can?”

“Bucky stop” You tried to ignore the shiver that ran through your body, his hips pressing against you, his erection digging into your hip. You bit your lip, trying to keep your hands from palming his chest, avoiding his eyes. 

“Tell me, does he touch you like I do?” He kept his hands to his sides but he couldn't help but rock his hips against you, his cock achingly hard, desperate for some relief. He let out a strained groan, precum starting to dampen his brief's. 

“Bucky-” You tried to push him away from you but he pressed himself against you harder, your back digging against the counter. “Stop” Your voice was a whimper, you knew you could have pushed him off if you wanted to...you should have...

“Does he make love to you like me, reach that spot that makes you scream?” His nose dragged along the column of your neck, his tongue gliding across your skin, filthy mouth unrelenting. 

“Does his cock fill you like mine does” 

No. 

“Does he nurse on your clit like I do, suck and kiss that sweet, pretty little nub of yours until his face is soaked with your cum? Does he lick and drink your sweetness like I do baby, does he get hard just off the way you taste?”

No. 

“Does he make himself cum on your bed from just rubbing himself on it when he’s between those thighs? Does he worship your body like I do princess, tell me, does he stroke his cock every night, moaning for you?”

No.

“Does he paint your body with cum, does it clean it off nice? Lick off every drop of the mess he makes like I do? You miss that, don’t you baby, you miss my hot cum on your body, you miss my warm tongue cleaning you up right afterwards? You miss it filling your pussy up and dripping onto the sheets, you miss the way I fuck it right back into you and have you suck if off my cock” 

You didn’t even realize you had parted your legs, letting his thigh press against your needy cunt, your hips rocking and grinding on him as he continued to lure you to him, he couldn't hold back any longer. 

“Look at you rubbing yourself on me princess, he doesn’t satisfy you does he?” You let out a broken moan, grinding on his thigh harder while gripping onto the counter, it was wrong, you knew it was wrong but it all felt so right. 

“I know he doesn’t, I know you still touch yourself thinking about me, these sweet little fingers-” He grabbed your hand, nipping your finger tips with his teeth, “-aren’t enough are they baby, his cock isn’t enough, you need mine, huh doll?” 

You tried to shake your head but you nodded instead, there was no point in lying now. Bucky growled, grabbing your hips, helping you rock yourself on him more. 

“Tell me you need my cock”

“I-I need-fuck-”

“Say it baby, tell me you need me to fill your pussy up”

“B-Bucky” Your thighs squeezed together around his, your body nearly trembling feeling his lips suck onto your neck. 

“That’s not what you call me, c’mon, say it”

“Daddy” 

“That’s it” He cooed, sliding his hands down your panties, finding your soaked cunt dripping for him, your body easily betraying you. “So wet for daddy already” He shoved his fingers up your needy cunt, crooking them to rub against your sweet spot making you bite down onto his bare shoulder to keep your screams down. 

“Tell daddy you want his fat cock baby”

“Wan’ it daddy” You nearly wailed at the stretch of his fingers alone, nothing compared to the feel of the cool metal scissoring and pumping in you, moving faster. Bucky could tell by the way you bit down harder, your nails digging into his skin, you were close. He pulled his fingers out, shoving them in his mouth instead, greedily sucking off your arousal. 

“MMmgh, God you’re so sweet- Fuck this” Bucky grabbed you, tossing you over his shoulder, taking you straight to his room and throwing you onto his bed. He got rid of his sweats and brief's within seconds, stripping you naked immediately after. He crawled on top of your body, parting your legs, his warm breath fanning your face. You whined at the feel of his length rutting against your core, a part of your brain screaming at you to stop. 

“Bucky, we can’t” You couldn't help but spread your legs further, bringing your thighs up. 

“Can’t what” His hand snaked down to line his cock up, rubbing the head onto your clit. 

“I-you know I can’t” You shook your head, panting as he pressed against it further, making you moan. 

“You don’t want it?” He nudged his tip against your clenching pussy, prodding against your entrance leaving you reeling. “Tell me”

“Bucky, please, I-” 

“Please what princess”

“We can’t, we can’t we can’t we-oh god, fuck, FUCKK” You threw your head back as he pushed his cock into your soaked pussy, not wasting any time, his hips snapping, pounding you into the mattress. Your legs wrapped around his waist, crying and chanting his name as his cock hit all the right spots, stretching you the way you craved. 

Bucky moaned into your neck, your pussy gripping onto him, puling him back in with each thrust, fluttering and clenching around him. 

“M’never letting you go again” Bucky grabbed your writs, pinning them against the bed above your head, pulling his knees up to fuck you deeper. “I need you” 

“Fuckkkk James” Tears streaked your face, the silky tip of his cock rubbing and stroking your sweet spot repeatedly, his balls slapping against your ass. 

“O-only I can make you moan like this” He picked his pace up, fucking you harder, sitting back on his heels and holding your legs apart. “Don’t think i didn’t hear you sweets, touching yourself thinking about me even when you were with him” 

He spat onto your clit, his thumb rubbing soft circles making your back arch in pleasure. 

“I touched myself to you too baby, thought about you every damn day with my cock in my fist. I missed you so bad, I wanted to fuck and make love to you, wanted every piece of you”

“Please-James”

Bucky got lost in the feeling of you, desperate to be as close as possible. He dropped your legs, falling on top of you and wrapping his arms around your body. He rolled you over so you were on top, holding you close while he thrusted up into you. 

“I’ll never let you go again y/n, you’re mine, you’re all fucking mine baby” 

“Don’t let me go James” You moaned into his neck, clinging onto his body while his cock throbbed, his pace growing sloppy. 

“No, look at me” His eyes were glassy, one hand cupping your face to make you look at him. “I love you, I fucking love you, please princess” He fucked you harder, his moans mixed with yours filling the room, your lips brushing against his. “Fuck- I love you” 

“I love you” You cried out, your pussy fluttering, the band in your belly about to snap. 

“Cum for me baby, c’mon, cum on my dick, make a mess on me, soak my cock and balls with your cum angel, give it to me”

“JAMES FUCK” Your orgasm ripped through your body, falling limp on him while he pounded up into you, your moans and screams bouncing off the walls. Bucky held you tighter, his cock twitching unable to hold back any more, his balls pulled tight to his body.  

“M’gonna cum” He moaned, desperately holding onto  you while you kissed him, swallowing his moans. “Oh fuck, m’gonna cum y/n” 

“Cum James, fill me up bubba” You cooed softly in his ear, kissing his temple while he let out a throatily groan, his body tensing, cock swelling. 

“FUCKK M’cumming so. fucking. hard for you baby, it’s all for you God-fuck-it’s all for you” His body stilled, his warm seed filling you till it dripped out. “Wanna be the only one to cum in you like this, you’re mine” He continued to rut into you, whining at the overstimulation, his cock still dribbling with cum “Can’t even stop cumming for you baby, fuck it won’t stop” He continued to moan and lightly thrust into you until he emptied his cock, the sheets damp from his load. 

You both laid in silence, giving each other soft kisses, his arms still secure around you, holding you close to his chest. You couldn't ignore the way your heart fluttered, you shouldn’t have been there, none of this should have happened and yet...

“Stay” 

You looked up at him while he brought you closer, kissing your forehead. 

“Please stay”

“Bucky, you didn’t want me until-

“I was a fucking idiot, I love you, baby please stay” His eyes were pleading with you, clinging onto you tighter. You knew you should have gone back to your room but for some reason this felt right. You melted into his embrace, letting him cuddle you. “You’re mine”

“Bucky, my boy-

“I want to be your boyfriend. Please. I’m sorry sweets, I shouldn’t have pushed you away, I-I want you to be mine” 

You thought for a moment, the way you couldn't pull yourself away from him, falling right into his embrace, not feeling anything for anyone else, all your feelings just for him.

“I’m yours” You mumbled against his skin, falling asleep in his bed, your heart finally back where it belonged. 

(and ofc you break up with your loser boyfriend after, cause he was useless anyway) 

Tags: @glxwingrxse  @hungryyeyess  @sebsgirl71479  @beabutterfly987  @teambarnes72  @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass  @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan  @buggy14  @whimsyplaty92  @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec   @pono-pura-vida   @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z  @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog  @happyt0exist   @emmabarnes  @bethyruth @matchat3a  @cjand10   @getwellsoontana  @cherryschaos   @lokisasgardianvampirequeen  @ashenc-blog  @buckybarnessimpp   @potatothots  @goldylions  @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog  @kingfleury   @peaches1958   @spiderman-stilinski   @peaceinourtime82  @gublur   @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46   @lolawassad  @almosttoopizza   @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess   @buckycallsmeaslut    @kamaria-sweet-writes  @charmedbysarge    @xnorthstar3x  @kryoee7 @alina02  @gh0stgurl    @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club  @eralen   @carrotfantasimp    

[stinkysam]

Roronoa Zoro - Well, this is awkward.

Warning : none

Genre : angst-ish

Synopsis : “zoro and his ex boyfriend run into each other again and a lot of old feelings are brought back (maybe they break up due to mutual differences like zoro wanting to become the world best swordsman)” - anon

Reader : male (you/yours)

He grimaces, eyes wide as he sees you. What the fuck ? That's not what he had expected. What are you doing here ?

He tries to look for his crew to hide amongst them but they got fucking lost as usual and are nowhere to be found. It's not as if he could hide well between 4 people anyway. They should at least be 10.

Shit ! You've spotted him. What to do ? What to do ? He tries to act casual, looking through a window shop as if interested by the clothes displayed.

His heart was beating fast in his chest. Both stressed to see you again and happy. But he wouldn't admit the latter.

You were in the same state, unable to know what to do. Should you greet him ? Has he seen you ? Could you leave if not ? What if he had ?

You take a deep breath and decide to go to him. After all, you were still curious about him and you've heard a lot about the pirate hunter.

“Hey, Zoro.” You call, standing next to him. He hums, acknowledging you, and keeps focusing on what's in front of him. You smile, trying to remain unmoved by his lack of interested response.

“So uh,” You clear your throat. “How are you doing ?”

“Fine…” He glances at you. “And you ?”

“I'm okay…” I miss you, you want to say.

You look at each other, unsure of what to say. You clear your throat again.

“Wanna buy a dress ?” You say, pointing with your head what he was standing in front of.

He grimaces, slightly embarrassed.

“Uh… no. I was uh, trying to avoid you.” He finally admits, hoping his words don't hurt you too much.

“Yeah, I figured. You should've gone inside.” You joke, ignoring the tug at your heart.

He agreed, though he was glad he didn't go in.

“So, pirate hunter, yeah ?”

“Not anymore. On the other side now.” He smiles, finding it a bit funny.

“Oh.” You couldn't help but smile too. “Siding with the marines didn't suit you anyway.”

“I wasn't with the marines.” He defended himself.

“So you're a pirate now ?”

“The future best swordsman in the world, yeah.”

Your smile fell a bit at his words, reminding yourself why you two broke up.

“Ah.”

“I never dropped my dream.” He adds, determination spewing from his words. You frowned. Did he think you dropped yours ?

“Me neither. I will be the best swordsman.” You declared, hand on your heart.

“No. I will.”

You glared at one another for a second, before both looking away with a sigh. It was starting again.

You both wanted to be the best and that's what drove you apart. Being rivals could be tough for a relationship. Unwavering competitiveness, constantly arguing, refusing to show weakness and vulnerability. Slowly you stopped saying “I love you” and began to wonder if you still felt it, that love you had for each other, overshadowed by your bullheaded dreams.

You tried to get rid of your animosity, not wanting it to ruin your sudden reunion. You hadn't left on good terms and wanted to change that.

You looked down, swallowing your pride.

“I missed you.” You say and he looks at you surprised, his heart doing somersault, not believing you would say it.

It's his turn to look down, debating whether he should speak his mind as well. It's true he had missed you too, but he didn't want to restart something that was doomed to fail.

“I… Yeah… I missed you too.” He finally said. Admitting it doesn't mean you two would be a thing again, after all.

Taken by a surge of confidence you continue in your momentum.

“You know, I think I never stopped loving you. Even when we hated each other.”

He looks at you with wide eyes, not knowing what to answer. That's not what he had planned for the day, at all. But his heart felt at ease, happy, beating smoothly in his chest, knowing your feelings for him had never vanished.

He feels bashful, just like the day you asked him out after a sword fight together.

You can see his ears redden along his cheeks, he still doesn't know what to say. Saying “I love you” has never been easy. But he has to say something, he has to tell you the truth.

“I didn't hate you either.” It's not an ‘I love you too’ but it's close, and it'll do.

You smiled, happy to know he felt the same.

“Wanna… grab a beer ?” You ask, wondering if it was too much.

“Yeah.” He simply answers, turning to you, ready to follow you. It was just a drink. Not the start of anything if not of your renewed friendship.

[forever-fixating]

RWRB Appreciation Month Bingo: Underrated Moment

For @rwrbsource and @rwrbmovie's RWRB Appreciation Month Bingo: Underrated Moment

Underrated Moment: Alex's immediate "no" when Zahra asked him if it would make any difference if he was asked to not see Henry again

Author's Note: The absolute lack of hesitation in Alex's voice when he answered that question has burrowed into my brain. It's one of my favorite moments. Sure, boys, you're sooooo great at doing casual! There's a little moment inspired by a comment convo I had with @onthewaytosomewhere who made an astute observation about the way Ellen and Zahra talk to Alex, a grown man. Enjoy this little bit of fluff.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind Zahra, Alex and Henry deflated like a couple of balloons. Alex, his mind starting to spiral, looked at his...nope, not ready for that either, Henry and snickered half-heartedly, "Well, now I have a new name to save you under in my phone."

"You're an idiot," Henry said, shaking his head.

They began moving about the room and picking up discarded pieces of clothing. Alex took off his pants to slip on his boxers, not interested in freeballing with a pissed-off Zahra while talking with the press. Fuck, he was going to have to tell his mom about Henry. His bisexuality felt secondary. Not that it wasn't important, but he knew his mom would be okay with that part. But him sleeping with, to borrow Zahra's words, "the heir to the British throne?" During an election year? That part might be a bit harder for her to swallow.

While they got dressed in silence, Alex kept glancing at Henry. His expression was neutral, but that little corner of his mouth told Alex that the blonde's mind was anything but that. Henry sat on the end of the bed, tying his dress shoes. Alex nudged him with his besocked foot and said, "Hey, it's gonna be okay. Don't sweat Zahra. She's all bark, no bite."

Henry smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Alex knelt in front of him and took his hands. Rubbing his thumbs over those smooth knuckles, he said, "Talk to me, baby."

Henry bit his lip, a flash of white sinking into that rosy flesh, before he mumbled, "Did you mean it?"

Alex frowned. "Mean what?"

"When you..." Henry made a noise, a choked little something that made Alex want to comfort him. His eyes were red when he said, "When Zahra asked if it would make a difference if she told you not to see me again...you said no. Did you mean it?"

Oh. Alex stood and sat down next to his transatlantic booty call? sometime lover?, their hands still linked. In that moment, the answer seemed so obvious. While he respected Zahra, he was a grown man now, not a teenager. This was his life and his relationship. If it went down in flames or turned into something more solid, it would be Alex's choice. His mother nor her chief of staff would not make that decision for him.

Alex cupped Henry's cheek and said, "I did."

Alex huffed a laugh when Henry pulled him into a desperate kiss. Henry's hands in his hair and on the small of his back, the little choked moan when Alex parted those plush lips with his tongue...whatever this was, Alex would do anything to keep it.

Unfortunately, even though Alex wanted nothing more than to strip himself and Henry naked for one last tumble in the sheets, he wouldn't put it past Zahra to have a timer set on her phone. He broke their kiss and rubbed his thumb over Henry's spit-slick lips.

"Call me when you get home?"

"I will."

A/N- It's been a hot second since I read the book, but I think at this point, the boys were still operating under the delusion that what they had was casual but mutually exclusive. Silly lads.

Check out this post and join the fun in celebrating the one-year anniversary of our little romcom that could being released!

[melodyofmbaku]

In Me (Erik Stevens x OC)

Warning ⚠️: SMUT (18+ Material)

Prompt: “Should I give you something else? Something you could keep inside you for the rest of the night?”

A/N: clearing out my drafts so to speak. Enjoy ya nasties.

Formatting on mobile. 🥲

___

She reached up on her toes, her hands clutching at his shirt and nosed around for a kiss.

He looked down at her with a confused look before avoiding her advances as he’d been doing the whole night.

The couple had been invited to a yacht party for one of their mutual friends' birthdays. The room was filled with suave wealthy black folk and they couldn’t be more comfortable.

Since they Alicia had been pawing up her man incessantly. She loved Erik in a suit. It was almost like she wanted him to mount her right then an there with how incessant she was being.

He wouldn’t want to consume her in public. Not like this. He wouldn’t grant anyone the opportunity of seeing his girl in the haze of pleasure. That was his alone to see.

The music still played in the background and she grabbed his hand. She threw a quick “we’ll be right back” over her shoulder and flashed a smile over to her friends.

Dancing her way through the crowd she led him to the lush powder room on the other side of the yacht. Once they entered she tried to push his back against the door and take possession of what she wanted — his month — stroking the inside of her mouth expertly.

Instead he grabbed her arms and spun her around and walked her to the column in the bath room and pressed his weight against her. He used one of his legs to push her flush against the column. She was now pressed against the wall.

“Calm down.” He spoke the low request into her ear and her body began to thrum with need. She shivered.

“I want —“ she began but before she could finish he cut her off.

“You think I don’t know what you want?” He asked.

How could he not know? She was his girl. He knew her like he knew how to dismember a body. Expertly.

Her body was tense against the wall still and she squirmed against him. He placed his hand at the curve of her back and pushed her hips against the wall.

“Alicia, relax.” There was no question that this was not a request.

She had no choice but to relent.

Almost immediately she released the tension she was holding and became much more malleable.

“There you are.”

He ran his nose up the column of her neck letting her sweet perfume fill his nostrils. With one hand pressing against the curve of her back he used the other to unbuckle his belt.

“What’s got you feeling so hungry huh?” He asked.

The sound of his belt made her clench in want. Was he going to use it to discipline her? Was she going to love it?

Unknown to her, he very much wanted to be in her. He really wasn’t interested in prolonging their play. Her begging and fussing had given him a semi a while ago. In this moment, he was a mere man who wanted to satisfy his basest desires.

When she heard him lower his zipper she couldn’t help the “please” that slipped from her lips.

While pulling out his member from his boxers he placed more of his weight against her. He wanted her to feel him through her dress.

She gasped.

“I know baby girl.”

His hand skirted under her dress and palmed her bare ass.

“This dress makes you look delicious.” He spoke into her ear while pumping himself to life.

“I wore it for you.” She whispered. “ I wanted you to like it.”

When she got like this. He didn’t know how to contain himself.

“I know baby. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. I love it. Thank you.”

The praise had already got her into a blissful headspace.

He bent down to kiss her cheek and pressed himself into her warm heat slowly. He groaned internally and released a deep sigh.

Fucking paradise. She clung to him like a second skin. The moan she let out was obscene.

He used one hand to grip the back of her neck and the other to snake around her body to lay flat against her abdomen. She was going to feel all of him today.

Then he began his slow languid pace. Erik had been drinking and Hennessy dick was something else.

He was going to enjoy his woman tonight.

He slid his hand up her stomach to cup her breast lightly.

“I love these.” He murmured lowly in her ear. His hot breath tickled and sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn’t help but clench against his thickness.

When his expert fingers found her nipple and tweaked softly she gasped.

“More.”

He bent his face to kiss the side column of her neck once more.

“Anything you want baby.” He began to thrust into her at a stronger pace. Still languid but more powerful, more intentional.

He slid his fingers down her body and they found her clit. He began lightly stroking while he whispered expletives into her ear.

“You begged me for it. Now you have to take it baby girl.”

She was almost beside herself. He knew how to work her body and the exact words to say to get her sopping wet.

“Erik” she breathed out almost urgently. Her body was already primed for release.

She’d been getting worked up since they left home. Every one of her advances had been avoided until now.

“Erik please. I need…” she gasped once more.

“What do you need baby girl? Tell me what you want. You know I got you.”

At this point his pace was brutal. His fingers toyed with her clit and she knew she was close.

“I need to cum.” She gasped out.

“That’s good to know. Thank you for sharing sweetheart.” He responded with amusement coloring his voice.

She moaned and her hand shot out to grasp his forearm. It was all the warning he needed.

“Please can I cu—“

“Go on sweet girl.” He prompted, into her ear.

Her request was cut off with her orgasm. It crashed into her unexpectedly as he placed both of his hands on her breasts and pulled her close to him.

She came down softly almost with the words “thank you” leaving her lips repeatedly like a prayer.

Erik held her up. He wasn’t done with her yet.

“Where do you want it?“ he asked, thrusts more restrained.

“In me.” She panted.

“Sweetheart that one was obvious.” He continued his pace holding himself at the brink of orgasm.

Erik had rock solid control. She couldn’t say the same for herself. She could already feel the pressure building up again. She held into his forearm. It was the only thing keeping her upright.

“Do you want to taste me? Feel my cum in your mouth and sliding down your throat?” He kissed her neck once more.

“Erik.” She begged, gasping out his name and clutching to him tighter. .

“Or should I give you something else? Something you could keep inside you for the rest of the night? Something that could slip from your pretty hole so you can be reminded whose pussy this is.”

She couldn’t help the loud moan that slipped out of her mouth at the visual.

He swiftly clamped a hand against her mouth muffling the tail end of her moan.

His head snapped over his shoulder at the door. He didn’t remember if they’d locked it.

“Come on baby girl let’s make sure we don’t invite the whole boat to our party hm?” He commented, eyes shooting back to hers. She didn’t have a care in the world. With the blissed out look on her face he knew she’d do it again.

He slid 2 fingers into her mouth and she sucked them earnestly.

“God, you are a wonder.” He shook his head to focus on the task at hand. If he let himself dwell on that he’d finish sooner than he wanted to. He didn’t want that.

“Mouth or otherwise baby girl?” He was a mere man and his woman was driving him crazy.

“In my mouf.” Her answer came out garbled due to his fingers stroking her tongue.

“I didn’t hear you sweet bits.” He kissed the spot behind her ear still pumping himself inside her with barley restrained vigor.

At this point tears were streaming down her face. He had kept her on the brink of orgasm for far too long and she was close to her breaking point.

“Please cum in my mouth daddy!”

That one got him. She never used the word but the state she had to be in to ask like that? Yeah. That was good.

He let his hand slide down her body from her breasts to her panties and his fingers found her clit once more.

He shifted his strokes. Once, twice and she was moaning against his hands in earnest. Her orgasm took over and her knees buckled. She went almost limp in his arms.

He slipped out of her and shifted to hold her body up.

“Down on your knees angel. Let me give you what you want.” He wanted her stable and primed to get her reward.

She was still vibrating from her orgasm but sank to her knees without issue.

He gripped her head and rubbed his wet tip against her lips. He pushed himself past the folds but didn’t sheath himself fully inside her wet waiting mouth.

“I can — “ lifting her arms in an attempt to grip him.

“Shhh. You had yours. Now let’s have you make yourself useful. I’ll use your body as I please to get off. And you’ll like it. I know you will.”

She arched her back almost involuntarily. When he spoke like that she couldn’t help herself.

With her knees spread on the floor Erik was met with an almost obscene view of her sex that caused him blow his load right then and there.

He groaned to himself. And watched as his cum coated her lips and teeth.

Shock covered her features and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip and sucked her lips in.

“What a pretty picture.” He mused. His thighs were pretty sore but it was so worth it.

He bumped his now soft member against her mouth again and stroked her hair.

She took his head into her mouth and sucked the remaining precum from his tip before he tucked himself back into his boxers, pulled up his pants and fastened his belt.

“Don’t move.” He commanded. He looked around the lush bathroom and went to grab a white washcloth from the basket of stacked clean linen.

God bless the rich.

He ran the towel through with warm water and took a knee to clean her face and between her legs gently. When he was done he kissed the inside of her thigh.

“All done.” He shot her a killer smile before offering her a hand to stand up.

He watched silently as she stumbled up before fluffing her hair and pulling down her dress.

He held out his hand to her and before they could walk out she stopped them.

“I want a kiss.” She said avoiding his eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. Her gaze flickered up to meet his and she was almost shy.

“Can I please have a kiss?”

He’d just dug out her guts and she had his cum dripping from her lips but asking for a kiss was what was making her nervous.

“Of course you can. C’mere baby girl”.

He grabbed her by the waist and held her close.

Their eyes locked and he couldn’t help but look away.

When her eyebrows crinkled she let out a “What?”

“You’re so good damn beautiful mama.”

He then captured her lips in a searing kiss.

“Was that all you wanted?”

She peered up at him with a smile and nodded.

“Yeah. But this was good too.”

—

Taglist

@sarcastic-sunshines @chaneajoyyy

[ajearthlinggg]

My opinions on all Will Wood music videos

momento mori MAP: the first Will Wood related thing I saw thanks to my brother. I remember seeing it and being like "Wow this is so okay." Not really one of my fav songs but still really good animation from everybody

Mr. Capgras: (oh my god this is my end) honestly in my top 3 favorite music videos (number 2 and 1 are even more sexual 😭 the karma music video ain't shit idgaf) I have dressed as Will from this video (the outfit when he looks like an auntie) and I will NOT be posting the photos BC y'know, underage. But just it matches the song's vibe so well and is incredibly visually interesting. Will's makeup is on point (as always) and him and his band's outfits (or lack of) also manage to fit the vibe of the song perfectly. I read an interview he did about the music video and had to look up like, ten words. Someone make this man an English teacher. Anyway, amazing video. Give Mario more screen time.

Dr Sunshine: somehow WAY more uncomfortable then Mr. Capgras. Once again, Will's makeup is great. There are so many goddamn colors I don't know if I love it or if I want the video banned because of it. It's great how the video goes from a normal kinda weird WWATT video to incredibly uncomfortable and strange as soon as he goes bald. Great video. William, the cones in my eyes feel great resentment towards you.

Hand me my shovel: OMGG I PLAYED A BIT OF THIS ON PIANO AT MY PIANO LESSON AND MY MUSIC TEACHER PUT UP THE MUSIC VIDEO IN FRONT OF MY DAD AHAJSJJZJ (he luckily stopped after the intro) anyways I fucking hate this video for creating one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. 10/10. Fuck you.

Euthanasia: no. Don't even remind me. Please. *incredibly loud ugly sobbing noises*

Laplace's Angel : haha this video has so much bones that it should be called Skeleton Appreciation Day! *gets booed of stage* anyways great video. Wills outfit is so cool. You know the one. Bnoes bnones bnes. Lemmed ssee yior bneons.

Sex, drugs, and rock and roll : GUYS THIS VIDEO IS MOSTLY SATIRE PLEASEEE. watching Will throw tomatoes at himself is beautiful. 10/10 viewing experience

Love, Me Normally: First WW video I watched as a real fan of his music. Omg I love this video. He said in a YouTube comment that the rats were his girlfriend's at the time. I can just imagine the conversation "Hey can I borrow your RATS for my MUSIC VIDEO about CONFORMITY?" Also the first WW fanart I drew was of this video so that's pretty cool. Anyways I love the ghosts and the hat falls off his head like every 2 seconds go watch the video you'll see what I mean.

2econd 2ight 2eer: this used to be my fav WW song before I was a WW fan. Anyways THE MAKEUP ONSGDJAHSJ this video made me question my lesbianism like HIS EYELINER AAAAAA. But anyway once again lots of colors. Like, LOTS of colors. I already have eyesight problems William once again THE CONES IN MY EYES HATE YOU. AHSJSJKAAKA. Also thank you to this song for giving my lovely mutual his username. (Hi Syd)

Chemical Overreaction: This song and music video is my new aesthetic. That's all I have to say.

6up 5oh: I remember when my brother was obsessed with this song back in 2020 😭 HOLY SHIT I HEAR POLICE SIRENS RN THEY'RE ON TO ME DELETE THIS SONG FROM MY WATCH HISTORY RN FUCK FUCK FUCK. Ig this video is pretty good. Not one of my fav videos but its alright.

You Liked This: You even both like Subway, Eat Fresh!

Well, better than the alternative : omg the filter and artsyle is so cool. Also the Stranger Things references, the masks, the outline of the filter, it's so 2020 and it makes me sad. WHAT'S SO WRONG ABOUT WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME? I'M JUST TRYNA DO WHAT'S RIGHT BY YOU?

Tomcat disposables: please I'm gonna cry again. OH MY GOD WILL IS SO FUCKING TALENTED

Cicada days and Marsha, thankk you: not really a fan of lyrics videos. Decided to group the lyric vids together to say this.

White Noise: as somebody who's struggles with the topics this song speaks about, there really is no Will Wood song that affects me emotionally more than this one. Not Against the Kitchen Floor. Not Tomcat disposables. Hell, not even Euthanasia. This song in particular is so underappreciated and pushed aside instead of being recognised as an emotional, hard hitting, meaningful, lyrical masterpiece, and the video only adds to that. The symbolism from the excitement the people get over nothing makes so much sense after paying attention to the lyrics. Also holy shit he's bald again.

2012: the way his fans treat the topic of this song kinda is so weird. Like, he did so much drugs that he FORGOT A WHOLE FUCKING YEAR. and his fans are just like "haha funny I don't remember hehe" anyways this video for some reason is like Criminal by Fiona Apple if she took 12 edibles and believed in aliens. Not saying it's anything like that but that's just the vibes it gives me. I love Fiona and Criminal is top 2 fav music videos for me so I have no complaints 👍

Wealth and Hellness: not really a WW music video but I love this song so much and Will did an awesome fucking job directing the video. I love Human Zoo and can't wait to see if they ever will collab with Will again. Also all that conspiracy bullshit was insane.

Wealth and Hellness (censored version): Wonderful video! Perfect for my Christian family! Praise the community guidelines! 🙏🙏😇😇😇

[growup-thatbeautiful]

bullet proof… i wish i was

Tags: Kid fic, Canon Typical Violence, Ex-husband Tangerine, Ex-Assassin Reader, Getting Back Together, Soft Tangerine, Mutual Pining, Tangerine Bullet Train, Tangerine x Reader, Tangerine x You

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Blood, Violence, Heavy Cursing

Summary: You and Tangerine have been separated for a few years for the sake of your daughter, Jovie, but when trouble comes, there's only one person to turn to.

Word Count: 8k

A/n: if you want to be added to a taglist for this universe, let me know and i will happily oblige! enjoy my tangerine brainrot :))

Bullet Train Masterlist

chapter one: you have turned me into this

Your heels tap against the marble flooring as you make your way through the crowd of guilty people, the chandelier above you casting an ethereal glow over scared faces and expensive clothing. You keep your head down and hope that none of them are looking at your face too closely. The steel countertop of the bar is cool underneath the tips of your fingers when you order a drink and take a careful sip, your eyes flitting around the room for a certain face. Once you have him in your sights, it doesn't take much to convince him to come over and say hello. The way the silk of your dress contours perfectly around your figure can't hurt.

"Hi," you say, your voice floating through clouds and shaking the walls. Or is it just you who's shaking? The man doesn't answer and instead chooses to signal for the bartender, who nods and starts fixing a drink.

"The usual," the man croaks, his voice weak and failing. It makes you want to go home to the family waiting for you, into the arms of someone who loves you. There's a reason that you can't, but you don't remember it. You just know what you have to do now.

“So, angelface, are you going to tell me how you got here? I think I would remember inviting someone like you.” The man doesn’t recognize you, which is good. None of this would work if he knew who you are and what you’re here for.

“I have an invitation,” you lie, glancing around you and shifting your weight. If he’s paying as much attention to your form as he seems to be then he’s going to notice immediately how obvious you’re being.

“Strange, I didn’t take you for a liar.” He runs a greasy hand along the top of your arm and leans in closer to you, a sick smile on his face.

“I didn’t think you were smart enough to notice. Color me impressed, Sir.” You plant a hand on your hip and twirl a finger through your hair, grinning at him like you’re remotely interested in his sad eyes.

“Thanks. Look, hun. You’re way out of your zone here. This isn’t the path for a pretty girl like you.” He brings his hand up to your face, stroking a sweaty hand over your cheek. Like that’s ever calmed you down.

“Oh, sure it is.” you grab his wrist. “There are plenty of pretty girls getting up to no good. And those are only the ones that I know about and the ones you decide are good enough for a second fuck. But there’s a little more to the story this time. See, I’ve always loved my job, but it doesn’t really allow any room for what I need. I guess you could call it an occupational hazard, but I’ve been trying to change that if you would let me. I have a feeling that you’re going to listen to me.” You can feel the bones under his wrist. The way their ancient architecture creaks and groans under strain.

The beautiful snap of his wrist. Pain lit up in his eyes. Surprise written on his face. “Now. You’re never going to underestimate an angry woman or a protective mother again. I recommend you start listening to me closely and looking into my eyes instead of somewhere else.”

You wake up with a sob. Those memories have haunted you since the moment they happened, an error in judgment, an eclipse against the rest of your life. The things you did to protect the little girl sleeping soundly in the room next to you.

It’s half of a memory, not even getting to the worst part of that evening. Or the nights you spent afterward, cradling yourself against the cold spray of the shower and insistently scraping your skin against a washcloth to get the blood off.

It isn’t the violence that haunts you. God knows you’ve seen enough of that to last a lifetime. No, you don’t bat an eye at the blood that was shed that night, that’s never bothered you.

It’s what came afterward. The fighting, the leaving, the tears that you don’t usually shed. You had put your daughter, Jovie, in the backseat and taken her away from one of the two people who loved her to the end of the earth. It’s not like you had a choice, or at least that’s the easier way to think about it. For Jovie’s sake, you had to get out of that life, and you couldn’t have done that any other way.

But the way you hurt Tangerine back then still hurts you every time you think about it. It’s almost unbearable, to know that you’re the reason why he lives alone in a house that was meant to be filled with pictures of you and Jovie that now has impersonal empty white walls.

With a sigh, you throw the sweat-soaked sheets off to the side and walk into the bathroom that’s adjacent to your bedroom. Your hands shake when your turn the sink on you run your sweaty palms underneath the cool water, and you splash some onto your face. From experience, you know you probably won’t get back to sleep anytime soon tonight, so you might as well get some work done. Maybe with the extra time, you can pick up Jovie early from school one day and take her to the ice cream parlor she likes. There’s no better way to spend your time than with her anyway.

You slip some socks onto your feet and make your way across the hardwoods into your kitchen, where your laptop is waiting at the table. Instinctively, you go to the kettle sitting on the stove and start boiling some water, your mind on autopilot. Next, you grab a cup and some sugar, get some milk from the fridge, and try your hardest to calm your heartbeat. The whistling of the kettle is a soothing balm against your racing thoughts.

You don’t know how many times you’ve had the same dream, but usually, you make it further before you wake up. Maybe it’s finally starting to go away, but you doubt it. You’re honestly not sure that it’s something you’ll ever stop terrorizing yourself over.

The kettle’s whistling reaches an insistent point and you carefully pour the tea into the waiting cup. Once it’s cool enough to move, you settle into the kitchen table that’s closest to the window and open your laptop, where emails and research await.

Right when you’ve finally gotten into a good rhythm of your work, a noise from the hallway interrupts your thoughts. The hinges of your front door creak and strain, something you’ve been meaning to fix for a while, but right now you’re happy that you haven’t. Slowly, you reach for the gun that’s sitting behind the plant on the window and load it methodically, glancing over towards Jovie’s room and praying that she’s still asleep. The floorboards creak underneath the person’s feet and you steel yourself for what’s coming, whatever it is.

“Do you ever go anywhere besides your kitchen table, love? Should I be worried about your work addiction?” You see a familiar silhouette against the refrigerator light holding his hands up in the air.

Lowering the gun and putting it off to the side, you say, “Sure. Just let yourself right in. I’m sure Jovie would love to find you here in the middle of the night.”

“Jovie’s still awake?” Tangerine asks hopefully. You roll your eyes against his response, but there’s no actual malice in your actions. It’s endearing, how excited he gets to see her, even when you know he’s been on a mission for at least a week.

“No, she’s asleep, but you can go see her. If you wake her, you’re going to deal with it in the end, though, because she’s supposed to be going over to your house tomorrow anyway,” you warn. You don’t think it sends the right message, though, because he grins and raises his eyebrows at you.

“You still have to deal with her in the morning,” he grins, taking off down the hall. You know better than to try and stop him when he’s trying to go see Jovie, especially when he’s been gone.

He’s never told you, but you know that he misses her when he’s gone, but you imagine that it’s worse than how you miss her. When you’re gone, you know you’ll come back safely most of the time. Sure, what you’re doing for a living is technically illegal, but you’re not in immediate danger as frequently as he is.

So, when he comes over in the middle of the night asking to see Jovie, hardly able to stand with bloodshot eyes, you give him time with her for as long as he needs.

You remember how it used to be, when you were both working. It was hell, trying to balance everything; going on jobs and finding someone to watch Jovie, spending as much time as possible with her when you weren’t on a job, and trying to maintain some semblance of a relationship with Tangerine.

At some point, it all just collapsed in on itself. You had to get out of the job, and the only way to do that came with consequences that you’re still facing today.

You don’t think Tangerine can look at you without seeing the person that snuck away in the middle of the night with his daughter. And you can’t blame him one bit, even if he won’t say it to your face. You know if he did that to you, you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. Maybe he’s just a better liar than you or a better person. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell.

You can’t tell how long it’s been, sitting at your computer and waiting for Tangerine’s telltale footsteps, but eventually, he comes back and sits down next to you. Silently, without looking up from your laptop, you push your tea across the wooden surface towards him and he accepts it gratefully.

“You still make your tea like shit,” he complains, grimacing at the taste. “It’s like drinking fucking sugar water.”

“Then stop drinking it, Tan,” you sigh, but there’s a fondness that you can’t stop from creeping into your voice. “Just because you like being dark and broody doesn’t mean we all do. Some of us like being happy.”

“I can be perfectly fucking happy without your sugary excuse for caffeine,” Tangerine defends, leaning back into his chair. “Now do you want the information I got you, or not?”

You nod and pull up the folder you’ve been keeping information for your current job in. It’s scarily scarce, and this is one of the hardest assignments you’ve been given in a while. Gathering information on The White Death was hard enough when you could openly travel the world, and now with Jovie, it’s even harder.

Ever since you stopped going on actual jobs where you were part of the physical fight, you’ve been gathering information for the assassins like Tangerine and Lemon before jobs. It comes with perks, like the ability to work from home most of the time, but you can’t deny that you miss the excitement that you used to face almost daily.

For the next hour, Tangerine tells you everything he learned on the job and you carefully take notes. It’s a system you worked out as soon as you realized that the two of you would have to relearn how to coexist with each other for Jovie’s sake. In exchange, you give him everything you have on whatever his next job will entail, because, as scared as he is that he’s not going to come home one day, you’re terrified every time he leaves that he’s going to decide that it isn’t worth it. He’ll realize when he wakes up one morning that he could be anywhere in the world with anyone he wants, and you’re just not worth the effort.

Not that you would ever tell him that. Instead, you keep him through the flimsy excuse of work and information, hoping that, along with Jovie, it’s enough to keep him by your side.

Because you’re unexplainably selfish when it comes to him. Yes, you’re the one who left, but you can’t bear to think about him being happy with someone else.

So, for as long as he lets it continue, you’ll sit at the kitchen table for him in the middle of the night and listen to him talk, his accent lulling you to a sense of false domesticity that will shatter when he gets up to go home.

Tomorrow morning, Jovie will wake up and tell you all about how Tangerine visited her in the middle of the night, and he’ll be gone again, back to his own home where you thought you would raise Jovie with him.

But that’s something to worry about tomorrow. For now, you can sit here and take notes with an excuse to stare at Tangerine while he talks.

And what a sight he is, with his hair falling in front of his eyes, his blue-grey eyes shining in the lowlight of the moon shining through the window. His ringed fingers are drumming against the table as he talks, blood underneath his nails. Before he came in, he must have taken his suit jacket off, because he’s left in a blue pinstriped vest and a white undershirt, both speckled with blood. It outlines the broad expanse of his shoulders and the chain around his neck glints in and out of your sight.

“Do you want to spend the night?” you interrupt, shutting your laptop. Upon seeing the confused look on his face, you start rambling. “I know you probably want to get home- you’ve been gone a while- but it’s late and I’m sure Jovie would love to have you here in the morning. That way you don’t have to come get her later.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he agrees. “And I really don’t want to drive even more tonight, so I might take you up on the offer.”

“Okay,” you say, hiding a smile behind your hand. “You can shower in the guest room, I’ll get sheets on the bed.”

“Don’t go to the trouble, love. I’ll be happy with whatever.” You shake your head and get up, heading for the closet where you keep extra bedding. When you hand a pair of clean, white sheets with red polka dots, he takes them from you with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You lead him to the guest room, flipping light switches on and making sure the bathroom is adequately stocked. “I’ll be right back,” you say, heading to your room and rifling through one of your drawers until you come up with a maroon t-shirt that’s been in the back of your drawer for ages. It’s worn and faded, with holes in the collar and a white stain on the hem. You don’t know if Tangerine has even noticed that you’ve had it all this time, but you haven’t been able to convince yourself to give it back.

Back in the guest room, you hand him the t-shirt and he silently hands you his suit vest and collared shirt, which you take into the laundry room and spray with something to get the stains out. It’s a routine that you two perfected a long time ago, before things were so messed up, so it’s nice to see how some things still stay the same. The sound of the shower starting lets you know that he’ll be out in a few minutes, and a familiar sense of dread fills you. What happens now? Do you tell him goodnight and wait to deal with it in the morning or are you supposed to sit up with him and exchange polite conversation that will only hurt you in the end.

It ends up being neither. You’re sitting back at the kitchen table, pretending to look at your computer, when he shuffles down the hall, wearing boxers and the t-shirt.

“Is this mine?” he asks, gesturing at his shirt. “I’ve been fucking looking for this.” You know he hasn’t because he never liked this shirt, but your ears burn red at the accusation, however well meaning.

“It might be,” you deflect. “Do you need any food?” Tangerine moves to sit across from you at the table. His hair away from his face when he leans back and closes his eyes. He doesn’t look convinced at your defense, but he lets it slide with raised eyebrows.

“No, I stole some crisps on the way home.” You’re not surprised.

“You have a talent, Tan,” you tease lightly, shutting your computer. “You need to teach Jovie one of these days.”

“She can do better than petty thieving, have higher hopes for our girl.” Our girl rings through your mind. You doubt he even knows the impact of what he says, like he usually doesn’t.

You don’t really know what to say, so, “I’m sure she’s got your knack for finding something worthwhile to do,” is what you end up replying.

“A man can dream,” Tangerine sighs. You realize how late it is and how tired he must be, which you can see by the darkness underneath his eyes.

“As much as I would love sitting up with you, I think it might be a proper time to go to bed,” you admit softly. He looks at you with a strange look in his eye and nods slowly, matching your actions when you stand up.

“Goodnight, Tangerine.” You’re standing across from him, unable to cross the distance between the two of you, both physical and mental. It would be so easy, so instinctive, to fold yourself into his arms like you used to all those years ago. It’s alarming how deep the desire to do it runs through you, and you chalk it up to the nightmare that you and earlier.

“Goodnight, love. I’ll see you in the morning.” Those words, from him, are achingly distant to what they used to mean, but they fill the crack in your heart with a blooming flower of some unnamed emotion.

It stays with you when you crawl into bed and it has you looking forward to the morning, whatever it brings.

*

The sound of singing wakes you up much more gently than the nightmare did. It’s loud and boisterous and completely off-key, and you recognize it immediately, just like you would recognize anything about him.

You force yourself out of the warmth of your bed and throw on the first clothes that you find, a pair of black leggings and a deep green sweater with countless holes. A look in the mirror tells you that the bags under your eyes reflect the late hours of last night, but you don’t feel like doing anything about it right now. It can’t be worse than the other states of disarray Tangerine has seen you in before.

The bedroom door closes shut quietly behind you as you walk down the hall, and the sight that you’re met with is both concerning and heartwarming.

Standing at the stove in his now spotless suit from last night is Tangerine, his hair in its usual slick back style. Your kitchen is a mess, with flour all over the cabinets and countertops and a towel is thrown over his shoulder. He’s bent over the stove, watching a pan intently as smoke rises to the ceiling.

Jovie is sitting at the kitchen table watching, her brown curls a messy hall around her head. It’s the same as her father’s, something that he takes great pride in. She has your eyes, but hers are full of hope.

You make your way over to where Tangerine is standing and lean against the counter across from him, watching with amusement as he fiddles with your burner. “Bastard,” he mutters under his breath, trying again to light the stove. “Fucking bastard.”

“Let me help you,” you laugh, sidling up next to him and pushing the knob in before turning it. “It gets stuck sometimes, you just have to force it a tad.”

“S’that right? Well, someone’s going to have to fix that. I wouldn’t want the world deprived of your cooking,” he deadpans, a glint in his eye.

“Fuck off,” you say under your breath, glancing at Jovie to see her utterly occupied with the spoon and bowl. “I haven’t poisoned anyone yet with my cooking.”

“That was on purpose,” he defends easily. “And I don’t think they’re quite the brag you think it is, love. Jovie-“

“-come on, don’t bring the poor girl into this-“

“-how do you think your mom’s cooking is?” His grin is wide and dagger-sharp as he looks at Jovie, who’s staring wide-eyed and helpless at the wills of Tangerine’s smile.

“Mommy makes dinner all the time,” she says, looking at you.

“Thank you, baby,” you sing, smiling at her and sticking your tongue out at Tangerine. He frowns at your childish display and turns his attention to Jovie with soft eyes.

“I beg your pardon, Jovie, but why don’t you tell Mommy the truth?”

You sigh, having accepted your dare a long time ago as someone who’s talents lau outside of the kitchen. “Go ahead.”

“Sometimes your food tastes yucky,” Jovie says slowly, her head tilted to the side as she waits for your reaction.

“Well, I’m trying my best,” you defend, but you don’t take any of it personally. You’re happy, at least, that Jovie’s being honest with you, which is more than a lot of parents can say. This day was bound to come.

“I’m sure you are,” grins Tangerine, giving Jovie a cheesy thumbs up before returning to his cooking. “That’s why I’m going to handle breakfast this morning.”

And he does, without complaint, grinning and cracking jokes the whole time. It feels like he belongs here, sandwiched in your tiny kitchen with Jovie sitting at the table and laughing.

He brings two plates full of various breakfast items and a bowl for Jovie with grilled tomatoes, her favorite. You eat in comfortable silence, filled occasionally by Jovie’s chatter.

“Can I have that?” Tangerine asks, looking hopefully at you. He’s pointing towards your tomato, which you really had planned on eating, but you give in to his pleading eyes.

“So now you’re a gentleman?” you tease, shoveling your food onto his plate.

“Love, I’m always a gentleman.” He takes your food happily and shares with Jovie, talking with her about school and her friends while bringing you into the conversation.

It’s so easy to forget, in moments like these, why you ever left, but things can come crashing down when Tangerine has to leave.

“We should be off,” he admits softly. “I wouldn’t want to take up more of your time.”

“Okay,” you agree, but your smile feels wrong and tight. You want so badly to tell him that you’d rather be here than anywhere else as long as he’s here. “Jovie, baby, are you ready to go to Daddy’s house?”

“I need Murphy to come with me,” Jovie says, and you smile at her before going to her room to grab her favorite stuffed bear. It’s something that Tangerine got her on one of his trips, this time to New York. The stuffed bear is wearing a red guard’s uniform and a top hat, affectionately missing one shoe with faded colors. It’s laying on her bed, shoved beneath her pillows and blankets, and you double check the rest of her room to make sure that there’s nothing else she’ll need.

“Here’s Murphy.” You hand her the bear and Jovie accepts it happily with a hug and a pat on the head. She gives you a hug and a messy kiss on the cheek before going over to stand with Tangerine.

“Jovie-love,” Tangerine says, calling your daughter by his favorite endearment, “Say another goodbye to your mom, you’ll see her again in a few days.” Jovie nods obediently and looks at you again.

“Bye-bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, Jovie. I’ll see you soon, Tan.” Tangerine nods his goodbye to you before taking Jovie’s hand in his own and leading her down the hall and out the front door. You see them out the window as Tangerine buckles Jovie’s seatbelt and taps her on the nose with a soft smile.

You watch his car drive away until you can’t see it anymore.

Days without Jovie go by uneventfully, with not much distinction between the hours, and the next few are no exception.

But now, you have more than Jovie to look forward to. You have Tangerine too, however short your interaction may be. Because he’s always been a bright spot for you, even when you don’t get to bask in his sunlight every day. You’ll take whatever you can get, however small, because anything is more than you deserve.

Especially because you’re the one who ruined all of it in the first place.

*

After a long day of interviews and field work, you just want to go home. Jovie’s with her babysitter Mary because Tangerine had to take care of something with Lemon, which is an unfortunately common occurrence.

The drive home is painful and irritating, and it seems like everything is trying to push you over the edge. You have to keep reminding yourself that Jovie is waiting for you at home; sweet, loving Jovie whose face lights up when she sees you walk into a room. She’s back at your flat now, from when Tangerine dropped her off earlier today, which is good, because you don’t know what you would do if she wasn’t there. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to have much of a conversation with him because everything had been rushed.

Finally, finally you make it to your flat, where you can’t seem to find a parking spot quick enough to satisfy your desire to be finished with today.

When you walk through the door, you’re met with a silence that puts you on edge. There’s no blaring kids television program or the sound of Jovie playing with her toys, or even the soft lull of Mary reading her to sleep.

“Jovie? Baby?” You walk faster through the apartment, paranoia taking over. When you turn the corner, a gasp lodges itself in your throat and your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

It’s a cinematic scene. Your big-eyed Jovie, standing, covered in blood. The homey glow of the broken lamps cast shadows across the mangled corpse in front of her. Jovie isn’t moving, simply standing there, red spreading across her truck pajama pants.

“Jovie, honey, come here.”

“You always say not to get my pajamas messy.”

“I know, love, but this is more important right now. It’s okay, I understand.” You hold out your arms, knees on the ground, soaking in the pool of blood. “Please, baby, just walk towards me and everything will be okay.” She dutifully takes a step, walking straight into the mass of blood.

“Shit, Jovie, stay there, I’m coming to get you.” The blood is warm against your feet as you pass through it. She looks at you with her big eyes and you feel the tears threatening to overflow. You don’t have time for this now; you can always cry about it later in the shower.

“You said a bad word. Daddy says bad words sometimes when he thinks I’m not there.” Despite wariness, Jovie climbs into the waiting arms, holding on. She leaves ripples in the growing mass of blood when she walks.

“Yeah, that sounds just like him. How about we go into the kitchen-“

“For juice pops?” interrupts Jovie, oblivious to the violence around her. You wish that you feel surprised at the continued glimpses of the fight. A broken plate on the floor, a red smear on the white cabinets, and a drawer pulled out of the island.

“For juice pops,” you confirm, opening the freezer for an, ironically, red popsicle. “What color do you want?”

“Blue,” she says decidedly. You grab one of the first ones you see and unwrap it with your teeth, handing it to her. She takes it happily and you push her up higher onto your hip.

“How about we call daddy? I think he can help us.” The thing is, you know how to deal with this on your own. You’ve talked about it with Tan more times than you can count, but this is so much harder than planning for it. “Can you go grab your backpack from the closet? Mommy’s going to go get her own bag and we’ll call him from the car.”

She mumbles okay as you put her down and she heads dutifully down the hall to her room. You would rather be close to her, but time is essential at the moment. The only thing running through your mind is getting Jovie somewhere safe, no matter how you do it.

You rush down the hall and grab the gray duffel bag from the corner of your closet. Quickly, you go through the contents and make sure that you have everything you might need. Yours and Jovie’s passports, some first aid materials, a few extra weapons, and a change of clothes are the main items that you have to make sure are in the bag.

Once you’ve double-checked everything, you throw the duffel onto the bed and grab the extra bullets that you keep in your top drawer, shoving them into your back pocket along with the small gun that you keep in the bathroom.

“Jovie, honey, are you ready to go?” you call, waiting for a reply. She yells a muffled response back at you, which you take as an okay. You don’t really have enough time to contemplate it anyway.

As fast as you can, you scoop up Jovie’s bag from her arms and grab one of her hands in yours. She’s clutching Murphy close to her chest, the bear squished tightly against her. The hallway seems to be clear when you check it for any threats, and, thankfully, Jovie stays silent until she’s safely buckled into her seat. Part of you hopes that she can tell how serious the situation is, how dire it is that you make it to somewhere safer.

The slam of the car door rings in your ears as you pull out of the carpark, as does the heavy sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Mommy? Is Mary dead?” asks Jovie, staring at you from the backseat with eyes just like yours. You grip the steering wheel tighter between your fingers and let out a slow exhale.

“Yeah, baby. Mary’s dead.” You don’t know what else to say, so you let silence fill the car. After you’re far enough away, you pull the car to the side of the road and turn the lights off. To anyone passing by, they won’t see you unless they’re looking.

“What are we doing here?” Jovie’s voice is high-pitched and scared, and you brace yourself for the feeling of tears pricking your eyes. When Jovie cries, usually you’re able to be the calm one, but you don’t know if you can be that person right now.

“We’re just resting for a minute.” The words are hard to get out and you lean forward against the steering wheel, taking a breath with your head in your hands.

“Because it’s dark out?” Any other time, you would happily answer all of Jovie’s questions and more, but you need to think right now. But you also don’t think that it’s a good idea to shift Jovie’s mind to anything that could lead to her thinking more about what happened.

“Jovie, honey, do you think you can let me call Daddy? We need to make sure that it’s okay for us to go over to his house.” Jovie nods and looks out the window quietly, tracing the passing houses with her finger.

You pull up your phone and select Tangerine’s name from the top of your contacts, but you don’t connect it to the car speaker. Jovie’s been through enough. While you wait, you pull back onto the road and start heading in the direction of Tangerine’s house.

It feels like the dial tone rings forever while you wait for him to answer. It goes to voicemail and you bang your hand against the steering wheel, biting back a curse and some tears. The beep for a voicemail sounds and you start talking before you can consider anything else. “Tan, we’re heading to your flat now. There’s-there’s a problem. I have Jovie with me now, just- please be home. Please fucking be home, I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Tangerine, and I don’t know how Jovie’s going to cope with this. I came home and there was blood on the floor, and Mary was on the floor. I don’t think we can go back there for a while, maybe ever. I have some things with me, and I have my gun, but I- I don’t think it’s safe still. Just, please answer me whenever you get this. Please, Tan.” You end the call and throw your phone to the side, running a hand through your hair.

When you look back at Jovie through the rear view mirror, she’s fast asleep, her head tucked against the top of her car seat. Your heart melts at the state of her. The curls on her head are rowdy and unruly, and you realize now that she’s still in her pajamas. The blue truck patterned pants are stained at the ankles with deep blood, and you have to fight not to pull over again and clean her up.

From its spot in the passenger seat, your phone rings loudly, and you reach across for it with one hand on the steering wheel. “Hello?”

“Love, are you almost here? I fucking swear, I’m about to drive to you myself. How is Jovie doing?” The tension and the anger in his voice somehow make yours melt away a little. It feels like you can breathe, knowing that he’s there waiting for you.

“I’m five minutes away. And Jovie’s asleep right now.”

“Fuck,” he swears. “Mary’s dead?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what we’re going to do about that. She doesn’t have any family, and as far as I know Jovie was the only one she sat for, so that’s ideal I guess.” It’s easier like this, to remember how you’re supposed to respond in situations like this. He’s always made things so much easier for you; your focus pinpoints on Jovie’s safety with the help from his voice.

“I’ll get someone to go over there and clean up. I’ll have things ready for you and Jovie when you get here.”

“Okay,” you agree quietly. “We’re pulling into your neighborhood now.” Like clockwork, Jovie's head snaps up when you pull into Tangerine’s driveway. You’ve never made it to his house without her waking up at the very last moment. It’s endearing on good days and frustrating on the rest, but now you’re just happy that she’s still with her normal routine.

The car rolls to a stop in front of the house and you park the car before stepping out and unbuckling Jovie. Both of the bags are carried in your arms, along with Jovie’s little hand in your own. You stop on the edge of the driveway, looking at Tangerine. You honestly don’t know what to do now that you’re standing in front of him, yearning for the safety of his arms but not knowing if you’re allowed.

“Come here,” Tangerine says. You don’t move. There’s an edge to his voice that you haven’t heard before. Something consequential. Something desperate. “Please.” He says it so quietly and with such little conviction. Like he knows you’ll say no.

Jovie goes first. And you have no choice but to follow her little footsteps until your in his arms. Once you’re there, you can’t remember why you ever wanted to be anywhere else. Slowly, like he’s going to let go at any moment, you wrap your arm around him and clutch the back of his suit in your hand, pulling yourself into him.

He’s so warm and solid against you, his suit jacket soft and welcome against your cheek. It makes you think of how things used to be, when you could come home together to this very house and let yourself bask in his presence.

Those days are gone, but the ghost of them remains in this depraved picture of a family hug: Josie’s blood splattered feet, your shaking hands and blood-dyed shirt, Tangerine’s immaculate suit and slick back hair.

Eventually, you have to let go and walk inside, dropping your bags off at the front door and crowding Jovie into the living room. Tangerine tells you that you should go wash up, and dimly, you agree, walking absentmindedly to the bathroom and stripping down.

It’s not until the warm spray of the water is hitting you that you realize you’re in his bathroom, the one that you used to share when Jovie was a baby.

Instinct had taken over and sent you right back to the past, when you were Tangerine's wife and Jovie’s mother at the same time. Strange, how different things are now.

Now, you’re washing blood off, which isn’t necessarily new, but you’re alone and thinking about the similar blood that covers your beautiful Jovie.

*

You’re wearing his shirt when you walk out. It used to be your favorite one, worn thin and soft from use, light blue fabric falling to your thighs. You always forget just how tall he is until you’re forced, in moments like this, to remember.

“Jovie’s asleep. I didn’t put her in her room because of the windows, so she’s in the room next door on the couch. Lemon’s on his way over,” Tangerine explains softly, coming over to hand you a towel for your hair, an old habit that neither of you even acknowledges.

“Thanks,” you reply just as quietly like somehow you’ll wake Jovie up from here. “Is she okay? Did you wash her feet off?” It almost seems trivial, to be asking if your daughter didn't go to sleep with blood-covered feet, but it matters to you.

“Yeah, love, I did. Are- are you okay?”

You let out a laugh that sounds too much like a sob and sit on the corner of the bed. “I came home to find our daughter surrounded by blood, which we have a plan for, a plan that I didn’t follow.”

“You made a judgment call. There’s nothing wrong with that, we have to do it all the time,” he comforts. Before you can reply with more negativity, he comes over and puts his hands on your shoulders, cupping your neck. Carefully, he tilts your head up to look him in the eyes. He’s towering over your sitting figure, but it’s far from intimidating. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his presence, in his comfort.

He’s always been a source of comfort for you, even when you’re not with him. He’s a safety net to fall into during times like these, and you’re falling hard.

“I think it’s my fault,” you whisper, shutting your eyes. “I should have been there sooner. She’s going to have nightmares now. Tan, what if I’ve fucked her up? This is why I stopped, and now it doesn’t matter, she’s going to have these memories of blood and pain and I wasn’t there to stop it.”

He waits patiently for you to finish before shaking his head against your thoughts. “We knew something like this could happen. It’s as much my fault as it is yours, if it’s your fault at all, You’ve tried your best to protect her from this as long as she’s been alive.”

“I could have done more.”

“So could I, but we didn’t. However,” he continues, “Jovie’s okay. She’s safe now. You know that, right? M’not going to let anything happen to the two of you.”

“Thanks, Tan,” you whisper. There are so many more things you want to say, so much more negativity flying through your head, but it’s easier to let him take a little bit of the burden, like you know he wants to.

“Of course, love. We’ll figure this out together.” Slowly, he kneels down on the floor in front of you so you’re at the same height, bringing your heads together. You close your eyes and get lost in the feel of his hands against you, his breath against your own, his presence all around you. A part of you in the back of your mind reminds you that this could be your normal.

You pull apart and Tangerine wipes the tear from your eye with his thumb, so gentle. “Who did this to you?” There’s an edge to Tangerine’s voice that you’ve never wanted to hear aimed at you. But you don’t think it’s you that he’s mad at.

“It could have been a lot of people,” you start.

“You fucking know who it was. Tell me.” He’s losing patience now, wanting to help in the way he knows how. There’s no way for him to know the way that he’s already helping by being with you. His presence is a comfort, a safety that you can’t get if he’s out there looking for someone.

“Probably White Death’s guys,” you admit, thinking back. You’ve been careful, but there are always people who will talk. “They’ll do whatever to keep their names out of people’s mouths.”

“Fucking hell,” he swears, his hands on his hips. The dying light from the hallway casts shadows against his silhouette, the shiny silver signet ring on his pinky and the warm metal against his chest glinting along the hardwoods. “Why would they leave Jovie alive?” It’s a stupid question, one that both of you already know the answer to anyway, but you know why he’s asking. Sometimes it’s easier for other people to say the hard things. It’s not like you’re upset about Jovie being alive, you’re so utterly grateful, but it can’t be for no reason.

“Because they know who Jovie is. They want to scare us because there planning for something worse, something we aren’t expecting.”

“Mommy? Daddy? I’m scared,” Jovie calls from the other room. “There are monsters underneath the bed.” It’s something she’s been scared of for as long as you can remember, but you can’t help the spike of fear that courses through you. You’re not alone though, because Tangerine looks at you with the same panic in his eyes.

“We’re coming, love,” he replies, and you follow him through the door. Jovie’s sitting up in the bed, surrounded by blankets that build up around her and holding her stuffed bear close to her chest.

“Do you know which monster it is this time?” you ask softly, crawling next to her. Dutifully, Tangerine checks under the bed carefully and gives an exaggerated thumbs up that makes Jovie’s giggle beside you.

“It’s Lenny,” she whispers into your ear, and you nod solemnly at her.

“That’s a serious monster problem. Do you think Daddy’s going to have to move out of his house?” For as long as she’s been scared of the monsters under her bed, you and Tangerine have tried to twist it into something better. That’s when you started asking her what the monsters’ names are and what she thinks they're doing under her bed. Usually, you’re able to get her to a point of calm and, on the rare occasion, to a point where she’s no longer afraid of a certain monster. So far, you and Tangerine have been able to convince her that the monsters Polly and Patrick are protecting her, but Lenny has been a challenge since the beginning.

“I will not be moving, ladies. I don’t think Lenny’s here tonight, Jovie-love. And if he is, tell him to piss off because I’m too tired to fight a monster.” For emphasis, he plops face first down on the bed and starts snoring loudly.

“Tan, language,” you chastise lightly, sending a half-hearted glare in his direction. It’s a fruitless task, which you learned a long time ago, but you won’t stop trying, more for your own sanity than for Jovie’s sake.

“Yeah, Daddy, language,” Jovie mimics, crossing her arms over her chest. You laugh and nudge Tangerine, who looks less than thrilled.

“Right, you two are a pair,” he groans into his hands, peeking through to wiggle his eyes at Jovie. “But I think it’s time for my ladies to go to sleep.”

“Thank you for saving me,” Jovie adds sweetly, snuggling further underneath the blanket. Your heart melts at the way she holds her teddy close to her chest. “Will you always come for me?”

“Jovie, baby, there could be dragons and mountains and oceans between us and we would still find a way to you, okay? Daddy and I will never stop looking for you if you’re away from us. Never. Do you understand?” You run a hand over her hair and tuck a stray strand behind her ear.

At that, Jovie opens her eyes and looks at you, blinking slowly.“But you and Daddy don’t love each other.”

“Oh, baby,” you sigh. You can’t look at Tangerine next to you, you can’t bear to see the look on his face. “I’ll always love your dad. I love that he’s the person I get to raise you with. I love that he’s there when I need him. We just…weren't able to love each other together. It’s like that sometimes.” You wish it weren’t, but that’s not a fight that you want to have again.

“Jovie-love, your mom and I have loved each other since before you were born, but it’s easier for us to love each other from separate places,” Tangerine adds, smoothing the side of Jovie’s face. His words ring a painful truth that you’ve known for years.

“But we’ll always come together to be with you, baby. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Promise?” she asks, holding up her pinky. You smile and take it in your own, and Tangerime dutifully does the same.

“Promise,” you echo, holding onto her hand. She nods her acceptance and you let go, as does Tangerine. “Now, it’s time for bed. We’ll be here in the morning, so you just come and wake us up, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy. You’re both going to be here?”

“Yeah, love. We’re having a little sleepover for tonight until your mom’s house is better. Does that sound fun?” Tangerine asks, tucking Jovie further into the blankets and glancing over at you.

“Yes,” Jovie agrees sleepily, snuggling further into her blankets. “Sounds fun.”

“Good,” you smile. “Goodnight, Jovie.” With that, you slowly make your way out of the room, Tangerine on your heels.

Once you’re out of the room and back into his bedroom, you sit down on his bed and he sits next to you, shoulders against each other. “You can sleep in here, I’ll sleep in the living room,” he offers.

You shake your head and respond, “No, I couldn’t do that. It’s your house, Tan.” And you don’t want to slip in the bed you used to share without him,

“It’s alright, love, really. I don’t use that couch enough.”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own house,” you argue back. “It’s rude.”

“Look, you’ve been through a lot today. I’m not going to make it worse by giving you a sore neck and back tomorrow. I know you well enough to know that it would happen, so don’t pull any shot with me,” he warns, and you don’t have a lot of defense against that.

“Fine, I’ll sleep in here, but I’m absolutely not going to have you sleep on the couch. We’re both adults here, we can share a fucking bed for one night.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “If that’s what it takes.”

There’s space in between you when you lay down, but he’s closer than he’s been in a long time.

[lost-inthedream]

Mutual Masturbation with SF9

Pairing: SF9 x female reader

Warnings: light cumplay, masturbation in a car, bad language.

Bonus song rec: Control me, by Colde

smut content under the cut

Youngbin:

Our leader prefers it when the two of you give one another a performance at the same time. That is a perfect option when you all are tired and horny. He likes the way he can see your body relaxing as the pleasure takes over.

"I feel a bit tense, babe" he gasped "It's like there's an elephant on my shoulders"

"An elephant is a little too much" you chuckled, then offered him a massage.

He dismissed your suggestion right away since he knew how tired you were too. However, a sparkle showed in his eyes and he smirked. "There's another thing I use to do when I'm too tense. You should try it too, beautiful."

You became so genuinely interested in that subject that he almost saved you from his dirty thoughts. But not that night, he took your hand and sweetly guided it to your own crotch.

Minutes later you were sitting side to side on the bed, your backs against the headboard. You whined and settled one of your legs on top of his. "Cum for me, baby girl" Youngbin managed to say as his body too squirmed.

Inseong:

He is obsessed with your body, so he likes it when you touch one another. Coordinating your moves may be hard, but it worths the effort.

Your man locked the door while you quickly started to get rid of your sweaty clothes. Once he turned toward you, he couldn't help a gasp to escape. Your breasts were now covered only by a bralette. You still felt uneasy because the item was also damp against your skin.

"Do you mind if I take a shower with you?" he rushed to add.

You chuckled and headed to the bathroom, sure that he would be following you.

He insisted on helping you clean and that was how you all ended up actually assisting one another get off. Your back found support on the tiles and you moved your hands up and down Inseong's length as fast as he stimulated your clit.

Jaeyoon:

Prefers it in a way that allows your orgasms to be as intense as possible. That means he takes care of himself and so you do, he likes the way you repose your eyes on him as if he is just a hot guy, he is there for your sweet pleasure and eventually, he reaches his climax too.

He begged you to keep going before you could even feel your face burn. If he had let you know that he left work early, you would not be in that situation right in the living room. Your panties were put aside and your dress rolled up.

"You surprised me, sweetheart" he confessed, unbuttoning his pants as fast as he could. As if you were not the one caught with your legs wide open.

The way he hungrily started stroking his soft dick added a brand new motivation to your moves. "You came way earlier than usual" you moaned, looking up at his obscene face.

He was standing, not even worried that his pants and boxers were left pooled by his feet. "Yes, I'm happy to be here now".

Jaeyoon eventually releases his seed on your thigh and finally throws himself by your side for cuddles, apologizing for not being clean.

Dawon:

Not gonna lie, this guy is terrible at doing anything right when he is close to cum. That means something is going to malfunction if you stroke him as he rubs your pussy but that is the best part!

You and Dawon were kissing and being romantic with the lights off in your bedroom. You and he were placed in the center of the bed, your legs around his waist as his legs gave you comfortable support.

You unexpectedly moaned against his lips, which induced him to slip his hand between your bodies and check your wetness. Since you did not bother to disconnect your lips from his, Dawon exposed your folds gently and played with your slippery entrance while you sucked his tongue.

You naively grabbed his hard-on in return and made him disassemble right away. "Fuck" he whispered, pulling his tongue out of your mouth. His digits erratically moved inside your hole as you delicately massaged the tip of his cock, now out of his briefs.

"This is good, right?" you asked.

Zuho:

He can't take his hands to himself. As much as he claims he is in control, he can't even control his own hands when he is with you. Rarely goes to mutual stimulation but admits how satisfying it is.

Zuho did not want you to orgasm fast that night. Not that he was feeling particularly cruel, but he wanted to get home before midnight as much as he wanted to play with your wet pussy. You told him you were in a mood hence he could not keep driving as if he was oblivious of your needs. He, too, needed to inspect your lady parts.

You felt so yummy against his digits, he hated that he could not keep driving like that. His sudden move to stop the car on the side of the driveway startled you. "I can't take it anymore, princess. Can you help me down here"

You got it right away and reached his crotch with your hand, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling his dick out. "Did I get you this hard?" He sped up his massage onto your clit and you jerked him fast in response.

Rowoon:

Okay, Rowoon has a hard time masturbating in front of you. He feels so miserable there, chasing his release by himself, fucking his own hand, making himself whimper. But you actually love it, so he makes an exception.

You noticed his eyes scrutinizing you in a different way when you walked into the bedroom. There was only a towel preventing him from seeing the body he worshiped.

You dropped the fluff fabric dramatically just to see his eyes widen. "Baby, should I dress up or play a tiny bit in front of you now?"

"Love, what are you saying? You should come here" he retorted cordially, patting his lap.

"That's not an option, sugar." You smiled, then started to trace a way down your stomach. "But don't worry I might change my mind if you touch yourself good for me now."

Seokwoo hated that, the gods knew how much he wanted to stand and pull you closer but he was not this kind of person. Then he slowly slipped his sweatpants, just enough to massage his soft length. You sat on a chair and opened your legs to please his eyes more, rewarding him for not being timid.

Yoo Taeyang:

Out of many things that get Taeyang going, the visual is one of them. He gets very aroused from seeing you touching yourself and he WILL take care of himself during these special sessions.

After so many days apart, you and Taeyang were finally reunited. You were so eager to listen to him saying he missed you in your ear. The way you talked impossibly close was maybe what you missed the most. And so were you that night, he hugged you tight as if you could escape from his hands. You told him the best parts of your trip, he asked for details and smiled attentively.

"Changing the subject..." he initiated rubbing your back. "There was that day when you misbehaved"

The mystery in his voice hit you like a train. However, his voice was so velvety, so murky. "But I never-" you returned perplexed.

"That video. I hated that so much, my love" he explained illuminating your memory. You had sent him a video where you touched yourself in your hostel room. That was short and you showed nothing but your weeping face.

"What can I do to apologize?"

He loosened his hold on your body and suggested you do something, he did not use his words nonetheless. He guided your hands to your own clad sex. "Please" he pleaded in your ear.

Hwiyoung:

He loves to say that only you know how to touch him right. There's nothing more reasonable than you touching each other. You all try different positions.

Let's be honest, Youngkyun was made to have his lover lying on top of him. The broad chest and back, strong abdomen and thighs. You want to snuggle onto him like an otter.

Not every time though, sometimes it is not about cuddles and getting comfortable.

His bottoms were nowhere to be seen after you yanked it out of him and tossed it in the corridor. You laid your head on his thigh as your right hand pumped that fat length of him. You were supposed to relax and maintain your focus on the way it twitched and leaked in your grasp, but your folds were facing him, not enough for him to lick you. Yet, he inserted two fingers and held your hips in place, on top of his chest. You belonged there, his finger pads dip into the flesh of your thighs. "You are so wet, baby girl..."

"Fuck" you hissed, you wanted the mark that was coming from his hands, you want that orgasm.

Chani:

Special warning: Light degradation

Unlike Hwiyoung, Chani is obsessed with demonstrating how he likes it. Not that you are incompetent but he will teach you one more time, just because. He is the boss, his job is to say you're doing it the wrong way (or maybe it's his hobby)

"Don't. look. away" he stated.

You were completely naked on the floor, sitting on your ankles. Chani leaned back against his desk. Sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. Of course, there was no glimpse of underwear because he did not wear this kind of shit when you were alone at home. It made things easier.

He checked his own tip and made sure to show you the sticky fluid that already leaked from it. Then he tapped the shaft against his palm in front of your eyes and teased you. "See how hard it is? You gonna grab it after you understand how to do me right. Baby slut."

You squirmed on your place and could not retain a low hiss. You wanted that friction so badly but at the same time, you were afraid of Chani's reaction. His dick was so beautiful and now he was stroking it by himself when it should be you. It should be your mouth, at least.

His hand suddenly came to a halt, fist closed right around the base. You could see his eyes sliding from your boobs to your lower body. "That's okay, you can rub your pussy. Go for it and moan for me"

[ronearoundblindly]

Hi Ro! I have this idea eating a hole in my brain since it manifested. I feel like we see a lot of mafia! Steve and Bucky where the reader is one of their gf and the other is her bodyguard or something else of the sort (which I love) BUT…

Could you imagine a badass bodyguard reader? Like, she works to protect one of them and they don’t even sexualize her, but after seeing how well they work together and how dedicated and hard-working she is, they just hopelessly fall in love? Which launches mutual pining, but also both of them thinking it’s unrequited and her still just girlbossing away. Until some inciting inciting incident (TBD) which makes them super close to realize how they feel and then both of them needing a new bodyguard because now she’s the gf of a mafia boss.

I’d try and write it but I don’t have anywhere near as much talent as you and wouldn’t do it justice. Also, sorry if this adds to your 92747739 other WIPs

Alright. Full disclosure: I am not even remotely a fan of the mafia!fic, or mob!fic, or really any of the tropes that take a fundamental piece of a character out of the equation. To me, doing the right thing and using personal harm as a last resort are inextricable from Steve's personality--and is what we love about him.

[To be clear, I am not throwing shade on y'alls writing or reading preferences! Just telling you my take on it. You do you 😘]

His character lends itself to being a CEO, like in the It Had To Be You series, a military commander, or even president.

In that regard, I wonder if it would fall into the same vein of story to have Steve be running for some sort of 'office' but in a kind of dystopian country as the non-corrupt candidate who is in danger due to political/military pressures between opponents?

Say...maybe John Walker could be the smooth-talking but selfish alt runner? Bucky and Steve and Walker used to serve in the armed forces under an equally corrupt dictator figure...say, Ross, perhaps? Then Steve broke away--like the Nomad persona--until he emerged to run against Walker with a faction of the military's support.

So you're hired as part of Bucky's security team first, but since Bucky is with Steve so much, you're very recognizable to Steve. There could be a minor attack at a public event where you throw yourself in front of Bucky (who threw himself in front of Steve), and the real surprise to them is that you want to return without hesitation once recovered.

After a completely professional, stone-faced few months, Steve wins the election.

The night's celebrations go on till the wee hours; you keep a keen eye on your charges even though it's the first time either has seen you in a formal gown instead of a plain suit. When the results are actually announced on the TV, Steve is struck by seeing you smile and get emotional for the first time. It warms his heart to see you proud of him. It's a relief to know you don't just stick around as an employee. You actually believe in him and what he's doing.

fucking swoon

I'm not sure whether I'd write this as Stucky x reader or Steve with reader and Bucky as a friend, honestly, but I feel like after Steve (and maybe Bucky) turn in at their hotel room after all that partying, you're the guard at the door.

Steve debates inviting you inside because he's so curious to know more about you personally.

He opens the door, but you're not there. Sam Wilson is. He took over the shift so you could get out of your heels.

Steve makes up some shitty excuse to need your room number, fusses over going to talk to you alone, maybe says Bucky will come with him as protection instead (since at very least Buck is sus of Steve's interest).

You answer the door sans jewelry and shoes but with the dress still on. He can come in if he helps with the zipper and buttons down the back. For such big hands, his fingers are nimble as they work the delicate fastenings.

ope, swooned again

And then...ya know...this is all very tempting since the night has been charged with adrenaline and hope, so...yeah...

Steve goes in for a kiss and more.

🥴

Idk. Probably. Something like that. Is that close enough to mob/mafia? Not my wheelhouse so this is likely the best I can do...

Can y'all help me? You want stucky or just stevie?? Promise that the politics is more of a background thing, but it's the only scenario I could work with in their canon dynamic/personalities.

[gokartkid]

medium-fail actor!daniel pr relationship with model!max au

There’s coffee and a croissant waiting for Daniel when he comes in, which from Christian, means that he’s about to drop the craziest and most off-putting scheme on him. 

He starts hypothesising in his brain: a summer of non stop convention circuits with sweaty nerds; starring in a movie where he’ll wear so many prosthetics he’s unrecognisable; creating, fucking, NFT’s in his image.

Christian at least has the courtesy to wait until Daniel is a few bites in to drop the bomb.

“We think,” a pause, for dramatic effect, “that the best thing for your image right now, would be for you to be in a relationship.”

Daniel pauses.

That was actually something unexpected.

“Okay,” he draws out the vowel, “great to know that you’re concerned with my love life Christian. Got a little problem from the get-go, I don’t want to be in a relationship. Thanks anyway, good chat.”

Christian chuckles, like Daniel’s said something mildly funny; it’s the kind of laugh you do to a little kid when you don’t know what they’re on about. 

“No, Daniel,” and he has this magic ability to sound accidentally — or not so accidentally — condescending. Daniel leans back in his chair, and takes a long sip of his coffee. It’s hot enough that he can feel its path going down his throat, settling in his oesophagus “the idea is that it would be set up with you and someone that we, effectively, have vetted. You go out for a good while, get serious, and then break up amicably.”

“A PR relationship,” Daniel deadpans. It seemed to be all the rage in the industry right now; young, attractive, instagrammable couples popping up all over the place with mutual benefits in the fame-game. Daniel had thought — naively, it seems — that he would be able to avoid it. 

“A PR relationship,” Christian confirms. He has the decency to give it to Daniel straight when they get to the point of it.

“And—“ Daniel rubs at his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel a migraine brewing, purely brought on by this conversation, “why would I do this? Like, I’m really leaning towards a fuck no right now Christian. This sounds like a really shit idea, just being honest.”

“Well—“ Christian’s always been good at keeping his head when Daniel is about to blow his top like this. He leans forwards towards him, hands spread wide and looking completely non-threatening in his stupid knit jumper, “I— we, don’t see it that way Daniel. We think it’ll re-invigorate your brand, generate interest, good promo before your next feature.”

“Uh huh,” Daniel says blankly, “this is still not answering my question Christian, because all of those things are do-able with a regular press circuit.”

Christian hesitates. 

Another bad sign, red alarm bells ringing.

“With the awards season coming up,” he says delicately, the precision of a surgeon dressing a wound, “there’ve been a few communications, that in order for you to be a solid candidate—“

“Oh my god,” Daniel says, and the realisation is an anvil coming down on his head, “you want me to date some nothing person for a year to win an Oscar. What the fuck Christian. And, this is a real question, what the fuck are you thinking?”

“In order for you to be a solid candidate,” Christian interrupts him, calm even tone as if Daniel hasn’t said anything, “you need to demonstrate some maturity, and solidity, and a relationship would help you do that.”

“I am fucking mature,” Daniel says, and tries not to feel like a toddler throwing a tantrum as he takes an angry bite of his bribe-croissant, “people can be single and mature Christian.”

“People,” Christian is decidedly not making eye contact with him now, “can be single and mature, if they aren’t coming off the back of a public relationship breakdown. To be clear, by public relationship breakdown, I do mean the restaurant incident.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Daniel says, immediately, “and it’s blown over now.”

“Has it?”

A pause.

Daniel shuts his mouth. He knows when he’s pushing something too far and more than that, he knows when he’s being a bald-faced liar. He switches tack.

“Okay. Who is it then, this hypothetical girl I’d be seeing.”

“Well,” Christian says, and he seems relieved to be back on script, “first of all, it’s not a girl. It’s a man, an up-and-coming model.”

Daniel has to fight not to groan.

“Is this some fucked up revenge plot for coming out as bisexual while I was dating a girl Christian, because I get that you couldn’t generate the kind of narrative you wanted from that but it was still, like, a big deal.”

It’d gotten him on the cover of multiple pride magazines and a Vanity Fair exclusive, which to Christian was like winning the Lottery. Daniel still thinks privately that the social capital of having a bisexual multiple time Oscar-nominated client probably gives him a — perfectly professional — managerial boner. 

Christian just laughs again, doesn’t really respond to what Daniel’s just said. It’s a tried and true tactic of his.

“We think you’ll like him,” he barrels on, without interruption, “he’s nice enough Daniel, and it’ll be good for his career too, being seen with you.”

“Sure.”

Daniel has his own thoughts on this, on the YSL-too-skinny-simpering-personality guy he’s already made up in his brain, that he’s about to be saddled with for months. He knows that Christian can read them all on his face but— the most frustrating thing is that Daniel can see how this works too.

He knows the problems the Academy has with him. Daniel isn’t the type — the stupid, oblivious type — to not notice getting nominated three times and never winning, walking into the Dolby theatre and its gilded stage losing its luster every time. 

Daniel used to relish coming off as free, and changeable, and real. 

It was like a superpower, to be able to do whatever he wanted, get as drunk as he wanted with his friends, as high and wasted as he wanted, and have it come off as a dazzling star in his 20’s living a life that everyone would be jealous of. Only, the articles started to go from fun-loving, to problem-seeking, to commitment-phobic, to photos of him hungover in the mornings sunglasses on and holding up a hand against the paparazzi. 

He stares at the grey listless sky, clouds fat with rain and nods along to whatever else Christian’s saying, logistics and press and staged shoots. 

“—so I’ll send you his details, and we’ll set up an initial meeting then?”

An initial meeting; what a way to talk about a future fucking paramour. 

“Yeah,” he says, phone buzzing with a google alert, “sure.”

[birchtreecat]

fuck it we ball. nobody asked and I’m doing it anyways!

A yap of how I write characters!!/my writing process

Each character usually starts out as some idea, combined with a lil part of me. That’s how I get the ball rolling and make things realistic at first- I base things off of my own experiences. Archie, for example, was written at a rough time for me- one that wound up in her being written as someone who had a hard time standing up for herself, both at home and at school.

Aki was another example- written at a time I had been going through the trenches- but this time I had more experience. I wanted to write her as a stubborn, optimistic girl- kind of like Minori, in a way. She has so many struggles because that’s how I felt at the time- but I also wanted to write her working those things out, bit by bit.

From there, I stray away from the bits I’ve put into them, and go for things I usually wouldn’t- music, medias, hobbies, the works. These more intricate bits help me flesh them out a bit more.

Take Nozomi, for example- who was a dancer as a younger kid. I have never had a dance lesson in my life, but I do enjoy watching it. Doing a bit of research, and with her personality as a first-year at Miya in mind, I landed on Ballet as one of her hobbies- or former hobbies. I try to tie their interests and experiences back into who they are as a character now. I find it helps me get a feel for how this character isn’t just a concept, but a person- with human faults, experiences, dreams and needs. The pharmacity is the one exemption of this, but past that, figuring out what my characters listen to or do in their free time helps me a lot with how they’d handle certain situations!

Then on, it’s really just.. growing as a writer and as a person. None of my stories are finished, and I haven’t given myself a limit for that. Aki, Nozomi, Kichi and Kojika are who they are because I’ve had them for two years- and the insight that comes with that time helps MAJORLY in their writings. Archie, Reagan, and Takumi- my young adult ocs- are a lot less fleshed out because I simply haven’t gotten there in life yet. I may have given them backstories, and reasons for why they do things- but the intricacies I mentioned before all lie in their childhood and teenager years. These characters could change DRASTICALLY in the next few years, and that’s alright!

My design process itself is literally just “what energy does this guy have and how can I portray that in the way they dress and way they act” so uh. goodluck there idk???? I don’t know what I’m doing either <3

Feel free to share your writing process in the rbs!! I do genuinely love seeing how others write, and even if you’re not a mutual I’d love to see your writing process <3!

[calciumcryptid]

Alright, so @mayameanderings asked the question what my mutuals would be as pokemon trainers (specifically gym leaders) and then @insomniac-jay suggested I would be an electric/steel/fairy type gym leader whose gym is located in a power plant. Genuinely, I love that idea so much so here is a little thought experiment about that.

In this hypothetical game, the player would go to the city I am located in. I like to imagine a rough St. Louis parody with an out of its way power plant with a one-way route to get there (as in you must traverse the route to get there and traverse the same route to get back). So, the player goes to the local gym only to learn from one of those gym people that I am out of town on my job at the power plant so the player has to go through the power plant route.

The player then would use the power plant as the pseudo-gym, shutting down operation and battling my colleagues to get the main office where I am eating lunch. Once I catch the player, the player is put through the safety lecture of a lifetime, but since the player is there and they've shut down operations I agree to a gym battle.

My battle theme would be metallic with with the clicking noise of mechanical interlocks and the hum of a live wire.

I would go with variations of the above team, and they all have leftovers because fuck the player for interrupting my lunch break. Also, I would have medication for every status effect imaginable particularly paralyze heals and burn heals.

Once done, I give the Electrical Power Badge, which looks like a copper wire wrapped around screwdriver. Then, the player would receive my trainer card which would detail my certifications, the fact I am a proud member of a union, and both my business numbers. Finally, the TM for Volt Switch. Then an alarm would sound, which signifies the end of my lunch break so I give the player my leftovers too before I go back to work. If the player tries to talk to me again, it will be many variations.

Guess it is time to go back to work...

I need to up security again, fucking trainers.

I miss my spouse.

Did I take my ADHD medication this morning?

...What are you still doing here? Get.

Then the player would leave to continue the story.

Once the player beats the post-game, re-battling the gym leaders opens up but not only re-battling the gym leaders with their full gym team but battling the gym leaders off-duty.

The player can enter and go through my gym properly (with the trainers still retaining the leveling the player would have been at the time). My proper gym would be an off-shoot of a great community training and skill-builder center (which would have training machines the player could learn to make, trade, and buy), where I teach about electrical energy and the gym trainers are students. Naturally, the fight at the end would be my full electric/steel team where I am about to leave for lunch.

Bonus Dialogue:

Alright, back to class.

Shit, I need to print more badges.

My re-certification test is coming up soon.

I wonder if my mother has seen the latest episode yet.

...What are you still doing here? Are you interested in a class?

The alternative is the player going to a stadium in the city where a rock concert is being set up. There, the player would catch me off-duty helping my father, uncle, and cousin with setting up the concert. My sprite would be completely different as I would be out of my work attire and dressed for a concert. Due to this, a revenge battle gym is impossible as my gym team is helping set-up and power the concert. However, I fight the trainer with my off-duty team which consists of:

Objectively, this team is worse but this is meant to be a fun battle rather than a challenging one. The player would see the more fleshed-out updated sprite, and my battle theme would change! Instead of metal, it would be rolled back to more classic rock with the clicking of interlocks replaced with the clicking of a pen and the buzz of a live wire replaced with the buzzing of insects.

Yes, this team has leftovers because in real life I am always snacking. Afterwards, I would invite the player to attend the concert and treat the player to food saying I am about to give them the best beverage and give them "Moomoo Milk". Of course, the fanbase would be disgusting about this.

Unfortunately for them, I happen to like milk.

Bonus Dialogue

You might think I only like rock music, but I love all music. It doesn't matter the genre, language, or time period, as long as it sounds good it goes on my playlist.

Seriously, I just like milk.

This stadium has seen many concerts, and the lighting and sound design has always been left to my father to complete.

Seriously, I just like milk.

Fine, milk is one of the only three beverages my body doesn't violently reject. Are you happy now to carry a piece of my medical history?

Surprisingly, this isn't the last time the player would see me as if they go to a previous gym, an animation/art studio, they would see me picking up the grass/bug-type gym leader (my spouse) for a date after the post-canon grass/bug type gym battle. :)