#me: draws bust shot to avoid hands

[amarald-hyv]

The whispers of the dead still call for me

The gif took so long to make cus the file kept on being too large so I had to delete frames and make the canvas smaller and a whole bunch of stuff aaaaaaaaaaahhh

This didn't turn out the way I wanted to but it still looks alright I think

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 3 - Post #8: About Damn Time [M]

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 4K (of 45K total in Volume 3)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, 18+ MINORS DNI *NSFW*

__________________________________________

VIII. “Listen, Mando,” Talsala scoffs, straightening up and drawing away from you. “I don’t know what you got going on with this girl…but is it really worth burning your bridges with Black Sun? You wanna be on Ingtar’s shit list all for some fucking puss—”

Crack! 

The sound of Mando’s gauntlet hitting Talsala’s teeth when he backhands the Togruta across the face is like a thunderclap.

With his hand gripped around Talsala’s throat, he pulls the man’s face within an inch of the Beskar helmet and growls through his clenched jaw, “Come near her again, and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

Valine steps up to intervene as her partner struggles to twist out of Mando’s rigid hold. But when Bril shuffles through the crowd to cut off her path, she sizes up the Twi’lek with an exasperated groan.

“Enough dick swinging,” she says, reaching into her shoulder holster to pull out a blaster. She fires a series of bolts—not at Mando or Bril—but at the lighting rigs overhead. They explode in a shower of sparks and sporadic pops. 

Within seconds, partygoers begin surging past, screaming and pushing each other, trying to escape the VIP section. Guards have their blasters out, and you can hear random shots being fired as people stampede for the exit.

You’re in danger of being trampled, which is a terrible way to go. Instincts kick in, and you leap with each step, letting the crush of bodies carry you onward to avoid getting dragged down to the floor. 

“Sorry in advance for this.” 

“Wha–” 

Mando thrusts an arm between your legs, “Hey!” and heaves you over his shoulders. He plants each stride against the streaming crowd, making his way back to the bar while carrying you above the press of tangled limbs. Atop his shoulders, you get a full view of the chaos unfolding, a rippling wave of panic as clubgoers are either caught up in the crush or climb the furniture to press themselves against the walls.  

Advancing in the opposite direction, you can only guess where the Mandalorian is headed. With both hands around your waist, he heaves you onto the bartop before launching himself over. There’s an access door built into the floor that drops to a basement below. 

“Come on,” he barks at a group of people huddled behind the bar. They look up at him in terror but soon realize he’s offering them an escape route. 

Once they’ve cleared your path, he lowers you down, dangling from his powerful arms until you're a safe distance from the floor.   

The basement is littered, floor to ceiling, with a maze of liquor boxes.

Fortunately, the other patrons were able to locate an exit door. It lay open, busted on its hinges. You peer out to see a long underground service tunnel punctuated by metal grates that opened out onto a busy concourse. The sound of loud voices and footsteps echo against the concrete along with the perpetually flashing lights of Daiyu City. 

While you crouch behind the door frame, Mando marches on ahead in pronounced silence, pausing long enough to ask, “He hurt you?” before abruptly walking off as soon as you assure him that you’re fine. 

Not exactly fine. The Spice liquor made everything fuzzy and difficult to keep up. Plus, his legs are so damn long.

“Mando—”

“Did I hear you say you're familiar with the word inconspicuous?” 

The bounty hunter’s voice is barbed with a sharp edge, and he doesn’t bother to curb his relentless pace or turn back to look at you.

“W-what—?” you stammer in confusion. “Wait, Mando. Can you slow down, please?”

Inconspicuous? What had you done that was so terrible apart from enjoy yourself at a nightclub along with the hundreds of other people packed into that warehouse?

“You told me to dance if I wanted…,” you protest, trying to tame your sweat soaked hair into a compact knot.

“Dance,” he snaps, still looking resolutely forward.

“What you actually said was, knock yourself out.” 

“It wasn’t an invitation to go wild.”

“Wild?!” You choke on a huff of laughter. Okay, Mandalorians really are conservative. “First of all, there were naked people wearing paint dancing in cages suspended from the ceiling—so I didn’t cause some kind of scene. Secondly…I didn’t do it for the attention.”

You can hear the heavy exhalation from his nostrils while he silently shakes his head. 

“The most beautiful creature in the galaxy asked me to dance with her. I’m not made of stone, Mando. Or Beskar, as the case may be.”

Hot damn, wasn’t there supposed to be an apology somewhere in there?

“I hope you know when Talsala comes looking for you, she’s going sell whatever information you shared.” This time, he feels compelled to at least speak over his shoulder.

Erenada, is it that difficult for him to refrain from treating you like a child? “For your information, she didn’t ask anything about me. So don’t worry. There wasn’t a lot of talking.”

Okay, that might have been a bit backhanded. Except why should the Mandalorian care who you fool around with?

He snorts in disgust, shaking his head again. 

“Huff and puff all you like, Mando. I’m impervious to your slut-shaming,” you jeer with barely concealed fury. The upswell of anger has you increasing your pace to catch up with him. “Why are we even having this conversation?” 

“Because before, you were satisfied torturing me with your…morning stretches and too-small towels. Now you're going to do something reckless just to spite me.”  

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mandalorian. I had terrible impulse control long before I met you.” Ugh, he really is such an arrogant jerk sometimes. “Besides, I’ve had my hand three inches from your dick, and I don’t know what your name is either.”

You immediately freeze on the spot. Both of your hands actually slap over your open mouth as though you could stuff the words back in. You’re finally realizing just how drunk you got by the force with which you immediately sober up. 

Mando stops in his tracks to turn and face you.

“I’m so—I am sorry!” you blanch. “That was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said that. We're—we don't have that kind of a relationship.” 

He walks towards you with a menacing stride that causes you to retreat a few steps until you feel the bite of the concrete wall press against your back. 

Fuck he’s taller than you remember. Looming over you, all you can do is stare up into that impenetrable black view plate like some terrified quarry. The same face you’ve seen frozen in carbonite.

“And what exactly is the nature of our relationship?”

His voice is the same even keel as always, but there’s an…undertone? 

You’re not sure if it’s a rhetorical question. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, and you can feel your heartbeat quickening. He’s so close now you can see your reflection in his helmet despite standing in deep shadow.

“You told Gwellis I was a friend.” 

“Hmmm...” it comes out of the modulator as a low rumble that vibrates through the air between you. Then he takes you completely by surprise, resting the length of his forearm against the wall next to you—so close you can smell the metallic tang of Beskar filling your nostrils. He nods slowly, “But you want to be more than friends?” 

Time dilates, slowing down under his fixed attention. You’re too nervous to say something clever, so you should know better than to open your mouth. 

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly.

Paralyzed, you have to remind yourself to draw breath. Your body roils with tension, thrilled at this sudden shift in dynamic. Wasn’t he about to yell at you?

You nod again emphatically because you have no air left to speak.

His other hand slips behind you, loosely palming the small of your back. The fabric of your bodysuit is so thin you can feel the pinch of pressure under each of his fingertips. It’s like he’s about to kiss you, but…

“Does this—ahem,” your mouth is so fucking dry.

You timidly lick your lips and try to swallow the lump in your throat. As your tongue traces around your mouth, Mando breathes out hard, like he's just been punched in the gut, "Hmmph!"

Your belly clenches at the sound. Then, a rush of nervous laughter bubbles up. You giggle, and there’s the faintest note of anxious hysteria. Still a little tipsy, then. 

“Is this because I made out with a girl?”

He laughs, “Maybe. I don’t know how long Bril and I stood there watching the two of you. I just…I can’t pretend not to see it anymore.”

“See what?” you ask as though you’re holding onto the edge of a cliff.

“The way your face lights up when someone makes you happy,” he says. “All I could think was…when’s it my turn to be the one who makes you happy?”

That’s not something you ever expected to hear from the Mandalorian. This gruff, stoic warrior who never spoke about himself or his feelings. 

“That may have been the sweetest line anyone’s ever tried on me. Where have you been hiding all this charm?”

“I don’t usually need a line,” he says wryly. 

And you laugh, glad to see that being vulnerable didn’t do anything to dampen his ego. 

“That’s right,” your lips quirk into a grin. “You’ve got beautiful women throwing themselves at you.”

Without shifting his position from the wall, his hand pulls the visor from your face. 

"So beautiful," he murmurs, and you can feel his eyes searching yours behind the helmet.

“You really didn’t do all that to make me jealous?”

“I mean, you weren’t the intended audience. She knows one of the bouncers…Honestly, she probably would have stripped down naked and asked me to spank her if it got her into that VIP section.” 

“Well, that might have caused a scene.”

“But, it was nice…feeling wanted.”

You don’t know how long you stand there in silence before his gloved hand reaches for you. Gently taking your face in his grasp, you feel his leather fingers trace behind your ear and along your throat, his thumb stroking your jaw. 

“How have you been living on my ship all this time, and you don’t know how much I want you?”

When you fantasized about this moment, you imagined coming together in a desperate, heady rush. Not like this, with giddy apprehension, excitement, and nervous laughter. 

“Hmmm, Bril said you have a thing for bad girls. What would you want with a nice girl like me?”

“Are you so sure about that?” he asks, letting his hand rest on the back of your neck. “It sounds like you have a gambling problem.”

At that, you let out a burst of laughter. “You’re getting a little too good at these sassy retorts.”

“I learned it from you,” he says in a low voice that makes your stomach flutter. You want him to touch you so badly it's making your knees weak.

His grip on your lower back slides up between your shoulder blades, pulling you against him. Your nose is about an inch from the jaw of his helmet. Your hands feel too passive, so you lift them up to press against his firm stomach, below the chest plate.

You ask in a breathy whisper, “What about a good girl…who does bad things to you?”

He pauses as though thinking about it in earnest. “Sounds like you’re going to get me into some deep trouble.”

“Deep trouble?” You smirk, arching an eyebrow. “Just how deep?”

Your hand slides down his stomach to cup the bulge that’s building between his thighs.

“Maybe deeper than you can handle,” he replies in a tight voice, pressing your palm over the erection straining against his pants. His flesh is hot even through the thick canvas.

Gods, he’s so big. You remember that from when he shoved himself between your thighs—how could you forget it? Still, you marvel at his length. 

Wetness wells between your thighs. His cock jumps slightly at your touch, and you begin moving your hand back and forth, rubbing it up and down his shaft. The Mandalorian's hips roll upward, thrusting into your palm.

“I might surprise you, Mando.”

You tighten your grip and squeeze.

"Nnngh," a long guttural moan escapes his lips. Immediately, he takes your hips in both hands and pushes you against the wall. You gasp, stunned by the speed and the sensation of his body pressed against you.

“But I thought—you said we couldn’t—?”

His hands, which had been making their way up your ribcage toward the swell of your breasts, pull away from your body. In an attempt to respect the seriousness of the conversation, you also remove your hand from his cock. Why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut?

“I thought you couldn’t be with anyone like this?”

“Yeah, I realized that after seeing your reaction to Xi’an.”

“Did you have sex with her? With…Morrigan?”

“Yes,” he says coldly. “Because they wanted to fuck a Mandalorian in his armor and leave after.”

This might be the first time you’ve heard him swear. It’s kind of shocking. Especially in this context. A harsh word for something that should be a celebration. Instead, he sounded bitter and ashamed. 

“That’s not what you want, Thuli.”

“Ok, I’ll set aside for a minute how incredibly rude it is to tell a woman what she wants…Mando, are you saying you’ve never had sex with someone you cared about?”

He turns his head to look away from you, straightening his shoulders. “I’m not great at trusting people.”

“But…you trust me?”

“I do,” he nods.

“Then why—”

“Because there are things you’ll want from me, things you deserve that I can’t give you,” his voice is so tired and defeated. “And I don’t know how long we’ll have before you realize that…”

“Hmm,” your hand leaps up to stifle a laugh. Shit, that’s going to piss him off.

“What’s so funny?” Mando asks defensively.

“I’ve seen you leap into the mouth of a giant flying birdcatlizard–on impulse–in the heat of battle. But this is what terrifies you?”

You place a hand on his arm and try to convey the tenderness of your feelings. “Of course, I want to kiss your lips and feel your tongue inside of me, but…” you laugh softly. “Shit, Mando, no one’s ever made me beg for it before.”

Some of his earlier temper rises up again. “Has it occurred to you that’s what this is really about? Chasing after something you can’t have. What happens when it turns out this isn't what you wanted?”

But he doesn’t sound all that angry. He sounds afraid. “Do you honestly think that, Mando? That I’d be so careless with your feelings?”

“No,” he says. “You have the kindest heart…even after everything you've seen. It’s what I admire most about you.”

He takes your hand from his arm and holds it between his leather palms. “Which is why you should run from me. With that new ID, you could get a good job on some Mid-Rim planet, or I can take you back to Ingtar myself. But you should take your chance at a decent life while you can.”

Without realizing it, your eyes have filled with tears, and his thumb traces across your cheek to wipe them away.

“See? I’ll just make you cry.”

“These tears are...There is no decent life Mando. Just this life. I’m sad because, for whatever reason, you don’t think you deserve to be loved,” you assert. “This whole time, you’ve been coming up with all these reasons to harden your heart...because you aren't decent?”

Something between a sigh and a laugh crosses your lips as you brush away the remaining tears. “Was the plan to just stifle your emotions and masturbate in the fresher?”

“How do you—right," he nods. "No helmet in the fresher.”

“I didn’t see anything! But your thoughts are very loud.”

“I’m not the only one locking myself in the shower,” he says teasingly. “You aren’t as quiet as you think.”  

You blush spectacularly. “I was thinking of you, if you must know.”

“I’m not surprised,” he says, catching your fist in his hand before you can land a punch to his stomach. “I like to think about that stretch you do with your hands on the floor, and you lift your leg up to the ceiling.”

“I knew that one would get your attention,” you wink before returning to the conversation at hand. “Were we supposed to dance around this forever? Whatever this is?”

“At first, I just thought about how much the kids need you and how selfish it would be to sabotage that for them…because of what? Because I couldn’t keep it in my pants?” And that sound of shame and regret tinged his words again. “But now it feels like this dam is bursting in my chest and…and I don’t know what to do.” 

“Because you’re afraid of falling for me?”

He sighs, “What makes you think I haven’t already?”

“Mando,” you say, taking him by both arms this time and looking up into his view plate. “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow—and neither do you. I wish I could say we’ll never hurt each other, but I can’t know that either. What I do know is that my pulse skips a beat whenever I see you. I get butterflies in my stomach just standing next to you. My whole body is full of these deep feelings for you. Feelings I want to explore with my heart and my hands. And you’re right. We don’t know how much time we have, which is why I don’t want to waste any more of it.”

His hands cup your chin, lifting your face to look up at him.

“How deep are these feelings inside you?”

“See!” you roll your eyes. “That’s the sexy voice. Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.” 

He laughs. And you think back to those days when it was like pulling teeth just to get him to talk to you. His laughter came so easily now. Surely, that was proof enough that he loves you, too. Even if he hadn’t said the word, you hear it in every smile and laugh you win from him. 

“I know you won’t take off your helmet to kiss me, so what happens next?”

“I will,” he says seriously. 

“What?”

“I’m going to kiss you. Not right now in this dingy tunnel. But I’m going to figure out some way to make this work. I just need you to give me a little more time.”

“I don’t want you to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or compromised,” you say honestly. “So take whatever time you need. Just know that I’ll be waiting for you. Eagerly waiting.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been thinking about this non-stop since you climbed on top of me.”

Your mouth breaks into a wide smile. “If I recall correctly…none of that involved taking off your helmet.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“For what? Throwing me over your shoulder like a sack of grain?”

"For before..." Suddenly, his hands return to your hips, and his knee nudges your thighs apart. "For not finishing what I started.”  

You don’t remember placing your hands on his chest, and the sudden shock of cold from the Beskar makes you shiver. Heart racing, you spread your fingers under his cloak, feeling the tension in the firm muscles of his shoulders, and wrap your arms around his neck.

Pressed against him, the heat rising from his body surrounds you despite the layers of fabric and metal.

His hands are so strong. You gasp when he grips your hips tighter. He crests the curve of your lower back, his palms sliding downward to gather the swell of your ass in his hands. The tips of his fingers dig into your skin, and you hear a choked groan when his pelvis rocks upward, glancing your hips.

“Is this ok?”

“I let a complete stranger grab my tits in the middle of the dancefloor. What do you think I’ll let you do to me in this deserted service tunnel?”

“Hmm, I bet you’ve been dripping wet since you put your hand on my cock,” he says in a low growl.

“Mmm-hmm,” you nod enthusiastically. 

He continues to trail up your back and over your shoulder blades, hands sliding across your underarms and finally over your breasts. Your breath hitches audibly as he rolls and squeezes them, your nipples budding under his wide palms. 

Gathering and kneading your breasts, he takes in a deep breath, and a rough sigh spills from the modulator, sending a clenching wave of desire shuddering through you. Arousal spirals through your body, down to your core, as he squeezes, teases your nipples, and presses your breasts together tightly.

The pulse of your heartbeat is now located between your legs, your clit swelling with every throb. You were already wet, but now you can feel the flood of warmth spreading across the seam of your bodysuit as Mando traces his hands down your stomach, lower, and lower... 

His hand is so warm between your thighs. Your belly clenches when he draws the heel of his thumb along the length of you, both easing and building the tight ache inside you. Using the tip of his finger to stroke up and down the soft folds of flesh that dip into your cunt, the pressure spreads you beneath his fingers. 

Your back arches against the surge of pleasure, rocking against his hand for more. He circles your clit, teasing, then begins to rub in slow, endless spirals. Every stroke sends new pleasure pulsing through you, and you can’t help whimpering.

“Mmm-haah! Aaah!”

His touch is blunted by the fabric and leather. But you’re so wet he must feel it. Gods, you can even smell it.

“What was that?” he asks. 

And you fully melt hearing how much enjoyment he’s taking in pleasing you. His fingers resume their massage. Slow, firm circles that surge upward inside you until you're dizzy.

“Mmm-more.” You smile genuinely up at him, lacing your fingers at the base of his neck, your forearms meeting where you brace your elbows against his chest plate. “Please, don’t stop.”

His hands slip down your back to grasp your ass, lifting you up and splaying you across the top of his right thigh, his knee wedged against the wall behind you. “Because you said please.” 

There’s a raised ridge that runs the length of his Beskar plate, and he positions you on top of it so that it runs between the cleft of your cunt. With both hands still gripping your ass, he rolls your hips forward to grind your clit against it.

The balls of your feet just reach the floor, but with the strength of his arms steadying you, you manage to rock yourself back and forth in rhythm, arching your back and tucking your pelvis like the sway of a pendulum. 

This is a public place, but you’ve always needed breathwork to get yourself there, so you don’t bother trying to keep quiet. "Haa—aaah!"

From the corner of your eye, you see the feet of passersby slow, perhaps searching for the sources of the obscene mewling and hitched sighs pouring forth from your lips.

"Aaangh!"

At some point, his arm wraps around your lower back to keep you upright as you ride his thigh. His other hand braces your chest, squeezing your breast. Thumb and fingers caress your nipple over the fabric of your bodysuit. 

The tempo of your hips alternates between slow, heavy circles and shallow rapid thrusts—your clit so swollen, the rigid metal pinches with each pass. This wet, you glide through every motion, your taut calves and hamstrings trembling. Then, the rising tension peaks into a hot, cresting wave that spreads across every surface of your body.

"Aaangh!" Your fingers dig into the back of his neck, your scalp tingles, the tightness in your chest releases, and your cunt throbs numbly.

Your panting, plus the cry you let loose, have surely clued the Mandalorian that you’ve already come, but he continues to hold you in place, one arm around your back, the other gripping your ribs. 

You rest your head on his shoulder and pull your arms down from around his neck to grasp his hips under the flak vest, where there’s only one layer of fabric. The closest you can get to him. 

For now.

“Come on,” he says, finally pulling his leg out from between your thighs, setting you back down. “You’ve got fifty thousand credits burning a hole in your pocket.”

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

Keep reading - Volume 3 - Post #9: Drugstore Cowgirl

Back to Volume 3 - all posts

[annaofaza]

Vash decides a few hours in that professional mixers are not his thing.

Or maybe it's this particular group that's a bust. He loves Nai, but the people he hangs out with are... something else; one blue-haired guy cornered him about "changing the world" and "showing the way" with his pupils just a bit too wide and his presence far too close. Another guy with a tuba tried to fight him over his senior thesis on UN peacekeeping tactics, and when he'd tried to hide in the bathroom, he'd received a loud "FUCK OFF" from someone smoking in the only closed stall.

Nai is thriving in the competitive, cutthroat future CEOs environment, and Vash just has a stomachache from eating twelve quiches and almost all the dessert charcuterie board.

He texts Nai heading out, meet back home before beating his retreat out the back door, pulling out his phone. Nai drove them here, so he's going to either have to Uber or find a viable bus route, but between the peak prices soaring with every second and the "forty minutes of walking" on the shortest routes home, neither really appeal to him. He saw some hipster doughnut shop nearby, so maybe he can at least make the way back more bearable—

"Hey, blondie."

Vash whips his head up, hand moving instinctively to the small, unused canister of pepper spray Meryl had given him after freshman orientation ("Trust me, you'll need it."), but pauses when he sees him.

He's under a streetlight, back against the brick wall, playing with a lighter. It's not a cheap BIC one, either; it looks like real silver, and the way it flashes through the twiddling fingers makes Vash pause like a moth to the flame.

The guy's handsome, too, even if he's wearing sunglasses at night—and Vash, although he's seen many Dateline episodes that begin like this, emits a "Hey."

"Hey yourself," the guy says, "escaping the party?"

Vash laughs. "Yeah. I came with my brother for moral support, but he seems to be doing okay on his own. You?"

"Same here—though mine wanted to try to walk around on his own for a bit. I'm here in case he needs to be bailed out."

Vash smiles. "That's nice of you."

"Hey, he's my little brother; I'd do anything for him. Except maybe stand in the same room as some guy talking about the pros of nuclear and biochemical weapons. "

Vash laughs awkwardly. "That might have been my brother. But I swear he's sane. I think."

The guy chuckles. "I'll take your word for it. By the way, do you have...?" He gestures to his lighter.

"Oh, no, I don't," Vash apologizes. "I don't smoke."

"Damn. Well, worth a shot." The guy grimaces, but sticks his hand out. "Sorry, usually I ask someone's name before I start shaking them down. I'm Wolfwood."

"Vash."

"Vash," Wolfwood repeats, drawing out the syllable. "Looking good."

"Have we met before?"

"I would have remembered someone as beautiful like you."

Oh, a real charmer. Vash isn't opposed to it, though. "Same here—" he begins, lowering his voice.

Then it hits him. "You're the asshole from the bathroom! You told me to fuck off!"

Wolfwood bursts out laughing. "Did I? Well, I'm sorry about that; I was avoiding that blue-haired guy who was clutching my arm and asking me what faith meant to me."

"Oh. I get it now. Do you think he's a Scientologist? He had that energy."

"Has to be. Definitely something evangelical. I'm familiar with that." Wolfwood plucks something underneath his shirt, frowning.

"Oh?" Vash doesn't know if he should pry further, but Wolfwood shrugs.

"Grew up in a cult, actually."

"I'm sorry?"

"It was a long time ago," Wolfwood mutters, then flicks off the lighter with a sharp click. "But we got out in the end."

Vash moves to lean against the wall, feeling the bricks dig into his back. Wolfwood is a comforting presence, somehow, next to him. "It must have been tough, especially with your brother, too."

"Like I said, I'd do anything for him." Wolfwood shakes his head. "But this isn't the conversation I want to be having with you."

Vash takes the opening: "And just what do you want to discuss? Politics? Etiquette? Global—" His eyes veer to the curb, where an undoubtedly fine motorcycle is parked. "Or that?"

Wolfwood grins, excitement dancing in his eyes. "Angelina? She was rescued from the scrap heap and restored. You know about bikes?"

"No," Vash confesses. "I haven't even ridden one."

"No?" Wolfwood straightens up and slips his lighter into his pocket. Vash mentally sighs; no cigarettes, no bikes, that's as good as three strikes, he's out. At least doughnuts haven't let him down...

But Wolfwood surprises him.

He turns his head and crooks his finger at Vash. "That settles it. Let's go."

"Weren't you supposed to wait for your brother?" Vash asks, heart jumping.

"We can just take a few laps around the parking lot. Coming?"

Yes!

But Vash puts his hands on his hips. "Do you have a helmet?" Some things Rem instilled in him still remain.

Wolfwood snorts. "Yeah. Look in the basket."

Vash opens it and sees exactly one. "What, nothing for you? Don't you care about your head?"

Wolfwood sighs. "You're sounding a lot like Livio. Do you want a ride, or are you going to quote danger statistics, too?"

Normally, Vash would, but... He's a simple man in the end. "Just be gentle, " he warns, with a mischievous smile as he buckles the helmet, "It's my first time."

Smirking, Wolfwood swings one leg over the seat and pats behind him. "Certainly. Arms around me tight, sweetheart."

The engine roars to life, seat purring and vibrating underneath his thighs, and Vash grins, nestling his chest tight against Wolfwood's back. "Like you had to ask."

[daemour]

Pairing: Hongjoong x gn!Reader (but not really romantic lol)

Genre: Fluff, non-idol au

Word Count: 745

Warnings: None

Summary: A late night photo inspiration leads to something more.

an a new, long awaited tipsy drabbles!! this is actually my second draft because the fist one would have been far too long and not taken me 2.5 hours lmao

optional pt 2

-

It’s not recommended to walk in Manhattan at night. But when have you ever had safe, good ideas? As a self-proclaimed photographer, some things you must sacrifice for the perfect shot, and safety is one of them. (And not following that advice is also something you should ponder.)

The city's lights were just so brilliant tonight,and paired with the strawberry supermoon, you couldn’t help yourself.

You find yourself in a park, getting a gorgeous shot when a voice interrupts your artistic journey. “I guess we’re after the same thing, huh?”

You spin around, and a young man with grey hair smiles at you. He’s skinny and petite, and yet his smile draws you in and gives you a sense of fire in his heart. It’s only after a moment do you notice the Fujifilm in his hands.

“Maybe we are,” you offer him a small smile, clearly hoping he would leave you and your socially awkward ass alone, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint.

He nods at the camera clutched in your hands. “Mind if I take a look?”

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. You’ve never really shown your work to others outside of your family and friends—you aren’t truly a professional, not like he seems to be.

As if sensing your hesitation, the man whose name you still haen’t got smiles reassuringly. “No pressure of course. Sometimes it really can feel like bearing your soul to someone.”

The complete and utter understanding in his voice does the exact opposite of what it was meant to accomplish, and you get a bust of confidence. “Here,” you say, offering out your old and worn camera. The stranger is surprised but takes it with a warm smile and a small ‘thank you,’ suddenly seeming less intimidating and more…human.

There is a moment of silence as he clicks through some of your pictures. “These are really good,” he says, looking up at you and you avoid eye contact, instead focusing on the streetlamp over his head. “You’re very talented and have an eye for composition.”

“Ah, it’s nothing special, I didn’t draw inspirationg from my–” you start to mutter, but he holds up a hand to stop you in the middle of your sentence.

When he finally is able to meet your eyes, it feels like you’re rooted to the ground and yet sinking into his gaze at the same time. “Don’t say that,” he says quietly but with such intensity that you wince. “Although it’s often said that the best art comes from one’s experiences, that’s not always the case. Even the most casual pieces hold just as much integrity as the more soulful ones. It’s clear you did your best, and that’s what matters.”

There is so much sincerity in his voice that you can’t help but look away. It’s not often you get a thought-out opinion on your work, and hearing it come from a stranger just makes those words mean even more.

“Thank you.” You almost whisper your words of gratitude but the man takes no offence, instead returning your camera with a smile. When you put it back into its bag and sling the strap around your shoulder, he raises an eyebrow.

“Done then?” You nod, and he fumbles in his pocket before pulling out a business card and handing it to you. “I know it may seem like a scam, so feel free to ignore it if you want, but I actually run a studio and I would love for you to come in and chat more. Have a good night.”

And just like that, he walks away and is gone before you can even blink. It’s too dark to look at the card, even under the flickering streetlamp, so you put it in your pocket and it weighs heavily until you reach your modest apartment.

It’s only then you pull it out and look at the name on the sleek, silver card. Kim Hongjoong. A quick google search later and you almost drop the card to the floor. You just had a three am conversation with a world-renowned photographer.

Almost a week passes before you have the courage to dial the number and it rings for such a long time that you think he may have forgotten when a click is finally heard. “H-hello?” you practically whisper out and there is such a long silence that you think he’s hung up when–

“City girl.”

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Okay, not exaggerating, this might be one of my favourite one shots EVER!! 😍😍😍😍

I was pissing myself laughing at every part of it. It's SO funny, and SO real and perfect!! Add to that a love scene that is hot and fluffy AF, and you just have an absolutely incredible fic!! I will be rereading this one over and over again, I promise you that!!

Spoilers and much gushing and cackling below:

Living with two boys can grow exhausting, honestly, so Y/N has decided to spend her alone time doing a bunch of girly shit she can’t do with Tweedledee and Tweedledum around – at least not without enduring some judgmental looks.

*snicker* I can just imagine! 😜

Regardless, the mention of some self-love reminds her of her third to-do item on her list: sex. Well, technically masturbating to Ryan Gosling’s pictures. Maybe even Andrew Garfield, Sebastian Stan, that hot dude Jackson from Grey’s Anatomy… Leo in his prime. Brad Pitt – young and old. Seth Rogen… Whoa! Don’t judge, okay? It’s not all about looks. She loves when a guy can make her laugh, and his laugh is so sweet, deep, and… bear-y, alright?

OMG!!! I am absolutely cackling over this!! Seth Rogen is a no for me, but I get the whole, funny = devastatingly attractive thing. Cause Andy Sandberg isn't the MOST traditionally handsome guy, but that guy could have me in a second!! Ditto Seth Meyers, Jon Stewart, and Craig Ferguson. Craig's gorgeous Scottish accent doesn't hurt either!

Yep, Dean fucking Winchester – God of all Gods, monster hunter extraordinaire, hero of all innocent damsels, and idiotic clown of all clowns, shamelessly stole her heart since… well, pretty much the minute they met and she first laid eyes on him.

Same girl. Same. 🫠🫠

Having the girls constantly locked up in bra prison is no way to go through life.

Bra prison?!!

“Fuck no! I don’t wanna watch a movie about dirt,” the older brother whines, his plump lips shaping into a pout.

Seriously I'm going to bust a rib reading this fic!! 😆😆😆

“Yes, you’re obviously the golden standard for healthy relationships,” Sam mutters sarcastically and rolls his eyes back.

Omg!! The boys banter in this scene is killing me!! I just want to squeeze them!! 😁

With that, the youngest Winchester closes the door behind him, leaving Dean to ruminate in his convoluted misery.

Oh no!! That was the door she heard slam - ah, sweetie, there's one Winchester left behind!! 😬😬

*Waits in delicious anticipation of the naked encounter!*

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…,” Y/N’s panicked voice chimes in his ears as both of them awkwardly avert their gazes in different directions to the ceiling and avoid eye contact at all costs while still clinging tightly onto each other, aware that if one of them moves, it’s game over and they’d see each other in their full glory.

Bahahahahahaha!!!! This was just as perfect as I knew it would be. 😆😆😆 These two poor, awkward babies! 😆

Judging by the precise feeling that’s poking him, she must be somewhat cold.

Yes... it's the cold...and not your body crushed up against hers. This idiot! 😄😍

“Y/N, please… All that angry shaking isn’t helping, sweetheart.”

“Again – I’m so, so sorry,” he apologizes once more, although he’s sure he can’t do it often enough. His dick is an escaped zoo animal and clearly on the prowl tonight.

I literally choked on saliva reading this!! 🤣🤣🤣

What the hell is he fucking doing? There’s only one rule in the bunker: don’t sexually harass Y/N.

"Don't sexually harass Y/N." 😆😆😆 Love him reminding himself of this VERY simple rule. 🤣🤣 Poor baby! Just breaking all the rules!!

Dean’s hands then begin to travel, his confidence growing as Y/N’s fingers tug slightly on the short strands of hair in the nape of his neck, trying to draw him closer. One large hand cups her neck, the other one smoothing down her spine and pressing into the small of her back. He pushes her closer, deepens the kiss, and both of them moan needily while their tongues dance with each other.

She confirms it with a nod, and Dean adjusts his grip on her body, grabbing her a little tighter before bolting down the bunker hallway like a little kid on Christmas morning. The huntress squeals and giggles in his arms as he kicks the door open to his bedroom, gently laying her down on the mattress. She lets herself fall back and stretches out on the bed, her shoulder blades indenting the memory foam, and he hopes the thing does as advertised and fucking remembers her forever.

This entire passage is the cutest, sweetest, sexiest thing EVER! That last sentence just made me swoon!! 😍🫠😍🫠😍🫠

“God, you feel like heaven,” she whimpers and wraps her arms around his neck.

Amen!! 🥵🥵🥵

“Wha-!” Y/N jolts up from the bed at the unexpected intrusion, her elbow hitting Dean straight in the face as he rises behind her. The force of the blow knocks him out of bed, the hunter tumbling to the cold ground.

Of course it does!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣

“Oh God, what have I done…,” Sam groans with a thick swallow.

You've done the Lord's work, Sammy!! 😁

Seriously Wayne - this was absoute GOLD!! Thank you so much for giving me so much entertainment and amusement!!

Perfection, my friend - perfection!!

Love On The Brain

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean and Y/N – hunting partners, bunker roommates & idiots in love. Sam is fed up with their constant “will they/won’t they” bullshit and decides to move things along with his own plan until these two fated lovers’ paths finally cross one night – naked.

Warnings: +18, smut (mentions of masturbation f & m, oral f, fingering, p in v), crack of the adorkable kind, nudity, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: Happy V-Day, babes! 💖 The V stands for… Welp, you know me well enough by now to know where I’m going with this 😝 This is a lot of moronic crack mixed with some sweet smut and fluff. We all know how much I love the “idiots in love” trope, and I fully dove into this one. So, grab your glass of favorite liquor & let’s settle in, shall we? ❤️😘 Written for a request by @imagine-all-the-fandoms after making some adjustments. Found Rihanna’s Love on the Brain fitting for this one, so that’s what we went with as a general mood. Hope you enjoy, m’ladies! 🖤

Feedback is highly appreciated! Get me drunk on it and fill my writer’s juice 🤓🥃

Main Masterlist | Dean Winchster Masterlist

Freedom! Thank fucking God…

Y/N exhales a blissful sigh as she saunters to the Dean Cave with a bag of still-hot microwave popcorn in her arms. The Winchester brothers have decided on a little overnight road trip to the next, bigger town over to see a movie – and for some brotherly bonding or whatever – which means Y/N can finally enjoy some goddamn alone time in the bunker. Not that she doesn’t love Sam and Dean to bits and pieces, especially the latter one. They are like family to her, the only one she’s ever truly known, but even family can grow exhausting sometimes.

Keep reading

[ceruleanchillin]

When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)

Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting

Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ

A:

You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.

Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.

Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.

Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.

Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.

“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.

Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.

Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.

The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.

“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.

“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.

“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”

Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”

Petty by Angel Reyes.

“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.

“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”

“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.

“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”

“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.

Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”

“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.

Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.

“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”

You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.

“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.

He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”

“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.

His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.

He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.

“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.

You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.

“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.

He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”

--------

C:

It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.

Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.

It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.

You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.

Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.

You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.

“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”

“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”

She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.

“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.

It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.

Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.

All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???

He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.

The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.

His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.

You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.

He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.

“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.

The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.

You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.

“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.

He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”

“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.

“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.

Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.

Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.

“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”

“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.

You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.

He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.

“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”

He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-

“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”

“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.

“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”

It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.

“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.

He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.

“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.

“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”

“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”

You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”

“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.

Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.

You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”

You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.

He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”

--------

E:

It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.

As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.

That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.

“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.

“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”

“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”

EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.

Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.

“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”

“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.

EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”

Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.

“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”

EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.

You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.

“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”

You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”

“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.

“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”

You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.

“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”

They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.

Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.

Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.

Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.

He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.

“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”

He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.

The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.

He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.

“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.

“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”

“I don’t mind, I know clu-“

Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”

“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.

“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.

In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.

Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.

Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.

It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.

His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.

His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?

He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.

He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.

He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.

“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”

“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”

You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”

He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.

You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”

“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.

“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”

He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”

AN:

I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.

1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️

2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.

3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

YES YES YES REBEL PUNZ PLEASEEEE I NEED IT FOR SCIENCE PLEASEEEE

-🐉anon

Okay so *sigh* I know I keep saying this about all our boys but I love heem

𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋. ☥ 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥!𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐳

pairing: rebel!Punz x fm!reader

word count: ~ 3500

warnings: smut (18+), pure filth basically, language, blood, fighting, illegal activities, degradation, praise, domination, spanking, etc.

playlists: Rebel!Punz, EDGERS

The basement was only accessible through one door which was stationed at the back of Techno’s motorcycle shop. The door was bolted from the inside, only to be unlocked after the murmuring of a password known by word of mouth.

Behind the door was a flight of stairs going downward. The walls are reminiscent of walking through a damp tunnel, the air hanging thick, smelling of rotting soil and burning leaves. A man stationed on one of the landings would open the door at the end of the staircase and then move back upstairs as one would continue through the dark hallway, faintly hearing the sounds of men shouting. Finally, the last entryway and the gateway into a different universe: two double doors made of decaying wood.

The hinges always creaked when pried opened, giving the illusion that the basement was nothing more than storage, yet through those doors laid a bustling room of cockroaches and their bookies. Men in all shapes and sizes, in suits and sweatpants, with elaborate hairstyles and hats clustered around a giant roped-off area in the center of the basement.

Ritual followers of the activities referred to it as the Ring.

The dingy atmosphere of expensive cologne and cigar smoke was a trip back in the twenties when similar tactics were just for the high of living. Underground matches are like alcohol during the prohibition and the Ring was the modern-day speakeasy.

And that’s where you were, swimming in the stale fog of cigar smoke and sweaty bodies as you scored percentages into your small notebook, taking the bribes as cash was handed to you. The men with the expensive appearances always flaunted their exaggerated statistics, testing your knowledge about the Ring as if they weren’t facilitating some kind of kill match. They treated you as if you were the equivalent of a cigarette girl when in reality, you held their fortunes in your hand and controlled the fate of the fight.

You were Techno’s eyes, ears, and author. He would observe from afar, crossing his arms over his chest as you eyed Punz, telling him which way to fix the fight to make Techno the most money. Punz was completely attuned to you, his light eyes trained to search for your mild quirks and subtle hints as you pretended to add up the odds. Regretfully, it was a losing night against an outside competitor.

Punz drew in a sharp breath as you chewed the inside of your cheek, barely instructing him. You flashed him four of your fingers, knowing full-well that Techno was guaranteed at least a $10,000 payout if Punz let the competitor wail on him for that long. You always preferred the nights when you could nod for him to flatten the challenger in under two rounds, but nights like tonight left your stomach in knots.

You rolled the sleeves of your white button-up shirt, your suit jacket hanging on a fold-out chair nearest to Techno as you continued to work the floor. As you walked the perimeter, your gaze glued to Punz, who was wrapping white tape around his knuckles and watching you. You knew that his heavy-handed approach in the first few rounds would leave the protection in nothing but white tatters, peeling away from his butchered skin.

His lip was still busted from the match a few days prior, cheekbone tinted with a purple hue and eyes set tired to avoid giving away the adrenaline you knew was pulsing through his body. His hand flexed against the tape, giving him more motion. Your sights settled on the healing cut that divided his eyebrow, the memory of seeing Dream’s ring cut into Punz’s face making your blood boil.

You liked to stand on the opposite end of the make-shift ring from Punz. There were days when you wished you weren’t some kind of conductor for the underground matches, mainly so you could cheer on your lover like the rest of the spectators.

But alas, you were the puppeteer and Punz was your obedient marionette.

The fight began with the ringing of an ancient-looking shift bell, Punz stepping back on the balls of his feet as his opponent remained defensive. Punz rolled his eyes, sights flashing to you before moving to land the first blow; a heavy shot to the man’s side. You crossed your arms, nodding as if to tell him he only needed to lose by a hair.

At your direction the fight became bloodier, knuckles cracking against bone and rib cages, drawing the crimson streams of life from their bodies. In an ideal world where Punz was fighting for his own mercy and not the money bags of his boss, Punz would have wasted the opposing man, smiling as he did so.

Punz always seemed to gain stamina the more he was battered, thriving off of the blood pooling in his teeth or streaming down the side of his head. In bare-knuckle matches, he was almost unrecognizable in his blood lust.

The bell chimed again, the rounds moving quicker as Punz pretended to be worn out from the weaker jabs of his competitor. You chuckled to yourself, a smirk settling on your lips as he rolled his shoulders. His expression tilted towards you, seemingly noticing your amusement as he fought not to grin himself.

Punz launched his fist into his opponent’s face, blood gushing instantly from the man’s nose as Punz hammered another blow into his torso. The man retaliated by driving his elbow into Punz’s stomach before throwing his knuckles into Punz’s jaw. Punz’s t-shirt clung to his sweat-drenched body, the thought of peeling him out of those clothes later in the night made your skin prickle with goosebumps. His messy hair and concentrated eyes were allusions of unadulterated sin as he brushed the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping away the thread of blood trickling down his chin from his re-busted lip.

Punz knew to wear down, letting the man knock him against the ropes, Punz’s light eyes looking up at you with nearly a breath between the two of you. “Good boy,” you stated, only loud enough for him to hear. His eyebrow quirked at your words to combat the cocky grin wanting to break through his tough façade with your praise. He stood up straighter and submitted to losing as his competitor landed another punch.

After the fight, you indulged in the sound of your heels clicking against the staircase as you moved back up to the shop, the area quiet and desolate after the cockroaches had scampered away back into their crevices. You turned, starting down the long hallway towards the locker room, grabbing the First Aid kit off the wall on your way. The envelope of money felt heavy in your hand, its manilla coloring almost too obvious against your suited attire.

You pushed the door open with your foot, peering down one of the rows of lockers before spotting Punz, yawning slightly as he pulled off his shirt, revealing various old-style tattoos that matched the ones painted across his knuckles. Whenever you saw him in this state, you silently thanked George for his hours of work and steady hand.

Punz’s eyes perked up as you entered the room; the familiar sight of you ready to patch up his wounds brought a content smile to his bruised features. “How’d I do, dove?” He coaxed looking up at you as he sat on the dividing bench. His voice was raspy and deep from exhaustion.

You gave him a small smile, tossing your jacket on the other side of him and taking his face in your hand, pressing your lips against his briefly. Your nose brushed his as you placed a kiss on his cheek. “So good,” you hummed. He moved to straddle the bench as you sat in front of him, digging into the aid kit.

Before you could even start in on his wounds, his hands were snaking up your legs to grip your thighs, pulling you closer to him on the bench. You propped your knee against his, taking one of his hands and dabbing away the dried blood on his knuckles as he dug his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin as he took in your scent, his lips pressing against your neck before he unclasped the top few buttons of your shirt. His other hand moved to press against your freshly exposed skin, teeth nibbling at your ear lobe.

You let out a quiet giggle at his antics, moving your head to brush against his cheek and shrug him off. “Cut it out. You’ll distract me,” you muttered, stifling the obvious grin in your tone.

He let out a low chuckle, moving your hair out of the way before settling in the crook of your neck again, hand moving to wrap around your waist and draw you closer. “There’s no way. You’re too stubborn,” he jested, his stubble tickling your chest as he nibbled at the sensitive skin on your throat.

Once you finished with his hands, you moved onto his face, tending to the small cuts and scrapes. Punz continued his own form of clean-up as he pressed his lips against the inside of your wrist. You knew he was coming off of his fight high and you were waiting on him to rag you about wincing during some of the harder hits. He got off on the idea that your calm and indifferent surface cracked when it came to him.

His hands hooked around the back of your knees, tugging you practically into his lap as you rolled your eyes. His fingers untucked your shirt, slipping between the material and your skin as his lips traveled the length of your jaw. His blunt nails raked down your back, his neediness unmasked by the slight roll of his hips against yours.

You dropped what you were working on, running your fingers into his blond hair as he moaned against your skin. You moved your legs to wrap around his waist, letting him grip onto your hips and press you against his body. He sealed his lips against yours, hungrily kissing you with a groan. You tugged on his hair, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

His fingers unbuttoned the rest of your shirt, slipping it off your shoulders as your teeth moved to dig into his shoulder. His hands moved to tug your pants down your thighs. You pushed him back against the bench, balancing yourself on his lap as you settled his hands on your thighs, leaning down to kiss him again.

He gripped onto your hips, driving you to grind against him, a moan of his hand slipping through your lips in praise. Your fingers raked down his chest as you ground your hips against him, making him bite his lips to keep himself quiet.

He pushed himself into you, making you groan as you adjusted to his size, hungry for more friction. As you rolled your hips, his hands moved to your chest. You pulled his arm towards you, pressing your lips to the tattoo across his wrist in your handwriting. "You did so well tonight, baby," you cooed, earning a moan from him at your praise. "I'm so proud of you."

You leaned down, swallowing his lustful noises and you pressing your lips against his as you thrust against him. The tension from the night and the sight of him submitting to you completely.

His head tipped back against the wood, his hips swirling against yours as his mouth opened with a slight whimper. You clenched around him, feeling him throb inside of you. You bit back a smile, watching how easy it was to get him off as his cheeks flushed, a lazy grin on his face as you moved on top of him. "Fuck look how much you want me," you mocked, his hands moving to dig into your hips.

His brows furrowed as he mumbled your name, making you pick up your pace. "Shit, don't stop," he nearly begged.

You curled your hips, leaning down to press your lips to his neck. "You deserve it, my good boy," you husked, tongue flattening against his collarbone as he moaned at the feeling.

He pushed himself to sit up, giving you a new angle as you drove him deeper into you, thrusting against his body and tugging at his hair. He dug his face into the crook of your neck, quietly pleading out your name as if he were confessing his sins to you.

His coarse hands dug into your back, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as your head fell back, moaning about how good he was making you feel.

It didn't take long for him to finish, his hot seed spreading between your legs as he groaned darkly in your ear. You combed your fingers through his hair, letting him roll his hips against yours and ride out his high.

Dream kicked his feet up on Techno’s desk, popping a few jelly beans in his mouth from his position on the other side of Sapnap, the bone tattoos on his fingers making you slightly grateful for Punz's ink choices. Sapnap leaned his head back against the edge of his chair, closing his eyes tiredly as you crossed your legs, flipping through one of the magazines that Techno had stacked in the corner of his office. Punz flexed his hands, still sore from the previous night’s fight, as he watched your skirt ride up your thighs a few centimeters.

The office was silent between the four of you, waiting for the man in charge after he’d called all of you in for an “emergency meeting.” Punz looked over your shoulder at what you were reading and you angled yourself to share the magazine with him, trying to ignore the tension he was building between the two of you as his thigh brushed yours.

The bag of jelly beans in Dream’s pocket made shuffling noises as he moved closer to whisper something to Sapnap, making him chuckle softly. The door swung open, sending the four of you on your feet as Techno’s secretary rattled off what was on his docket for the day. He ran his fingers through his short pink hair, eyes zoning out slightly as he took a seat behind his desk before thanking the woman and sending her on her way. He motioned for all of you to sit.

“My anxiety is through the roof, I just need to know if I’m in trouble first, Tech,” Dream started in, making Punz’s eyes roll and you to let out a small laugh.

Techno began to feather through some of the papers on his desk, pulling on his glasses. His t-shirt flexed against his muscular arms. You were surprised to see him in casual clothes in the middle of the week, but you figured he had plans with Sapnap after the meeting. “No, you’re fine, Dream.”

Dream chewed on one of the jelly beans. “Are you sure, because I can’t figure out why I’d be in here. Like, I’m just,” he paused, leaning forward to look at you before snapping his fingers a few times searching for a word. “What do you call it?”

You scoffed. “A floater. Snap at me again and I’ll break your dick off,” you bit, making Punz subtly cover his mouth to conceal his grin.

Dream winked at you. “Sounds like one hell of a handjob,” he quipped back without missing a beat.

“Dream, shut the fuck up,” Sapnap sighed, looking at Techno as if to urge him to continue. Dream snickered at Sapnap.

Techno cleared his throat. “Okay, now that that’s out of our system,” he pulled a page from the stack. “Dream, I’m giving you more matches to take some of the weight off of Punz.”

You tilted your head. “What?” Techno’s gaze shifted to you as if commanding you to elaborate. “Punz makes you the most money out of all of them. You’re losing profit with Dream.” You weren’t going to sit idly by and let your lover get knocked down a peg. Especially, not for Dream to step up in his place.

Techno nodded. “It looks bad on my part if one of my fighters dies in the middle of a match though, doesn’t it?”

“It’s illegal underground fighting. He knows the risks-” Punz reached over to cover your mouth.

He sighed. “That sounds fine. No less than three a week, though.”

Dream let out a low whistle. “Damn, she let you borrow your balls just for this?”

Punz turned his head to him, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “Hmmm. What does that bracelet say, sweet boy?” Sapnap laughed at Punz’s comment, making Dream punch his arm. Techno shook his head at all of you, settling his glasses on top of his head, pushing his bangs out of his eyes.

“You guys are all simps,” Techno murmured to end the discussion. “Sapnap, I have a new model I want you to test out. Punz, I’m leaving the shop to the two of you while I’m gone.” He gestured between you and Punz before tilting his head to Dream. “I mean this with the utmost respect but, go mutilate your body or something at George’s. I don’t trust you and Punz in the same room for more than ten minutes.”

You snorted and Dream shrugged at his words. As you all stood to leave, Sapnap and Techno began to discuss his new car modifications. “Hey, Dream. Can you get my name?” You teased and he pinched your cheek.

“Right above my ass because I know you’ll be staring at it anyway,” he jested. Punz moved to stand behind Techno’s desk, flipping through his account book. His knuckle tattoos flexed as his fingers searched for a specific tab.

You sighed. “Finally, I’ll have something to look at,” you countered, biting back a smirk. Dream mocked a pained expression before heading out the door. You turned back to Punz, walking behind Techno’s desk as well, your hands running along his black jacket. “You’re quiet today,” you muttered, fingers looping through his thin silver chain to draw it from beneath his shirt. You’d bought it for him for your anniversary a few years prior.

He turned towards you, his deadpan look sending shivers down your spine as his hand wrapped around your wrist. “You think I can’t defend myself?” He dared, eyes flickering with lust and heat as he looked at you. His hand moved to hold your chin, your breath hitching as his lips threatened to brush against yours. “I have half a mind to teach you a lesson for that.” His voice was mellow and low as he spoke to you, making your ears burn red.

His thumb moved to brush against your lip, your mouth opening to take his digit between your teeth almost instinctively. There was no way any of the guys would take you seriously if they knew how whipped you actually were for Punz, which was most of the reason why he let you lead when you were around them.

The other half of him liked when you were scary and in charge.

Punz knocked you against the desk, your torso hitting the wood as you bit back a giggle, gripping onto the edge of the wood as he kicked your legs apart. “Speaking for me like you’re my master,” he jabbed, pushing your skirt further up your waist and grinding against you. He tsked as you moaned, pressing your cheek to the grain, shoving Techno’s pen display to the side.

He gripped the collar of your shirt, snapping a few of your buttons. “Christ, Luke,” you moaned, voice uneven and out of breath. “I’m gonna run out of shirts,” you barely whined.

His lips pressed against your shoulder, nose moving to brush against behind your ear. “Are you complaining, pet?” He hissed, hand settling on the edge beside your own, grinding his hips against yours. You shook your head violently, making him lean off you. The sound of his belt dropping to the floor behind you made your head spin, your knees weak.

His hand brushed over your waistband, dipping below your skirt and smacking the curve of your ass. You whimpered at the impact, heart racing as your body throbbed for his attention. "Filthy slut. You like when I punish you, don't you?" Punz chided, pressing his knee between your legs and knotting his fingers into your hair. You rolled back against his thigh almost as if by instinct, hungry for his antics.

His palm smacked you again, gripping onto the sensitive, burning skin with his strong hand as if it were a trophy for him. Truth be told, you were his trophy, especially when you gave in like you were.

As you heard his zipper, your face flushed, gripping onto the wood as you readied yourself, submitting to Punz's mercy with a grin on your face.

Punz Tag List: (to join, please follow this link :))

@more-like-reyna @froggyy06 @drunkpumpkincake @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @alm334 @acidluvs @bbigbbrainn @generallysleepdeprived @froggerrrr @ribbitsworld @bunnylotl @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t @bobbyftmydad @twist3dtinkerbell @book-of-anarchy

[drabbles-mc]

As Soon As I Can

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @alienstardust​:  Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. I’m a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? 💫 thank you

I went with this prompt from This Post: When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person B’s doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.

Warnings: language, angst, hospitals

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where I’ve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge​ @mayans-sauce​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @paintballkid711​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @queenbeered​ @sillygoose6969​ @sesamepancakes​ @yourwonkywriter​ @chibsytelford​ @gemini0410​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @lakamaa12​ @masterlistforimagines​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @black-repunzel99​​ @lexondeck​​​

You and Nestor were sitting in your back yard, sprawled out together under the one tree that managed to survive so many years in the California heat. You were laying on your back, cast-bound arm lying rigidly out to the side. You were staring up through the leaves as you listened to Nestor talk.

“At least they let you pick the color,” he was next to you, laying on his stomach as he dug through his backpack.

You laugh was heavy with sarcasm, “Yea, if I’m not gonna be able to move my arm for the next eight weeks it’s the least they could fucking do.”

“You sound bitter.”

You looked over at him, “I am bitter.”

He chuckled and shook his head, he was about to come back with a witty remark when he got distracted by finding whatever he had been looking for. He smiled as he pulled it out, “Aha!” he held up his pack of Sharpies.

“What’re those for?” you nodded towards the markers.

“For your cast.”

“You’re gonna decorate my cast?” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he was carefully choosing a few different markers to start with, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better about totally eating it falling off your skateboard the other day.”

You laughed as you reached over and shoved him with your good arm, “Shut up—like you haven’t fallen a million times.”

“No casts for me, though,” there was a cocky smirk on his face.

“No casts for me, though,” you mocked as you tried not to laugh.

You watched him in semi-silence as he started at your wrist and slowly but surely made his way up your cast, covering it with all sorts of doodles and quotes. Sometimes you forgot how artistic he could be. You went back and forth between watching him and just resting your head back and closing your eyes. Neither of you kept track of the time as he stayed sprawled on his stomach beside you. the two of you probably would’ve stayed out until dark if your mom hadn’t stuck her head out and said that Nestor’s brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. Nestor threw all of his things back into his bag before helping you up.

Once he was gone, you took some time to actually look at the cast. You smiled at the amount of work he put into something that you were only going to have for a couple months. Your fingers traced lightly over the many marker lines that now covered your cast. Your mother looked over your shoulder at the artwork, a smile passing over her lips for a moment.

“Did Nestor do that?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of your arm, “Yea.”

She nodded, “That was sweet of him.”

You scoffed trying to suppress the smile on your face, “I guess.”

The next eight weeks passed by. And, despite the fact that having your arm in a cast was incredibly inconvenient, it could have been a lot worse. Nestor walked with you to all of your classes, offering to carry your backpack despite the fact that you told him that your busted arm had nothing to do with your ability to carry a bag. Whenever the two of you were together and things were quiet, he would keep adding onto the tiny mural that was your cast. Sometimes you wondered how much more he could fit on it, but he always found a way. For as much as you wanted it off, you were going to miss the bonding time for the two of you. And you were going to miss the artwork, too.

“So,” the doctor smiled and nodded at you, “you are all good to go. We can get the cast off and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Yea?” the thought of having your arm back made you feel giddy.

“Absolutely.”

You felt like a new person once your arm was free of the confines of the cast. Letting out a sigh of relief, you rotated your wrist a few times and carefully ran your fingers over the freshly-exposed skin, glad to feel like you were back in control of your own body.

“I can get rid of this,” your doctor held up the cast he’d just finished so carefully removing, “Unless you want to keep it as a momento.”

“Um, actually,” you felt your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with your mother, “Could I keep it?”

The doctor nodded, smiling as he handed it over to you, “It’s quite the work of art at this point—I understand wanting to hold onto it.”

On the drive home, you felt your mother glancing over at you every couple of minutes, a knowing smile on her face. You tried to ignore it but eventually you broke.

“What?” you were careful of your tone.

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “Nothing. Just, I think it’s nice that you’re keeping it, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks again, but that only made it worse.

You never told Nestor that you kept the cast. You never really knew exactly why you didn’t tell him—the two of you told each other pretty much everything else. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, and as soon as he found out that your cast had been removed he was dragging you right back out to do things that could potentially break your arm all over again, and you let him. He never asked about the cast, so you never brought it up. There were moments, as the two of you got a little older, where you wanted to mention it to him in passing that it was something that you kept, but the moment never seemed quite right. Each time you went to clean out your room and your closet you would come across it, and each time you were faced with the decision of whether or not you wanted to keep it, and you always did. You always told yourself that you didn’t know why, but you knew.

--

“Alright,” you were trying not to let yourself get too emotional as you sat cross-legged on his bed watching him pack “You can’t do anything stupid while I’m not around to yell at you for it, alright?”

He chuckled as he shoved another shirt into his bag, “Trust me, there will be plenty of other people around to yell at me. That’s the whole point of—”

“But they can’t do it as well as I can.”

He glanced over at you, a small smile on his face. He knew how upset you were despite the fact that you were still being supportive. Him going into the Navy was something that you hadn’t seen coming. The thought of him being gone for so long after the two of you had spent so much of your lives practically joined at the hip was a bit jarring. You knew the ache in your chest was caused by more feelings than you were ready to admit to him, or to yourself.

“It’s not like you’ll never hear from me.”

You huffed, “Snail mail is not the same as bothering you in person,” you flopped backwards on the bed, “And for the record I still think it’s bullshit that you don’t get to call me.”

He laughed as he stood up and sat on the bed, looking down at you, “Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be in basic for less time than you had that stupid cast on your arm.”

“Yea but it’s not like you’re coming right home after that.”

He nodded, his expression sobering a little as he continued to look at you, “I know.”

“You’ll come home to visit me as soon as you can?”

He chuckled, nodding, “As soon as I can.”

For a moment you thought about spilling your guts—telling him everything that you were thinking and feeling. There was something about the way that he was looking at you that made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. But the confidence that shot through you went away as quickly as it appeared, and the moment passed as he continued to pack his things.

True to his word, you got letters in the mail. You saved each one, kept them stashed away in your closet alongside the cast that was still there collecting dust even after years of being shuffled around. You sent more letters than you received, not that you really minded. You figured that he needed them more than you did.

However as the months ticked by, you waited for him to say he was coming home, but he never did. It was one thing right into the next and the more time that passed by, the more you wondered if this was how he slipped away from you, even though he swore that that wouldn’t happen. He reached out when he could, when he had the time. And you knew that he had other priorities, and realistically you did too. But there was still part of you that felt like things were changing too much.

Your heart sped up inside your chest when you got a late-night phone call from him. You scrambled to answer it, “Hello?”

“Hey,” he sounded exhausted.

“Hey,” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you spoke to him, “H-how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he sighed, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

You smiled despite the weight settling in your chest, “It’s good to hear yours too. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you couldn’t help asking, “When are you coming home?”

There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “I, uh, I don’t really know.”

“Don’t they give you guys leave or something?”

He let out a tired chuckle, “Yea. But, um, I’m not sure if I’m going to be coming home for leave anytime soon.”

Your heart crumped inside your chest, “Why not?”

“Got some shit that I’m working on lining up here. Doesn’t hurt to stay close.”

You hated that your bottom lip was beginning to tremble, “Right.”

He knew you too well and you could hear the shift in his tone, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you replied immediately, “Fuck, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, really. Keep…keep doing your thing.”

“Thank you for always being there. It’s been…it’s been nice knowing someone is in my corner when no one else seems to be,” there was a beat of silence, “You seen my family lately?”

You took a deep breath, “No. Why, everything alright?”

He sighed, “Wouldn’t know.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line—things had never been simple for him when it came to family, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be home to see you as soon as I can be, alright?”

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, “Alright,” you were about to say goodbye but your brain betrayed you, “Hey, Nestor?”

“Yea?”

“I love you,” the words fell from your lips, free of their confines after so many years of locking them away.

It might’ve been you projecting, but you could’ve sworn that he let out a sigh of relief, “I love you too.”

--

That was the last thing that you’d heard from him. He went radio silent after that. You wondered if it was just you that he was ignoring, but no one seemed to have heard anything from him—his own family included. The only things that were running through your mind were terrible. All of your calls went unanswered, all of your texts went unopened. The letters that you sent didn’t get kicked back to you but you never got responses to any of them either. He had blipped off the radar seemingly without a trace and you had no idea why. You lost a lot of sleep over it but at the same time, life didn’t stop for anyone. You had to keep moving forward while a very large part of you was stuck in the past.

You were packing up your room, getting ready to move into your own apartment. You were throwing things from your closet into random bags and boxes—organization had never been your strong suit. As you were leafing through everything, pulling things down off the top shelf of your closet, you were smacked in the face with a stack of papers. You managed to catch them before they hit the ground, tears instantly springing into your eyes when you realized what they were. Your heart sped up inside your chest as you stood on your tip-toes, reaching for the very back of the shelf. The feeling of the plaster underneath your fingers sent a shock through your body as you pulled it towards you. Looking over it, you were bombarded with an onslaught of memories.

Packing fell by the wayside as you sat on your bed, reading through the letters and looking over all the artwork that was still holding up on the cast. How you managed to keep your tears from falling, you didn’t know.

There was a light knock on your door and you looked up, trying to make yourself look much less upset than you were. The smile immediately dropped from your mother’s face when she saw what you were doing, how it was upsetting you. She leaned against the doorframe as she tried to figure out what to say to you to try and make things better.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her tone was sincere.

You shook your head as you set your cast to the side, “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hadn’t really spoken much to her about it all—there wasn’t a whole lot to say. You didn’t have any answers and with each day that went by it was less likely that you would ever get them. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was more reassuring for you that no one had heard from him, not just you.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He just fucking disappeared, I guess. I just need to accept it and get on with my life.”

“He was your best friend—you’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”

Even though you knew it, it was nice to hear her say it to you. Wiping the tears from your eyes before they could stain your cheeks, you nodded, “I know.”

She lightly drummed her fingers on the door frame, “You keeping those?”

There was a long pause before you finally nodded, “I think so.”

She nodded, “I’ll go grab you another box.”

--

“This thing looks like it’s been through the wringer,” your tattoo artist chuckled as she looked over the cast you’d brought with you.

You managed a smile, “Because it has. I’ve had that thing since I was in, fucking, like eighth grade I think? Long time.”

“What made you decide to get this done now?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Figured it’ll be better than moving it from one closet to the next over the course of my life.”

You could tell by the look on her face, that she wanted to ask for the story behind it all. But the fact that you didn’t offer it up, made her not pry. You’d always been open so if you were keeping something to yourself, she respected that. The two of you talked about the logistics of it, and the changes you want to make to clean it up a little bit. You were excited to come back and get it done, though.

Despite the wait, your excitement and nervousness about coming back didn’t fade. You didn’t regret the decision, but it was still nerve-wracking as you got ready to sit down in the chair. She had you look over the pattern she’d drawn up, and when you gave her the okay she laid the stencil out on your arm and got to work. You watched her as she brought it all to life—it was a little cleaner and more grown-up than the original scribbles and doodles, but it felt right. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes but it wasn’t because of the physical pain of getting the tattoo.

She was wrapping it up in saranwrap as she gave you the run-down of taking care of the tattoo. You’d heard the spiel before but you still listened anyway. You had a hard time taking your eyes off of the artwork as you made your way back out to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you let out a sigh as you tried to inspect the ink as best you could through the wrap around your arm.

The next day, you were putting on a fresh wrap over your tattoo after your shower when you heard your phone buzzing in the next room. With a heavy sigh, you slapped a piece of tape onto the wrap and scrambled to get to your phone before you missed the call. Looking down at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number. But it was an off-hour for a scammer to be calling so you answered it on a whim. Worst case scenario you would just hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name is Rita and I work at Imperial Hospital. I’m looking for Ms. Y/N?”

“Um, speaking?” you had no idea where this was going.

“Good morning. Someone was admitted and you are their only emergency contact—no next of kin listed. Do you know a Mr. Nestor Oceteva?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “Yes,” you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes I do. Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” her tone was calm enough to give you the smallest sliver of reassurance, “But we do need you to come in and answer some questions for us. He’s been in and out of it and we need someone who can give us reliable information.”

“O-okay. Yea. Yea I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour or so before I get there though. Is that alright? He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to be fine. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

You hung up the phone and started flying around your apartment to get ready. You had no idea what you were about to be walking into but at this point you didn’t care. All these years you’ve been wondering about him and he was two towns over. You were as angry as you were relieved.

The line of questions that the nurses asked you seemed endless. You knew that it was all important but there was nothing that you wanted more than to be in the room and see that it really was him, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick from the universe.

Finally, the nurse started walking you back. You only heard half of what she was saying to you about his condition as the two of you approached the room. You heard that he was stable and the rest didn’t really matter to you. your hands were trembling as she gestured to the door to his room, telling you that she would give you a few minutes to yourselves.

You slowly opened the door and a sob lodged itself in your throat as you looked at him. He was passed out, whether the sleep was genuine or from the meds you didn’t know. Truthfully, it was almost difficult to see that it was the Nestor you knew and loved—but you could still see it. Underneath the cuts and scrapes, beneath the braids and the tattoos, there was still your Nestor. The man you knew all those years ago was somewhere underneath it all.

Walking over, you collapsed in the chair next to his bed. You reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing the scars and scabs that covered his knuckles. Whatever he’d been doing all those years, it wasn’t treating him well. You let out a shaky breath as the tears started to fall. You tried to keep your emotions bottled up and quiet, but you couldn’t. There were too many there that you had been battling with and pushing down over the years.

Your crying made him stir. With a quiet groan of pain he opened his eyes and turned to look and see who was in the room with him. His entire body went stiff as his eyes flew completely open, unable to believe that you were sitting there with him.

“H-holy shit,” he coughed, trying to sit up, “Y/N?”

He was conscious and able to speak, so you punched him in the upper arm, “As soon as I can my ass, Nestor.”

He winced and smiled, and you could see all of the motions in his eyes, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

There were a few beats of silence and then he heard the crinkling of the wrap on your arm as you crossed them and he nodded towards it, “Fresh?”

Heat instantly flooded to your face and you fought the urge to get up and run out of the room, “Got it yesterday.”

“Can I see?”

You hated that he was talking to you like everything was normal, but you couldn’t lie and said that you didn’t miss it. Taking a deep breath, you laid your arm down on the hospital bed for him to inspect. A smile instantly took over his features when he saw what it was. He looked up at you, and when he saw the happiness and hurt both in your expression, his smile dulled a little bit.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, Nestor?”

“I know, I know. I should’ve said something.”

“Uh…yea.”

“When they let me out of here, will you let me take you somewhere and tell you all about it?”

“I mean. I guess. But only because I’m nosey,” you managed a smile through the tears.

“I love you.”

The words made your heart skip a beat in your chest, “I love you too.”

“That’s way less clunky than a cast,” he tapped the plastic wrap.

You smiled, wiping the tears away, “Yea, I guess so.”

“I can’t believe you still have the same number after all these years.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, “I kept it in case your ass decided to smarten up and call me one of these days.”

“Hospital calling you on my behalf doesn’t count?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No. No it doesn’t.”

He reached over and clasped your hand in his, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his forehead, careful to miss all the scrapes, “Me too.”

There was so much more to be said, but it could wait. You tried to soak up the feeling of his hand over yours, smiles appearing on both of your faces despite the lost time and the gravity of the situation. A lot of things had changed, but as you felt the heat from his palm and the way his thumb traced back and forth over your hand, you knew the important things were still exactly the same.

[blackwidow-bby]

By the Poolside - Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Hiya~~ have a little summer fic as a ✨treat✨

I also don’t own Marvel or their characters

Warnings: it’s not too crazy, maybe some suggestive language but keep it 18+

Today had really been a sweltering day. One of those days where you weren't called on a mission and the pool at the tower looked too tempting. When the situation allowed, you loved to sunbathe during the summer. Unfortunately it was your job that rarely allowed it, being a S.H.E.I.L.D. agent. Luckily, you took residence in the Avengers tower where, of course, Tony had to have a pool in place for everyone.

Sometimes you think he had it installed just to make his famous parties more fun, but who doesn't enjoy a nice cool swim from time to time.

As you laid in bed, the temptation continued to call out to you. Your skin buzzing to be outside. What could it hurt to relax the whole day? You got up in search of a good bathing suit that would assure the most sun exposure. Finding an almost revealing black strapless bikini would do, you shed your pajamas and grabbed a towel.

-----

The sun was a lot stronger than you thought, having already began sweating before you finished applying your tanning lotion. Delicately you pulled your hair back into a tight ponytail and and twisted the length into a bun securing it in place.

"Good to see another face. I was starting to think I was all alone in the tower today."

Her voice caught you by surprise, obviously thinking the same, but had immediately comforted you knowing who it belonged to.

"I didn't take you for the sneaky type, Wands, but I guess there's a first for everything."

Wanda had been the object of your desire since you first laid eyes on her. She was visually stunning with her high cheekbones and full lips. Green eyes that practically bore into your soul every time they found your gaze. Her voice was borderline angelic to you, and her accent adorable.

Turning around to look at her caused you to quickly compose your growing desire. She was wearing an all white one piece swimsuit with a low dip in the back and a little cut out on her chest. You had never seen so much of her body before, it really took you by surprise. Wanda's usual fashion sense mostly consisted of t-shirts, pants, and a zip up jacket from time to time. Seeing her in something that hugged all of her curves the way it did, hit all new nerves in your body. You silently held back a groan at the sight.

"Considering I wasn't even trying to sneak up on you, really shows how good of an agent you must be Y/N." she looked you over with a smirk. All you did was give her a playful roll of your eyes.

"Well maybe you can make it up to me by putting some of this tanning lotion on my back. I'm not flexible enough to reach it myself." you gave her a little wiggle of your eyebrows that you doubt she saw as she didn't respond to your playful gesture.

"It's the least I could do." Wanda took the bottle from where it sat on the lounge chair. You watched closely as her nimble fingers gently squeezed the bottle to obtain as much as she thought was enough. Your eyes followed every single movement she made with her hands. Putting the bottle down, rubbing the lotion on her palms...

"I can't put any on your back if your front is facing me." Your face flushed, but you were willing to blame the heat as quickly as possible if need be. You turned your back to her and maneuvered yourself backwards to make it easier for her to apply.

You could've sworn your body almost failed you when you narrowly avoided whimpering when she placed her hands on your shoulder with the lotion that was way too cold for how Wan-...the sun made your skin feel. Her thin fingers worked your skin so slowly and professionally it was as if she took the care of your body more serious than you did. Her electric touch made chills a long term placement upon your arms. When she started to inch lower down your back you almost coughed when she slipped her hands under the band of your bikini top. You had been so enthralled with the young woman behind you that even simple ministrations sent sinful feelings between your legs. You silently thanked both Wanda and your attraction for the lack of thoughts in your mind. The redhead creating a lack of any thoughts or commands to enter just by existing. Certainly drawing a blank with every small touch and rub and dragging of fingers.

Your poor heart was bounding out of your chest as Wanda's fingers got awfully close to the sides of your breasts. Silly Wanda, that's all covered by bikini top, no need to apply lotion there. Controlling your breathing became harder and harder but eventually she moved away from your ribs and ventured to your lower back. A small part of your brain was thankful Wanda cared so much about sun exposure, because she was definitely taking her time and making sure every spot of your back was touched. You let your eyes fall closed for a brief moment until you felt her lean forward.

"Now it's time for you to do me." Wanda whispered very close to your ear, you felt every bit of her words on the shell. The shakiest breath fell from your lips at the abrupt closeness that you fully missed when she backed away to turn around.

It's like your brain was short circuiting at the entire exchange, no thoughts crossing your mind, just trying to find the motor skills so that you could return the offer back to Wanda. Amidst trying to squeeze out some of the lotion on your hand, your eyes caught sight of Wanda lowering her straps down her arms to give you better access to her back. She didn't have nearly as much skin exposed as you did, but the sun is a wrathful star and would fully take any opportunity to burn all those that bare themselves to it.

Your hands were shaking with desperation to attach themselves to her bare back. Any opportunity to touch your crush was enough experience to fuel the thoughts that would come later in the night when you wanted to wind down and imagine a future that may never come to fruition.

Finally your hands landed. You started at her shoulders just as she did you. Her skin was much softer than you expected. Even though she had been exposed to the sun, her back still felt unfairly cool under your touch. You focused on trying to move your hands as gracefully as Wanda had earlier. It must've worked since you heard Wanda let out the softest sigh at your movements, lulling her head to the side like you were rubbing sore muscles. When you thought you applied enough to her shoulders you worked your way down. You couldn't help but notice Wanda leaning her back into your touch, everywhere your hand hit. You also couldn't help slipping your fingers under the hem of her swimsuit, only to cover every inch in tanning lotion, you know...to help Wanda out. But whenever you did, she would shudder and let out a light sound, like she wanted you to hear but was concerned about it happening too often.

"That felt so relaxing, maybe I should make you give me back rubs regularly." Wanda was smirking again at you after she got up from your lounge chair. "You're very good with your hands."

That last comment made you choke. You could swear she was doing everything in her power to fluster you, but why? Could she be interested?

"I don't think it would take much to force me to rub you." Wanda's eyebrows shot up. Did you really just say that? "I- I-I mean rub your b-back or l-like your arms or something is what I meant." Nice save Y/N. You truly thought you saved that situation until Wanda suddenly busted with laughter. It wasn't that funny was it? She must've noticed your confused face cause she started walking up to you very slowly. She took your hand from your side and pulled you flush against herself, snaking her arms around the back of your neck.

"Won't take much for you to rub me, huh?" Oh you were really short circuiting now. Was she into you? Like...really into you? While you were struggling to take in what was happening, Wanda was leaning closer. The closer she got, the wider your eyes went. Her lips came so close to yours but stopped just short of the kiss you only thought of in your dreams.

"You're cute but I like you much better when you're nervous like this." Your brain was still malfunctioning. Not yet caught up to what was perspiring before you. Only one thing playing on repeat, "You think I'm cute?" Wanda giggled against your lips and tightened her hold around your neck finally bringing your lips together. The kiss could've knocked your legs from under you had you not already been leaning forward on Wanda. Her lips were soft and cold against your heated face. She smelled sweet like strawberries and banana boat.

You felt her start to pull away, so reluctantly you followed suit. Her arms remained wrapped around you.

"What do you think?"

[fandomsonrequests]

unexpected friend

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: choi san

reader: fem

word count: 5.4k

summary:  fate decided to test this decade long feud between you and choi san

notes: enemies to lovers AU, toxic themes, character death, substance abuse (it’s not explicit) such as alcohol and cigarettes, heavy themes, language, violence 

You had no idea where it started— you just knew that you hated Choi San with every fiber of your being. And unsurprisingly, the feeling is mutual with you.

Maybe it started in kindergarten when he accidentally pushed you to the ground in the game of tag. You got so mad at him, saying that he meant it when he obviously didn’t, calling him stupid because “all boys are stupid.”. Or maybe it started when you knocked over his tower of building blocks as revenge. Or was it when he dipped your pigtails in paint to get back at you? Or maybe the time he spread rumors that you had cooties causing everyone to avoid you like the plague.

Whatever the reason, it spiraled into a childhood rivalry that continued as you grew older. The endless cycle of cat versus dog, taking revenge on one another, followed into grade school, where you reached your horse phase and he reached his gun dam phase. It was inevitable you’d see him again— you both lived in a fairly small town after all.

Petty actions like drawing on the other’s homework turned into stealing each other’s lunches or setting some sort of prank at each other’s seats— whatever your ten-year-old brains could think of. Your screaming matches grew even worse and at one point, you both started throwing punches. The teachers always had to watch you during breaks because eventually, you’d be on top of each other and pulling at each other’s hair.

San had an advantage of course since he took taekwondo, you always ended up as the loser. But in retaliation, you managed to convince your mother to enroll you in some other martial art to protect yourself. And when you won your first little fistfight— you always made sure to lord it over him.

“Hah, you got beat by a little girl! Not so tough now huh potato-head?”

“Shut up horse-face!”

San saw your kindness and charisma towards others as an act. It was your own way of reeling others in to be on your side, gathering some sort of army to help you gang up against him. You on the other hand managed to convince yourself that his cute little dimples and selflessness for others was a facade, You couldn’t believe how many people he’s managed to fool or turn against you. And you’ve always hated him for that. You let it fester as you go through grade school and towards middle school. That hatred you harbored for him was always lit inside you.

Your parents and his were always apologizing to each other during parent-teacher meetings or school events, having to hold you back from jumping on one another. Your dad had given up on the whole thing so he was totally useless; that left you to run to your mother for comfort. Whatever the situation was, at the end of the day, she was always on your side.

“Things will blow over soon. But please, honey, try to stay out of trouble for me?”

So when she died in your junior year of high school, you couldn’t help but feel alone. Your dad had taken to smoking to cope with the loss, marrying a woman who was in love with alcohol while bringing her two hellish twin daughters with her into your home. Things grew miserable for you at home; your dad became a pathetic pushover, letting his new wife run the household. That made you angry— how could he get over your mother so easily? How could he let himself get walked over like that? How could he ignore the way your older step-sisters trampled all over you?

How could he let all this happen?

San’s endless taunting at school didn’t help either. His harmless pranks grew worse as time passed: spray-painting some nasty words on your locker, or setting a bucket of paint on top of the gym doors since you’re always the last one to head out. You’d heed your mother’s words, always doing your best to ignore him. For a while, it had worked and he pestered you less than usual but your mom’s death and the situation at home had triggered something in you, making you snap back. You’d shove his face down into his food during lunch or knock his books down the stairwell whenever you pass by each other. You had even managed to sneak some of the insects from the lab into his gym clothes, causing him to end up with nasty rashes all over his body for a week.

Your physical fights weren’t frequent but they became more violent, with one or both of you having to go to the nurses, holding an ice pack to your busted lips while a piece of gauze was stuck up his bloodied nose. It took several students or even teachers to pull you apart because most of the time no one wanted to jump in and separate you two; it was always so messy with fists and kicks flying everywhere. There was even one point where you both had to go to the hospital for fractured bones. You were both suspended for a week.

Fortunately, things had toned down now that you both were in your final year of high school with the pressure of college and meeting requirements looming over you. Although, neither of you managed to make up. You’d still exchange some foul words but the stupid pranks and fights had simmered down. That never meant you were on good terms though.

But then fate decided to be a little shit and put you in a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in.

Your new biology teacher didn’t seem to be informed about the decade-long feud between you and San. So when she assigned the both of you as partners, you felt your heart drop to your stomach as a sick feeling crawled over you. You wanted to cry and throw up at the same time- that’s just how much you despised him. You both tried to plead with her to change partners but she was as stubborn as a mule, insisting that you two can “sort out your differences” and finish this project as a team.

And now here you were, avoiding each other’s stares despite being sat next to each other. The proximity between you two was suffocating, it made it hard to focus on the project being explained to you by your cruel teacher. Your skin tingles unpleasantly whenever either of you shifted in your seat, your arms just several centimeters away from touching each other. Many thoughts ran through your head on how you can get out of this. But you knew that you had to find some time to work on the damn thing together or else you’d flunk high school— and being stuck in community college, never being able to leave this town, was not worth hitting San at the back of the head and gloating at him.

“You have the rest of the period to plan with each other. Make sure to have your presentation set and ready for next week.” Your teacher says and sits at her desk.

The room was filled with chatter as the students started conversing with each other. Many pairs threw knowing stares at you, worried that you’d be at each other’s throats. Surprisingly you weren’t… at least not yet anyway.

For a while, neither of you said anything to each other. San simply scrolled through his phone hidden under his desk while you organized your final notes. Minutes tick by and the class slowly comes to an end. With a heavy sigh, you decided to swallow your pride and talk to the guy.

You turn to the boy, roughly shoving his knee with yours and he sends you an irritated glare. “C’mon we need to plan for this.” You deadpan, ignoring the look he gave you.

San returned the sigh and pocketed his phone, shifting to face you. “Alright then. So what’s the plan?”

“That’s what we’re supposed to be talking about, dumbass.” You mutter, growing irritated. You clench your fists together in an attempt to keep your calm before continuing. “Anyway, we’re supposed to make some model of the nerve cells then present it.”

San stays quiet for a moment before speaking up. “My sister has some spare clay and wires from her sculpting hobby. I could ask for some.”

“Great. You work on that while I work on the script.” You conclude before going back to your notes.

“Hold on- you’re gonna leave me with all of the hard work?”

“We have the same workload?? I’m making the script.”

“That’s easy- scripts can be finished within a day or something.” San shot back, finding the arrangement you had set, without his consultation by the way, as unfair.

“Then I’ll help you when I’m done. Quit whining like a bitch.” You sigh, having no energy to continue the argument with him.

“Asshat…” He mumbles under his breath, pulling out his phone to text his sister. He expected some sort of retaliation from you but you simply remained quiet. That was odd- considering that you never missed the chance to have the last word in. Maybe you just weren’t feeling it today.

Nevertheless, he ignored you, deciding that it wasn’t worth pestering you at the moment. The bell rings, signaling the end of the class, and you’re immediately up and out of your seat, stuffing your notebook into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder. It almost hits San’s cheek in the process but you were already walking out the door before he could call you out on it.

“Geez…” He huffs and keeps his own things, glaring after you while hoping that time would fly by fast so that the project was done and over with.

~~

A few days have passed by since the biology class. True enough, you’ve finished writing and even printing the script within the day the project was assigned to you. So now you were stuck helping out San with sculpting the whole model. You two would work together at the back of the library after school. Initially the librarian was hesitant about letting the two of you inside given your reputation and all. But when she saw that neither of you were at each other’s throats, surprisingly, she allowed for you to work on it in the library.

Of course you and San still had some disputes— how it’s supposed to be positioned, what shape it’s supposed to take, yadda yadda. But it had never escalated into a full blown argument because it always ended up with you taking the blow of his harsh words. That alone started to concern the boy, you’d always get back at him. But your resigned silence after every quip he threw at you started to worry him. Sure he hated your guts but San wasn’t a nasty person. He knew something was bothering you. But, he never took the initiative to ask what was bothering you; it wasn’t his problem anyway.

~~

A weekend away from Monday aka the day of your presentation. The model was almost done— it just needed a paint job. Since it was a Saturday afternoon, meaning the school was closed, neither of you were able to work at your usual spot. So San decided to just take the whole thing to your home to finish it. Of course he could finish the whole thing himself but he had a party to attend later in the evening, and he didn’t want to miss out on it.

He arrives at your home, model in one hand and a crate of paints in the other. He takes note of the absence of your dad’s and step-sister’s cars in the driveway and assumed that you were all out. He sighs in frustration, hoping that that wasn’t the case. Jogging up to the porch, the boy sets down the crate and rings the doorbell a couple of times, foot tapping against the wooden floorboards as he waits.

When there was no response after a few minutes he tried again, this time ringing the doorbell a bit more frantically. Before he could turn around and head back home after getting no response, he hears frantic footsteps scurrying inside and steps back as the door swings open. There you were, hair looking like a bird’s nest while your week-old cardigan hung off your shoulders. There were dark circles under your eyes and you looked like a hobo who had the opportunity to clean after themselves. In other words: you were a mess.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You snap the minute your hazy mind registers that San was standing at your door.

The said boy snaps out of his own trance and shoves the model in your face. “We need to finish this.”

You stare at the figure in his hand then to the crate by his foot and then to his face that displayed an expectant expression. You sigh and rub your face. “Couldn’t you have finished it yourself?”

“I’m busy later.”

Another sigh leaves you and you step back to let him in. He enters the house, leaving his shoes by the door as he looks around the place. It was a bit messier than he had expected. There were rumpled coats hanging off of the arm of the couch, a small pack of cigarettes and a few bottles of cheap beer on the coffee table. The wallpaper was starting to fade with a few faint stains here and there.

San stays quiet as he follows you through the house, seeing the small stack of dishes waiting to be washed in the sink. He turns back to look at you, finding your silence as unnerving. You only trudged up the stairs, motioning for you to follow him. He expected to see you turn down the hallway and enter one of the rooms but was quite surprised to see you stop by a frayed rope hanging from the ceiling of the hall. You reach up and tug down on it, revealing the ladder towards the attic.

“Don’t tell me you live up there,” San jabs.

“Yeah and what of it?” You grumble, sending him a tired glare over your shoulder before climbing up the ladder.

He was stunned into silence when he realized that you were serious. He bites his tongue and refrains from jeering at you, handing the box of paints to you before climbing up. Several thoughts ran through his mind— why was your room in an attic? And since when did you start smoking and drinking? Was it even yours?

His head pokes into the surprisingly clean but small room. Your bed was pressed up near the slanted wall of the roof, several polaroids of you, your few friends, and your mother plastered along it. On the opposite side was your desk and your wardrobe whose paint was starting to chip off. Several boxes, labeled and not labeled, were pushed to the corner of the room, stacked in a way for them to take up less space.

San looks to you rummaging through your desk, probably finding a brush or something. He wordlessly steps into the room and pulls the rope, closing the trapdoor beneath him. He turns to you again and before he could stop himself, he found himself blurting the question that was plaguing his mind: “What the hell happened to you?”

You turn on your heel, almost knocking over the picture frame of you and your mom. Your hand reached out to steady it before answering San. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Why do you live up here?” He motioned to the whole attic space with his arm. “Don’t you have a room downstairs?”

“I do.” You simply say and take the crate of paints, pulling out the needed colors and some paper cups for you to place them in.

When you don’t elaborate, San squats down to your level on the ground and tugs the purple paint tube out your hand. “What happened to it?”

“Why do you care?” You snatch the tube back with a hiss, preparing all the things needed. “It’s none of your business…”

The boy sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. He nibbles at his cheeks, carefully going over what he wanted to say. “...look, _____,” he starts, voice surprisingly gentle. “You don’t have to tell me everything but you don’t have to keep everything in.”

You don’t answer him or make any move to acknowledge what he had said. But you were listening; part of you decided to take down your walls for just a moment and hear what he has to say. And San seemed to sense this because he continues.

“I’m not gonna say that ‘I’m here for you’ and all that crap but, there are people who're willing to listen to you. Whatever you’re going through right now, no matter how big or small it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Again, you don’t respond. A moment of silence full of high strung tension passed by. It was only a few seconds but it felt longer than that— especially since you both stopped in what you were doing and stared at the ground or at each other’s hands.

You always hated San but you couldn’t help but sense the sincerity in his words. It’s kind of pathetic but at the moment, his genuinity, the softness of the way he spoke was what you were craving for. At that moment, you just wanted assurance that things will be okay and that whatever you were doing in life wasn’t useless. And the guy you seemed to hate most was offering you that.

Tears prick at your eyes and you hastily brush it away with the sleeve of your cardigan, refusing to show any weakness to your nemesis. But it was hard; once the tears started flowing it was difficult for you to stop. You play it off by finishing up in preparing the paints, suppressing any hiccups or sobs that would escape before eventually giving up and bringing your legs up to your chin, crying into your sweats. Fuck it if San sees.

You curled up into yourself, crying into your pants when you felt a gentle but hesitant hand on your shoulder. You jolt at the touch, seeing San back away quickly. His brows were furrowed in concern and his lips were pursed, almost as if he were thinking about what he was going to say.

“G-go on, gloat,” You hiccup, choking on your tears. “I look like a m-mess anyway…”

You were surprised, and a little bit embarrassed, that he didn’t follow with what you said. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small packet of tissues and handing it over to you. He looked up to your desk, seeing your water container on your desk. He stands up to take it, shaking it to check if there was still some water in it, before placing it by your foot.

“I’m not going to lie, you are a mess,” San says before returning to his previous spot on the floor. “But I guess that’s normal when you’re having a shitty day.”

“More like a shitty life…” You mumble. You chug down the rest of your water, managing to stop your tears as you wipe them away with the tissues. You look up at the boy across you and sigh heavily. “It’s my step-mom,” you say.

“I’m sorry?”

“My step-mom. She made me move up here so that her daughters could take my room.” You explain. “My dad didn’t say anything because he’s a pushover, wasting his life away on cigarettes and the alcohol his wife buys…”

San nods slowly in understanding, finally making sense of what he saw in the living room and kitchen. That explained a lot of things: why you would always faintly smell of alcohol or nicotine a few months after your mother had died. It had honestly shocked him to hear that— your dad and step-mom always looked presentable in public. Your step-sisters were a bit more extravagant but neat nonetheless. The way they talked and carried themselves didn’t seem to indicate that they had any substance addiction.

Thinking back on it, it had also explained why you were so irate and moody almost all the time, leading to you losing some friends in high school as you fell back into yourself or into violence. It was a defense mechanism— you didn’t want to seem vulnerable because at home, you were vulnerable enough.

An idea pops into his head and he promptly stands up, momentarily making you jump from his sudden movement. You look up at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Come with me.”

“What???”

“I said get up and come with me.” San says and actually held his hand out to you.

You look at it skeptically before looking up at him, contemplating about any consequences in following him— if there were any. He wiggles his fingers, impatiently coaxing you to join him and you finally make up your mind. Might as well follow him; you had nothing to lose anyway.

You swat his hand away to get up on your own, mumbling something along the lines that you could get up yourself before straightening yourself out and placing your hands on your hips. He gives a satisfied nod and grabs his shoes to put them on. He then kicks open the trapdoor before heading back down for you to follow.

He returns to the living room with you trailing behind, still wondering where exactly he wanted you to go. When you glance at the clock you see that it’s already 5:30 in the afternoon. Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt something land by your feet. You whipped your head around to see San pointing at your shoes which he probably threw at you from the door.

“We’re heading out for a while.” He says as he exits your house. You take a moment to process what was happening when he pops his head in. “Come on slowpoke.” He ushers you.

You hastily throw on your shoes, grabbing the house keys hanging by the coat rack, and hop out of the house. You lock the door behind you and approach San who was sitting upon his notoriously loud motorbike. “Where are we going?” You ask, settling down behind him.

Your arms awkwardly flutter beside you, opting to hold onto whatever space was left on your seat. You jump in surprise when you hear and feel the engine roar to life, eliciting an amused chuckle from the boy in front of you. You glare at the back of his head, smacking his shoulder and settling yourself once more.

“Hold on tight,” San tells you as he revs up the motorbike.

“I am.” You argue and strengthen your grip on the seat, shaking the bike a little to emphasize your point.

“No you aren’t.” You feel heat rise to your face when he tutted in annoyance, taking your arms and placing them around his waist. “There you go. See? No harm done.”

You only grumble something in response, making him chuckle to himself. It was a bit strange to see you tame like this. Sure it kind of boosted his ego considering that he managed to make you flustered with just a few words and a simple action but he actually kind of liked it when you weren’t at each other’s throats. He revved up the engine again before taking off and speeding down the road.

The evening breeze is cool as it whips through your hair and brushes against you, sending small goosebumps running down your skin. A small yelp escapes you when San picks up speed, causing your grip on him to tighten. He glanced back at you for a moment before taking the turn that exits the town and towards the road uphill. It led to the small forest that overlooked the city; it was a popular place in town for hiking or camping. You remember going there to play as a kid.

The air gets chillier as you both reach a higher altitude. You unconsciously nuzzle closer to the boy in front of you in an attempt to seek some body heat. The sky grows darker, turning into a deeper blue shade as the night slowly creeps upon the town. Some stars start to peek and settle themselves in the dark blanket of the sky by the time San slows down to a stop. He had stopped by the edge of the forest, a metal railing along the opposite end to keep people or vehicles from falling off the edge.

“We’re here.” San says and looks back at you. “You can let go if you want now.”

At that, you peel yourself away from him and hop off his bike mumbling something about how cocky he was while walking over to the railings. He joins you soon after, keeping a respectable distance from you. None of you say anything at first, simply taking in the view of the city in front of you. Now know why San took you out here: to breathe and clear your mind of things; something that you didn’t know you needed at the moment.

The spot you were in allowed you to overlook the town, seeing the lights from the roads and houses down below. You could spot the water tower in the distance along with the radio tower next to it. As you survey the scene before you, you make out one house in the distance with a multitude of colored lights flashing around it.

“Looks like someone’s having a party.” You muse, finally breaking the silence.

San hums in acknowledgement. “I hope they aren’t missing me.”

It takes a moment for you to understand what he said, perking up when it made sense to you. “So that’s what you meant when you were ‘busy.’” You say as you lightly punch his arm. “You’re such an ass.”

“What? I wasn’t lying; I would’ve been busy.” He defends himself, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah,” You huff. “Busy shoving your tongue down people’s throats.”

A mischievous hum. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Ew no, gross- I’ll pass.”

You share a small laugh together before settling into silence again. It was… kind of cathartic, being able to actually laugh for a long while-even if it was with your longtime nemesis. It was better than crying yourself to sleep almost every night.

You turn to lean your back against the railing, using your arms to support you as you mull over the forest.

“I used to come here a lot as a kid.” You say, managing to capture San’s attention. “Pretended to gallop along the trees like some sort of princess when I was in my horse phase… I would always come home with scraped knees. I was a clumsy kid.”

“Except when you’d throw punches at me,” San interjected, ghosting a hand over his jaw. “You sure knew how to pack a punch.”

You smile apologetically, a sheepish flush on your cheeks, and look over to him. “Well you did deliver some pretty good kicks- I needed to learn how to defend myself.”

San shrugged in agreement. “I guess,” He muses and offers you a small smile, lapsing into silence again. “You know… it’s actually kind of surprising but you aren’t so bad to talk to.”

You nibble at your lower lip at his confession, unsure of what to make of it. When you look up at him, you see that he had inched a little closer to you. He still kept a reasonable amount of space between you two but it was apparent that he wanted to get closer. He drums his fingers against the cool metal of the railing, brows furrowed as he thinks over his next words carefully.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out. “I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been an asshole to you. I know that I’ve hurt you, not just physically, but emotionally too. And I want to apologize for that… I know, words are just words. It won’t do anything to reverse or take back what I’ve done to you then, but please, take it as a first step to making it up to you.”

San decided to meet your watery gaze, his chest clenching at the tears you were trying so hard to hold back. He holds his hand out instinctively, wanting to offer some sort of physical comfort. He stops himself midway, opting to just settle it on the rail halfway from you. “You don’t have to make a decision right here and now. You can still hate me all you want, but I promise to leave you alone from now on.”

You whimper pathetically, finally letting the tears flow down your cheeks. You felt guilt consume you at his apology. Why was he taking the blame for everything? It should be you who was saying sorry. After all,you were just as cruel as him. And thinking back on it, this feud had most likely started with you. You raise a sweater paw to wipe at your tears, sobbing into your hand.

God you were a mess.

“Don’t, don’t blame yourself… I should be apologizing too. It takes two to tango right?” You hiccup, managing to give him a shaky smile. “I could’ve chosen to ignore you or direct my anger elsewhere but I still ended up targeting you at the end of the day…”

“_______, it’s okay—“

“No it’s not.” You hiss. “I’m not just talking about what I did in high school. I’m talking about every instance I was cruel to you. It was petty, extremely childish, and just horrible overall. I don’t expect you to forgive me but I want to apologize too. I’ve made part of your life a living hell.”

You glance at his hand on the railing before holding your own out towards him. “Truce?” You offer. “We don’t have to be all buddy-buddy after this but at least we can just end this whole thing.”

San gripped your hand in a gentle but firm handshake. “Truce.” His touch lingered for

just a second before he gave a gentle squeeze and pulled away. He returned it to the previous spot on the railing.

The both of you remain for a while, just overlooking the town and reflecting on what had happened. The quiet atmosphere that you both shared suddenly didn’t seem so awkward anymore. Instead, it was filled with some tension but with a bit of comfort at the same time. It was similar to the feeling of a thorn being plucked out of your side: painful but relief that it was finally out.

You don’t expect that things would go right at once— this wasn’t like the movies or the books where everything was magically solved. You both had left some scars on each other, some that are too hard to forget or too deep to heal easily. But you two were working on it: healing and forgiving each other. It was still a long journey but it was something you were both willing to go on together.

You glance to San, seeing how relaxed he was right now. He didn’t look so annoying or so terrifying anymore. A tiny grin makes its way to your lips; never in a million years did you think you’d find solace in someone you despised so much.

“Hey San,” You call out to him, resting your hand beside his, your pinkies brushing against each other. “...thanks for this. I really needed it.”

He smiles at you, flashing his cute dimples at you. It sends a warm, tingly feeling down your spine and you couldn’t help but feel calm at that. “Glad I could help.” He momentarily pat the back of your hand, engulfing it with his larger one when you didn’t pull away.

It was late when he drove you home to finish the project. Unsurprisingly, your family was still out, probably at an event they forgot to tell you about. But you didn’t mind, you had an unexpected friend with you right now.

You smile to yourself as you wave goodbye to San from the doorway, seeing him speed down the road and into the night. He may have been the bad guy in your life but it turns out, he wasn’t such a bad guy. And you were thankful that you were able to see that because at least you knew you had someone in your corner.

[prismatica-the-strange]

Would you want to try the 61 from the smutty promts list (Just once…) this could be a nice angsty, I-love-you-but-it’s-against-the-rules-but-we-might-die-tonight thingy?

🥵🥵

18+ Smutty Smut Smut- Oral (Fem receiving)

"Fuck it!" You throw the tool in your hand and it clangs against the floor. After hours of trying to get the sub-light engines back online after the firefight, you needed a break.

"What's going on?" Daniel asks, coming back to check on you.

"I give up! The damn thing is busted beyond any repairs can do! Piece of shit!" You exclaim, kicking the panel and running your hand through your hair, "If we ever get back, I need a stiff drink."

"Anything I can do?"

"Not unless you've got some replacement crystals somewhere on ya." You hop up on one of the stacked crates and sit down, hugging a knee to your chest. You look over to him when he doesn't say anything and find him looking at you with what you can only describe as heart eyes. "Daniel."

He blinks at you before looking away, "I know."

The two of you had been pining over each other for quite a while now, but due to the nature of your jobs, there were rules in place that said it couldn't happen. The only problem was that every time Daniel was in the same room as you he can't seem to take his eyes off you. You were all too familiar with his bedroom eyes from catching him staring during movie night, and they made you go weak at the knee. The whole situation was frustrating like nothing else.

"So what are we gonna do?" He's looking at you like that again. Your fingers dig into your leg and you feel your throat go dry.

"I... I don't know." You sigh, trying to avoid his gaze, "What I do know, is that the engines are shot, comms are down, and life support isn't too far behind. We took too much damage for me to ever fix on my own."

"So-"

"We're probably gonna die here," you nod, "Sometime in the next couple days, a few thousand lightyears off course. It's beyond unlikely that the team will find us in time."

He goes quiet, but you hear him step closer and feel his hand in your ankle.

You turn to look at him, he's so close, it would be so easy to reach out and just-

"Then before that happens," he squeezes your ankle and swallows hard, "Maybe we could-"

"Daniel, we can't-"

“Just…once. Please." He begs quietly, looking up at you, "I just need to taste you once."

His hand drags up your leg before his fingers graze your chin.

"I can't bear dying without knowing," he mutters, "How you feel... taste... sound... Y/n please."

He's pleading with you, he knows you feel something for him and he hopes you're willing to act on it.

He's so close, his lips- all you would need to do is lean forward, give in to butterflies in your stomach.

"I-..." Your eyes flit down to his lips before your hand is on the back of his neck, pulling them against your own.

His lips are soft and warm against yours as he kisses you with a hunger you didn't expect.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, thumbs digging circles against the skin under your shirt. The contact makes you whine and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue taking immediate dominance over yours.

You're both breathing heavily by the time you pull away. He wastes no time, mouth latching on to your neck, biting and sucking what's sure to leave a monster of a hickey. You feel his hands move to your belt, fumbling with it unsuccessfully until he pulls away with a huff.

"Damn thing," he mutters.

"Let me," you chuckle, shooing his hands away. As soon as you have it unbuckled his lips and hands are back on you, tugging at your pants. It takes a bit, but you manage to get them off between the heated kisses and desperate groping. Your shirt follows not long after, leaving you in nothing but your underwear, but that doesn't last long either with the way his hands roam your body.

The sight of you naked in front of him has him ravenous. He squeezes and massages your breasts as his mouth licks, kisses, bites, and burns its way down your neck, and across your chest, not leaving an inch untouched.

By the time he makes it down to your heat, your breathing is ragged. He pulls you to the edge of the crate, fingers digging into your ass cheeks.

"Daniel," you whine when he lingers for a moment, breath fanning over you, so close but not close enough.

He swallows hard before pressing a slow hard lick through your folds, his tongue flat against your clit. He groans against you, nails scratching down your thighs, before giving you another lick, just as hard and slow as the last, relishing in the taste and feel of your arousal.

"You better be ready for a long night, gorgeous," he hums, "because I don't plan on leaving this spot for hours."

He's like a man starved the way he eats you out, tongue delving inside you, already addicted to the taste of your pussy. His lips on your clit, sucking and nipping, draw beautiful gasps and moans from you, like music to him. He has no idea how he ever survived anywhere other than between your thighs.

"Oh fuck! Yes! Right there!- Daniel yes! Yes! I'm gonna- Fuck!- I'm gonna cum!" Your hands tug at his hair as you cum all over his tongue.

"Paradise," he hums, lips still pressed against you, "I must have already died, because this is heaven."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"Fuck baby, feels so good!" He groans, cock buried deep inside you with you bent over one of the crates, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounds into you.

"I could spend a lifeti-" He's cut off by the rings activating behind him, "Shit!"

You collapse to your knees when he pulls away, scrambling for his zat.

"I heard you two needed a rescu- What the hell?!"

"Jacob?"

The man in question immediately turns away and Daniel starts grabbing your clothes.

"The Tok'ra got a message from Hammond, they said they'd lost contact with you after a firefight somewhere near this sector," Jacob explains as Daniel helps you get dressed, your legs basically jelly, "Luckily I was in the area and could pick you up... Are you decent yet?"

Taglist: @mysg1spacemonkey @sgcprometheus @i-am-morrigans-apprentice @malcolm-reeds-pineapple @witching-things @reeseykins @abnormalvampire64 @girl-obsessed-with-things @gatez @myro-tse @just-a-si-fi-nerd

[fanfiction-inc]

“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

[Previous Chapter] / [Next Chapter]

Verse: Falcon And The Winter Soldier / Captain America And The Winter Soldier / Captain America: Civil War/ Marvel Alternate Universe

Characters/Pairings: Baron Zemo/ Reader, Baron Zemo/ Female Reader, John Walker

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8971

Warnings/Tags: Drinking, smut, m/f, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex, Google translated translations, Walker is an asshole and just keeps getting worse.

Summary: Baron Helmut Zemo, world renowned racer and your sworn enemy on the track. You two have been going at it for years now, but now you two must join forces to fight back against John Walker, a new up and coming racer who is proving to beat both of you. Will you two survive the other or meet your demise on the track?

Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32606833/chapters/81176392?view_adult=true

This is a mess. An absolute, blazing mess that sits before you in the middle of your workshop. The chassis was dented all to Hell, a new one having to be rebuilt and delivered to fix your custom car. The engine had parts missing that were left at the crash sight when it was towed away. One car to your name, and it was fucked up. Maybe you should have taken Stark’s sponsorship and invested in a backup. Sitting on the cement floor of the workshop, screwdriver in hand as you pry out bits and pieces of parts from the engine, taking note of the parts and working on the budget you had set out for this year's series of races, you dreaded the moment you’d see the total cost. This repair would take a nice chunk, but you still had money left over after to make sure your car was at its best. That was the thing about working with your car, it was just you and this beast of metal and speed, working as one to reach the end of the line. The screwdriver is set down at your side when you struggled too long on getting the broken interconnecting rod that links the turbine from the compressor, a sigh following as you sit back. A slow sense of dread fills you as you look at the broken parts scattering the ground, the missing parts on your list, and the purple paint that still streaks the busted carbon fiber chassis. 

Working with Zemo was a dangerous game, which you recognized even before you shook on the arrangement he had proposed. He was wicked on the course, predictable at times but at others a ticking time bomb of what his next move may be. He was dangerous, but that is what made him damn good. He took far more risk than you usually would when it came to advancement in the race. Where you held back, he pushed forward. No wonder the man infuriated you. But this plan was the only thing you had to get things back to normal, back to the way they were where you hated Zemo with a passion and fought tooth and nail to stay better than him. You would never admit it, but without your rival, what fun was the race? See, it's not only the thrill of the chase between the driver and death, inching closer and closer with each hairpin turn and the risk of the other driver's moves. No, it’s also the thrill of having someone who wants to win just as bad as you, who is just as good and will do anything to try and progress further than you. It sets a standard, something to surpass, something to stay on level ground with when you catch yourself falling. Zemo was your equal, no matter how much you hated him. And equals like you two don’t have room for a third party to jump in and surpass. The game isn’t any fun when someone fucks with the rules. He had a point when it came to beating Walker down, especially since the man was already fighting you both with molotov cocktails and rocket fire in the form of playing dirty on the track. He was bringing a war to a battle just to see if he could come out on top. Despite everything telling you to stay away from Zemo and not get involved in this scheme, that it could end badly for one or both of you, you couldn’t stand the idea of having Walker walk all over you like some doormat. You couldn’t let him walk in as if he owned the place and could rule as he pleased. 

He needed a reality check. 

Your form pops and cracks as you stand, stiff from sitting on the solid ground and stretching to relieve your body of the tension. Everything felt so wrong, and you knew you had to make it right...But was this the right way to do it? “Jesus, you sound like that rice cereal with the little elves. You know, snap, crackle, and pop?” You laugh lightly when your friend comes into the workshop, food in hand and dressed down from the usual luxury attire he wore when visiting. No suit and tie in sight, just the oil stained wife beater you had seen him in when pursuing your education in the states as he worked tirelessly on his little toys as you liked to call them. He sets the bag down, the scent of the food causing your stomach to growl and pinch with a hint of pain. Have you really forgotten to eat today? You hadn’t noticed. “Got your favorite. Do you know how hard it is to find a restaurant that speaks English? I had to have Friday translate for me.”

“Maybe you should take a new hobby and learn the French language.” You retorted with a grin, the man shaking his head as he sets everything out. “Maybe I want you as my teacher, but you’re always busy with driving around in your fast little car and getting famous for fighting a Sokovian asshole.” 

“And you’re too busy tinkering away with your toys in your little workshop in New York. Truly Tony, don’t tell me you actually want me as your teacher when your toys can teach you for me.” You pause as he rolled his eyes, watching the man for a brief moment as he turned to unwrap his burger. “Speaking of said Sokovian connard, he came to the bar I was at last night.” The man paused mid bite on the thick patty before speaking with his mouth full. “Okay, spill, what did he want?”

“Well originally I thought he was going to cuss me and try to blame me for the failure to complete the race yesterday, but he showed me something. You know the young man who won the race yesterday, corriger? John Walker?” 

“Yeah, I know the guy. Races for the American McLaren team and came straight from F3 to F1. What’d he do?” 

He raises a brow when you sigh, taking a seat beside him on the desk he had set the food down on and stealing the dish he had brought you. “Zemo showed me proof that Walker hit his car and sent him flying into mine. And I believe he did it on purpose.” You explain, taking a bite of the food your companion got for you. You pause for a moment to chew before returning to your theory. “On my way to the car bay, he smirked at me, and it wasn’t a “I won” smirk- well, it kinda was, but it was rather a “I did this to you” kind of smirk. Not necessarily an evil one but one that showed he knew exactly what he had done and was proud of it. Pride in an unfair act.”

“And no flags were thrown up?” 

“Non, not a one. As our friend the Baron said,” you cringe at the term friend, “the ones watching the race possibly couldn’t tell if he had done such on purpose or by accident. I believe him about such. And I suppose that brings me to what I’m about to say next.” You take a breath, gaze conflicted and downcast to your food as you speak. “The Baron offered a temporary truce of our rivalry to take down this John Walker, thus allowing us to return to what we do best after Walker is taken down.” He listened intently before his nose scrunched at the idea of such. You two working together? Ha! That’d never work! “And you said yes to this crazy idea? What the Hell are you thinking, (first name)?” Your hands shoot up in defense, gaze rising to meet his own. “I know, I know! It’s a crazy idea, but you know as well as I do that if Zemo and I want things back to normal, back to the rivalry, we have to do this together so Walker is met with further resistance. If I could avoid it and deal with this American scum, no offense, then I would.” 

“Some taken, but I get it. I just wonder if you two will go back to the way things are after all of this. Who knows, maybe you’ll become that dreaded word you hate to associate with him in any capacity-”

“Ne t'avise pas de le dire, Anthony.”

“Friendssss.” He draws it out, causing you to roll your eyes at his antics and slap his arm with the back of your grimey hand. He pretended to show a hurt expression before chuckling when another slap came, this time to his chest. “Oh hush, we will never be friends.” 

“I guess time will tell.” A shrug followed as Stark finished the last bite of his burger, crumbling the wrapper and lining up the shot with the waste bin in the corner. “He shoots,” the paper lands in the bin, his arms going up in the air. “He scores!”

“Stop goofing around, ma amie. I asked for your help with this and now I need it.”

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Three weeks have passed, and the Germany race is upon you. The Nürburgring, a beast of a track that many racers to this day in Formula 1 fear like a plague sweeping the track. Your mind has been racing as you pieced your car back together and got it ready for racing. What happens if something wasn’t installed in the engine right? What if you didn’t get the intake vents lined up just right? You were a perfectionist with your car, and you know deep down that it was ready for race day but it made your head sing with pain as a migraine sets in. That wasn’t the only thing that made it throb and bring you to lean against the chassis of your car. Zemo’s deal, it worried you sick. But you didn’t have time to think about it much today. You couldn’t dwell on it. You had a race to win. 

Your eyes flick up at the speakers, listening to the message. It was press conference time. You take your seat where your name tag and flag set, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the crowd of reporters sitting and waiting to open up questioning. To your left, Walker seats himself with a boyish, charming smile that didn’t quite meet those dark eyes. He looked your way, hand held out to you. “Hey, I hate that we didn’t get to meet earlier on. I’m John Walker.” You glance at his hand before looking back up at him. He played a good game, acting innocent like the boy scout he tried to be. You wouldn’t fall for his games, but you shook his hand briefly. “(First name) (Last name).” He grinned. “Oh, I know who you are. I’ve been watching you race for years now! I hate that you crashed a couple weeks ago, would have loved to have been standing on that podium with you.” 

“Oui, such a shame that was. But today is a new day, Mr. Walker.” Your gaze flickered to your right, startled by your rival taking his seat and looking directly at the pair of you. The Baron never sat beside you, even going as far as to request a seat change from the press conference coordinators. Some learned to keep you two separate, others knew it would incur drama, and drama made money. 

“Alright everyone, please take your seats and the conference will begin in one moment!” 

“Say, did you get your car all fixed up? Must have cost a pretty penny since you don’t have any sponsors.” Walker continued on, this time his gaze looking at the reporters as he gave a brief wave to the ones he recognized from the states. “Oui.” He gave a huff of a laugh. “Not much of a talker, are you?” You wanted to bite back, to say something and throw hands with this man, but you would be escorted out and disqualified in a snap. “Non.” A leg bumped yours under the table and you glance at Zemo who met your gaze briefly. Those dark brown eyes questioned if you were okay, a silent question that only you understood. The slightest nod was sent his way before looking at the reporters who got things settled and ready. 

“Questions are now open-” The announcer was startled with the amount of questions directed in the direction of you three, clearing his throat as he nodded to your little trio at the table. Mr. Walker!” He gestured to the reporter, watching him stand and adjust his microphone and camera. “Mr. Walker, this question is open to the three of you. Under allegations from the previous race at The Circuit Paul Ricard, many are wondering if you had caused the accident involving Zemo and (Last name). How do you feel about these accusations?” The man had the audacity to laugh and throw that boyish smile to the camera, rubbing at his face. “Look, that was not supposed to happen once so ever. As many of my fellow racers can attest, one wrong slip of the hand on your wheel and your car will eventually go off track. I got nervous, twitched, and just so happened to bump the Baron’s car into Ms. (Last name)’s car. I feel terrible, I truly do, but it could have happened to anyone with any driver. So I refute these accusations and continue to say this is an accident.” 

“And you, Baron, Ms. (Last name). How do you feel about the accusations?” The reporter gestured his question to you two now. “I respect your opinion, Mr. Walker,” Zemo began, the man smiling and sending a nod his way. “But I call, as the Americans say, bullshit.” His smile fell, darkened gaze questioning the man on what the Hell he was going on about. The reporters erupted in questioning, trying to get the attention of the two racers who stare each other down around you. You lean back a bit for them to have a better view-line, One of the American reporters calling your name. You use this moment to break the tension. “Oui?” 

“Do you believe you stand a chance as a woman against these two leading men now that John  Walker is starting to gain points and nearing your total?” You blink at his question before taking a deep breath, holding it to calm your throbbing head, and releasing it slowly. “Oui, I do. I believe I can keep up just as well as any racer. Take my racing career with Zemo. I have kept up with his old extrémité arrière.” The French reporters in the room resound in a fit of chuckles, bringing a smile to your face. “And against Walker?” You meet his gaze as he stares at you expectantly for an answer, forcing that smile he tried to use on you earlier. “I believe I stand quite a good chance, but que le meilleur coureur gagne.” You shrug, listening as the smaller drivers get asked their questions. The whole time there are eyes burning into the left side of your head, waiting until the racers are dismissed. Walker watches you as you walk out, watching the way Zemo comes up in tow as you make your way to the car bay. Something was up, and he could feel that there were clearly doubts in your mind about the accident in France. He would just have to deal with you later. “(First name), wait!” Zemo followed you into the bay, slowing from his jog to keep up with you to a stop near the desk holding your notes about the race and your vehicle. “I haven’t had a chance to talk with you in person since the bar.” He paused, looking into those eyes of yours that gaze at him curiously. “Are you ready for this, fräulein?” 

“Aussi prêt que possible, Baron.” You busy yourself with inspecting your car for any last minute changes, the man watching you as you inspect and work. “Good, good. And we are still a go, yes?” 

“Oui, we are still, as you said, a go.” He grinned at you, gaze flickering down your back as he looked over your uniform. Of course he had noticed you in all aspects before, talent and skill being the top, but never had he been this close like the night at the bar and now to really see you. Maybe after all of this, even with the rivalry, you could be friends, dare he say anything more than such. “You’re staring.” You quip, breaking him from his trance to meet your gaze. The faintest hint of color lingered on your cheeks. He coughed, trying to clear away the embarrassment lingering in his form. Why was he getting embarrassed? “Just thinking about what will be left behind when I pass you on the track, mein liebe.” Your eye roll doesn’t go unnoticed, the man relaxing due to how calm you are around him. No biting his head off, no anger, just chill. You stand and give a playful shove to his shoulder, smiling at the Sokovian. “In your dreams, Sokovian. Now, get the fuck out of my car bay.” He smiled to himself as he walked away, mind now clouded by the smile that lingered on your lips. He liked when you smiled, and he had to make sure this plan worked. 

The race was gearing up to start, the same process as before coming into play. Car, balaclava, wheel. You take your moment to breathe, today your speed has placed you in second, just as the plan entailed. Zemo took the first position. He glanced your way, sending a nod in your direction, only to smirk beneath the balaclava when you flip him off like usual. The rivalry was still on, no matter what he would still have that after dealing with Walker. Still have you in one sense or another. Your glance focused in on the man across the way in the pole position opposite of you, his eyes locked on the two of you before meeting your gaze. There he stares you down, even as his helmet slipped on. The visor was flipped down at the one minute warning, eliminating the final clarifying view of his gaze. It was clear he was cautious of you, maybe even lingering with hate. 

“Fahrer! Starten...sie ihre....Motoren!

That familiar purr settles into your chest, spreading through your body like a dam breaking and flooding the valley below. It stirs up the motivation to win once more, removing any doubt from your mind as you rev your engine. Zemo was right, Walker had to be stopped. With this attitude about racing, playing his little mind games and wrecking racers, he’d get someone killed just for first place. You couldn’t allow that...but you also couldn’t allow the rivalry you have established with Zemo to be broken because of someone else. There was too much there to be lost. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, licking your lips beneath the helmet as you prepare yourself for takeoff. The lights start counting down the race. Five seconds away, one green and two red lights. You watch them count down until the bottom lines of red are fully lit, then they flash off. You’re off, following Zemo right on the tail of his car as you start into the track. This track was a beast, your mind racing as it remembers every nook and cranny of it. Seventy three corners, eleven danger points, hair pin turns, all on a 12.8 mile long course that was deadly in the onset of any weather and people who get careless with their moves. Lucky enough, the sky was only overcast. No rain, little wind to interfere with the aerodynamics and mobility of the chassis, just the perfect chill in the air to remind you where you were in this moment. You take your turns with ease, avoiding the group of cars that began to follow suit on the track behind your own. Your eyes remained locked in on every shift to your side, Walker keeping close by within each turn and danger point you went through. 

As you drive, Walker gets up past you within one of the speed trap areas, the stretch of road allowing him to be up beside Zemo and leave you on the back of their tires. Zemo had a plan, you believed in this plan… but had he just been toying with you to get closer to Walker? Doubt clouded your mind, even as you sped up in an attempt to join the boys directly in the front. Perhaps you shouldn’t have followed this plan, even as you get through the first twenty five laps, then the next twenty five. Each turn brought your tyres closer to Walkers who eyed you cautiously from time to time, as if silently daring you to pull a move like he did. Maybe you’d be caught and black flagged. Hell, that would make his fucking day if that happened. As he watched you, he had failed to notice on the wider strip of the track how Zemo began to drift further and further ahead. Then he was side tracked, Zemo slowing abruptly and stealing the attention of the young American driver. “What the Hell!?” He yelled over the roar of multiple motors, watching your car join Zemo’s side and the original speed be resumed. Now you sat beside Zemo on the track, pedal to the floorboard as you two kept your lead and basically walled Walker in. Each time he tried to drift around, one of you would shift your car just enough to keep him locked in. A grin met your lips as you drove, the energy of the race taking a whole new shift as you got closer and closer to the last lap with your rival right at your side. Tips of the chassis lined up perfectly, rear aerodynamic fins aligned like a well oiled machine. You two were in perfect sync as you put Zemo’s plan into action. Create a wall of impenetrable magnitude. If Walker tried anything, all three of you would go down. If he tried to get around, he would be blocked. There was no getting out from behind you two. 

The checkered flag waved in the quickly approaching distance, your gaze for a moment looking at your rival. The blur of purple was steady, lined with yours like that of an air jet's flight coordination. Perfectly straight, and running at full throttle like you are. As your cars pass the finish line, debate begins to rise. It was too close in the end to call, at least not right away. You slow, allowing the purple beast to pass by and enter the pit before you, a silent gesture of courtesy to the man you worked with. He sent a small nod your way when he watched you get out of your car, helmet removed along with his balaclava and revealing the joyful grin resting on his lips. Anyone else would mistaken it for cockiness, but the look in his eyes said it all. You two did it, you beat Walker in the race! He must be furious! A breath is held on your end, helmet and the fabric covering your face discarded as you turn your gaze away from the arriving racers and the man you drove along with. You were locked in on that score board, curiosity eating at you for who may have won the race. You were neck in neck with the man, the smallest push forward could earn either of you the points for the day. No names shown yet, and you anxiously leaned on the hot surface of the carbon fiber vehicle as you waited. Each noise around you from the slow dwindle of engines to low, fading purrs to the pit crews of your respective teams surrounding you, your rival, and the newcomer were drowned out by the pounding of your heart as it flooded your ear drums. It felt like hours passed as you kept your gaze locked on, ignoring the happy clamour of your crew, the clasp of hands on your shoulder and pats on your back, even down to the ruffling of your hair in glee. Then it flashed up. 

1st: (First initial). (Last name) 

1st: H. Zemo 

2nd: J. Walker

The press goes crazy over the news, each respective country reporting their amazement over the finishing results.

“Ein fehlerfreier, aber überraschender Sieg für Baron Helmut Zemo, der mit (First name) (Last name) gleichauf den ersten Platz belegt!”

“Victoire pour la championne de France (First name) (Last name) alors qu'elle rejoint le Baron Helmut Zemo dans une rare égalité!”

“In a remarkable and truly unprecedented event in The Nürburgring F1 race! Baron Helmet Zemo and (First name) (Last name) tied in a photo finish for first place, a rare occurrence that has set back American racer John Walker from the potential for first place!”

Your breath comes out shaky, slowly slipping out as reality hits you like a wrecking ball to a brick wall. The air leaves your lungs as a happy noise rings out from your lips, joining your crew in the celebration as they hug and surround you. You placed first. Zemo placed first. Curiosity met you, your gaze looking to the man who celebrated with his own crew before allowing himself a chance to settle his gaze on you in turn. There he sent a wink, a silent congratulations that made you shake your head at his antics before refocusing on the celebration. You would be standing with the man in first place on that podium, both sharing the victory wreath and spraying champagne all over the crowd of fans and your respective pit crews who were basking in the glory just as much as you two were. You couldn’t help the glee bubbling up in your form, even as you make your way not too far from your rival. For a second, just a split second, you let the rivalry go and let your smile be seen in accompaniment with his gleeful grin, shoulders bumping when you’re positioned at the podium by the F1 management crew. Press swarm to the area like flies to a summer barbecue, wanting to catch a glimpse of the rivals standing together, being on the podium and sharing first place. “Not so bad working with my, as you put it earlier, old extrémité arrière, hm?” He questioned as you two stood together, the closeness you two were forced into for the photographers far more comfortable than it would have been under any other circumstances. He blamed the feelings he had at this moment on the victory over Walker, over the rest of the racers, not even thinking that perhaps this was beyond the fact that he won but that you, his favorite rival, won alongside him. “Non, not the worst.” You joked lightly, forcing a serious face for the cameras when they began to picture you two side by side on the first place stand. He accepted the bottle of champagne before you could, holding it out. “You may have the honor, (First name).” Your fingers brush his own as you grasp the bottle with him, popping the cork and sending the bubbly to decorate the crowd. Flash after flash met you as you stood alongside Zemo and basked in the glory of the win. “How about drinks to celebrate? Even as rivals, I believe a drink wouldn’t hurt.” He whispered the question, causing your gaze to lock on his own in brief surprise. Was he serious!? “I um..Oui, sure. Meet you in town?” He nods, gaze seeming to glimmer ever so brighter as he takes his leave. Even when you separate to get cleaned of the alcohol and switch to “civilian clothing”, your smile doesn’t falter. Maybe it would be good for you to drink the night away with company that didn’t seem as bad as you once had thought before. 

As you begin to peel away the racing suit, the flame resistant material bunching at your waist and revealing the open expanses of your back, the simplistic bra strap over the back the only material seen, you fail to hear the seething man enter your car bay. “Do you know what you just did, Ms. (Last name)? Who you fucked with?” Walker puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him, his face inches away from yours. “You went and fucked with the wrong man. You could have just accepted your loss, licked your wounds, and we would have been just fine. But oh no, you had to go and fuck with my winning streak with that Sokovian piece of shit.” He huffed when you shove him back, gaze narrowed and arms crossing over your bra covered chest out of annoyance. You could care less what he saw. “I don’t see why you’re so mad, Mr. Walker. You got a taste of your own medicine after that stunt you pulled back in France. You and I both know that was no accident.” 

“You know what? Yeah, I did that. But I see you are working with Zemo now, which is also a big no-no in Formula 1. Seems we’re both sinners of the race. The greed of it.” His tone was a hushed, harsh whisper. There was no need to alert anyone that he was in your private quarters harassing you. “I’m nothing like you.” Your tone came out in a hiss, his downturned lips curving up into a grin at your response. “Oh sweetheart, I beg to differ.” He chuckled at the narrowed gaze he was met with. “You and your Sokovian boy toy need to back off. Let this happen like it should or you’ll not like what happens next.”

“And just what do you think you’ll do, John? Because all I’m hearing right now is a lot of talking with no proof of any big execution.” Your lazy grin and scoff of annoyance at his presence left him to raise his hands in mock defeat, hands coming to rest on your shoulders once more with a harsh grip that made your body tense and hold you there. He leaned in, even as you tried to lean away, his lips moving in close near your ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” His tone alone makes your body betray you, the calm, cool, and collected front slipping as a shiver ran up your spine at his warning. And with that, he leaves you to get dressed for the night. 

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Zemo texts you an address for a bar off the beaten path in Cologne, Germany, further than you had anticipated in going from the track but a welcomed change of scenery. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” The words stick with you, even as you drive the main road into the big city, looking for the bar Zemo had invited you to. It was connected to a hotel, a fancy hotel at that, with old architecture and lavish exterior. You could only imagine the interior! A nervous breath is taken as you get out of the car, gaze meeting the man you had just won with. He smiled at you, clothing casual and the air around him feeling far more comforting now than ever. The incident with Walker had left you rattled, sending your nerve endings to buzz and let your body know that you aren’t okay. Even though you felt off, you force a smile to the man who wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders and led you in to sit at the quiet bar. “So, did I not tell you the plan would work?”

“I just thought it was your cockiness talking, but I will admit, though it physically pains me to do so…” You pause, biting your lip. “Well?” You sigh. “You were right.” The words come out struggled and forced, the man's grin growing at such. “Ah~, I don’t believe I caught that.” “Oh va te faire foutre!” He chuckled at your words, hand raised towards the bartender to get you drinks. “What are you ordering?”

“Shots. We deserve something to toast our victory to, and I don’t believe champagne is your drink of choice.” He offered you one of the smaller glasses, his own raised before him as he locks those bright brown eyes with your own. “Ein Prost! To us, and our victory over John Walker. May that American schwein taste defeat again.” You raise your glass, hoping to drink away any thoughts about Walker's warning and leave it for the next day. Throwing caution to the wind, you decided right then and there that you would finally have fun and disregard the night that you sat across from your rival. Tonight you just wanted to drink. “À la vôtre!” The drink is bitter as it hits your throat and travels down your body, causing a warmth to spread soon after. Kuemmerling, a bitter concoction of herbaceous and bittersweet flavors. A drink of choice for Zemo it seemed because soon after the shots were downed, he ordered another round. 

Shot after shot after shot is taken down until your body is leaning against his own and a joke that is shaky at best from his part sends you into a roar of laughter. He holds you close, laughing right along with you. “So... It’s Barenjar?” He snorts at your piss poor pronunciation of the new liquor joining the mix, shaking his head at you as he looks on with drunken vision. “Nien, nien, Bärenjäger. Say it with me. Bä-”

“Bä-”

“Ren-”

“Ren-”

“Jäger!”

“Mick Jagger?” 

He laughs in defeat, shaking his head as he watched you. So relaxed, so calm. He hasn’t seen you like this before in his life. He’s startled by your sudden movements after downing your last shot for the night, catching you as you try to stand and stumble as your feet betray you. Your body landing against his, his arms slotting themselves around your waist as your drunken gaze catches his own. Those brown eyes of his are hypnotizing, keeping your gaze locked on his own. “I have something to confess, (First name).” He paused to wet his lips, trying to piece the words together in his hazy mind. “I have liked you since the day I met you.” He finally blurts out, fingers moving up to brush away a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “You’re infuriating, yet calming. Stubborn and determined. Your smile is lovely and those eyes…” He trails off, leaving your hazy mind questioning what was going to come after, but you hardly have time to think about it as he pressed in closer, face inches from your own. The smell of Bärenjäger and Kuemmerling lingered on his breath as it fanned over your face, those brown eyes searching for something in your own. “Can you feel it, the connection we have? Can you see that we are not just rivals now?” His tone was just barely above a whisper, questioning you with a hint of desperation to his tone. 

“Oui.” 

That was the only answer he needed. His lips are on yours with fever and desperation, hands clinging to your form for dear life after hearing the words that sent him to fully fall into the feeling of you. You were his comfort, the one constant thing in his life. His rival...but right now you were the woman he sloppily kissed at the hotel bar as the bartender tried to catch his attention to tell you that you both were cut off for the night. His hands moved to grip at your thigh and tangle in your hair, abandoning the idea of holding anything back, the liquor giving him courage to make a move on you. He has wanted to do this for years, touch you, feel you, have you there with him in any way he could. He separated only when the threat of security was offered by the bartender, lips kiss swollen and a faint pant falling from them. “Come.” His hand takes hold of yours, leading you along to the lift and up to his room for the night. This hotel that he called home for the time being would serve well for what he had in mind to do to you. He led you inside, not even waiting for the door to close as he captured your lips once more, hands taking your rear in his grasp and hoisting you up so your legs wrapped around him, back pressed up against the closest wall he could find. He held you there, lips separating to begin trailing hungry kisses down the column of your throat and allow his hands to trace along your sides. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the bare skin there, wanting what he has longed for since the day he met you. A noise fell from your lips as he lazily suckled a mark over your pulse point, your fingers tangling into his dark hair and tugging the locks when his hips grounded against your own. He couldn’t help the fire blooming in his body, needy for the creature that has teased him for all these years, The one he thought he would never have a chance with because of their hate for each other on the track. He needed you, and in your current state, you were willing to accept any touch he offered. He was just Helmut Zemo tonight. Not your rival, not the Baron, just Helmut. And you were his (First name). 

A groan left his lips when you pulled him by his hair away from your neck, hands working to take your shirt up and over your head. Throwing it aside, he looked at you with a gaze of admiration. It was similar to the gaze he gave when looking at the new modifications to his car, taking pride in the beauty of things that drove him to win. He dampens his lips, fingers lazily dragging up the expanses of your back from bottom to top, resting on the clasp of the garment covering your breast. “Darf ich?” Your nod was all he needed, the clasp undone with skilled fingers that knew precision, holding still on your back when your arms rose to take the garment and throw it in an unknown direction to be forgotten about for the time being. He wasted no time with taking one of your breasts in hand, fingers running over the sensitive bud of one while he took the other in his mouth, suckling and lavishing with his tongue. He took his time, drunken yet slowly sobering mind savoring each and every noise that fell from your lips as he toyed with your body. You’re barely into foreplay and he already has your panties soaked, the Baron being a creature that knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going without even knowing your body. He was skilled, that much was for sure in your mind as he switched to the other breast, paying equal attention to each. Those brown eyes of his don’t leave your face for a second, watching every reaction and trying to commit them to memory. If he could only have you tonight, he wanted to remember everything he possibly could. Every detail of your body, everything that drew a hitched breath or a low moan from your lips. Every shaky breath and the way your body would press closer to his greedy mouth and hand. He stored it all away. Maybe he’d wake up the next day and fancy this a pleasant dream...It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten worked up by thinking about you. 

His hand traveled downward, cupping your sex through your pants as his own grinds up against your thigh, straining through the fabric of his pants. He ached for you, for your heated skin to be pressed against his own in a delicious rut of bodies. He traced along the seam, hearing the low whine that fell from your lips as he teased you through the material. “Helmut, stop for a moment.” The man paused all actions, his gaze shifted to a worried state as he met your eyes and spoke with concern. “Are you alright, mein liebling?”

“Oui.” Your fingers trace his jaw, the man's face briefly pressing in against your palm before delivering a soft kiss to the area. A tender gesture that sent butterflies to flutter in your stomach and heart to speed further than the foreplay had already caused. “I just...Take me to the bedroom. Please?” You preferred not being right beside the door where anyone could listen in, where anyone could hold a camera up to the peephole and record the sexual pleasures of the infamous Wildcard and Baron. That would make a top headline, wouldn’t it? He gave a chuckle at your demand, nodding as he kept his grip on you, your legs wrapping just a hint tighter around him as he moved you both to the bedroom. He’s gentle with setting you down, looking down at you when you unwrap your arms and legs from his form. “Scheiße, du bist perfekt.” He slowly worked on the buttons of his shirt, working each plastic piece through the loop with fingers that were known for precision on the course. A shift in his steering, taking hold of the semi-automatic paddle-shifters as he drove, it was all well calculated and that applied on and off the track. His shirt is shrugged off his shoulders, thrown aside before focusing on the belt on his pants. He gets it off with what can only be deemed a darkening gaze, knowing he’s getting closer and closer to having you. You rose to let your hands trail his chest, roaming over the lean muscle that rested there as feather light kisses met his collarbone. A shiver met his spine, shooting up in bliss as he allowed a moment to savor the feeling of you touching his skin. Your skin was so warm, so inviting. He was getting lost in everything. 

Your fingers shift down his torso, trailing his abdomen before looping in the belt loops of his pants to pull him forward, a low growl falling from his lips when you place a kiss above the waistline of his pants. Your movements were confident, unzipping his trousers and tugging them down to reveal the tent hidden behind his underwear. He swallowed thickly as he kicked his pants off, watching your every move as you cup him through the thin fabric, thumb moving to brush over the leaking tip and cause a shaky breath to leave him. “Maus-” A groan leaves his lips when a jerk through the fabric is given, his head falling back briefly. He huffed when you repeated the motion, fingers anxious to wrap around his bare flesh and feel that hot skin in the palm of your hand. But he stops you, hand wrapping around your own and bringing it to his lips once more. “Tonight is not about me, maus.” You’re surprised when the man placed his hand on your chest, lightly pushing you back to lay on the bed as he slowly sank down onto his knees, ”Es geht nur um dich.’ His lips drag slowly across your skin, trailing light kisses and nips along your abdomen and resting at the waist of your pants. He glanced up, a silent question of courtesy offered your way as his fingers loop in the band, asking permission like a proper gentleman. “Go ahead.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, his presence making you feel like you’re floating higher and higher on this ride with him. He gave a tug, your rear lifting and back arching to aid the man as he pulled your pants down and let them fall to join the scattered articles around the room. You’d have to go on a damn scavenger hunt just to find your clothes! But none of that mattered now, not when his hot breath is fanning over your needy core and face nuzzling at your thighs. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh before another followed, then another as he began to trail inward towards your covered core. “Aufgeregt?” He purred in questioning, a low rumble of a chuckle coming from deep within his chest spilling out at the small nod he is met with, loving how he has left you damn near speechless just by being so close. Your hips jump back before he gets a grip on them, his tongue moving over the wet fabric and causing a light whine to spill from your lips. “Helmut, please.” Oh, hearing you speak his name only egged him on further, needing you. He needed to taste you, to feel you. He needed you in every way, and his drunken mind only pushed him on to pull the fabric away from your legs and stare at the glory that is you. So wet, so beautiful. He wasted no more time, bringing your legs to hook over his shoulders and delved into the intoxicating honey pot he had been offered. He started off slowly, a long lap from entrance to clit given before the motion was repeated just to hear the noise that left your lips with each swipe. Zemo was mapping you out, taking note of what areas made your thighs twitch and tense, what areas made your hips jump back at the sensitivity of his touch, and what made those oh so delicious noises spill from your mouth. 

He allows his tongue to focus in on your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a rhythm that sends your head to spin and moan after moan to spill from your lips. “Merde!” He smirked against your core when your hand shot down to tangle in his locks, needing stability after he took your clit between his lips and suckled. He repeats the motion, gaze locked on your own and watching the sudden shock of the feeling run through your body. You were so reactive, and just for him. A lazy lick is given to the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your hips jerk lightly and seeing the tremble that began to settle into your thighs. “Close?” He questioned as if he was questioning about an everyday thing, totally not giving the impression he was getting you close to orgasm just with that sinful tongue and lips of his. O-Oui.” Your tone was shaky, breathy, eyes half lidded and watching his every move on you. “Gut.” A gasp fell from your lips when he sank a digit into your hot, needy core, arching along the way and searching for the sweet spot deep within. He wasn’t like the inexperienced boys who would just jab their fingers into their partner and hope it hits something. No, his fingers curled, probed, dragged and felt for that spot in a way that showed his experience. A second digit is added not too long after the first, probing the flesh within until he hears your moan and finds that spot that drives you to clamp your thighs around his head. A groan left his lips at the rush of slick is met with each probe, massaging that spot within you and only adding to the tension building in your core. Each throb he was met with only spurred him on. He was on a mission to bring you over the edge, and he would do anything to get you off. When his mouth returned to your still sensitive clit, tongue flicking of the bundle and including the occasional suckle while his fingers moved deep within, you were done for. A rough tug is given to his hair as your body convulses, thighs clamping around him and grinding your hips down against his eager tongue. He helps you ride out your orgasm, lapping at your clit until you give a light shove to his head to make him stop. A wicked smile crosses his features as he gives one final suckle, a squeak leaving your lips at the motion and shoving him back as much as your trembling body allows. He can only chuckle at the attempt, fingers removing from your throbbing core. He watched your gaze land on him when you caught sight of the digits, watching the man move his glance to them as if he was inspecting them before a quiet whimper left your lips when they were taken one by one into his mouth. He made it a show, teasing you as he cleaned each digit of your juices in a slow motion. Sinking down to the knuckle before returning and licking at whatever was left. “Tease.” You huffed, chest rising and falling steadily with your hammering heart. “Oh you know you like it.” He retorted, lazily letting his body climb up and over yours on the plush mattress. 

He pushed the final material separating you from him away, throwing the underwear away before letting himself settle in against your body. Zemo wasted no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, lips joining yours as he lined up with you, one hand taking hold of your hip while the other took hold of your hair, tugging it back enough to have access to your neck. As he begins to ease himself within you, his lips attach at a section of your neck, a harsh mark left in his wake as he sinks inch by inch within the lightly pulsing core that he toyed with before. A groan was left against your skin when he was fully settled, grip rough on your hip but movements gentle as he waited for you to adjust. He was no animal, not cruel! He knew that there was a possibility for pain if he moved too soon, and even in his drunken haze he recognized the look in your eyes, the slight twinge of pain from his size alone. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant, no, but it was an intrusion you weren’t quite used to when normally doing this. He lightly placed kisses to sooth you along the mark he left, trailing them up the underside of your chin, going along your jaw before soon connecting with your lips in a soft kiss. Something to distract you until you were ready for him to move. A shift of your hips was given when you tested the feeling of him in you, the moan that left your lips causing a low growl to fall from his own. He lifted his body to loom over yours, hand moving from your hair to cup a breast as he sets a slow, deep and even borderline sensual pace within your core. Slowly out until the tip stayed just barely in before plunging deeply into your warm, wet depths. He huffed with each push of his cock within your core, meeting your moans with a faint groan here or a soft growl there when your walls gripped him just right. He was losing composure with each faint twitch of your walls around him, pace beginning to pick up into a steady rhythm that developed the noise of slick skin hitting skin and the bed beneath to creak ever so slightly with each movement. “Verdammt!” He could tell how your walls began to tighten around him, how each noise leaving your lips grew louder and louder. His poor neighbors, hearing you both so vividly through the walls of the hotel. Yet he didn’t care who heard. As long as they knew that in this moment, you were his to take, that was all that mattered. Zemo moved his thumb to your clit, working the bundle along with the assault he laid on your sensitive spot deep within. Each clamp around him brought his own release to come closer and closer. “Cum for me, maus.” He demanded with a grunt, needing to feel you come undone to reach his own release. His words hit somewhere deep in you, the demand that was laced with a plea driving you to your second orgasm of the night. He groaned as he felt you clamp around him, the sensation alone causing him to remove himself from you and spill onto your stomach with a few quick pumps of his hand along his slick coated member. He pants, taking in the sight of you one final time for the time being. Messy, slickened by your own arousal and sweat. Your hair was messed up, your lips parted and panting. To add the cherry on top, you were coated in his release, a sight for sore eyes while you lay like this. He made you like this, and it swells his drunken ego. 

Slowly he eased down to lay at your side, bringing you in against him with an almost delicate kiss delivered to your temple. Your breathing slowly evened out, head resting against his chest as his fingers trail along your back, drawing imaginary patterns as his mind begins to blank. The alcohol was taking effect, causing him to enter a lull and for his eyes to flutter shut. As you lay there, catching your breath, you watch as he drifts away, a single question beginning to enter your sobering mind. 

“What have I done?”

Tag List: @darksxder | @mymagicsuitcase | @mischief-siriusly-managed | @alindeluce​

[so-writing]

Good Morning (5)

note- I've been kind of absent here lately because my job is g a r b a g e and I've been dealing with that, buuuuut hello friends, feedback is loved and appreciated

master

-

Wedding planning was going great, until it wasn’t. 

Anna knew exactly what she wanted and exactly how she wanted everything to look, taste, feel, et cetera. She was so in control of everything that it was almost too much. 

Not too much for her, but entirely too much for Matthew. 

He loved Anna, because of course he did, she was his soon to be wife, but he couldn’t shake you. Matthew Tkachuk couldn’t shake you, as hard as he tried, you were constantly on his mind. Due to his situation, he knew the remainder of the wedding planning was going to be a goddamn blast. Matthew couldn’t wait to see the woman he was desperately attracted to standing next to the woman he was going to marry. 

*

“Fuck,” Anna downed a shot of vodka before you could even register it, “i’m so fucking nervous.”

“Why?”

“The wedding is in like three weeks and we’re supposed to be ordering a cake today and, per fuckin’ usual, Matt is late.” 

“Anna,” you tried to soothe her, “i’m not trying to be an asshole but you’re planning on having your wedding in the middle of the season, Matt’s got other stuff going on.”

“Ugh, yeah,” she rolled her eyes and stabbed her fork into the lemon cake sample in front of her, “i’ve been eating egg whites and raw vegetables for the past two weeks to make up for today’s tasting, you know. I want to stay in shape and still enjoy this but he’s not even here and, sorry babe, you’re not my man. This was supposed to be special.” 

You didn’t know how to respond to that. When Anna had invited you to come to the cake tasting, she seemed absolutely ecstatic to have you there. Making no mention of Matthew at all, she gushed about how great it would be to do this together. 

Luckily for you, the bell jingling above the door alerted everyone to the entrance of someone else. 

“Hey babe,” he made his way over to Anna and gave her a quick peck on the lips, “sorry for being late. Practice was brutal.” 

“It’s fine,” her words sounded sugary sweet but you knew her, and you knew that she was pissed, “at least you’re here.” 

“Well,” Matthew cleared his throat and took a seat between the two of you, “I busted my ass at practice today, I think I deserve some cake.” 

“Definitely,” the girl working at the bakery tried to break the tension, “would you like to try any specific flavor?” 

“Hm,” Matthew ran a hand through his curls as he looked over the list of cake flavors, “almond cake with banana filling sounds good.”

Oh fuck. No, Matthew, no, no no. Your heart was racing and you weren’t prepared for what was about to go down. 

“Did you try that yet? I know it’s a mix of your favorite flavors.”

He was directing the question in your direction, with a small smile playing on his lips, and you were doing your best to avoid eye contact. 

“No, not yet.”

“No,” Anna interrupted, “we haven’t tried banana or almond because both of those flavors are fucking garbage, so let’s get on with it. No need for you guys to take a trip down fucking memory lane, today is about me, remember?”

*

You fell into a friendship with Matthew long before you fell into bed with him. He had always had that younger brother type that you tried your best to avoid. You couldn’t avoid him though, because he just wouldn’t fucking go away.

“What is your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“I don’t like ice cream.”

“Shut the fuck up, everyone likes ice cream.”

“Not me,” you sent a smile in his direction, “entirely too sweet.”

“Unbelievable, well, you should give this a shot?”

“What is it?”

“Banana almond, my favorite flavor ever.”

“Sounds shit, but I’m willing to try it.”

Banana almond ice cream sounded terrible but was actually incredible and you knew that Matthew was never going to let you live your previous opinions down. 

What you didn’t know, was that he was about to disappear from your life completely. 

You slept heavy that night, waking up with the indents of sheets on your face. That didn’t bother you, but his absence did. Typical Matthew showed up and he was everything that you expected, good in bed and emotionally unavailable. This time, he was all of those things without bothering to come around.

*

“Of course we remember, Anna. We all fucking know today is about you,” he paused, “babe.” 

She seemed satisfied with what he had just said but you were thoroughly confused. 

“Baby, Anna,” Matthew cooed, drawing her attention immediately, “why don’t you go with the baker and decide on how many tiers you want the cake to be?”

“Yeah,” she was quick to comply, “I need to do that.” 

Anna and the associate helping her lead them into the bakery, leaving you alone with Matthew. 

“Almond cake with banana filling is what we’re going to have.”

“She doesn’t like either of those flavors.”

“I know, but she has been in control of everything, I think I should have this one thing, right?” 

“It’s her wedding Matthew, and she knows this flavor is a bit of a thing for us.”

“It’s my wedding too. I don’t want lemon berry, I want banana and almond. If it’s not already completely fucking obvious, I don’t want Anna. I want you.” 

Pushing your feelings for Matthew to the side was easy when he was marrying your best friend. You loved them both and all you wanted for them was happiness. 

You still wanted that, but now that he had declared his actual feelings, you were torn. You were torn between who you loved more. Both Matthew and Anna were important to you, so much so that it took the day of the wedding for you to make a decision. 

*

“This is so fucking bad,” you whimpered against his lips as he pushed you against the wall, “we’re in a church, Matthew.”

“Yeah,” he questioned before gently pressing his tongue into your mouth, “i’m supposed to get married in like an hour, of course this is fucking bad.”

You knew it was wrong. You knew that Anna was somewhere else in the church preparing to get married to the love of her life, the same man that had his tongue in your mouth. 

You knew it was wrong but you couldn’t make yourself care. You didn’t give a shit at all that he was supposed to marry someone else that day. At that moment, it didn’t matter in the slightest. 

It was half past three in the afternoon and the ceremony should have started thirty minutes ago but it hadn’t, because Matthew’s lips were attached to your neck and pressing marks into your skin. 

“You’re late for the ceremony,” you spoke between deep breaths, thoroughly enjoying Matthew’s attention to your body.

“Oh,” he pressed a kiss to your stomach, “well,” followed by another to the top of your hipbone. 

He was supposed to be getting married. He was not supposed to be settling himself between your legs. He was supposed to be saying ‘I do’ and kissing his wife. He was not supposed to be whining your name while kissing your most intimate parts. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, but you didn’t mind that it did.

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Home coming 4

Summery: Slow burn. You are forced to move back to your home town due to the pandemic.  When your high school tormentors return to remind you why you never  wanted to come back. This gets darker as it goes. I’m not a good writer folks sorry.

Warning: forced oral.

Dark Steve x Black Reader, Cop AU

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

You watched antsy as the text bubble animated then disappeared. The pause between Steve's text was strangely long. Making you wonder what could have stopped the normally persistent Steve. Not willing to wait in the car any longer you headed inside.

When you unlock the door of course Uncle Nick was on the couch very much annoyed. "You need to ask if your gonna borrow my truck."

"Sorry I went to the bank" it was a lie, but you knew he would never bug you about something like that.

"What happened to your face?" He shot up rushing over, fuming. "It was that fucking Steve wasn't it!" He examined your face, you pulled away when he tried to cup it.

Shit

You forgot to cover your face backup. "Unc... it wasn't Steve. I fell, tripped on something getting out of the truck. Damn thing is so high up off the ground."

By the look in his eye he wasn't buying it. You moved and pushed past him, you could her him cursing under his breath.

When you got to your old room you close the door. Leaning against it you took a deep breath.

*Buzz Buzz

Ripping the strap from your arms you throw it across the room. Your hearts pace quickened, the thought of that squad car from earlier containing Steve. What he might do if he knew what you were planning.

Pushing off the door you run to your closet. Tossing things around, looking through unopened boxes for your duffel. Your hands tremble as you search. When you hear the faint buzz again and curse.

You had to go to it. Turning around you stare at the purse again. Swallowing thickly as you approached it.

Unzipping the bag, you dip your hand inside, pulling it out. The screen lit up with his name.

MSG Steve: Come outside

Your heart felt like a hammer. The short text not giving any hint to what you would be walking into if you walked out that door. Texting him back you tell him to give you a minute.

Had he seen you?

Blinking away tears you try and collect yourself.

You wanted to avoid another confrontation from your Uncle so you decided to go out the back. Slipping out the room you close the door quietly. Walking with bare feet and shoes in hand gingerly on the old floor.

You peer past the archway to see him laser focused on the screen. Still on tip toes you walk into the kitchen and through the back door.

The yard was over grown, Nick's old car rusting and in pieces in the back. You put your shoes on and walked around the house.

When you saw the cop car your mind reeled. Was he going to arrest you for steeling? He knew you stole those tools. It was him.

Through the squad car window's the tent was so thick that Steve's features were barely eliminated by his cell phone. You wanted to run back to the house, board up the doors and hide, but you knew you couldn't.

Each step you took toward the car seemed heavier and heavier like a weight was drawing you down. When you finally approached it he looked away from his phone and up at you with a smirk.

He opened his door and towered over you. "Sorry have to go to work later, so I hope you like a man in uniform" he joked. His eyes burned on you. Twitching a bit when he finally noticed the damage.

Lacing his fingers with yours he said nothing as he led you to the other side of the squad car. He boxed around you on the car when you reached the passenger door giving you another once over. The last time he saw you like this you had fucked up and trusted the wrong person. He sucked in air before letting out a long sigh. You flinched when he lowered his hand down and opened the door. Still silent he watched you slid inside.

Your stomach sat in knots while he drove you. He kept his hands on the wheel. The controls and laptop on the dash made the cop car feel like an alien space ship to you. He kept his work radio low, the back and forth chit chat filling the quiet spaces.

Steve's presence was so overbearing even with him not touching you. You couldn't remember a time being in a car alone with him like this and he hadn't tried touching you in one way or another.

*Ring Ring

Steve shifted in his seat, pulling out his phone. Splitting his attention between the road and the screen. He didn’t answer it. You glanced over quickly to see him silence the phone and tuck it away.

Your head tilted toward the window as the trip trekked on. The scenery slowly changing as you passed. The little town of Yielding looked like it was just waking up. The traffic just starting to get busy.

"It's just me and you today." When he spoke it was even. Still no hint of what his mood could be.

When he turned to go the opposite way from the direction of his house, you got more worried.

"Um... Steve where are we going?" You somehow found the courage to ask just above a whisper. Your nails picking at the seat as you waited for a reply.

"It's a surprise" he said coolly.

It wasn't until he turned down a residential street that you realized where you were. The row of houses flooding you with memories. He had taken you to his parents house.

Slowing to a crawl he parked in the driveway. Steve got out of the car and you watched as he walked over to your door. Opening it he held out his hand for you to take. His hand was so warm when you took it, but that didn't stop your skin from prickling.

Hand in hand he walked up the cracked walk way, halting only to unlock the front door.

Following behind him, you noticed just as at your uncle's house how everything looked frozen in time.

"Mom you in here?"

You looked at him puzzled. He lied.

Dishes clanked from the kitchen. "Just a minute" his mother called out. When she walked out it looked like she had aged a bit since you last saw her. Her once platinum blonde hair now mixed with grey.

"Hey Ma look what the cat dragged in."

his arm wrapped around your shoulder bringing you into a side hug. The move made you stiffen and shift from his side uncomfortably.

*Ring Ring

"Oh my goodness!" She opened up her arms to you, embracing you. "Steve told me you were back in town." Apprehensively you rose your arms to hug her. In you peripheral going in his pocket likely silencing his phone again.

She pulled back and frowned at Steve, you crossed your arms and picked at your sleeve. "You should've told me you were swinging by."

"Are you hungry Sweetie? I have some coffee brewing and I can whip you up something."

"No thank you Mrs.Rogers." Stepping back from you turned to address her son. You looked away as they talked.

Above the old TV a family picture hung on the wall. The sight of his smiling father opened a boxed memory.

You were never a favorite guest when the patriarch was around. Your 'study sessions' at the Rogers home diminished greatly after one faithful night.

Steve's father busted through the bedroom door, to find you two entwined. It was the first time you saw fear on him. He was whiter than the sheets you two laid upon.

He yelled for his wife as you redressed quickly. Mr.Rogers dragged Steve to the living room. Even though Steve surely could take the older man he coward on the floor in a ball.

The one time in your life you watched the great Captain brought to his knees. It was as if he had turned back into that scrawny boy from Mrs. Peppers class. His mother and you watched on as the older man beat his son. You wished at that moment for it not to stop.

She gripped your shoulders, her nails dug into you. "They were just studying?" She had shouted at him over and over again.

You didn't care that the old man cursed you for being a 'nigger'. Bringing trash in the house as he called it. The cacophony of blows that rained down on Steve filled you with joy and you tried to hard press down the smile on your lips. Even when Steve's tearful eyes found you, you could not hide your delight.

"I'll be right back Ma." He told her before capturing your hand again. She nodded and waved you off with a smile as Steve led you.

Walking through the house until he landed at his childhood door. You accidentally squeezed his hand because of your anxiety. When he felt it he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it, trying to comfort you. Instead it gave the opposite affect.

Urging you to go inside once it opened. You went in alone.

"You stay put I need to talk to her for a minute."

He closed the door behind you and you listened to his foot falls disappear. You hear his phone going off again as he moved further away. Steve uniform making his presence heavy as he moved down the hall. You scanned the familiar surroundings. crossing your arms again you pick at your sleeve, even with him not in the room it was hard to escape the feel of him. There was never enough distance you could make.

Trophies mounted on the wall next to ribbons of all his athletic achievements, movie posters, his twin bed pressed against the wall. All a time capsule.

You heard music turn come on from somewhere in the house. A thing she always did to give you both privacy. The classic tunes making your stomach knot tighter. Steve opened the door to find you unmoved. He closed the door behind himself.

"Do you know why I started dating Peggy?" He paused, his back pressed to the door. You couldn't face him. Walking around to face you he lifted your head with one finger, you were already crying.

"To find ways to make you fall for me, for you to love me." He looked at you so endearingly wiping a tear away with his other hand. You hiss when his thumb dragged across your bruised cheek.

*Ring Ring

The phone broke his train of thought. You could feel his agitation grow. Steve sighed dropping his hand, the vein on the side of his head started to become more prominent. He didn’t silence it, just letting it ring out before he started again.

"Bucky...I didn't tell him to do that." 

You didn't believe him. "I'm sorry I didn't think he would lash out on you. I’ll talk to him..." When his hand rested at the hip of his holstered gun your trembling intensified. 

“Get in position.” His request was soft, but it still made you break down harder.

There was no point in begging. Sobbing, you step back and get in the middle of the room.

"No...not like that...get on the bed. I need to show you how sorry I am."

"Pleas Steve there is nothing to apologize for." You assured him. It was a rare occasion when Steve wanted to 'apologize', and you never looked forward to the endeavor.

His face turned cold. His lips a hard line. It felt as if Steve had sucked the air out of the room. You felt the wetness from your cheek travel down your neck, sniffing repeatedly. You walked backwards, wiping away tears until you bumped into the mattress.

The bed dipped and squeaked as you lowered yourself on to it. Scooting back enough until your knees hung over the bed and your feet on the frame. Your legs splayed on the bed, then laying your back flat on the mattress. Steve only stood and watched, his dark uniform made him much more menacing.

He was unmoved by the puffiness of your face and red teary eyes.

You kept your clothes on, he preferred it that way. Steve felt like you shouldn't have to lift a finger when he needed to atone.

"Steve.." You spoke out softly. "It's not your fault..please"  you sniffed. Steve walked over to the bed, his badge twinkled as he approached.

Hiccups started the instant his hand fell on your jeans. Closing your eyes tears fell from each side, the salty water getting into your ear. The sound of his clothes crinkled as he half bent over you. The bedding wrinkled in your hands as you gripped it.

Steve’s palms pressed into your belly as he unfasten your pants. His fingers felt as if they burned your skin as Steve hooked his hands on the waist. Pealing them down slow,  taking your panties with them, making sure that your entire lower half was bear for him.

"I need to show you..." Steve's voice went low and you locked your ankles. "How sorry I am for not being there to stop him." Steve lowered and knelt on his knees.

"I forgive you please" your eyes shoot open when he palms both your knees. You tried to keep your focus anywhere, but him.

Steve's hands moved your knees apart, your ankles unlaced with ease. You tried to control your breathing, the hiccups fell with every exhale. All you could do was stare at the blurry ceiling. Steve's weight pressed into your thigh when he came face to face with your sex.

Steve’s arms wrapped around from the back of your legs. Locking you in place, his hair tickled your thigh the closer he got to your mound.

"Forgive me." He softly pleaded with you. Pecking down your inner thigh each time. Your legs tense hard at the contact.

"Stop I forgive you please stop" your shaky voice was so small when you felt his breath on your skin. You felt his lips part, taking your folds into his mouth and then pulling off slow to release.

“Mmm...”

"I'm sorry" Steve spoke softly before he began again. You felt every word as he talked into your lips. Every syllable driving sensual a moan from you. Steve's teeth grazed your folds until he moved to play with your clit, taking it between his teeth.

"Please..." His tongue plunged deep, curling and swirling.  Steve's nose grazed your clit as he swirled around, the touch electrifying you.

"Show me you forgive me.." He begged.

You fought the urge to grab his head and press him further when he sucked you in.

You knew exactly what he meant by that. He was forcing a need onto you. If you broke, then to him he was won.

"Forgive me...." He pleaded before flattening his tongue on your mound, making your back arch and spasm. Through it all his phone rang again and yet again unanswered.

Even though you cried, even though your eyes burned, you came for him. Steve devoured you, lapping up your wetness.

"Captain please I forgive" you panted, he wasn't finished. Steve wanted you to cum over and over again until it hurt.

There was no way to fight the desire for him like this and he knew it. Steve unwrapped his arms and moved his hands behind your knees. They bent as he slowly rose them up, folding you as he continued to apologize. Deepening his kiss, fucking your pussy with his tongue, your mewls louder than the last.

Your thighs tried to squeeze Steve's head, but he forced you to stay in place. Gritting your teeth hard you moan and cum on his face again. Each orgasm filled with tears.

"I-I...I need you...I love you, Captain I-I love you, I forgive you!" You were delirious as you come a third time or a fourth you weren’t sure. You wanted to say anything to make Steve stop.

When he finally released your legs they were a shaky mess. He rose from your mound, his face wet with your juices. You could feel his eyes as you laid there, a crumbled mess on the bed.

Before leaving his mother asked you two to stay for lunch. Steve declined. He needed to start his shift soon. She hugged you both goodbye and you felt numb.

When he dropped you home it was close to noon. Steve kissed your cheek and apologized about needing to go into work. Promising that he would text you as soon as he could and you shuddered.

Reminding you of the times you had to wait for him while he was at practice. Forcing you to lay down in the back seat of his car until practice was over.

Sliding out of the door your thighs felt sore. He offered to walk you up, but you managed to dissuade his help. Steve waited in the driveway for you to enter. A wave of relief washed over you when you saw that your uncle wasn't in his usual spot.

His truck was still here so you were sure he was just sleeping in his room. So while he slept you packed.

Chapter 5>>>>>

Tagging: @readermia​ ; @mrsbanreswillseeyou ;@astrobabezblog ; @sebastianstansqueen​ ; @tian-monique​​ ; @shadowcatsworld​ ; @sllooney​​ ; @tinystudentfirepurse​​; @mrsbanreswillseeyou​;  @jxtr610​​; @villanellevi​ ; @2fab4utheatrediva​; @afriendlyblackhottie​; @stupendouslovegardener​;

[nomsugayoongi]

Off My Face. Part 4!

Pairings: Jungkook X OC female (nameless)

Tags: Fluff. They get busted. Giggly!Joon. Flirty!Jk, SMUTTTTTT! Sweaty after practise Jk getting his fuck on in a bathroom. Not for littles.

•••••••••••••••••••••

She was warm. She was comfortable. She was probably the most relaxed she'd ever felt, floating in dreams. Something subtle was pulling her out. Back towards consciousness. She groaned sleepily, a warm, soft lump at her side wriggled also. Awareness hadn't quite crept in yet. The lull of sleep drawing her away. But there was a noise. Something that didn't want her to stay here. Sound started to form. Like a tapping sound. Glass maybe. More wriggling at the side of her, weight across her stomach, something tickling her neck. She lifted a heavy hand to swat at it, only to connect with something solid. Her fingers wriggled. Something soft beneith them. Tapping. More awareness. Jungkook. First formed thought. Before any real comprehension kicked in, he did. She sighed. Sleepy smile. More tapping. "Jungkookie?" She knew that voice. Awareness crashed back into place followed by panic. "Shit" she hissed, eyes snapping open. Sunlight flooded the room, Jungkook still asleep next to her. She'd fallen asleep in his bed. "Jungkookie, I'm coming in!" Namjoon called through the door.

Her eyes scanned the room furiously. There wasn't enough time for her to go anywhere. Plus her underwear was on the bedroom floor. Naked from the waist down, she frantically pulled the covers over herself. The door handle creaked. She elbowed Jungkook and braced for impact. His eyes shot open and he groaned, cradling his ribs where her elbow connected. He didn't have time to ask her what the hell was going on. He was still squinting stupidly when the door swung open and Namjoon appeared. "JK, you need to get up. We have....WOAH!!" Namjoon's hands shot to his mouth, frozen in the doorway at the sight that greeted him. His eyes wide. "What the....?" He started. Jungkook was awake now, scrambling into a sitting position. "WHAT IS THIS?" Namjoon shrieked, his shock dissolving into giggles. "Shut the door" Jungkook hissed. Namjoon booted the door closed, not taking his eyes off the pair in the bed. "What happened?" He whispered, still chuckling childishly. "We fell asleep" she replied stupidly. Jungkook had jumped out of bed, opening the bedroom door he peered either way down the hallway. "Where is everyone?" He questioned. "Showering or having breakfast. We let you sleep as long as we could but we have practise in an hour. What is going on here?" He asked again. "Good, so nobody heard you freaking out then." Jungkook mused, ignoring Namjoon's question. He turned back towards his bed, running his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. He flopped onto the bed next to her, resting his head against her shoulder with a sleepy grumble. That was not how he wanted to wake up. She smiled, stroking his hair. "GUYS...are you serious? What the hell?" Namjoon questioned for the fifth time. "You said nothing was going on" he added, pointing an accusing finger at her. "It wasn't...then." she replied sheepishly. Namjoon sat on the edge of the bed. "Well...when?" He asked, still reeling. "Yesterday. After dinner." She said simply. Namjoon gawped at them. "So...what? Now you're like...bed buddies?" Jungkook chuckled, finally lifting his head. "I wouldn't say it like that. Look, we like each other. We wanna see where it could go but it's....new. We didn't want anyone to know until we'd had a chance to figure it out ourselves. So please don't say anything to the others. Hyung...please." he asked sincerely. Namjoon frowned, his expression immediately becoming that of supportive big brother. "Of course I won't. But guys....this is....insane. I mean...it's GREAT. But...WOAH!" He chuckled. She grinned, nuzzling into Jungkooks side. "I told you to tell him" Namjoon smiled. Jungkook frowned looking from her to Namjoon. "Huh? Told her to tell me...." He muttered. "How she felt about you." He responded. Jungkooks frown deepened. "Why? How long have you known?" He asked. Namjoon shrugged. "Ages. Since she got back from England." Jungkook pouted, picking up the pillow and bashing her with it playfully. "Told him months ago. Told me yesterday. That's some kind of backwards." He whined. "I couldn't tell you. It was too intense. I was all...spazzy" she replied, defensively. "Uh huh?" He hummed, leaning in to kiss her. "Uh huh!" She replied, catching his lips in a soft kiss. Namjoon cleared his throat loudly. "Still here guys. Plus, I don't wanna ruin your moment but you really do need to get up. 50 minutes till dance practise." He reminded. Jungkook groaned loudly, throwing his head back. "I'll be down in 5 minutes. Need to pee and brush my teeth" he grunted. Namjoon nodded, giving them one last huge smile before departing. Once Namjoon has left, Jungkook started trying to motivate himself, rifling through his wardrobe for something comfy to wear. He usually really enjoyed dance practise but that was when he hadn't stayed up most of the night before and didn't have a half naked, beautiful girl in his bed. "Jungkook, can you pass me my underwear please?" He turned, smiling at the blush flooding her cheeks as she sat in his bed, hugging her knees. "They're right there." He said, pointing to the spot on the floor where they'd landed. "Well...can you get

them for me?" She asked. "But they're closer to you than me. Why can't you get them?" He questioned, folding his arms with a smirk. Her face burned scarlet. "Cause...I'm naked under here. You'll see." She whispered. He walked over, picking them up and leaned onto the bed, kissing her before dropping them in her lap and turning back to his wardrobe. "I've already seen." He said in a sing song tone. "Jeon Jungkook" she hissed. "What? I have. I had my whole face right up in there. Too late to get shy about it now." He teased. She scrambled under the covers to pull on her underwear, blushing furiously. "Stop it, beast" she grunted. He turned back again with a grin, grabbing her hands and pulling her out of bed. He hooked a finger under her chin as she tried to avoid his gaze, forcing her to look at him. "Don't be shy. You don't need to be. You were so beautiful last night. Watching you come undone like that..." He paused and sighed, shaking his head. "...i'd be trying to make you look that way again right now if I didn't have practise. You don't have to hide from me. I like every inch of you. Very much." He caught her lips, his kiss sweet but just a touch of his hunger leaking through. His thumb trailed softly down her face. "JUNGKOOK" a collective scream bellowed from downstairs. He lept back from her reluctantly. "ALRIGHT" he hollered back. "To be continued." He muttered, apologetically, grabbing a handful of clothes and speeding off towards the bathroom. She took a quick shower and decided to get herself ready before heading downstairs. Hair washed, blow dried and straightened. Cute outfit. Minimal make up. She didn't want to look like she was trying to look good. But she still wanted to look good. That was an issue when the person you had just started dating could look good in a sack. She bounced downstairs about half an hour after Jungkook had left her. "Morning guys" she called. Namjoon was grinning at her stupidly which made her giggle. She ruffled his hair playfully as she walked past, causing a distressed grunt from him as he tried to fix it. She walked up to the table, throwing her arms around Suga's shoulders from behind as he sat eating his breakfast. "Oh...hello" he smiled, patting her hands. Jungkook was sat opposite looking sinfully good. Baggy black cargo pants, a black long sleeved shirt that absolutely swamped the frame underneath but still managed to look great on him. She guessed black sneakers too even though she couldn't see his feet. He was shovelling cereal into his mouth, his eyes flickering over her face in a way that made her feel naked. She let go of Suga, planting a peck on the top his head then made her way round the table, leaning over it unnecessarily to grab a piece of toast right in Jungkooks eye line. He swallowed a huge mouthful of cereal, fighting a smirk. "Hungry?" He asked. She hummed her affirmative as she chewed. "Starved" she replied. "You? Didn't you do enough eating yesterday?" She raised a cocky eyebrow then bit her lip to hold in a laugh as she heard Namjoon choke on his food behind her. Jungkooks face remained neutral but she saw his ears flush. He shrugged casually. "Nope. Still hungry" Jungkook replied. His eyes were burning into her. "You know he could eat for his country" Jin piped up. She let herself laugh at that and nodded, turning and heading away from the table. "That's very true" she replied quietly. ----------------------------------------------------------- She had just about finished cleaning the house when she heard the cars pull up outside and collective sounds of the guys. The front doors banged open and they filed in, talking and laughing amongst themselves. She grinned having already prepared cold drinks and snacks for them all. Jungkook was in the middle of the bunch, an arm slung around Jimin's shoulders. He gave her a huge smile, grabbing a bottle of water and stopping beside her. He pressed the bottle against his head, the cold condensation feeling nice against his warm skin before untwisting the cap and downing about three quarters of the bottle in

huge gulps. He looked gorgeous. His skin flushed and clammy, his hair now wavy and damp with sweat but he was still buzzing with energy. He always was after practise. His adrenaline kept him going much longer than the other guys. "How was practise?" She asked, sneakily resting a hand on his back, her fingers playing under his shirt, stroking over his sweaty skin. He smiled, draining the rest of his water before grabbing another. "It was good. A few hiccups but we're getting there. Some of the new choreos are pretty intense. Should be good in front of ARMY though." He replied. He leaned into her, smelling her hair quickly. "I need to shower." He said, scratching at his sweaty hair. He made his way towards the stairs, clattering Jin over the head with his empty water bottle and giggling mischeviously as a cushion was flung at him. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, beckoning her to follow before hopping up them 3 at a time like he hadn't just spent the last few hours dancing his ass off. She paused for a minute, wondering what excuse to use so she could disappear. Namjoon walked over with a smile. "Go. I got you covered." He whispered, grabbing a bottle of water and turning back to the group. She grinned happily, heading for the stairs. She could hear the water running in one of the bathrooms and wondered if he'd already jumped into the shower. She paused at the top of the steps, looking from the bedrooms to the bathroom door. "Psst" She swung round, Jungkook was stood in the doorway of his bedroom with a smirk. "Hey. I thought you were showering" she smiled. He pulled her into his bedroom, pinning her against the wall, his fingers lacing through hers. "I will be." His lips were on hers straight away, his body pressing her against the wall so hard it made her shoulders hurt. "I missed you" he mumbled between kisses. "Couldn't stop thinking about you at practise." His lips skimmed down, sucking and nipping at her neck. Her breath caught, she wrenched one hand out of his grip to tangle in his messy hair. His smell was intoxicating, a gentle mix of his usual scent and the warm, wet kind of smell of someone who'd been active recently. The kind of pre-sweat smell. Very masculine and playing absolute havok with her hormones. "Couldn't stop thinking about last night. You. The way you moan. How you taste. The look on your face." He grunted into her neck. She felt a sharp stab as he bit a little harder at the tender skin above her collarbone. Each word he whispered collecting at her core, provoking an instant ache. "Need more." He whispered. He lifted his lips from her neck, his eyes meeting hers. She almost moaned. He looked aggressively gorgeous, his eyes darker, burning into her, lips slightly swollen and parted, the tip of his tongue running slowly across his bottom lip. He took her hand, pulling her towards the bathroom. She almost had to run to keep up with him, taking long strides, yanking at her arm like he didn't have time to waste. Once in the bathroom, he kicked the door shut, pulling her in for another mind melting kiss. She was so busy trying to keep up with his insistent tongue that she didn't even notice him unbuttoning her jeans until he was hooking his fingers in and pushing them over her hips. She moaned against his mouth in anticipation. He broke the kiss, kneeling down to yank her jeans and panties off her feet then trailing kisses up her leg, stopping to sink his teeth into her thigh. She squeeked, watching a cheeky smile pull at his lips. He stood, lifting her easily and plonking her on the bathroom counter. She gasped, the cold marble surface agaisnt her bare skin making her squirm although she really didn't have long to think about it. He was already pulling her legs apart, sinking down as his eyes stayed fixed on her. She watched, his eyes never leaving her face as he delivered a long, slow lick to her slit. He groaned, sounding almost relieved as he repeated the action, tongue sliding through her folds, the instant jolt of pleasure as he passed over her clit. "Oh my god." She breathed. There was

something inherently more sexy about actually watching him do it. She felt like she should look away but his gaze wouldn't let her. His big brown doe eyes holding her innocently while the action with his tongue was anything but. After another long lick, he stopped at her clit, circling the bundle of nerve endings with the tip of his tongue, still watching her watch him, the corners of his open mouth curling in an almost sinister smile. "Do you have any idea how fucking good you taste?" He groaned. She opened her mouth to reply but no words came out, she was rapt, watching him flatten out his tongue and lick hard, his lips closing around her clit in a way not unsimilar to the way he kissed her face. He moved one hand from her thigh, sitting back on his heels, his attention temporarily turning from her face as he lazily dragged his fingers up and down her pussy. She could see her wetness coating his index and middle finger as he stood up, presenting them to her. "Open" he whispered. Unable to do anything else through the haze of lust currently engulfing her, she obediently opened her mouth, lips closing around his fingers, tongue snaking round them as she experienced the tangy, slightly sweet taste of the arousal he provoked in her. He moaned, watching her suck his fingers deep into her mouth, her tongue soft and warm sending jolts of desire to his already aching cock. "Damn. I want to fuck you so bad." He panted. "Wanna feel your soft, hot pussy around my cock. Wanna screw you till you can't speak. Want it so bad." His voice was husky, his head dropping onto her shoulder as he battled ferociously with his need. "Please do" she croaked, her mouth dry. He whined, a small part of him thinking their first time together shouldn't be a lust fueled quicky in a bathroom with all his brothers downstairs. The rest of him couldn't have cared less if they were sat on the counter next to her. He was too far gone to notice. His stomach churned, feeling uncomfortable under the weight of his lust. "I can wait." He offered, although it was taking more restraint than he thought he possessed. "I don't wanna wait." She breathed. "I want you inside me." With that, his resolve snapped, his fingers already deftly battling with the button on his cargo pants before his brain had registered her response. He didn't even bother to take them off, he couldn't wait that long. He just undid them, and pulled his swollen, achy cock out of his boxers, hissing at the contact from his own hand. "Fuck" she gulped. He realised that she'd never actually seen him before, pausing with his long fingers curled around his shaft, he smirked, squeezing slightly, gently stroking his cock, ignoring the tingle of pleasure to focus on her reaction. In typical Jungkook fashion, he was an overachiever. His cock decently above average size without being obscene, deliciously thick, smooth, perfectly straight. Even his dick was pretty. If it wasn't for her overwhelming need for him to stop fucking about and nail her with it, she'd have been annoyed that this gorgeous, cute, devilish, cheeky contradiction of a man had literally not a single physical flaw. He was sculpted, proportioned and presented so perfectly that it stole her breath and at any other time, would have made her heart contract painfully with overwhelming affection. But she wasn't thinking with her heart. She was too wrapped up in her pussy, leaking, feeling so empty she could hardly stand it. "Gonna stand there jerking off or are you going to fuck me?" She hissed, past the point of impatience. His smirk grew. "Feeling needy are we?" He teased. She pouted pitifully and nodded at him with wide eyes. "But how can I fuck you when you look so cute?" He cooed, rubbing the head of his dick against her clit. She shivered, her fingers clenching against the edge of the marble counter top. "It's simple. You just stop being a brat and stick it in me." She huffed. He laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Oh that's it? Just slide my thick, hard cock into your cute, tight, greedy little hole hmm? Just stretch your wet little pussy

out, fuck you till you can't see straight." He whispered. She moaned and whined at the same time. "Koo...please. I'm gonna die." She cried, wiggling uncomfortably. He chuckled, making a mental note to see how far he could actually push her in the future. He already knew he was going to have a lot of fun with her neediness. "Relax baby. I've got this." He lined up, rubbing the head of his cock against her hole a couple of times, biting his lip as he felt her entrance contract, trying to suck him in. He pushed slowly, feeling her stretch to accommodate him, then the slick, soft heat engulfing him inch by inch. He groaned heavily, eyes fixed on her impossibly tight hole swallowing his length greedily. "Holy shit." He panted, pleasure exploding through him. "Fuck you feel amazing. Fuck." He wanted to savour it. He felt her fingers clench, balling his sweaty shirt in her hands. "Oh god" she whined, wriggling deperately. The stationary pressure of his cock buried deep inside her was making her crazy. The slight burning stretch, the feeling of fullness. She needed him to move. Her hands gripped at his hips, pushing back. "Don't tease me" she panted. He leaned in, running his nose along her jaw, inhailing deeply, his lips finding her ear. "What do you need Jagi? Slow?" He withdrew painfully slowly, allowing her to feel every bit of him against her sensative walls. "Or hard?" He snapped his hips forward, driving into her mercilessly. She grunted, a stab of achy pain as he hit something deeper than she expected. "Hard." She hissed. He bit his lip, swallowing his own moan, pulling out of her. "Jump down" he instructed, taking her hand and helping her to slide off the marble counter. He kissed her softly before turning her round, pushing against her mid back until she bent over the counter. He groaned, eyes glued as she presented her ass to him. He bit his lip, running his hands over her soft, perfect skin before finding a home on her hips. He positioned himself, her hips giving him the leverage he needed to pull her back sharply as he thrust into her, his cock slamming roughly into her. He groaned, head falling back, a shock of delicious pleasure bursting through him. He fucked her like he was on a timer, relentlessly drilling his dick into her, the lewd slap of his thighs hitting her bare skin permiated the room, drowning out the sound of the still running shower. Her body banging agaisnt the counter top repeatedly as though he was trying to fuck her through the damn thing. He reached up, curling her hair around his hand and pulling her head back, looking at her in the mirror. Her cheeks flushed, mouth agape, brow furroughed, eyes heavy as she bounced around helplessly with every steady thrust. Her sweaty hands slid uselessly over the marble surface, finding no purchase. "You ok? " He grunted. She nodded rapidly. "Don't stop" she hissed. He pulled on her hair sharply, forcing her upright. "Kiss me" he panted. She turned her head, his lips hungrily attacking hers, moaning lustfully into her mouth as he ground his hips agaisnt her ass, his cock still buried to the hilt inside her. "Fuck. So good" he growled, one hand snaking round her waist to play with her clit. She yelped, pushing back, grinding desperately on his cock. He grit his teeth, his expression almost angry as he rapidly rubbed at her clit. His toes were curling inside his sneakers, his orgasm threateningly close. He needed her to cum. Quickly. "Fuck. Love this pussy. So good." He babbled, incoherently. She whined deperately, her head falling back against his shoulder as she sucked in a sharp breath. He felt her walls clench around his cock, felt her muscles tighten and almost sighed with relief, letting go of his restraint, the rapid pulsating of her pussy pushing him over the edge. He came hard, still pistoning his hips deliriously as he spilled what felt like everything he had inside her. He slowed his thrusting, the obscene squelching sound coming from her sloppy cunt only heightening his pleasure. "Fuck" he repeated, stilling his movement, clinging to her weakly.

She looked dazed. Her eyes not fully shut but clearly not actually looking at anything. She panted deperately, trying to regain some oxygen. He braced himself even though his legs felt like jelly, taking the majority of her weight. He nuzzled into her neck, carefully pulling himself out of her, shuddering at the friction against his overly sensative cock. "That was..." He sighed, not actually having a word. "Delicious." She hummed, a smile tugging at her lips. He chuckled and nodded. "Very very." He held her for a few minutes, feeling his heart rate calm and his breathing return to normal, enjoying the blissful afterglow, nuzzling and kissing her affectionately as the lust died down and was replaced with an overwhelming softness for her. She was completely still, breathing shallow and he actually wondered for a second if she'd fallen asleep. "Still with me?" He whispered. She smiled immediately. "Mmm hmm. Just...floating." she sighed. He grinned, knowing the feeling well. "I should shower. We'll be ordering food soon." He murmured, kissing her neck gently. She whined in protest but the sudden growling of her stomach told her he was right. "I know." She said sullenly, peeling herself out of his warm, cosy arms. "Gimme two minutes to clean up then I'll go so you can shower." She sighed, untangling her underwear from her jeans. She washed up quickly, checking her make up in the mirror and fixing the smudges before pulling her hair up. It was too mussed to leave it down now and she couldn't be bothered straightening it again. She made her way downstairs shortly after, leaving Jungkook in the shower although every step away from him felt painful and unnecessary. Some of the guys were still in their rooms, cleaning or getting changed. She headed into the kitchen, stealing a cold Sprite before collapsing on the sofa in the lounge. She sighed, wriggling her toes, the after affects of what had just happened still not fully gone. Her legs still felt shaky. She could feel a dull ache across her thighs where they'd smashed into the marble edge of the counter top repeatedly. She smiled. Yes it was slightly strange but she liked the thought of it bruising. A tangible reminder of what had happened. She bit her lip, feeling heat rise into her cheeks as she stared into space, deep in thought. She'd just had sex with Jungkook. Giggles swelled in her chest. It was so surreal. She didn't understand how she'd gone from pining for him to this. She suddenly missed him desperately even though she'd only been away from him for minutes.

[boxofbadaddiction]

A Reason to Smile

Fred Weasley x Reader

This Story is inspired from a request of my Movie Lines Prompt List.

Prompts: 4, 10 & 16

"Let's put a smile on that face."/"Go ahead, make my day."/"Yippee ki yay, Motherfucker."

Warnings: Swearing. Umbridge.

Y/n woke up in a foul mood. With less than 3 hours sleep after having spent the whole night in detention with Umbridge and just can't seem to find a reason to smile. Even the thought of spending the day with her best friends, Fred and George, fills her with somewhat dread.

She doesn't want to see anyone. Do anything. Or go anywhere. Which is totally unideal for a Saturday. If things were to go her way she'd just roll over and stay in bed.

But she's starving so there's just no avoiding the inevitable.

Begrudgingly she pulls herself from her bedsheets and readies for breakfast.

As she arrives in the Great Hall she keeps her eyes trained to the floor, bee-lining for a place far enough away from the other students in her House to simply eat in peace before disappearing back to her dorm for the day.

But of course, with Fred and George as your best friends, how could she have possibly expected that to go to plan?

"Hey, y/n/n!" One of the Twins shout as they made their way over to her House table for breakfast. Their typical peppy demeanour mocked her, as it seemed impossible to draw herself from her current bad mood. Unable to even muster a fake, courteous smile for the sake of conversation.

"What happened to you last night?" spoke George as they sat either side of their dishevelled appearing friend. "Popped out to hand in some homework and we never saw you again. What'd you get lost?" He teased, nudging her shoulder in the process while his brother chuckled at the remark.

"I'm sorry I disappeared but please guys not today. I'm not in the mood."

"Woah, what's with the tone, love? And not in the mood? Please! You're always in the mood for us" Fred goaded pulling y/n into his side by her waist. A guesture which would usually have her leaning into his touch but not today.

She shook herself from his hold with a huff, leaning onto the table she propped her head up by the palm of her hand.

Neither Twin knew how to react, she'd never been so put off by them before. "Y/n...are you okay?" Fred asked sincerely. Both boys were eyeing her concernedly.

Y/n avoided eye contact, staring fixedly at her, now cold, bowl of porridge as she stabbed at it with her spoon. That's when Fred noticed it. The pink discolouration on the back of her hand. His heart dropped at the sight. She'd obviously been with Umbridge last night.

"Y/n-" his voice was firm as he spoke, drawing her and Georges attention immediately, his eyes flicked briefly to hers before focusing solely on the forming scar. "Your hand."

"It's nothing." Y/n straightened herself tucking her hand into her lap with a slight wince as the fabric of her clothes caught the still tender surface of her wound. Her other hand came to grip at its forearm to distract herself from the dull throbbing pain which now coursed through her hand.

"It's not nothing!" Fred snapped harshly, but as a whisper so not to draw too much unwanted attention.

George delicately reached across her lap lifting her injured hand into the light, his own eyes near shaking as they searched desperately between hers and his brothers expressions before inspecting the words she'd been forced to carve into her own flesh all night.

"I will obey the rules" he read the words aloud, the very phrase causing a sick bile to rise in each boys throat.

"I was busted on my way back. She told me I need to 'be more aware of the company I keep' less something like this happen again" y/n mumbled with distaste, her eyes locked determinedly onto the tables edge.

There was a moments silence between the three, all seemingly afraid to speak, before George stood abruptly, storming from the hall. An action which caused y/n to close her eyes tightly, drawing a sharp breath in, attempting to distract from the tightness that'd formed in her chest in knowing the effect her words had on the pair.

She never intended on telling them about the detention. They'd surely blame themselves for her being out past curfew as it was their idea to meet up in the first place. But it's not like she didn't understand the risk of what she was doing when she did it.

They knew those few words all too well. Umbridge had spoken them to her before, countless times by this point.

The first time, the Twins had been pestering y/n in the courtyard when she approached. They were lounged about one of the concrete benches under the courtyards largest tree. Freds head was in Y/ns lap, as she read, poking her cheek in an attempt to gain her full attention whilst George sat on her otherside, all his weight pressing against her as he sighed boredly.

Umbridge had deemed their behaviour 'not school appropriate' and 'not in compliance' with Educational Decree Number 31; as Boys and Girls are not permitted to be within 8 inches of each other.

The Brothers had laughed at her, a poorly timed 'you're kidding' thrown her way as Fred swung his legs off the bench now sitting upright. A few more cheekily placed comments landed the pair in detention for the night.

She highly disapproved of y/ns relationship with the Twins and had no issue voicing the fact and so before parting she'd issued that very same warning to y/n, stating matter-of-factly; "You should be more cautious of the company which you keep. Such a promising young witch, it'd be a shame to see your talents go to waste or future be tarnished for that matter by the carelessness of others whom are less gifted." She'd uttered the words with sharp glares thrown down her nose to the two Weasleys.

From that moment it'd become somewhat of a catch phrase for her everytime the threesome caught her attention.

Y/ns head dropped, mumbling a soft "I'm sorry, Fred."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, love." He rubbed small comforting circles on the lower of her back before pulling her waist as he had done so earlier. Inching closer so their legs were pushed flush together as he rest his chin atop her shoulder nestling into her neck. A touch which, this time, she did not shy away from - rather craning her head back to rest against his.

"I just don't think I'm someone you'll want to be around today." She admitted sadly, "I can't bring myself to enjoy anything."

"Well that just won't do" Fred pulled his head back to look into her eyes with a cheeky knowing expression. But even that wasn't enough to bring a rise to her saddened features. "Come on," he nudged her shoulder, "let's put a smile on that face." He spoke with a smirk.

"Reckon you can?"

"Of course!" Fred nodded with a tone of absolutely certainty.

"Well go ahead, make my day." Y/n challenged, which brought an excited smile to Freds face. He jumped from his place at the table holding an expectant hand out for her to take which she accepted a little hesitantly.

"Should we go find George? See if he's okay?"

"Nah, he'll be fine. Besides, this way I get you all to myself." Fred squeezed her hand a little tighter as he all but dragged his friend from the Hall.

A few hours had past and Fred were still relentlessly determined to make today one of the best days possible for y/n. Surprisingly he'd started off small with a just few well timed jokes and casual strolls around the Castle simply trying to keep her occupied on anything other than those toxic thoughts that kept her from enjoying the day.

As lunch approached he'd upped his game. Grabbing a few snacks from the kitchens and taking her down to her favourite place by the Lake where they spent the time talking together; sharing various stories while Fred told countless jokes to make her laugh and spoke of their newest inventions for the joke shop.

Y/n was sure she hadn't stopped smiling since the moment they'd left the Hall. Fred just had that effect on her but with every small guesture and tender smile thrown her way there was just no stopping the butterflies that erupt in her chest or the warmth that spread to her cheeks from his flirty comments and kind words.

By this point she'd nearly forgotten the whole reason he were so determined to make today so memorable.

But Georges absence and the light stinging in her hand was a nagging little reminder at the back of her mind which stopped her from falling wholly into the moment.

"Alright, Miss." Fred shot up from his place on the grass, dusting his hands on his jeans as he did so. "Onto grander things!" He held his hands out for her to take, pulling her giggling figure from the ground. "What could you possibly have planned now?" "Oh just a little mischief." He grinned as his tongue grazed his bottom lip before threading itself between his teeth, eyeing her closely. Y/ns eyes narrowed at his words untrusting of whatever plan his brain had suddenly cooked up. There were no time to question however as she were promptly being pulled to the Castle as the Sun fell below the horizon.

"You dragged me back to the Castle like a man possessed for dinner!?" Y/n questioned as they entered the Great Hall alongside countless of the other Hogwarts residents.

"Well yes and no. Yes; because you need to have a proper meal today aside from a couple sad mouthfuls of porridge and a dozen sweets. No; because for my next trick we will in fact be needing our beloved Georgie." "Do you think he's okay?" "One way to find out isn't there? OI! George!" Fred pushed through the dawdling individuals in the aisles between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, pulling y/n along behind him to where his Twin were currently seated for dinner.

"Hey Georgie" y/n began in a sad tone as she sat beside him. "Are you okay?" She stroked his arm reassuringly as she spoke. "Yeah I'm fine. Sorry I took off this morning I-" "ah-ah!" Fred piped from her otherside, "no morning talk. Look you're ruining all my good work!" He commented pointing to the concerned frown which were now upon y/ns features. "What?" "Dear Freddie here has been spending the day trying to get my mind off things." "Right right...Ginny mentioned something about Fred dragging you around the school all day." "Yes, and until now it'd been working so just...perk up. Which shouldn't be hard once I tell you my plan" Fred rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Plan?" "Know that thing we've been dying to try but haven't had the occasion?" he stated vaguely which had concern growing in the pit of y/ns stomach. Concern which only worsened as she watched how Georges features shifted swiftly from one of slight disinterest to immediate excitement. "Really? You wanna do that tonight?" His smile was wicked and a little frightening in y/ns opinion as he questioned his brother who merely hummed in response. "Reckon I can name a few select members of a certain 'club' who would make excellent guinea pigs." Continued George in a whisper over top of y/n "You've read my mind." Fred took a sip from a drink y/n had just poured, for herself mind you.

Y/ns focus was shifting worriedly between the two brothers who sat on her either side sharing an unspoken understanding.

"Stop doing that you're freaking me out!" She snapped which caused the boys to laugh, George mumbling a simple "You're in for a treat" as he turned his attention back to his dinner with a sly grin.

Y/n looked back to Fred hoping for some kind of hint or reassurance but he just smiled, wrapping his arm round her waist and pulling her into his side as he began to eat.

"You really think you're going to get away with this?" Y/ns voice rang throughout the empty corridor. "Only one way to find out" Fred wiggled his eyebrows at her.

The pair were currently hiding around the corner of the 7th floor main corridor. It were past curfew as the Twins plan fell into play.

"Explain to me again what exactly these things are?" Y/n asked as she fiddled with a small cylindrical canister. "Paint bombs." Fred answered excitedly. "Similar to Dungbombs just-" "with paint?" "Pretty much, yeah. You pull this little tab, then you have about 7 seconds before it goes off. This one in particular is my favourite so far." "And whys that?" "You'll see" Fred smiled brightly down at her before the sound of approaching footsteps put an end to their conversation.

George barrelled down the hallway, throwing himself into the pair very much out of breath but with a smile as wide as Fred's had been moments ago.

"All set?" "Yeah. They should be coming through any minute now." The three craned their necks around the walls edge, waiting for their unsuspecting victims. It didnt take long before the sound of several pairs of agitated feet came stomping through the corridor.

Filch followed by a handful of the Inquisitorial Squad were huddled together in shared annoyance by the antics of George which were leading them directly into their trap. Various curses and angry grumbles could only faintly be heard over the distance between them.

"Right" Fred whispered as the three ducked back behind the wall, he gave George and y/n a quick nod before tearing the small tab from it's place. "Yippe Ki Yay, Motherfucker." He spoke dramatically as he stepped out, throwing the Paint Bomb like a grenade towards the befuddled group of Slytherins and accompanying Caretaker.

Quickly shooting himself back behind the wall where all three waited with baited breaths and backs pressed flush to the cold stone wall.

"Not a day goes by that I don't regret showing you Die Hard." Y/n mumbled, a comment which brought a wide smile to Freds face as he looked down to her. A few more seconds past before a loud crack and angry shouts echoed through the Castle.

Y/n looked in amazement to see the Hall covered in multicoloured, sparkling, paint as well as orange and gold confetti. There was something beautiful about it she thought. All the vibrant pinks, blues and purples caught the eye like a giant canvas painting. Aside from the ugly squabbling creature, that had once been the Inquisitorial Squad, at the pieces centre of course.

She was in tears from laughing at the sight when Fred leant down to speak in her ear "whataya think?" "I think it's brilliant!" She smiled up at him, "that's the messiest one we've got." He nodded in the direction of the chaos currently unfolding before them.

The group were slipping over themselves and wiping hands down their faces in disgust over the thick liquid which coated them all, as well as the ceiling and walls.

"It was also the only one." George scowled though clearly very amused. "Worth it though wouldn't you say?" "Absolutely."

Freds eyes turned back to y/n, admiring her laughing figure beside him.

"We'll count that one a success heya, Freddie?" George nudged but his brothers trance was not so easily broken. "Definitely" he smiled not turning away from her.

"Shit!" Y/n exclaimed suddenly. "Yeah, I'd say it's time to go." George stated as he watched the very colourful and very angry group now charging after them.

George took off in a sprint but it weren't till y/n began running, taking a hold of Freds hand as she did so that he fully registered what was going on and started to run too.

Fred and Y/n had ended up in her common room after losing George. Luckily it were late enough that not many people were still hanging about so the two pretty much had the place to themselves. Spending a few more moments just being together and reliving the day by the fire, it weren't till the clock struck 12am that Fred admit he should be getting back to his dormitory. Not that he wanted to but y/n needed to sleep after her restless night prior, he hadn't meant to keep her up this late to begin with.

Pulling her from the couch he walked her to the bottom of her dorm rooms staircase where she stood a couple stairs from the bottom to match his height.

It'd slipped the pairs notice that they were still holding one anothers hand until their joined laughter faltered and the warmth in their palms caused realisation to strike. Fred dropped the hold clearing his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Thank you for today, Freddie." Y/n smiled warmly. "Pretty memorable, aye? Told you I'd get you smiling." He rocked confidently on the balls of his feet. Y/n shook her head slightly as she absent-mindedly stroked his arm. "Don't know what I'd do without you." "Probably nag George" he joked.

"As much as I love Georgie, it wouldn't be the same" Freds eyes studied her face the whole time she spoke. He could feel his heart begin to race inside his chest. If only she knew how much he wished he could hear her say she loved him.

"Goodnight, Freddie" y/n placed a light kiss to his cheek, grip tightening ever-so-slightly on his bicep before turning slowly to leave.

His heart was thundering now. Breaths rapid as his body urges him to speak. To tell her everything.

How he's in love with her and he's sure she feels the same way.

How she's the first thing on his mind of a morning and the last thing at night. How his whole family has been pushing him to just pluck up the courage and ask her out already. How nothing makes him happier than seeing her smile. How he never wanted to go to the Ball as 'just friends'. How he smells her perfume in Amortentia. That the sight of her at breakfast this morning, so down and distraught, broke his heart. How for the last few hours it's taken near all his strength to stop himself kissing her with as much love and passion as he can to show her how much she means to him.

But how do you convey all that to someone who has been your best friend for the past 5 years? No clue. But he has to try and he knows he'll never get this kind of opportunity again.

"Y/n, wait-" he grabs her arm, taking a step towards her he pulls her into his chest. Before he can process it his hand is cupping her cheek and he's kissing her with such intensity y/n can feel the air leave her lungs as she melts into him. Her arms snaking over his body. A hand running itself along his shoulder, fingers entangling themselves in the locks of hair at the base of his neck, whilst the other wraps tightly around his torso.

When they finally break apart Fred's on cloud nine. Nothing had ever felt so good or so right. But at the same time, he's panicking. God, he hopes she truly does feel the same way and he didn't just completely misread everything about their relationship. Their foreheads are pressed together as y/ns lips form a wide smile.

"If you wanted to give me a reason to smile today...you could have just started with that."