#no i DON’T want to tell you my word count

[philosians]

ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴄᴇ

a three week paid-vacation provided by your captain gave rise to the opportunity to finally show you the gift sylus had gotten you. and no, it isn’t the yacht you’re on—but he wouldn’t be opposed to giving you that either.

[ !! ] — mdni | established relationship, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, fingering, oral (female receiving), praise kink, mating press, unprotected sex, sylus is soft in the bedroom okay now hush ;; alcohol mention (sylus drinks whiskey), fluff. oh did I mention soft! sylus?? uhhh maybe more tags than this idk there’s a lot going on lmao. unedited af I know that’s a warning. if y’all see cut sentences just know it’s a brain glitch >.< lol

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day! phew i got this out before it ended hehe just in the nick of time. I do wanna forewarn everyone I don’t actively write smut so I deeply apologize for any sort of repetitiveness or just it being inaccurate and rushed overall, my apologies. but please enjoy reading! bc i wanna curl up and die and delete this after writing it actually lmao I’ll probably never write anything like this again haha

word count: roughly 4.8k

The starry expanse of sky moves quickly outside of the window of the car, nothing but a blur of cosmic colors. Where you’re going you’re not quite sure, with all the secrecy from Sylus and the twins. It’s something Sylus has clearly planned for awhile, from the way he wanted you to dress tonight, but you’re still unable to put your finger on it.

At the very least, you’re glad that Kieran is the one that’s driving instead of Luke.

“Are you two going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Afraid not, Miss,” Kieran replies. “That’d be against orders from Boss.”

“Are we at least almost there yet?” you ask.

“We have about ten more minutes,” Luke chirps. “Then you’ll finally get to see Boss, don’t worry.”

You’re stunned into a mild fluster and look at your hands in your lap. You heard the twins snicker and you can’t help but shake your head incredulously. Oh well. You’re almost to your destination anyway.

After the last two months of an increase in Wanderer appearances, you could most certainly use a break. It’s been nothing short of hectic, battles here and evacuations there and the occasional dumbass that doesn’t want to listen to the warnings given out that an area is too dangerous to go into.

You softly sigh. You really shouldn’t be thinking about work.

You tug the large coat on your shoulders over you further, closing your eyes and sinking into the warmth and the smell of the man it belonged to.

Whatever in the world Sylus had planned must be big, even so that he couldn’t be bothered to tell even the twins exactly what he had in store. All the three of you knew was that he had a surprise, and the two brothers were more than happy to have the opportunity to have the base to themselves.

You just wish you knew where you were going.

“Is this it?”

“I think so. Ah, there’s Boss.”

Oh, already?

True to word, you open your eyes and see a familiar patch of silver against the darkness of the world. And you also happen to see a very, very large yacht not far from him.

A marina? You blink incredulously. A private fucking marina. Good lord, how much money does this man really have?

Upon stopping, you watch as Sylus turns his head slightly to the car. Luke quickly jumps from the passenger side and opens the door for you, ushering his hand outward dramatically and says, “After you, Miss.”

The heel of your shoe clicks against pavement as you step out, holding Luke’s hand for stability until you find your balance.

“Thanks, Luke.”

“Not a problem! Enjoy the honey— Uh, vacation!”

Luke jumps back into the car, more than likely to save himself from your questioning eyes. You can’t help but shake your head and make your way toward Sylus and the man in uniform, more than likely the captain of the yacht.

“Ah, Mrs. Sylus,” greets the captain with a tilt of his hat. His eyes blink as he does a once-over on you and then laughs. “I was wondering what kind of woman would tie such a man down, and now I understand. Please, come aboard.”

Your brows raise at Sylus as the captain pivots and boards the yacht. “Care to explain that?”

Sylus, in all his audacity, simply shrugs and smiles. “Nothing to explain, sweetie. He came up with that himself after I told him my lady would be joining me.”

You scoff in disbelief, but can’t help the small smile that falls to your lips. You take Sylus’s arm, wrapped your hand in the crook of his elbow as he leads you onto the ship.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, gazing around as he takes you to the deck. And you could only imagine what it would be like when you went out to sea.

“I figured you would like it,” he murmurs. “Glad to see my instincts weren’t wrong.”

You don’t miss the way his red eyes look to you, knowing he’s waiting for your words of affirmation. You laugh behind your hand, because yeah, he’s right.

You hum, taking his hand in your own. “Thank you for considering me.”

You also don’t miss the way his large fingers eagerly twine with your own, nor the way his eyes soften and blend with devotion and affection.

“Always.”

Thirty minutes pass before the ship takes off into the open sea. You barely feel it until Sylus has you stand to take you back outside from the dining area.

“So, where are we going?” you ask, gazing up at him.

Sylus’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “It’s a surprise.”

You grumble, humoring the man. “Of course it is.”

Sylus’s coat never leaves your shoulders the couple hours you’re both out on the deck. He seems to enjoy that, too; you wearing his clothes sparks something behind his eyes that you’re all too familiar with. The thought itself has your cheeks warming and thighs pressing together.

He flicks his wrist to check his watch when a timer beeps twice. You can’t help it when your eyes linger on his hand. You’ve always had a fixation on his them—on how big and warm they are in comparison to yours, on how his long fingers stretch across your body, and how they gently wrap around you and pull you close like he’d die without touching you. Those hands that had once forced you to attempt to resonate with him for three days had become soft, remorseful and loving. And he’d more than earned your forgiveness.

“Dinner should be ready.”

You grin. “You brought your chef?”

“Just for this trip,” he retorts, standing to full height. “Come.” His hand outstretches to you and you take it without hesitation.

You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly light up at the way your fingers immediately interlace with his. It’s a small joy to you, but to him it means everything—a testament to how far the two of you have come.

Dinner, as always, is perfect. Dessert even more so. You’re not too full, but more than satisfied. You give your compliments to the chef, who in turn happily skips back to the kitchen like he’s on cloud nine. And you can’t help but look at Sylus and smile as he downs his whiskey like it’s water.

“You don’t compliment your chef enough,” you comment. “One sentence from me and he acts like he’s never heard praise.”

Sylus hums as his brows raise, humored. He chuckles with the whiskey in his mouth before swallowing it to retort, “He knows his cooking is excellent. I suppose I just have a limit to how many compliments I can give out in a day.”

You place your chin in your hand. “Oh, really? Then how many do I get to have in a day?”

Adoration fills his ruby orbs. “As many as you want, my beloved.”

His hand reaches for your left over the table. Sylus’s thumb rubs over your fingers, resting atop your ring finger.

“Have I told you that you look exquisite tonight?” he whispers.

“You haven’t,” you reply cheekily. “I think you owe me a few more, don’t you think?”

The soft music in the background dies as you begin to hear your heart thunder in your ears. You do hope that Sylus can’t hear it pounding away like you can.

“Seems like I do,” he says in an exhale, leaning back in his seat but not letting go of your hand. His eyes have changed—once filled with adoration, now filled with a fire that makes heat rise to your cheeks and desire burn between your legs. “I don’t think I’ve shown you the bedroom yet, have I?”

You grin. “You haven’t. I’d like to see it.”

But what you don’t anticipate is your man standing and abruptly lifting you into a one arm carry. Your sharply inhale in surprise, arms immediately weave around his neck for support, but you know he’d never drop you anyway.

You trail your nose under his jaw, pressing a long kiss to his skin by his ear. Your fingers dig into his shoulder, the subtle presser making him hasten his long strides.

“Sweetheart—” Sylus gulps as you press two fingers to his mouth to silence him.

You pepper slow kisses down his neck, nipping at the skin every other kiss. It’s when you reach his collarbone you hear the click of a door. And seconds later you find the plush fabric of blankets underneath you and Sylus’s firm hand cradling the back of your head as he tilts your head back to capture your lips with his.

Between each heated kiss you attempt to catch your breath, only for your lover to devour your mouth with his own again and again.

“Mmmh— Sylus, let me—” another kiss “—catch my breath.”

He has a hard time pulling away. Sylus rests on one knee at the edge of the bed, hands grasping at the back of your bare calves as he catches his own breath and tries to pull himself back to his senses before he finishes himself off early.

While you toss your head back and close your eyes, trying to let oxygen catch up to your brain, Sylus lifts his head to look at you. He drinks in your appearance—the starry night sky sewn into the strapless obsidian dress (one that he had specially made for you) accentuated your body exactly the way he envisioned.

As he watches your breasts rise and fall with every breath, he feels his pants tighten even more. He’s so painfully hard just from simply kissing you—a testament to what you do to him, how deeply you affect him.

He rests his head against the plush of your thigh. As he trails his hand down your leg, he realizes you still have your heels on.

Your head snaps up at the feeling of one heel coming off, then the other.

“Sylus, what— Oh, shit.”

The momentum of him lifting your body further up the bed and hiking your dress up catches you off guard. His mouth latches to your thighs, kissing and biting all the way up until he reaches the fabric of your panties—the only thing between him and what he wants.

“Such a dark red, darling,” he hums. “Was this for me?”

“It might’ve been,” you tease.

As his finger loops around the red fabric covering you, Evol ready to help rip it off, your hand makes its way into his hair and tugs, forcing his eyes to attention.

“Rip these, I’m okay with that. Rip the dress, and I’ll kill you,” you say, half-joking. But damn did you really like this dress.

He chuckles, eyes glazed with lust. “Understood.”

As soon as he tears them away and hikes your dress even further around your hips, Sylus’s mouth does nothing short of devour your pussy. You let out the loudest, wanton moan you’ve ever heard from yourself as his tongue buries itself in and against your folds. Your head falls back against the pillows, hands moving to grip the sheets beneath you to maintain some semblance of being grounded as Sylus eats you out like a starved man. Your legs are over his shoulders, allowing him the best access to your womanhood.

“Oh— Fuuuck, Sylus. Ohmygod, please don’t stop,” you beg, threading one hand through his hair again, grip tighter than earlier.

His reply comes in the form of him pushing his thick middle finger inside of you and mouth sucking on your clit. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth. His ring finger promptly follows, stretching your cunt and sinking deep inside of your walls. Tears of overstimulation line your eyes as you grasp at then pillow behind your head.

Both hands twine into his silver locks of hair, pressing him deeper into you. What you miss amidst your own haze of ecstasy is Sylus grinding himself against the mattress to find some sense of relief. His mind is at war, wanting nothing more than to cum right then and there versus wanting to watch his seed spill from your hole. It takes every ounce of self-control of his own body to not climax while he simultaneously loses his mind while his mouth is attached to your cunt.

“Don’t— Please— Sylus! Sylus, I’m gonna—”

Your back arches off of the bed, and you can’t help but press him further into you and grind against his face. Sylus’s arms wrap around your thighs, holding you steady. The deep groan of his satisfaction that leaves him only spurs you on further and further and further until your thighs clench around his head and you cum. Hard.

And Sylus more than enjoys sucking and licking away at your release as you climax, prolonging it as much as he can. He lifts your lower body into the air as he continues his onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and tongue, the pressure of your thighs on either side of his head making him dizzy. Your essence coats his chin and nose, your scent driving all his senses wild and pulls the remainder of his blood down to his cock.

He gains a free hand as you tighten your legs around his shoulders. He unbuckles his belt and slips it off with practiced ease before moving to unzip and unbutton his pants, tugging away at them.

When your hips stop shaking is when Sylus grabs your thighs with both hands and sets your body back down on the mattress. He hovers over you once again, taking in your disheveled appearance and partially-lidded eyes. His long fingers brush your skin and cradle your jaw.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he asks.

You pant and gaze up at him. “Barely.” You swallow. “That tongue of yours is brutal.”

Sylus laughs. It’s almost enough to make him forget about the painful fact that his cock is straining against his pants. Until your knee brushes against it when you lift yourself from the bed and he groans.

You giggle as his head presses against your shoulder.

“You really shouldn’t neglect yourself like that,” you hum, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Sylus’s lips meet your neck opposite of your arm wrapped around him and presses a long kiss to your sweaty skin, murmuring hotly into your ear, “There’s no one to blame but you, beloved. And I highly suggest you take responsibility.”

You moan and arch into him as his hands work on your dress, unzipping the back entirely and lowering it just below your breasts. You arch your back so he can undo the bra, and as soon as it’s on the floor, his mouth is on your chest. Sylus sucks and bites at your nipples, worshipping them and your breasts as he grinds his clothed erection into your bare pussy, soaking his dress pants in your juices.

You begin unbutton his shirt through the haze of your desire… before you slip your hands through the remaining buttons and fully rip his dress shirt apart, exposing his thick torso. You both chuckle at the sound of the buttons hitting the floor.

“Impatient?”

“Like you aren’t,” you remark.

Sylus shrugs off his shirt in a fluid motion and tosses it to the side from one arm. You manage to slide off your dress within a few moments, just as Sylus manages to get off his pants and briefs and… Oh…

You’d almost forgotten how big he is. Sure, the two of you have spent a couple more… sensual evenings together since you had him use your place as a safe house (and then him bringing you to his), but it always makes you shudder when your eyes land between the apex of his muscular thighs.

His tip weeps with precum, heavy cock red and flushed and—

Sylus’s breath is hot against your ear as he asks, “Like what you see, darling?”

—goddamn it you need it inside of you.

Your nails dig into his bicep, your other hand wrapping around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss, and Sylus is more than happy to oblige. His kiss is deep and reverent. A small moan escapes him as you two briefly pull apart for air before diving back into one another.

Everything is hot; your cheeks are flushed with the heat of desire and your pussy aches to have Sylus buried inside of you.

You pull him down on top of you with the arm around his neck, your other hand grasping his cock and positioning it at your entrance. Sylus hisses, hips bucking slightly as his fingers clench at his attempts at restraint.

“Fuck,” he pants. His red eyes clear for a moment, turning into a gentleness reserved for you as he asks, “You think you can take it?”

“I think you ate me out enough earlier I’ll manage,” you joke. Then your nails dig into the meat of his back, the sensation making him softly hiss again. “But if you don’t I’ll be doing it for you then.”

Sylus chuckles, nose dipping to your collarbone.

“My beloved is always so greedy, isn’t she?”

There is no retort from you—only a loud moan as Sylus’s tip enters you fills the room. He stops after that though, and as you look up to him to ask him why he stopped, you’re stunned at the sight before you.

Sylus is flushed red, panting and sweating as his muscles flex.

“Sylus?”

“Don’t,” he warns, shaking his head. “Give me… a moment. You feel… too good.”

The implication is clear. Sylus’s head falls as he inches himself a little further, delighting in hearing you gasp as he sinks more and more inches of himself inside of you. It takes all he has not to just cum at the feel of you; every ounce of self-control he has is being tested. He’s never been harder in his life, and being inside of the woman he loves—who feels like heaven wrapped around his cock—only proceeds to spiral him into a deeper pit of pleasure.

“Sylus… Sylus, more, please,” you hears you beg.

He’s halfway in, trying to take his time and let the romance of the evening last. But at that, and the sensation of your nails digging into his back, he finds himself a goner and lets his hips fall into yours, sinking the remainder of his fat cock into the depths of your wet pussy. A deep shudder passes through him, bliss running through his body.

“Fuck. Fuck, you feel divine,” Sylus says in a deep exhale.

“You’re so big,” you gasp, eyes clouded with the haze of lust. “Oh, Sy, you feel so good.”

The praise goes to his head immediately. He drags his cock back out slowly and a whine escapes you, hating the emptiness. But when Sylus places your legs over his shoulders and leans over you, it’s over for you both.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Sylus rolls his hips, sliding his full length back into the warm expanse of your pussy. His head falls back, and the pace he sets proceeds to bury you both alive underneath overwhelming ecstasy.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he pants, clenching his fist into the sheet. “How I feel every time I look at you? Utter perfection is all I see. Do you feel what you do to me, darling?”

All you can feel is Sylus’s weight on top of you and the feel of his heavy cock inside of you as he stretches you open on him, carving your pussy into the shape of his cock. His pelvis rubs against your clit deliciously, spurring you on further. As much as you want to drive your hips up to meet his thrusts, Sylus has you pinned down into a mating press and all you can do is take what he’s giving you.

The papping noises of your bodies meeting filled the room, sending your thoughts into an even dirtier place. He feels so good reaching so deep inside of you, tip rubbing against that special spot perfectly, like you’re made to be perfect for each other. You clench around Sylus at another thought and he inhales sharply.

“What’re you thinking about?” he questions.

You shake your head. “N-Nothing.”

His long fingers grab your jaw gently. “Tell me.”

And then he slows his pace. “No, Sylus—”

“Then tell me what my beloved is thinking in that pretty head of hers,” he murmurs into your ear. “Or else.”

“I was thinking… about… Uhm…” Sylus rolls his hips back into you, his heavy balls pressing against your ass as he awaits your answer.

“Well?”

“I, uh— A baby.”

At the word, you shy away into your arm. But Sylus doesn’t say anything, which makes you confused. After a couple seconds, you gaze back up at him. His eyes show how stunned he is, pupils blown as no doubt the word also revolves around his own mind.

“Sylus, I— Oh, fuucckk.”

His body weight presses your body into the mattress further, leaving you at his mercy as Sylus’s pace becomes brutal, like he’s let his base instincts take over. His big hand finds yours and twines your fingers together as he drives his cock into your pussy over and over and over again, the squelching noises only growing louder and louder in your ears.

“My kitten… wants a baby then?” He hums into your ear. “She wants me to cum inside of her and carry my baby, is that right?”

“It was… just a thought.”

He laughs as your pussy clenches around him more at his words.

“Seems like it’s more than just a thought.”

Sylus’s mouth meets yours in another kiss, powered by something more than just lust. Your brain turns fuzzy and hot, reality beginning to finally blur as another climax ascends from the depths of your core.

Your eyes shut as his mouth finds the sweet spot on your neck. He sucks and nips at the skin with his teeth and you’ve no doubt that there’ll be plenty of love bites scattered across your skin for days after tonight.

When he nips at your ear, you squeak and clench around him again. Sylus groans into your ear, “Do that again.”

You oblige, clenching down on him and making him piston himself in and out of you faster. Every thrust turns into one that pushes the air from your lungs. All you can see, all you can feel is Sylus—feel his body heat as he presses your body down with his; feel the thickness of his cock stretch you open and the weight of his balls as they slap against your ass.

And it feels so good. The shlick and pap noises are getting to you. The coil that’s been winding up all night finally feels like it’s about to burst. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pressing into Sylus’s firm chest.

“Ohmygod, Sy, gonna cum, gonna cum fuckfuckfuuucckkk!”

He nips at your earlobe, biting down on it gently before whispering into your ear, “Indulge, my love. Indulge and I’ll fulfill every single one of your desires tonight.”

At long last, the coil snaps. Euphoria pilots itself to your brain and all across your body. You shake from the intensity, having to wrap your arms around Sylus to ground yourself as you reach your high.

Your orgasm sends him over the edge. He thrusts a few more times before he finds himself pressing himself as deep as he can possibly go and releasing his seed inside of your pussy. It’s almost too much, even for him. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum harder than tonight.

Your bodies rock together as you both fall from the heights of cloud nine. Sylus peppers your sweaty skin with kisses, across the bruised love bites he’d left earlier.

It’s only when he feels himself soft enough to slip out of you does he ask, “A family?”

Sylus’s voice is soft. So soft in fact that you barely hear him. You take a moment to reply, only to find yourself being easily lifted from the bed and onto Sylus’s chest.

“It’s… Something that’s crossed my mind a few times,” you admit bashfully.

Silence fills the air for a moment before he asks again, in the same, quiet tone he’d just used.

“With me?”

Your smile stretches across your face instantly. Your lips meet his chest, right over his heart. Your eyes meet his—uncertainty meeting unconditional love.

“And no one else.”

The next three days after are filled with you and Sylus partaking in all the activities that his yacht has to offer (plus more intimate times across the boat and it’s other rooms). He’d told you at one point that he would’ve just used the one he sails on regularly. But due to him wanting to spend more time with you than anything, and for you to have fun during the trip, he’d bought another and hired the captain to ensure safe passage.

Tonight however, was the night that you both were supposed to be arriving at your destination. You tried to help the anxiety and giddiness inside of you, trying to flatten it under a cool demeanor but Sylus just saw right through you.

Of course he would.

“There’s no reason to be nervous. It’s not like I’m taking you into enemy territory,” he jokes, gaze flicking to you from the stars in the open sky.

“I know that. I just can’t help it,” you mutter.

You shiver from the cold breeze, and Sylus shrugs off his leather jacket and places it over your shoulders. He leans down and zips it partway, resting his chin atop your head.

“Those hunter instincts of yours need to settle down,” he hums.

“I wish they would— Sylus!”

A hearty chuckle leaves him as you bounce away from his hold. Your eyes narrow at his treachery.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Don’t you try and tickle me,” you warn playfully. You slip your arms through the sleeves of his leather jacket, trying to pull the sleeves back from over your palms to point at him. “Or I’m gonna tickle you back.”

Sylus smirks and rubs his fingers together. “Is that a challenge?”

“Mr. Sylus, Mrs. Sylus,” greets a familiar voice.

Embarrassment makes you duck your head away from the captain for a brief moment before you look at him.

“Just thought I’d come and let you know we’ll be docking soon.” The captain takes his hat off and bows before you both. “Thank you for allowing me the chance to sail you both for the last three days.”

Sylus nods his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you for giving us safe passage, Arthur.”

Arthur nods, reapplies his cap and heads back to steer the ship into the upcoming port.

You don’t get to watch as he disappears since Sylus wraps his arms around you, pulling your chin to his chest. He presses a sweet kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I do believe we’re here.”

The distraction of the captain was long enough that the scenery before you had changed into the moonlit sea into a large landmass illuminated by the full moon above.

Your jaw drops open at the sight, eyes lighting up as you get closer and closer to the port where the ship would dock.

“Sylus, where are we?” you ask quietly.

“It’s an island,” he states. “One that I bought awhile back and was making… renovations for.”

“Renovations? For what?”

He laughs softly and looks at you like you’re a goddess. “For whom, you mean.”

Your eyes widen into saucers. Is he…? Could he seriously mean…?

“Sylus, you bought me an island?” you inquire, utterly flabbergasted.

“I can’t exactly un-buy it, so I do hope you’ll like it,” he replies. To your ears and yours alone you can hear his wavering tone, like he’s awaiting your disappointment. You can’t have that.

You cup his cheeks and force him to look at you again.

“Sylus, I love it; even if it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever been gifted, I love it. It’s just going to take me time to get used to it,” you tell him. Then you step on your tippy-toes and give him an eskimo kiss. “Thank you. I love you.”

You kiss him there at the front of the ship, wrapped in his warm, protective embrace, momentarily oblivious to the world and your surroundings.

What you’re also oblivious to, and have been since the start of the trip, is the fat diamond ring that’s been tucked away, hidden in Sylus’s bottom drawer to his dresser. And also to the fact of his other reason of being nervous.

To him hoping that you’ll say “yes” when he gets down on one knee to ask you to marry him.

But he’ll save that for later. Right now he intends to indulge and savor your lips on his and you being tucked into him, safe from the world to be loved and worshipped by him.

And hopefully, for the rest of this lifetime.

[magical-reid]

Yours, Whether You Know it or Not

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Setting: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Timeline

Word Count: 1K

Summary: You’ve been running missions with Sam and Bucky for a while now, and everything was fine—until John Walker started showing up and taking an interest in you. Bucky isn’t having it. Not because he’s jealous. Definitely not because he’s jealous. He just doesn’t trust Walker. Right?

Unwanted Attention

You weren’t sure how long you’d been walking, but you knew Bucky was beside you—silent, brooding, and absolutely vibrating with tension.

Again.

It had started a week ago. After the whole Flag Smashers fiasco in Munich, John Walker and his annoying sidekick, Lemar, had started appearing more often. They were always just there, cocky and insufferable, flashing that stolen shield like they had any right to it. But that wasn’t what had been bothering Bucky the most.

It was Walker’s interest in you.

Ever since you’d first been introduced, Walker had made it painfully obvious that he found you attractive. The first time, it was a comment—something about how you were “too pretty to be running around with these two grumps.” You’d rolled your eyes, but Sam had snickered, and Bucky had muttered something under his breath that you hadn’t quite caught.

Then, it became touches—a hand on your lower back, a brush of fingers against yours when he handed you something, a lingering grip on your wrist after a mission. It was all casual enough that you couldn’t really call him out on it, but you weren’t an idiot. Walker was testing boundaries. And every time, Bucky got pissed.

At first, you thought it was just his general hatred for Walker. But then you noticed other things.

Bucky started standing closer. His arm would “accidentally” brush against yours when you were walking. He’d place a firm hand on your back before Walker could, guiding you away without a word. And, most notably, whenever Walker so much as looked at you, Bucky’s jaw would tighten, his fists clenching like he was barely keeping himself from decking the guy.

Which led to this moment right now.

You, Bucky, and Sam were walking back to the safe house after a tense meeting with Walker and Lemar—one in which Walker had, yet again, spent way too much time trying to get your attention.

“You don’t have to act like I’m gonna drop dead if he talks to me, you know,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

Bucky didn’t look at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on.” You stopped walking, turning to face him. “Every time Walker so much as breathes in my direction, you look like you’re about to rip his throat out.”

Bucky scoffed, looking away. “I just don’t trust him.”

Sam, who had been trailing a few steps behind, smirked. “Right. That’s what this is about.”

Bucky shot him a glare, but Sam just shrugged.

“Man, you’re jealous,” Sam said. “It’s written all over your grumpy little face.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You’re so jealous.”

“I—” Bucky cut himself off, taking a deep breath like he was trying to calm himself. “He’s an asshole.”

“No arguments there,” you said. “But if you don’t like him flirting with me, there’s a pretty easy solution, Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours. “Yeah?”

You smiled innocently. “You could just tell me why it really bothers you.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, blue eyes dark and unreadable. Then, with a sharp shake of his head, he muttered, “Let’s go,” and kept walking.

Sam sighed. “Man, you are hopeless.”

You didn’t disagree.

A Game of Possession

The next time you saw Walker, things escalated.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission—stakeout, gather intel, get out. But, as always, Walker found a way to insert himself where he wasn’t wanted.

“You know,” Walker said, sidling up beside you, “we’d work a lot better together if you ditched these two and joined Lemar and me.”

Bucky, who was standing just a few feet away, tensed immediately.

You sighed. “Not interested.”

“Come on,” Walker pressed, flashing that annoyingly charming smile. “I’d take good care of you.”

Before you could retort, a heavy, warm weight settled around your waist.

Bucky.

His metal arm wrapped around you in an unmistakably possessive gesture, tugging you snugly against his side. His fingers splayed against your hip, and when he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous.

“She’s already taken care of.”

The air went thick with tension. Walker’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered.

“Oh yeah?” he challenged. “By who?”

Bucky’s grip tightened. “Me.”

Your heart stopped.

Walker raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Didn’t peg you for the type to settle down, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do.”

Walker let his gaze linger on you for a beat too long before smirking. “Alright, alright. No need to get your vibranium arm in a twist.”

And with that, he strolled off.

Bucky didn’t move. Neither did you.

Finally, you found your voice. “So. That was… something.”

Bucky let out a breath through his nose. Slowly, his hand eased away, though his fingers brushed lightly against your side before leaving entirely. “Sorry.”

You turned to look at him. “Are you?”

He hesitated. Then, in a rare moment of honesty, he admitted, “No.”

You bit your lip, heartbeat unsteady. “So… am I actually taken?”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Do you want to be?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you stepped forward, closing the space he’d left between you.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you murmured.

Bucky swallowed hard. His eyes flickered to your lips. His fingers twitched at his side like he wanted to touch you again.

Before either of you could do anything about it, Sam’s voice rang out from across the way.

“Hey, lovebirds! We’ve got work to do!”

You pulled back, trying not to grin. Bucky just sighed.

“This is your fault,” he muttered.

You smirked. “If you say so, boyfriend.”

Bucky groaned, but the tips of his ears burned red. And you had a feeling that, jealous or not, he wasn’t going to let the title go.

Not anymore.

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | taking away their food - tiktok trend

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (comment if you'd like to see other drivers or feel free to drop into my inbox!) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested) : taking away their meal while they are still eating to see their reaction...

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 3490

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : when i tell you i love these tiktok trend requests, i love them...! <3

ʚ・max verstappen

you and max were on vacation at a beautiful beachside resort. unlike max, who preferred to stay offline, you were chronically online and had seen the recent trend of taking away people’s food while they were eating. what better way to have some fun than to try it on your husband?

max had a relatively short temper, but he was always patient with you. that’s why you couldn’t wait to see his reaction when his food was suddenly taken away…especially in an expensive restaurant.

after placing your orders, you excuse yourself. “i’ll be right back, babe, just have to use the restroom.”

instead, you hurry over to your waiter, who isn’t too busy at the moment. slipping her a generous tip, you ask, “while he’s eating, can you take away his food?”

she laughs, immediately catching on. “i’ve seen the trend! i’d love to do it—especially to max.”

trying to contain your excitement, you make your way back to the table, casually setting up your phone to record. the food arrives, and you both dig in.

as you eat, you casually chat about the upcoming f1 season. “are you excited?” you ask between bites.

“yeah, but testing is gonna be interesting. new regulations could change a lot,” max replies, focused on his food.

then, right in the middle of a bite, the waiter swoops in and takes his plate away.

max freezes. you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“what the hell?” you say, feigning confusion.

max blinks before his expression shifts. “yeah, what the hell? i want to speak to their manager. what are they, fucking idiots?” his voice rises, his irritation clear.

that’s it—you can’t hold it in anymore. not wanting the staff to get in trouble, you call the waiter back, who quickly returns with his dish. “my apologies,” she says, trying to keep a straight face.

before max can get another word out, you burst into laughter. “it was just a prank, my love. an extremely funny one at that.”

max sighs, shaking his head. “you know i was hungry…”

you roll your eyes. “we had a snack before coming here. don’t lie.”

he huffs, but you can see the corner of his mouth twitching. “you’re lucky you’re my wife and not another driver.”

you grin. totally worth it.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

“are you excited to see the family again?” you ask lewis as you adjust your dress, glancing at him through the mirror.

lewis nods, holding out his tie. “always excited,” he says, smiling as you step closer to help him fix it.

you both make your way to the family dinner, where you're greeted warmly. everyone loves lewis so much that they always prepare a vegan-friendly meal just for him���without making a fuss about it.

at the gathering, you and lewis naturally drift apart. he’s with your father and uncles, deep in a discussion about sports, while you join the women in the kitchen, chatting and catching up.

your cousin pulls you aside, giggling. “have you seen that tiktok trend where you take their food mid-meal just to see their reaction?”

you smirk, already plotting. “oh, i have an idea.”

once everyone is seated and eating, conversation flows easily. then, mid-meal, you casually get up, walk over to lewis—who’s completely engrossed in a conversation with your uncle—and, without a word, take his plate away.

you turn on your heel and walk straight to the kitchen, leaving him staring after you, utterly speechless. the entire table falls silent. the women bite their lips, trying not to laugh, while the men exchange confused glances.

lewis clears his throat, placing his napkin down. “if you all will pardon me for just a second.”

he follows you into the kitchen, where he finds you at the sink, rinsing a plate. his brows furrow, but there’s amusement in his voice. “love… what are you doing?”

you don’t turn around just yet, keeping up the act. “what do you mean? i thought you were done.”

lewis tilts his head, his expression both concerned and affectionate. “darling, i’d barely even touched my food.”

you finally turn to face him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “i know,” you admit, pulling his plate out of the microwave with a grin. “i just wanted to see your reaction.”

lewis exhales a deep sigh, crossing his arms. “and what exactly did you think was going to happen? that i’d sit there, starving, while you pranced around with my dinner?”

you shrug innocently. “honestly, i thought you’d be more dramatic. maybe throw a little fit, demand justice, give a speech about how a man’s meal should never be taken from him.”

lewis raises a brow, lips twitching with amusement. “oh, so you expected a whole performance?”

you nod. “at the very least, i thought you’d stand up on your chair and make a passionate plea for your food’s return.”

lewis chuckles, shaking his head as he steps closer. “you’re trouble, you know that?”

you hand him back his plate with a cheeky smile. “and yet, you married me.”

he takes it, setting it down on the counter before pulling you into his arms. “mm, don’t remind me. i think i should’ve put ‘no pranks’ in the vows.”

you gasp in mock offense. “excuse me? that would’ve been a dealbreaker.”

lewis laughs, resting his forehead against yours. “then i guess i really am stuck with you.”

you grin. “lucky you.”

he shakes his head, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before picking up his plate. “lucky me, indeed. now, if you’ll excuse me, i’d like to actually eat my food before you come up with another ridiculous idea.”

you smirk, watching as he walks back to the table. “no promises.”

ʚ・george russell

george loves your home-cooked meals. after a long day of racing and testing, he always comes home with an empty stomach, ready to devour whatever you’ve made.

and lucky for him, despite spending most of your day rotting in bed on tiktok, you still managed to cook one of his favorite meals. so, when he walks through the door, you greet him with a warm smile, already setting the table.

“smells amazing,” he sighs, dropping a kiss to your forehead before heading off to freshen up.

once he’s cleaned up and comfortable, you both sit down and start eating. conversation flows easily as he tells you about his day—mostly car talk that you only half understand but love listening to anyway.

then, mid-meal, right when george is in the middle of a big bite, you casually grab his plate and stand up.

“i’ll just be right back,” you say nonchalantly, walking toward the kitchen.

george freezes, fork in midair, watching you disappear with his food. at first, he just blinks, processing what just happened. then, he calls after you.

“love?”

you stay silent, waiting.

another second passes.

“babe?” his voice is a little more confused this time.

still nothing from you.

now you hear his chair scrape against the floor as he gets up, followed by hurried footsteps coming toward the kitchen. you grab a spoon and take a big, dramatic bite of his food just as he walks in.

he stops in the doorway, hands on his hips, staring at you like you’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal.

“love,” he says, slow and measured, “what are you doing?”

you make a big show of chewing, eyes closing as you hum in satisfaction. “mm. wow. this is really good.”

george blinks, looking between you and his stolen plate. “yeah, i know. that’s why i was eating it.”

you sigh, shaking your head. “honestly, i don’t think you appreciated it enough. i just had to double-check how good it was.”

he folds his arms. “by eating my dinner?”

you nod, taking another bite just to test his patience.

george lets out a long, dramatic sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “after everything i’ve done today—hours of training, media, testing—this is how you treat me?”

you smirk. “think of it as a lesson in patience.”

“oh, i’m very patient,” he argues, stepping closer, eyes narrowing. “but i will be getting my food back.”

before you can react, he lunges for the plate. you try to dodge, but george is quicker. he snatches it back, holding it above his head like a trophy.

“ha!” he exclaims victoriously.

you pout. “that was rude.”

george smirks, taking an exaggerated bite right in front of you. “oh wow. this is really good.”

you gasp. “now you’re just mocking me.”

he winks. “just had to double-check how good it was.”

you groan, swatting at him as he laughs and walks triumphantly back to the table, plate in hand.

“love you,” he calls over his shoulder.

you huff, crossing your arms. “yeah, yeah. enjoy your stolen dinner.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos thought of you as a saint—you could do no wrong in his eyes. and honestly, you could probably count on one hand the number of times he’s gotten mad at you… actually, scratch that. it’s zero.

this man loved, and he loved hard.

one of your favorite things to do together was cooking, but nothing beat grilling outside when the weather was hot. it became a little tradition—firing up the grill, making burgers, and just talking about the most random things.

today’s topic? trying to convince carlos to leave formula one so he could stay home with you every day.

“mi amor, that sounds like a great idea, but…” he gestures dramatically toward your beautiful backyard, “we would not have a home if i did that.”

you sigh dramatically. “we could live a simple life. maybe raise some chickens, grow our own vegetables…”

carlos gives you an amused look as he flips a burger. “you scream when a bug lands on you. you think you’re ready for farm life?”

“fair point.” you nod solemnly, making him laugh.

once the burgers are ready, you both sit outside on the deck, enjoying your food and the warm evening air. conversation flows as usual—lighthearted, full of teasing and laughter.

then, mid-bite, right when carlos is at peak burger enjoyment, you casually reach over and take the burger straight from his hands. not the plate. just the burger.

you don’t even wait for his reaction before standing up and walking into the house, taking a big bite as you go.

carlos blinks, completely caught off guard.

“amor?” his voice is laced with confusion and betrayal.

you don’t answer. you just keep walking.

then he snaps out of it.

“amor!” he calls louder, pushing his chair back as he stands. “come back here!”

you hear his footsteps on the deck as you disappear into the house, stuffing another bite into your mouth just as he reaches the doorway.

“oh, you’re in trouble now.”

you sprint toward the kitchen, but carlos is faster. within seconds, he wraps his arms around you from behind, tackling you onto the couch as you let out a squeal.

“no! carlos! it’s mine now!” you laugh, trying to take another bite, but he pins your arms, shaking his head.

“i trusted you,” he says dramatically, his face hovering inches from yours.

“and you love me,” you counter, mouth half full.

he sighs, looking at the last pathetic remains of his burger in your hand. “that was my best one yet…”

you pat his cheek, swallowing. “it was amazing, really.”

carlos groans before flopping off of you, lying on his back on the couch with a pout. “now what am i supposed to eat?”

you sit up, stretching. “i guess i could make you another one.”

he side-eyes you. “you guess?”

you grin. “fine, fine. i will make you another one.”

carlos huffs but follows you back to the kitchen, watching as you start grilling again. after a moment, he walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbles.

you smirk. “i know.”

carlos laughs, kissing your cheek before finally getting his fresh, non-stolen burger.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles leclerc is the definition of polite. he treats everyone with kindness, never raises his voice unnecessarily, and avoids causing a scene at all costs.

so he definitely wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen to his dinner—at his favorite restaurant, no less.

before walking to your table, you quietly slipped the waiter a generous tip and explained your plan. the waiter grinned, fully on board, and assured you they’d pull it off perfectly.

by the time you sat down across from charles, you had to bite back a smile.

as you waited for the food to arrive, conversation flowed easily. you leaned in slightly. “do you think i should start traveling with you during the season?”

charles’ eyes lit up. “of course,” he said immediately. “i would love that. and we could bring leo too—he’d love it.”

you laughed. “leo on a private jet, living the life.”

charles nodded. “exactly. he’s already spoiled, but this would make him impossible to deal with.”

the food finally arrived, and as always, charles looked delighted as he took his first bite. you chatted here and there, but you were mostly just waiting for the moment.

then, just as charles lifted another forkful of food and put it into his mouth, the waiter swooped in and—without hesitation—took his plate away.

charles froze mid-chew, blinking in confusion.

you clenched your jaw to keep from laughing as his brows furrowed, his eyes following his plate as it disappeared.

“amore,” he exhaled, swallowing his bite as he turned to you. “what the hell just happened?”

you shrugged, pretending to be just as confused. “i have no idea.”

charles sighed, rubbing his forehead before muttering something in french. you caught bits of it—something about karma for not finishing his meal last time.

still holding back your laughter, you watched as he looked toward the waiter, debating whether or not to say something. charles wasn’t one to cause a scene, but this? this was testing his patience.

“excuse me?” he finally called out, voice still polite but definitely stressed.

you couldn’t hold it in any longer. letting out a laugh, you waved the waiter back over, who immediately returned with his plate.

charles looked between you and the waiter, realization dawning. “no…”

you grinned. “oui.”

the waiter set his plate down. “désolé, monsieur leclerc, but it was a request.”

charles turned to you, eyes narrowing. “baby…”

you beamed. “it’s just a prank!”

he stared at you for a moment before shaking his head, exhaling through his nose. “you…” he pointed his fork at you, squinting. “you’re lucky i love you.”

you leaned forward on your elbows. “i know.”

still mumbling in french about betrayal, charles picked up his fork again and resumed eating while you giggled, already thinking about what prank to pull next.

ʚ・lando norris

lando loves eating out with you—especially at small, lowkey urban spots where no one bothers him and the food is always good.

tonight was no different. after placing your order, you both slid into a booth, and lando immediately started rambling about something completely random.

“so i was thinking,” he said, gesturing animatedly, “if we ever get, like, really lost somewhere—like, no signal, no gps—do you think i’d be able to navigate us out just by looking at the stars?”

you snorted. “lando, you can’t even navigate a grocery store.”

“that’s different,” he argued. “they put all the good stuff at the back on purpose. it’s a scam.”

before you could argue further, your food arrived—a fresh, steaming-hot pizza.

“finally,” lando sighed happily, grabbing a slice immediately.

you both started eating, chatting between bites, until suddenly, just as lando reached for another slice, the cashier you tipped earlier casually walked over, picked up the entire pizza, and walked away.

lando froze, mouth slightly open, staring at the now-empty table.

“hey, i was eat—” he started, but before he could finish, the guy was already gone, disappearing into the back.

his head turned slowly toward you, utterly confused. “what… just happened?”

you glanced down at your own half-eaten slice, pretending to inspect it. “do you think they took it away because the pizza was bad?” you asked, struggling to hold in your laughter.

lando frowned, tilting his head. “i mean… maybe? but we already ate some. wouldn’t they have warned us first?”

you shrugged. “maybe they realized it too late—maybe it’s, like, radioactive or something.”

lando blinked, deep in thought. “well… i feel fine. for now.”

then, shaking his head, he pushed his chair back. “i’ll just go talk to them—”

before he could stand, the cashier reappeared, grinning as he placed the pizza right back on the table. “enjoy your food.”

lando just stared at the guy, then at the pizza, then at you.

“were we not already…?” his brows furrowed.

that was it. you couldn’t hold it in anymore. you burst into laughter, clutching your stomach as lando continued to sit there, completely lost.

“what?” he asked, blinking. “what’s so funny?”

still laughing, you managed to get out, “i—i told them to do it. it was a prank! for tiktok!”

lando’s jaw dropped. “you set me up?”

you nodded, still giggling.

he exhaled dramatically, shaking his head. “wow. betrayal. right in front of my pizza.”

“i had to,” you grinned. “your face was priceless.”

lando grabbed his slice, taking a big bite while still glaring at you playfully. “i hope tiktok enjoys this, because i’m not sharing my pizza with you anymore.”

you gasped. “lando—”

“nope.” he turned away, holding his slice protectively. “find another victim.”

you just kept laughing as he ate, shaking his head at you—but deep down, you knew he’d totally get you back for this.

ʚ・oscar piastri

there’s nothing better than a good pasta, so while you and oscar were in italy, you decided to have some fun. recently, you’d been seeing the tiktok trend where waiters take food away mid-meal, and what better place to pull it off than in the land of pasta itself?

tipping isn’t really the norm in italy, but you still managed to sneak the waiter a little cash. using your very broken high school italian, you did your best to explain the prank. it wasn’t easy—your italian was atrocious—but thankfully, after showing him the tiktok, he got the idea. with a knowing grin, he agreed.

when you and oscar sat down, you could barely contain your excitement. the pasta finally arrived, steaming hot, and you both eagerly dug in.

as always, conversation flowed easily between the two of you. oscar was rambling about something—probably a weird f1 fact or a debate about whether pineapple belonged on pizza—when you glanced at the waiter and gave him a small, knowing smile.

that was his cue.

without hesitation, the waiter swooped in, grabbed oscar’s plate, and walked away.

oscar froze, fork still mid-air, a single strand of pasta dangling from it. his eyes followed his plate as it disappeared into the kitchen.

“did… did my food just get stolen?” he asked slowly, turning to you with the most genuinely confused expression you had ever seen.

you pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. “maybe… do you think something was wrong with it?”

oscar frowned, looking down at the pasta still on your plate. “but we’re eating the same thing…” he blinked. “was mine poisoned or something?”

you shrugged. “maybe they realized too late and saved your life.”

oscar squinted at you. “so they just left yours?”

you bit the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing. “maybe they don’t care if i get poisoned.”

his jaw dropped. “that’s messed up.” he started shifting in his seat, glancing toward the kitchen. “i should probably go—”

just as he was about to stand up, the waiter returned, placing his plate back down in front of him with a grin. “buon appetito.”

oscar looked at the waiter, then at you, then back at his pasta. his face was priceless.

“wait, what?” he looked genuinely lost. “was i… not supposed to have it? were we not already eating?”

that was it—you burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer.

“oscar,” you wheezed between laughs, “it was just a prank! for tiktok!”

he blinked. once. twice. then, realization hit.

“oh, my god.” he groaned, rubbing his face. “you set me up? in italy?”

you wiped a tear from your eye. “yes, and it was so worth it.”

oscar shook his head, sighing dramatically before twirling some pasta onto his fork. “unbelievable. i thought i was actually banned from eating for a second.”

“you should’ve seen your face,” you giggled.

he rolled his eyes, taking a bite. “you’re lucky i love you.”

you smirked. “i know.”

oscar chuckled, pointing his fork at you. “but just so you know, you will pay for this.”

you shrugged, twirling your own pasta. “looking forward to it.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[navybrat817]

Hi Navy 👋

I wanted to send something in for ficlet friday (valentines day). I hope it's alright

Can I request something with Bucky Barnes (maybe beefy bucky) and a shy reader, where they spend valentines day in bed watching movies with cookies, cuddling and kisses and at the end, he surprises the reader, perhaps the reader wants to surprise him as well (you can choose only if you want to 🥺🙈). He is just so gentle and sweet (romantic too) 🥰🫠

With these prompts:

“You give the best hugs.” and “Have I told you I love you today?”

Please? Thank you so much 🥺❤️

Sorry, I got carried away

I hope I did this justice, lovely!

Best Hugs and Kisses

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You spend your first Valentine's Day with Bucky.

Word Count: Over 930

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, sweetness, kisses, cuddling, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You smiled as you snuggled closer to Bucky in bed. You still couldn’t believe it was your first Valentine’s Day together. He had asked you more than once if you wanted to go out to eat or go anywhere special, but you were a bit of a homebody and didn’t mind a quiet day in with cuddling, movies, and treats. You had a feeling he’d enjoy it, too, since he also didn’t mind staying in. He assured you it would be the perfect day, and it was.

You had to admit that cuddling was one of the best parts of the day. It was a perfect moment of closeness, and every little touch built an intimate connection between the two of you. The warmth that radiated from his beefy build created a sense of safety and care, and the soft sound of his breathing and occasional laughter provided a sense of calm. Time seemed to slow down, and the outside world faded away until it was just the two of you. You were completely at ease with the man you loved.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, offering you a bite of his heart shaped cookie. You graciously accepted and tried to ignore the heat that rose to your cheeks when he wiped a crumb away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Something I think you should know.”

“What is it?” you asked curiously, tilting your head back to get a better look at your handsome boyfriend.

He broke eye contact, only because he brought his mouth to your ear. “You give the best hugs.”

You giggled, partially from his lips tickling your ear and the rest because your face felt like it was on fire. “No, I don’t. You do,” you smiled bashfully, ducking your head down.

All your life you had been a bit on the shyer side, content to stay in the background instead of being front and center. Not many took notice of you, and you still weren’t sure some days how you got Bucky’s attention, but you saw each other in the soft shadows and created your own spotlight together. One you didn't mind sharing with each other. It was a beautiful give and take.

And he really did give the best hugs, enveloping you in his loving embrace every time.

Chuckling, too, he tipped your chin back up. “Yeah, you do. And you give the best kisses.”

Butterflies filled your stomach at the soft touch of his lips, your heart melting from the tenderness. There was no rushing, only a slow and delicate pressure like the brush of a feather. When that kiss ended, he began another and another. They stretched on, neither of you wanting it to end as you shared one breath. They were the kind of kisses that dreams were made of.

He smiled as he pulled away, a soft twinkle in his steel eyes. He likely heard how fast your heart was beating and felt the tremble that moved your body. “See? The best kisses,” he said.

You hid your face in his chest. If he kept talking like that you’d turn into a puddle. But you smiled when you realized his heart was beating as fast as yours. Maybe he wasn't as bashful as you, but it was nice to know that kissing you and being close affected him, too.

“Hey, hey. No hiding,” he said, running a hand up and down your back. “I still have to give you your present.”

“You didn't have to get me anything,” you said once you lifted your head.

The super soldier’s jaw dropped. “It’s our first Valentine's Day. I'd be a rotten boyfriend if I didn't get you something.”

“You’re far from rotten, Bucky Barnes,” you smiled, both of you sitting up so he could reach for the present he had nearby. The heart wrapping paper was sweet and you imagined the cashier swooned when he bought it.

He suddenly looked nervous when he handed it over. “I hope you like it,” he said, tucking a bit of his hair behind his ear.

“I’ll love it,” you promised, carefully opening it. It didn't matter what he gave you since it came from him. “Oh, Bucky…” you whispered, tears instantly blurring your vision.

Inside of the box was a scrapbook titled “Our Love Story”. Blinking the tears away, you slowly opened it and saw a photo of the two of you. It was the first photo you had ever taken together. It was one of your happiest memories. Bucky gave you so many fond memories.

“Do you… like it?” he softly asked as you continued to flip through the pages.

“I love it. Thank you,” you answered in awe. It had how you met, your first date, places you visited, your bucket list, and more. There were blank pages in the back to fill up together, too. It was such a thoughtful, touching gift. “Have I told you I love you today?”

“You have, but I’d love to hear it again,” he winked, pleased that you loved your gift.

You held his face in your hands, not shying away when his eyes met yours. “I love you, Bucky,” you whispered.

His eyes slipped shut, briefly overcome with emotion. “I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispered back.

“Now time for your gift,” you smiled, but he stopped you before you could pull away.

“Later,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around you as you giggled. “Right now I want one more of those best kisses.”

You'd give him all the kisses he wanted, today and every day.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[xcherryc2x]

Don’t have enough energy to ride…no problem! Your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru has some solutions

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Gojo x femreader Word count: 1.1k

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

“yeah yeah just like that baby” he says as he tries to follow the movements of your hips bouncing up and down on his swollen cock. You could tell he was getting impatient, you were going too slow.

Gojo wanted you to do reverse cowgirl today…

“D-don’t stop…just keep going” between moans and whimpers he squeezes your hips as you feel his whole body getting sticky.

You reach your arms back for support and hold on to his wrists and keep moving. You feel your legs giving up and you get slower

“Fuck…faster p-please” he groans

“Gojo…I can’t, I’m tired”

You feel his huge dick inside of you, taking up all the space in you. The sounds of both of you fucking are the result of his throbbing, girthy dick getting slammed into your wet cunt.

your thighs are starting to burn. You really don’t think you can make him finish. You were close but not completely

You look back to see Gojo’s face and you know he’s getting really annoyed. You already came twice and your boyfriend just keeps leaking precum

“fuck this” he mutters and in one swift movement he wraps his big hand around your waist flipping you under him.

Now your face down, arching your back while your pussy pulses, waiting for his dick to fill you up again

His precum is all over your inner thighs and your cum is still dripping down your wet folds.

He slaps your ass making you yelp like a puppy

He grins as he slides his dick right into your pussy where it belongs

“now …*squelch I ..can *squelch* fuck…you…*how..you..ngh..I like it”

He’s thrusting into you real hard. Making up for the short timed effort you put in to riding his thick cock

Your moaning gets louder and louder, any minute now you’re about to feel the sweet sensation of cumming once again from Gojo’s cock deep in you.

“Cmon baby, I know you wanna come…that’s it…let’s try do it at the same time” his face plastered with a mocking smile. You always cum before Gojo and he likes to remind you all the time about it.

His dick reaches deeper and deeper into you each time, you feel as if he’s gonna rip you apart. He’s messing up your insides and really fucking with your head.

The tone of his voice isn’t matching with his actions, he’s being aggressive and needy, the way he tightly grips on to your love handles will definitely leave marks. But his voice is filled with affection and love, making you compelled to listen

He’s fucking you so good you have no choice but to take it and just wait for him to him release his seed into you. You estimate he’s about to reach that point.

“Mmmmnggghh…my princess c-can’t do anything by herself can she”

“N-no daddy”

you spread my legs a bit more as you feel them giving in once again. Having sex with Gojo almost eveyday is one hell of a workout

Luckily just then, his hot cum makes its presence in your hole. There’s so much of it it’s already gushing out. His deep breaths exaggerate as he he pulls his cum covered cock out of you.

Just as you think it’s over…he pulls your hair jerking you back toward him. You could say it hurt a little but oh God you wouldn’t miss the view you saw for anything

You could see his face flushed, sweaty and eyes still wanting more. His upper body was perfectly sculpted, buff arms holding your lower body to pound into

Oh he was really gonna break you today. Your back already hurt from all this you don’t think you could take more

“Daddy it h-hurts…no m-more”

After you said that, he laughs a little under his breath, guiding his dick right back into your pussy.

“can’t let any of that spill out baby”

He keeps talking about how he’s sorry but he just can’t stop.. your brain can’t focus enough to listen. Your boyfriend loves to ramble on as he makes you scream

his dick had softened just a bit after cumming but it’s rock hard throbbing inside of you after just a few seconds. You feel it grow inside😊

Your poor butt is also red and stinging from his spanking. Your a bit confused as to why he hasn’t started thrusting again.

His hand reaches to your pussy and he pats it. You flinch from the pressure of his hands. Everything of his, is big, like his hands, his muscles, his stamina ….his monster dick.

You can’t handle him touching the outside while his dick is inside.

He plays around a bit then placing his middle finger on your clit, rubbing it.

Your muscles tighten there, allowing your inner walls to close in more on his fat cock. His veins so prominent, you can basically feel your interior molding around them

You shamelessly let out more noises, music to Gojo’s ears. Your hands grip the sheets as he continues to play with your pussy as he pleases…waiting for you to beg him to just fuck you again instead of teasing you mercilessly

“you ready to have another load shoot up this pretty pussy of yours”

You nod your head desperately, your legs shaking, the way he plays with your clit always allows you to give in to him.

“y-yes” you speak quietly

“yes what?”

“yes daddy…fill me up again”

he did not even take a second to start violating the hell out of your abused cunt. Your mind getting clouded by the repeated thrusting at an increased speed.

You think you just had another orgasm. But it’s not like your boyfriend cares enoguh to stop and let you take a second to recover again. He just wants to keep pounding into you. Filling your hole up to the brim with his special fluid

You actually think you might pass out but the way his dick opens up your insides keeps you thinking about how lose your hole might get after this is over

“S-so close” gojo whispers to you as he keeps pressing his heavy dick into you

You are so grateful once you feel another round of his fresh cum inside of you. Filling up the deepest part of you. Gojo has definitely bruised your cervix

It felt like too much. He had been producing a lot more cum these days���even when he takes his dick out, the fullness that you feel remains

“Gojo..it feels weird”

“Oh, does it now?” He says in a mocking tone

The whole room was humid and your bodies were covered in cum and sweat.

But once Gojo gets started there is no stopping him, he can’t get enough of your pussy swallowing him whole constantly.

So you are a good girlfriend and give up on trying to tell him to slow down or give you a break from fucking you harder and harder all night long.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

[prettygirl-gabi]

Full-Court Love

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader x Azzi Fudd

POV: First-person

Fandom: UConn’s Women’s Basketball

Word Count: 1,500+

Summary: they make time they always do

Valentine’s Day as a college athlete is a tricky thing.

Between practices, classes, and upcoming games, there’s barely any time to breathe, let alone plan something romantic. And this year? It was even worse.

We had the biggest game of the season against South Carolina on the 16th, which meant Coach had us locked into an intense practice schedule. No distractions. No excuses.

But when you’re dating both Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd?

You make time. They make time.

The first sign that Paige and Azzi were up to something came when I walked into the locker room after practice and found a red envelope sitting on top of my bag.

I glanced around, but everyone else was either showering or changing, too focused on their own post-practice routines to notice.

Curious, I picked it up and opened it.

Inside was a simple note, written in Azzi’s neat handwriting:

“Meet us in the film room. Don’t be late. ❤️”

I raised an eyebrow, then shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips.

Whatever they had planned, I already knew it was going to be good.

By the time I got to the film room, I could hear Paige’s laughter through the door.

I pushed it open to find her and Azzi standing in front of the projector screen, which was now displaying a homemade PowerPoint slide that read:

“WHY YOU SHOULD BE OUR VALENTINE”

I blinked. “You made a PowerPoint?”

Paige grinned. “You know I love a good presentation.”

Azzi nodded, holding up a remote. “We have five slides prepared.”

I crossed my arms, biting back a laugh. “This is so unserious.”

Paige smirked. “Just sit down and watch, babe.”

I sighed dramatically but took a seat. “Fine. Impress me.”

Azzi clicked to the next slide, which had a picture of me in my UConn jersey mid-game, looking absolutely locked in. Underneath it, the text read:

“Reason #1: You’re the best player on the team (don’t tell Coach we said that).”

I snorted. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

Paige grinned. “Next slide, Z.”

The next one showed a candid photo of the three of us from last semester, curled up together on the couch, half-asleep during a movie night.

“Reason #2: You make every moment better.”

I felt my heart squeeze a little.

Azzi glanced at me, a small smile on her face. “It’s true. Even when we’re exhausted, just being with you makes everything feel easier.”

Paige nudged her. “Damn, getting sentimental already?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Paige.”

I grinned, shaking my head. “Y’all are actually kinda cute.”

Paige winked. “Just wait.”

The next slide had a picture of me standing between them after a game, arms around their shoulders, all three of us grinning.

“Reason #3: We love you, duh.”

I exhaled softly, warmth spreading through my chest.

Paige leaned against the desk. “We know the timing sucks this year with the South Carolina game coming up, but we didn’t want today to just feel like any other day.”

Azzi nodded. “So, will you be our Valentine?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile on my face. “Like I’d ever say no to you two.”

Paige grinned. “Good answer.”

Azzi smirked. “We also have dinner plans.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Coach explicitly said no distractions—”

Paige waved a hand. “Coach didn’t say we couldn’t eat dinner.”

Azzi nodded. “And we already cleared it with the team. A bunch of them are doing their own little date nights before we go full lock-in mode tomorrow.”

I sighed, standing up. “Y’all really thought of everything, huh?”

Paige smirked. “Always.”

Azzi grabbed my hand. “Come on. It’s a surprise.”

They took me to a small, cozy Italian restaurant about fifteen minutes off campus, one of those places you’d never notice unless you were looking for it.

The second we walked in, I realized Paige and Azzi had really planned ahead—the restaurant had a private table set up in the back, complete with dim lighting and a tiny vase of roses in the center.

I turned to them, impressed. “Okay, I was expecting something chill, but y’all actually went all out.”

Paige grinned, pulling out a chair for me. “Only the best for our girl.”

Azzi sat down across from me, smiling softly. “We figured we wouldn’t get much alone time after today, so we wanted to make this one count.”

I glanced between them, warmth pooling in my chest. “I love you two, you know that?”

Paige smirked. “We do now.”

Azzi reached across the table, lacing her fingers with mine. “Love you too.”

Paige nodded, grabbing my other hand. “Love you more.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re not doing the ‘who loves who more’ thing at this table.”

Azzi smirked. “That sounds like something someone losing would say.”

Paige cackled. “OHH, she got you.”

I groaned. “Y’all are literally the worst.”

Paige winked. “And you love it.”

Unfortunately for me, she wasn’t wrong.

After dinner, we walked back to the car, hands intertwined as the cold February air nipped at our skin.

Paige nudged me playfully. “So, did we do okay?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Okay? Y’all actually managed to surprise me. That’s a first.”

Azzi grinned. “That was the goal.”

I looked between them, my heart feeling way too full. “Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

Paige smirked. “Just wait until next year.”

Azzi nodded. “We’re only getting started.”

And knowing them?

I believed it.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[downbad4sylus]

“Don’t you have other friends…?”

part 1

synopsis: Sylus goes on another business trip so you decided to spend the weekend in Skyhaven with Caleb. Everything is great, until it isn’t.

content: sylus x afab!reader; use of Y/N; established relationship; big caleb cameo; caleb acts like caleb; mentions of injuries; teeny tiny baby zayne cameo; angst; mostly proofread

tags: @miffysoo @pinky27freak @rcvcgers @worshipthecrow @aikonecrosis @blorbohunter @wandering-spirit-1383

word count: ~4.8k (sorry)

a/n: so this is a continuation/part 2 to “come to drug my girlfriend again” with a much bigger caleb cameo. not sure if i’ll be adding more to this or not, but in the meantime i’m working on a purely-sylus-nsfw fic bc this latest event has me feral lmao

Knocking softly on Sylus’s office door, you waited for his reply of “come in” before entering. He sat in his chair, as casual as always, glancing up from his papers to watch you approach.

“Why do you look so nervous?” he drawled, leaning back and crossing his arms.

You were nervous.

Sylus was leaving on another business trip tomorrow and would be gone the entire weekend. You really didn’t want to be alone the whole time, so you reached out to Caleb to see if he was free, and it just so happened that he had the weekend off.

But telling Sylus…well, you weren’t sure how he would take it.

Sylus had never gotten mad at you, had never so much as raised his voice. Even when you were fighting—which wasn’t often—he would remain calm and collected, not at all fazed if you were yelling. You didn’t think he’d yell at you now, but he wasn’t exactly happy when he found out your childhood best friend had drugged you.

“What’s the matter, kitten?” Sylus asked, pulling you from your swirling thoughts. He grabbed your hand between both of his and traced soothing patterns on your palm. “Talk to me.”

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. “I’m going to Skyhaven while you’re gone,” you said, “to hang out with Caleb.”

His fingers froze, and you caught the minute twitch of his brows. “Don’t you have other friends you can hang out with?”

“Tara and Greyson are away for a weekend together so Zayne is picking up the slack at the hospital. Xavier is out doing whatever sketchy shit he refuses to tell anyone about. Rafayel is in another country for an art exhibition. And Simone and Andrew are holed up at the Association working on modifying weapons.” With each friend listed, Sylus’s brows drew closer until there was a deep crease between them. “But Caleb has the weekend off and said I could come spend it with him in Skyhaven.”

Sylus closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose, and you stayed silent as he processed this information. He knew you would’ve already bought train tickets, not that he would be able to convince you stay in Linkon—or even at the base—regardless.

“Y/N,” he said finally, opening his eyes to fix you with a hard stare, “the thought of you alone with him for an entire weekend, while I’m gone, does not sit well with me.”

You opened your mouth to defend your decision, but pressed your lips together when he held up a hand.

“I wasn’t finished,” he admonished, but his tone was soft, gentle even. “I know how much it means to you to spend time with him, so I’d like to propose a compromise.”

“Okay,” you breathed. “What’s the compromise?”

“For the sake of my sanity, I can be agreeable to you going as long as you answer my texts or calls in a timely manner so I know you’re okay, and you let me know what you’re doing so I don’t think something’s wrong if you don’t answer me right away.”

Considering the circumstances, you didn’t think Sylus’s requests were unreasonable. In fact, you loved the idea that despite being busy with business, Sylus would still be texting and calling you.

So you nodded excitedly. “I can do that, absolutely.”

He visibly relaxed, squeezing your hand as he whispered, “Thank you.”

You pressed a kiss to his brow. “It’ll only be a few days.”

Sylus huffed. “It sounds like you aren’t going to miss me, sweetie.”

“Not one bit,” you teased with a wide grin.

His red eyes darkened with a dangerous glint. “No?” He rose from the chair, now towering over you. “Well,” he sighed, fingers grazing your cheek, “I guess I’ll just have to give you something to remember me by.”

—

Stepping off the train and onto the platform in Skyhaven, you adjusted the collar of your shirt, hoping it still covered the hickey Sylus had left on your neck. He was a biter, and last night was no different. You had to give him credit, he said he was going to give you something to remember him by and he delivered on that promise. You chuckled to yourself, trying and failing to ignore the delicious soreness between your legs.

You fired off a text to your boyfriend, letting him know you’d arrived at your destination. He replied within seconds, saying he was glad you had a safe trip and to let him know when you got to Caleb’s.

“Y/N!”

Your head snapped in the direction of your name, finding Caleb waving excitedly as he jogged to where you stood on the platform. You smiled at your childhood best friend and met him halfway.

Caleb pulled you into a tight hug, one you returned, happiness flooding through you at seeing him again.

“How was the ride?” Caleb asked, pushing you back by your shoulders. His gaze caught on your neck, his eyes narrowing slightly as sense of possessiveness flared in his chest.

“It was fine,” you said, oblivious to his reaction. “A normal train ride.”

Caleb smirked, his expression smoothing. “Good to hear. You hungry? We can grab somethin’ to eat on the way back to my place, unless you want me to cook for you.”

Your smile widened. “I want you to cook for me!”

“Yeah? Your boyfriend can’t cook as well for you?” he teased, cocking his head.

“Caleb!” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “Please don’t start, I just got here.”

He laughed, throwing his arm over your shoulders and tucking you against his side. “I’m kidding,” he insisted. “I know no one’s food is as good as mine.”

You shook your head, but did not disagree with him, something he noticed right away. “Can you make chicken wings? I haven’t had yours in so long.”

“Of course, pip-squeak. You mind if we stop at the store to get the stuff I need?” He started steering you away from the platform toward the exit.

“Not at all, it’s been a while since we last grocery shopped together,” you said. “Remember when we were little and I lost you and Gran in the store?”

Caleb chuckled. “Yeah and you started cryin’ so loud we heard you from a couple aisles over?”

You laughed too. “Hey, you probably wouldn’t have found me otherwise.”

He jostled your shoulders. “You know I wouldn’t have left that store without you.”

You peered up at him, finding him already staring down at you with such fondness it made your heart squeeze. “I know, Caleb.”

Caleb kept his arm around you until you reached his car where he finally released you in order to open the passenger side door. You gave an exaggerated curtsy before you got in, Caleb’s laugh still audible even after he shut the door. As he rounded the car toward the driver’s seat, you pulled out your phone and updated Sylus on your plans.

Going to the grocery store to grab some stuff for dinner. How’s business?

His reply came shortly after Caleb slid into, and started, the car.

Whats for dinner? and business is fine boring as always without you here.

“Who are you textin’?”

“Hm?” You looked over at Caleb. “What was that?”

“I asked who you’re texting,” he repeated. “You’re smilin’ at your phone all weird.”

“Weird?!” you exclaimed. “I am not!”

“Are too,” he taunted. “Are you gonna answer my question?”

You dropped the phone into your lap with a huff, Sylus’s text still unanswered. “If you must know, I’m talking to Sk—um, Sylus.”

It was still strange calling Sylus by his real name to someone who wasn’t a part of his inner circle, but you knew better than to use his alias in front of Caleb.

“Been apart for a couple hours and you’re already textin’?” Caleb asked.

“We text all the time, Caleb,” you said, lifting your phone again to respond to your boyfriend.

Caleb’s making me chicken wings. I’ll send you a picture when they’re done. I miss you.

Sylus sent an emoji of a dove cuddling a crow.

Miss you too sweetie. i look forward to seeing your dinner later.

As you texted, Caleb’s grip on the steering tightened until his knuckles were white. It hurt him to think that you wouldn’t be giving him your undivided attention during your visit, and well, he just couldn’t have that. He’d have to come up with a way to solve this little problem of his before the weekend was over.

—

You decided not to send Sylus the picture of your chicken wings until after dinner since Caleb seemed to tense up every time you so much as touched your phone.

Dinner was delicious though, and you were happy to have shared the meal with Caleb.

The day had gone well, the two of you reverting back to your old ways, teasing and joking with each other like no time had passed.

Your heart was warm as you strolled into the bedroom you called your own at Caleb’s house, the one that was once his. You unwrapped the towel around your body, having just gotten out of the shower, and changed into comfy clothes. Caleb was showering now, then the two of you would settle in for the night to watch a movie. You took this opportunity to give Sylus a call.

He picked up after the first ring.

“Sweetie.”

Your face split into a grin. “Hey Sy.”

“All done for the night?” he asked.

“No, Caleb and I are going to watch a movie but I’m waiting for him to finish up in the shower so I figured I’d check in on my super important, big bad businessman boyfriend.”

Sylus snorted. “Super important, huh? I would much rather hear about your day, sweetie.”

“No, uh uh, you first. You know you can’t get away with that anymore,” you admonished.

“Fine, fine,” Sylus sighed, though you could hear his amused smirk through the phone. “It wasn’t all that exciting. I sat through a day full of meetings, keeping myself entertained by texting my beautiful girlfriend. Then earlier tonight I went to an auction where I bought you a few pieces for your growing jewelry collection. And now I’m talking to you.”

“That all sounds exciting to me,” you said, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. “Are you tired? I know how meetings during the day can exhaust you.”

“I’m okay,” Sylus murmured. “I’ll sleep for a few hours before I’m back in more meetings.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, please.”

“I won’t, sweetie. Now, it’s your turn, tell me about your day.”

You inhaled through your nose. “Well, Caleb and I went grocery shopping after he picked me up from the train station. We hung around for a little once we got to his place before we started dinner.”

“Oh? And did you help make dinner?”

You giggled. “No, you know I didn’t.”

Sylus chuckled. “You are a terrible sous chef.”

“Hey! You love it when I’m your sous chef!“

Caleb knocked loudly on the bedroom door. “Pip-squeak! Are we gonna watch a movie or what? I already popped the popcorn.”

“I’ll be out in a minute!” you yelled.

“Go watch your movie,” Sylus said softly. “Text me before you go to bed, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I love you, Sy.”

“I love you too, sweetie. Thanks for calling.”

“Of course, I’ll text you later.”

Caleb was waiting for you in the hall, as if he had been standing there listening to your call with Sylus (he was).

“How’s your boyfriend?” he asked, the picture of innocence.

You rolled your eyes at him and headed to the living room. “He’s fine, thanks for asking.”

Caleb scoffed. “Yeah, nooo problem.”

You whirled around and punched his right shoulder.

Caleb, feigning hurt, gripped his shoulder. “Ow Y/N, I think you broke it. You’re gonna have to take me to the hospital now.”

You laughed and punched him again.

“Oh that’s it.”

You squealed as Caleb reached for you, barely dodging his fingers before breaking into a run to avoid being caught. He chased you around the living room and into the kitchen where you two got in a stand off on either side of the island.

“Caleb stop!” you cried as he mirrored your every move. “I thought we were watching a movie!”

“You’re the one who assaulted me, pip-squeak,” Caleb protested, smiling from ear to ear.

“I’m sorry okay?!”

Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re sorry?”

You raised your palms in surrender. “Yes, so sorry, I shouldn’t have done it. I take it all back.”

“Hmm.” Caleb tucked a contemplative hand under his chin. “I guess you seem sorry.”

You stretched your arm across the island, pinky first. “Pinky swear.”

Caleb flashed you a conspiratorial smirk and locked his pinky around yours. “Okay, you’re forgiven.”

“Yay! Can we go watch our movie now?”

“Yeah, come on pip-squeak.”

—

Sylus’s texts grew more infrequent the following day, and you knew it was because his worry was assuaged knowing your first night was without incident.

You were a little relieved, not because you didn’t want to talk to your boyfriend but because Caleb had made several comments about you being on your phone too much. He even went as far as to say Sylus was “breathing down your neck.”

“He’s just making sure I’m okay,” you had shot back at him. “You haven’t exactly given him reason to trust you, Caleb.”

Caleb couldn’t argue that. And maybe if he were in Sylus’s position, he’d be acting the same way. Worse, actually, he’d be acting much worse.

It was the only tiff you two had gotten in, and it far from ruined the nice weekend you were having.

Today, Caleb took you out to show you around Skyhaven. You went sightseeing and shopping, making Caleb carry your bags which he did enthusiastically and without complaint. And you decided to end the day with a nice dinner that Caleb paid for, the two of you now making the trek to the parking garage Caleb had parked in earlier that morning.

“I can take one of those bags, you know,” you said, eyeing the three bags hanging from Caleb’s right forearm.

“It’s no problem, I’m fine to carry them,” he insisted, shooting you a wide grin. “You really didn’t buy that much.”

“Can’t have a million bags to bring on the train with me tomorrow,” you quipped.

Caleb chuckled. “No of course not, that would be highly inconvenient.”

“I’d look like a lunatic!”

“Now that’s a little dramatic, pip-squeak.”

“I’ve never been dramatic a day in my life.”

Caleb abruptly stopped walking and just stared at you for a few seconds before bursting into hysterics. You followed suit, laughing so hard you doubled over.

“Okay, stop, stop,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t breathe.”

That only sent Caleb into another wave of laughter, clutching at your arm as if he needed to ground himself.

It took at least ten minutes for you and Caleb to calm down, both of you leaning against the wall of a nearby building, trying to catch your breath.

“Ah man, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard,” said Caleb, wiping tears from under his eyes.

“Yeah me too,” you said, looking up at your childhood best friend. You grabbed his left hand and squeezed. “I’m really happy you’re back Caleb.”

“Y/N,” Caleb breathed. “I’m really happy I’m back too—“

Your Hunter’s Watch chose that exact moment to start frantically beeping. Your heads jerked toward the Metaflux fluctuation mere yards away.

Caleb dropped the bags he was holding and pulled out two guns from underneath his jacket.

“I didn’t bring any weapons, give me one of your guns,” you said, holding out a hand.

“I can handle this, just stay here,” Caleb retorted.

The Wanderer appeared, sending any nearby people scattering.

You grabbed his arm, stopping him from advancing any further. “Caleb, I’m a Hunter, now give me a gun.”

Caleb leveled you with a hard glare, looking more like the Colonel than your best friend. “Stay. Here.”

He wrenched his arm from your grip and strode toward the Wanderer.

“Caleb!” You moved to go after him only to have the weight of his Evol surround you, keeping you locked in place. “Caleb!”

He didn’t answer, didn’t so much as turn around and acknowledge you. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest. How could he do this? How could he, after everything, still treat you like a little girl he needed to protect? You were hurt and frustrated and regretting ever coming to Skyhaven in the first place.

And worst of all, you knew you could never tell Sylus about this.

A second fluctuation formed close beside you.

“Caleb!” you screamed, desperately trying to get his attention. Again, he didn’t even turn his head. “Shit. Shit.”

The Wanderer appeared, its focus zeroing in on you.

You struggled against Caleb’s Evol, crying out for his help, but your pleas went unanswered and the Wanderer attacked.

As Caleb sank the killing shot into the Wanderer he was facing, he heard it. The sickening crack followed by your agonized shriek.

He whirled around and the world slipped from under his feet.

There you were, your shoulder obviously dislocated, and the second Wanderer backing away from where it had slammed into your side. Pain twisted the expression on your face and Caleb felt it as though you had grabbed hold of his heart and crushed it in your fist.

This was his fault. You were hurt because of him.

“Caleb.” His name was a broken, desperate sob from your lips, begging for his help. Begging him to let you go.

He did, releasing the hold his Evol had on you and you collapsed to the ground, holding your ribs with your uninjured arm. Caleb made quick work of the Wanderer then rushed to your side.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, where does it hurt?” he asked, his hands hovering over you, not knowing where to start.

You resisted the urge to cringe away from him. He didn’t mean for you to get hurt, you knew that, but if Caleb had just let you fight then this would’ve never happened.

“Okay, okay, I’m going to pick you up and we’re going to get you better. Okay, pip-squeak?”

You bit your lip and nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment.

Caleb swept you into his arms with as much gentleness as he could manage, but it didn’t stop the wave of pain that crashed through you. Your bags were forgotten as Caleb made a break for the parking garage.

—

You ended up passing out in the car on the way to Caleb’s house, the pain just too much for you to handle.

Caleb, who luckily had some medic training under his belt, was able to assess your condition. Your shoulder was dislocated, and he was pretty sure your ribs were at least bruised, at worst cracked.

By the time you regained consciousness, you were laying in bed with Caleb sitting beside you. His eyes were full of guilt and concern, the two battling for dominance within the purple hues.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing the hair from your face. “How are you feeling?”

You scrunched your eyes closed. “It hurts Caleb.”

“I know, pip-squeak, I’m so sorry.” When you didn’t respond, he sucked in a deep breath before saying, “I set your shoulder while you were unconscious, does it feel any better?”

You shifted your shoulder. It still hurt like a bitch, but it felt better now that it was back in the socket. “Yeah,” you managed with a nod. “Thank you.”

Caleb huffed a humorless laugh. “Don’t thank me, I’m the one who got you into this mess.”

“Caleb, please, I know you didn’t mean it.”

He shook his head.

You really didn’t have the energy to fight with him right now, to convince him of the intentions behind his own actions. “Do you have my phone?”

Caleb went rigid, his gaze hardening. “Why? So you can call your boyfriend?”

“Yes, Caleb,” you hissed. “Unless you want Sylus to come break down your door.”

He laughed again, a chilling sound. “He isn’t going to break down my do—“

Caleb was quick to eat his own words at the sound of his door being broken down at that very moment.

“Y/N?!”

You couldn’t help the relief that flooded through you hearing Sylus call your name. You never doubted for a second that he wouldn’t stay true to his word in coming for you if he thought you were in trouble.

Caleb, however, looked like he could commit murder.

You tried and failed to grab Caleb’s sleeve as he rose from the bed and marched out of the room all together.

Caleb didn’t think the several missed calls and dozen unanswered texts on your phone would lead to the head of Onychinus busting down his front door. Though perhaps Caleb was naive to underestimate Sylus and the lengths he would go to for you. If he weren’t the obstacle keeping you from Caleb, he might have had some respect for the snowy haired man currently seething in his living room.

“Where is she?” Sylus growled, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“She’s resting,” Caleb said simply.

Sylus huffed, unamused by the Colonel’s response. “Let’s not make this more difficult than it already is, Colonel.”

Caleb’s eye twitched. “What are you even doing here?”

“I’m here to take my girlfriend home because you clearly cannot be trusted to be around her,” was Sylus’s reply.

It only made Caleb angrier that Sylus wasn’t so much as raising his voice. As if Caleb wasn’t a threat but a mere nuisance getting in Sylus’s way.

The weight of Caleb’s Evol emanated from him like an aura as Sylus’s black-red mist swirled around his fists.

But before the two could break into an all-out brawl, you stumbled into the living room.

“Stop, both of you please stop,” you pleaded.

Sylus’s red eyes lit with fury upon seeing you. You hadn’t answered him because you were hurt. He was going to kill the Colonel for this.

“Y/N, what happened?” he asked, his tone noticeably softer when speaking to you.

“I’m fine, it’s fine, we just ran into some Wanderers on our way home from dinner. The fight got ugly,” you explained.

Sylus knew you better than anyone though, and he knew you weren’t telling him the whole truth.

“What did you do to her?” he snarled at Caleb, taking a step toward him.

Panic sluiced through your veins at that minute movement from Sylus, knowing he wouldn’t be letting Caleb off so easily this time.

So you did what any normal person would do in this situation.

You broke down in tears.

Sylus’s entire focus shifted to you and he was at your side in an instant. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his hands capturing your face so tenderly it made your heart ache. “Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?”

You shook your head. “I want you to stop fighting.”

His brow buckled. “Sweetie, you’re hurt because of him, you know I can’t just let that go.”

“Please!” you cried. “Please stop, Sy, I can’t have the two most important people in my life hating each other. I can’t handle it!”

Sylus tucked you into his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll stop, but you’re coming home with me.”

You nodded, your cheek rubbing against his shirt. “Okay.”

“I’ll go get your bag. Don’t move.”

Sylus pushed you back and sat you on the couch, kissing your forehead before striding for the room you’d been staying in, not sparing the Colonel a glance.

Caleb had stood stock-still during the entire exchange, staring with wide eyes and an aching heart. The way your body melted into Sylus’s with the simplest of touches, the way your expression eased when he kissed your head. It was awful. It was so unbearably awful.

When you were left alone, he stumbled over to you as if in a daze.

“Pip-squeak,” he muttered, “don’t go.”

Your eyes, full of anguish, met his. “I’m going Caleb,” you whispered. “It’s the only way to keep you both from killing each other.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” he protested, collapsing onto the floor in front of where you sat. “I promise I wasn’t.”

You hung your head, defeated. “It’s too late. What’s done is done.”

Caleb was desperate. If you left, would he ever see you again? Would your stupid boyfriend forbid you? Or would you not want to be near him?

He grabbed your hands. “Please tell me you’ll come back.”

“Caleb.”

He stared up you with such profound sorrow. “Please, Y/N, I don’t want to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me,” you assured. “We just need to let things settle for a while, okay?”

Caleb was abruptly pulled away from you, Sylus having returned from gathering your things and dragging Caleb by the back of his collar.

“You lost the privilege of being near her,” Sylus said, matter of fact.

Caleb snapped to his feet and slapped Sylus’s hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch her,” Sylus hissed.

A fresh wave of tears poured down your cheeks. “I said stop fighting!” you wailed. “Sylus can we please just go?”

“Of course, sweetie. Can you walk?”

You nodded, holding onto his arm with our one good one for support as you stood.

You said nothing to Caleb and he said nothing to you as Sylus walked you out of his house. You didn’t know what to say, and neither did he. Sorry didn’t cut it, even if you assured him it was okay. All he wanted to do was protect you, to prevent you from getting hurt and yet it was his fault that you had. It was his fault you were led out of his house by your boyfriend, leaving him behind.

Maybe he deserved this. Maybe it was karma for leaving you and still expecting you to welcome him with open arms once he came back. How could he possibly make it up to you now? How could he possibly convince you to love him when it was Sylus swooping in to rescue you?

This wasn’t how this weekend was supposed to go, and Caleb had no idea what it meant for his future with you.

—

“I know you aren’t going to like it when I say this, but I don’t want you going back to Skyhaven.”

You sighed, fidgeting with Sylus’s fingers as you both lay in his bed. “I don’t like it, but I also can’t blame you for saying it.”

Before returning to the base, Sylus had first taken you to Akso Hospital where Zayne looked you over. The doctor ensured that your shoulder was properly set and put in a sling, as well as determined your ribs were in fact bruised, and not cracked or broken. He sent you off with a prescription for painkillers and a treatment plan, knowing full well that Sylus would take care of you.

“Next time I have a business trip, you’ll be taking time off and coming with me,” Sylus said, brushing his lips along your cheek. “It’s so much better when you’re there anyway.”

You smiled and leaned into his touch. “Then I can pick out my own jewelry at the auction.”

Sylus chuckled. “I’ll buy you anything you could ever desire.”

He’d also make you forget about your childhood best friend, who seemed to be far more trouble than he was worth. Though Sylus knew better than to say so aloud, but made his silent vow nonetheless.

You turned your head and placed a chaste kiss on Sylus’s lips. “Thank you.”

“For what, sweetie?”

You kissed him again, more earnestly this time. “For everything, Sy.”

He drew back, wanting to look you in the eye as he said, “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N.”

—

Caleb’s phone buzzed and it took every ounce of effort for him to pick it up.

I forgive you, Caleb. We’ll talk later this week, okay?

Your text nearly brought the Colonel to tears.

okay, pipsqueak :)

He gripped his necklace tight, and read your message over and over again until it was burned into his retinas so, even with his eyes closed, he could still see it.

[covenofagatha]

Practice makes perfect (Part 2)

Tell me it's all wrong 'til it gets to me

Some inspo from this brainworm

Word count: 4k

Warnings: g!p reader, Agatha is even meaner, degradation kink, humiliation kink, titjob, oral, reader once again is a walking HR violation, slight praise kink, one spank, fingering, sex, think this is it?

“Everyone have a good night?” Rio asks the next morning during breakfast. 

You’re spooning vanilla yogurt into a bowl and trying not to think about how much it reminds you of your cum dripping out of Agatha’s pussy. “I had a great night,” you answer, feeling everyone’s eyes turn to you, especially Agatha, who’s standing right next to you. “Um, yeah, Agatha and I actually had sex.” 

Rio snorts, as do a few other people in the room. You’ve gotten so used to no one taking you seriously that you like to play around and see what you can get away with. Whether it’s a truth or a lie, they don’t care because you blur the lines so often.

If only they knew how true that was, though. 

“So classy,” Rio says and you can almost hear her roll her eyes before she leaves the buffet to go find a table.

“Oh, don’t worry!” you call after her. “Agatha really liked it. It was all her idea.” Rio doesn’t even look back. If you weren’t the boss’s daughter, you’re sure you would’ve been fired at least four dozen times from just this summer. 

Agatha remains unfazed as she snatches the yogurt spoon from your hand. “You fucking wish. Never in a million years,” she retorts calmly and you giggle. 

She spends the rest of the day seemingly trying to get you back for that stunt: she salaciously licks yogurt off the spoon. She wears a shirt that dips a little too low and shows off the edge of her red bra. She looks up at you through her perfect eyelashes when you ask her if you can sit next to her at the table and she laughs cruelly after she says no. 

Or she’s doing everything she usually does and you’re just reading into it because you’re obsessed with her.

But when you find her in the pool alone after breakfast, wearing a two piece black bikini, it’s hard to believe that she’s not at least teasing you a little. You stand on the edge absolutely agape, your cock making an obvious tent in your pants. She smirks and gets out and walks over to you.

Water droplets cascade down the smooth expanse of her pale stomach and your mouth runs dry. You can see her nipples through her wet top and heat flashes through your body. Your head starts to spin. 

You whisper her name before she flicks water on your shirt and reaches down to pat your cock roughly. Your hips jolt forward and a muffled groan leaves your mouth and she snickers. 

“I’m surprised that didn’t make you cum,” she says but her tone makes it clear that she's still holding out hope you’ll embarrass yourself again.

“Built up my stamina these past few nights,” you retort. 

She scoffs. “Yeah, you really showed me yesterday. How long did you last? Not even a second?” 

“Okay, maybe the first time, but can you blame me after how worked up I was? And I lasted longer the second time,” you protest and she mockingly pouts. 

“Aw, poor you,” she tuts and you hate how it goes right to your cock. Her gaze drops down again to watch you strain more against your pants and there’s a devilish glint in her eyes when she looks back up. “I was right, you know. I knew you wouldn’t be able to last, I knew you were too fucking incompetent. You’re more pathetic than a common whore.” 

You whimper and clutch onto her arm with tight fingers because it’s the only way you can resist touching herself. 

She regards you pawing at her with the utmost disgust. “You’re so fucking dirty,” she snarls and heat swirls around your head and your knees almost buckle. Your cock is pulsing, growing, swelling—she’s going to get exactly what she wants. She knows it too. 

“Fuck, Agatha, please—” Your whines are pitiful and desperate and you look at her with the best puppy-dog eyes you can muster. 

Her voice lowers even more. “God, look at you. What a fucking embarrassment.” 

Your stomach muscles tighten. 

“What would your dad think if he saw you like this?” 

You hump nothing and hiss at the feeling of the rough fabric against your erection and her smile is wicked.

“What would any of them think if they saw you drooling over a woman twice your age? If they saw you harder than a teenager just because I told you how pathetic you are? You’re nothing more than a bitch in heat, are you?”

Agatha cups your cheek with a gentleness that stands in stark contrast to her words and you buck your hips again. The sounds falling from your mouth are weak and pleading and you think she’s about to finish you off. 

“You know,” she muses, tone now sweet as honey, “I better go get changed before we have to do whatever your dad has on the schedule for today. But you…you look a little hot right now. I think you need to cool off.” 

Before you can ask what she means—or ask for her to touch you—she grabs your arms, whirls you around, and gently shoves you. 

It feels like you’re falling backwards in slow motion and you feel your jaw drop as you watch her smile. 

You hit the water and you instantly recoil, the cold doing wonders to sober you up. Your erection has practically disappeared by the time you break the surface, gasping for air. 

“What the fuck?” you splutter and she tosses her head back with a laugh. 

Agatha finally shrugs when she stops cackling and you wade to the stairs, teeth chattering. Your clothes are clinging to your shivering body but she just watches in amusement. 

“Wanda!” you shout and your personal assistant comes running out from the house. Her green eyes widen when she sees you in the pool. “Can you get me a towel?” 

Agatha rolls her eyes as Wanda nods quickly. “Of course. Anything else?” 

You shake your head and she speeds off. 

“You don’t need her to tie your shoes?” Agatha quips and you grumble at her to shut up. Your family is rich—of course you’re used to the teasing about having assistants. Even as an intern at the company, you’ve delegated far too much of your work to Wanda and she always does it with no complaints. You’re betting the six figure salary your father pays her keeps her content. 

Wanda comes back with a towel and you snatch it from her when you finally get out of the pool. Agatha walks away without giving you another glance and you can’t help but feel rejected. 

She barely even looks at you the rest of the morning and then your dad calls his executive staff into a meeting for the whole afternoon so you lay on your bed, bored out of your mind. It’s the last day of the vacation and of course he wants to spend it getting ready for the next quarter. 

It’s tempting to jack off or to use the flashlight that’s sitting in your nightstand drawer, and you do try, but neither your hand nor the toy even comes close to how Agatha’s cunt feels so you give up with a huff. 

That night, you go to her room in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. You’re not willing to take the chance that she’ll come to yours because you don’t actually know what’s going on between you. She is so fucking confusing. 

You flirt with her, she always shoots you down, and then she makes you fuck a fleshlight before she takes your virginity? The point of it was to prove that you wouldn’t last inside her, and she was technically correct. So does that mean this is all over?

Not if you have anything to say about it. And there was her stunt by the pool earlier, so clearly she’s not done yet either. 

Knocking rhythmically and quietly on her door, you keep your eyes peeled down the hallway just to make sure no one sees. You joking about having sex with general counsel might be fine because no one believes you, but it would be much harder to cover this up.

Agatha opens it a few moments later in a matching purple pajama set and lets out an exasperated sigh. Her glasses are pushed up on her forehead and you can see her laptop on her bed. 

You slip past her into the room without waiting for her approval and make a beeline for the scotch, pouring yourself two fingers of it. 

“Come back for more humiliation?” she taunts and you feel your stomach twist. “Think you’re a big girl because you managed to stick your cock into one person one time?” 

“You know,” you say, draining a glass without even wincing at the burn of the alcohol and turning around to point at her, “that was all your idea. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want me just as much as I want you.” 

Agatha raises an eyebrow and her gaze drops to the tent in your boxers. “I don’t think that’s possible,” she retorts dryly. 

You put the glass down and start to advance as she stands her ground firmly. “You didn’t have to fuck me. You didn’t even have to come to my room the first night. But you did. And I know how affected you were last night, you were fucking enjoying yourself.” 

She laughs cynically and rolls her eyes. “Please, honey, I’ve had better sex with my vibrator.” Ignoring the way that causes more blood to rush south—because now you’re thinking about her moaning loudly while falling apart holding a toy against her clit—you smirk. 

“Then why did you fuck me?” 

Her face twitches and she jerks her head to the side. “Take your clothes off and get on the bed.” 

You’d ask again if there was anything on your mind other than your throbbing cock and her hot cunt so you tear off your shirt, shove off your boxers, and jump on top of the covers. Your cock is standing straight up, oozing precum onto your stomach and twitching against nothing. 

“God, you’re fucking pathetic,” Agatha hisses and you hump the air, a strangled whimper leaving your mouth. “All it takes is a few words and you’re leaking for me.” 

She unbuttons her blouse again and you don’t think you’ll ever get bored of the sight of her tits, perky and supple and rose-colored nipples that you need in your mouth. She slides down her shorts and your breathing quickens, feeling heat flush through your neck and upper chest. 

“Agatha, please,” you whine. Agatha scoffs and climbs on the bed next to you on her knees and slips a hand between her legs. You stare, open-mouthed, panting, as she works at her clit. “Wait…can I?” 

Her hips jolt and you think you can hear her groan through her clamped lips. “You want to—what? Fumble around incompetently? Think you can even find my clit?” 

You nod urgently while your cock pulses and another spurt of precum dribbles out. “I want to, please,” you gasp, “I want to taste you.” 

“Fine. Try not to cum immediately again,” she snaps without any of her usual bite and moves so she’s laying next to you, her legs spread open. 

Situating yourself, you feel the air get kicked out of you when you get your first good look at her pussy. 

Agatha is fucking soaked. Her cunt glistens, lips swollen and pink and almost fused together, and you can see her clit peeking out at the top. Your mouth is watering and your cock gets harder if possible. You can’t resist lowering your hips to the bed so you can get some pressure on it. 

“Holy fuck,” you breathe in awe. “You’re so wet.” 

“Are you actually going to do anything or just stare?” she says, tone laced with venom. “Maybe you should call your assistant, I know she does everything else for you cause you’re too incompetent.” 

You whimper and grind onto the bed, cock throbbing, shaking your head with wide eyes. You can do this.  

She purses her lips. “That’s too bad. She could probably actually get me to cum.” 

Heat tears through you and you surge forward with a vengeance, licking roughly up her cunt and she hisses before roughly grabbing your hair. 

“Slow down,” she barks and you mumble an apology before flattening your tongue and gently dragging it through her folds. “Better.” 

You say something that’s muffled by her pussy and you hump the bed faster because she squeaks when you rub your tongue against her clit. 

She swears under her breath and you can’t even focus anymore because of the dizziness in your head and the aching in your cock. The taste of her has overwhelmed your mouth and your nose and you’re sloppily devouring her while she tries and fails to stop her hips from rolling. 

“I can’t—fuck—Agatha, I’m gonna—” You can feel your stomach tightening, can feel your cock pulsing, and you know you’re about to cum from grinding on the bed and eating her out. 

Instead of mocking you, she growls and yanks you up by the hair until you’re practically straddling her stomach. Tendrils of precum pool on her skin and you swallow roughly. 

“Since you’re going to be fucking useless until you get off,” she sighs and grips your hips to pull you up even higher. Your cock drags against her, leaving a sticky trail in your wake and you have to put a hand out on the headboard to catch yourself when you realize what she’s doing. 

Your cock rests between her tits and she lifts her head up to spit on you and your hips jerk forward. The mess of her saliva and your precum is driving you absolutely crazy and you begin rutting against her. 

Her fingers dig into your ass and help you move and your cock fits perfectly in the crook between her boobs. You hold onto the headboard, panting while you look down at her, and there’s a heat in her eyes that you only see at work—when she gets exactly what she wants. 

“God, you’re pathetic,” she says without any of her usual malice. The pink from her cheeks has spread down her chin and to her upper chest that your cock is dragging against. “Can’t do anything for yourself so you need me, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you choke out, your thrusts becoming shorter. The stickiness is making you throb and your grunts get louder.

Agatha spanks you and you shudder, your cock pumping out a spurt of precum, and then she lets go of your ass to push her breasts together so her soft, supple tits are wrapped around your hard cock and you sharply inhale. 

But then she leans down and flicks her tongue out against the tip of your cock and you can’t hold it back anymore. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck—I can’t—fuck,” you babble before your cock explodes, drenching the bottom of her face and the top of her chest in white. She lets out a gasp at the feeling of your seed on her skin and the sight of her covered in you makes one last strand of cum squirt out. 

You slouch back while your cock twitches and Agatha drags two fingers through the mess on her clavicle before stuffing them in your mouth. She looks delighted when you make a surprised sound before grabbing your hair and pulling you down and making you clean up your cum. 

“Good girl,” she purrs when you’re all done and then nudges you back down between her legs. The praise makes your stomach grow warm—apparently you like that just as much as the degradation. “Think you can focus now?” 

Nodding eagerly, you look at her pussy and your mouth falls open. She’s dripping onto the bed, folds spread open, and you can see her throbbing. 

This time, there’s no hesitation in putting your mouth on her and you moan lasciviously at her taste. Your eyes dart up to watch her face as you dip your tongue inside her and curl it and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. 

But then you lick back up and suck on her clit and she can’t help the audible groan that escapes her. The sound makes your cock pulse and you can already feel yourself starting to grow hard again. 

“Keep doing that,” she orders and you double your efforts, lashing your tongue against her clit and then sucking and her head falls back. “Two fingers inside me, now.” 

Her walls instantly bear down around you and you whimper, the vibrations making her hips roll. She is so warm and so hot and you never want to leave her cunt. 

“Fuck me harder, god, you’re useless,” she hisses but it quickly turns into another moan when you thrust in deeply and curl them until you find the spot that makes her clench. Your slurping noises, along with her sounds of pleasure, are going straight to your cock and you start to grind against the bed gently for some stimulation. 

“You like this,” you say into her cunt and she violently shakes her head while beginning to ride your face and fingers. Her walls are gripping you, trying to drag you in as deep as you can go, and you can feel every ridge and groove when you fuck her. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me.” 

She yanks on your hair and you moan. “Stop fucking talking,” she seethes and you chuckle, the vibrations reverbrating against her pussy and making her whimper. You think she might actually be getting somewhere. “Good thing I brought my vibrator because I’m going to be needing it after you—fuck—”

You suck on her clit roughly and her voice breaks off. She’s grinding harder on you, drenching your face and fingers, and she’s fucking panting. So are you, right against her pussy and your stomach flexes to keep your steady rhythm of humping the bed going strong. Your jaw and wrist are burning but from the way she’s clenching furiously around your fingers, she’s getting close. 

And you know that if you stop right now, Agatha would never let it go. 

So you keep doing exactly what you’re doing and her hips start to falter and her breathing gets heavier. 

“God, you’re such a slut, whoring yourself out to a woman twice your age,” she groans. “You’re so pathetic, fuck—”

Her hands scramble and tug on your hair and you’re about to make a snarky comment on how she’s just so desperate for your cum when she grabs onto your hard and leaking cock and angles it at her entrance. 

You barely have time to breathe before her legs hook around your waist. “Don’t you dare cum,” she warns and you huff out a laugh before pushing into her wet cunt. 

Agatha’s walls grip your cock and you freeze, your head dropping down to rest on her tits and you pant open-mouthed against her skin before sucking on her nipple. Her hips arch up to get you deeper inside and you let out a lewd moan. She feels so good and you can feel her throb around you. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, your cock twitching. It’s such a different angle from her being on top of you and you love it. You start to move slowly, just to hold off your impending orgasm. 

You can see everything—the way her tits bounce with each thrust, the way her hair is sprawled out underneath her, the slight sheen of sweat on her chest, the bulge your cock makes in her stomach. 

“Agatha, Agatha, fuck, please, I’m gonna—fuck, please, I can’t,” you cry, your cock pulsing rapidly inside her. She clenches around you with each thrust and she bites her bottom lip roughly to control her sounds. 

“Wait, just wait, don’t cum yet,” she groans, strangled and needy, and you know you’re about to cum but you’re desperate to make her cum before you do. 

So you reach between your bodies and find her clit and furiously start to rub at it and she moans. “Tell me,” you order, “tell me that I’m making you feel good.” 

She laughs breathlessly. “You think because you’re on top, you’re in charge? Honey, you can’t do anything without me. You’re so pathetic that you only get this hard for me, right? Tell me that.” Her words are getting tighter and you duck back down to swirl your tongue around her nipple. 

“Just you, Agatha,” you murmur and she shivers from your hot breath. Tension is building in your cock and your stomach and your back and you thrust harder because you need her to cum. “I only want you, fuck, it’s always been you.” 

And then she keens, eyes rolling back in her head, and her cunt spasms around you. You feel a gush of wetness and you groan weakly before pumping her full of thick, hot cum. She gasps when she feels your seed paint her walls white and you collapse on top of her while your cock spurts out a few more loads into her. 

“You finally did one thing right,” she quips after a few moments and you laugh before nipping at the curvature of her breasts. 

“That’s the best performance review I’ve ever gotten,” you say, and once you’re fully soft, you pull out of her and sit up on your knees to spread her folds open. 

Your cum oozes out and your cock twitches at the sight and she gasps and squirms. She reaches down and swipes through the mess leaking out of her and then shoves her fingers into your mouth. 

The taste of both of you makes you whimper and she swallows roughly. You move back down of your own accord and slowly drag your tongue through her folds, getting your mixture all over your mouth. You steadily clean your cum out of her while holding eye contact and her struggle to remain composed would make you hard again if you hadn’t already cum twice in the span of about fifteen minutes. 

You make sure to lick her clit a few times and she writhes underneath you, stifling her sighs. Her cunt is a mess by the time you’re done, swollen and pink and still wet and she tugs you away because the stimulation has finally gotten to be too much. 

Flopping onto the bed next to her, you lick your lips and wonder what it would be like to kiss Agatha. You turn to look at her to find her eyes already on you. 

“What happens tomorrow?” you whisper and her gaze flickers down to your mouth. “When we go back.” 

Agatha sighs and gets out of bed, finding her pajamas on the floor and putting them back on. “We never speak of this again. And that means no more little jokes.”

It stings but you smirk to deflect. “Afraid someone will think the great Agatha Harkness deigned to fuck the boss’s daughter? That’s like, reverse sleeping up the corporate ladder. They’d probably applaud your charity. Or—you know what? I bet they’d be jealous. Everyone wants a piece of me, you know. Too bad general counsel already tamed this tiger.” You bite at her playfully and she snorts before fixing you with a serious stare. 

“This never happened,” she says solemnly and you nod. But before you can ask if you should leave, she lays back down next to you and her hand brushes against yours. You stiffen, but don’t pull away and her touch lingers.  

You lay so still, trying to breathe as quietly as you possibly can, so maybe she’ll let you stay. 

Her hand doesn’t move from yours the entire night. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs

[hottiesforhockey]

deal with the devil ⎜j.hughes

pairings: jack hughes x afab!reader genre: teammates sister⎜ friends with benefits ⎜secret relationship ⎜ warnings: vaginismus rep ⎜ fingering ⎜ fighting amongst friends :( ⎜ protective older brother curtis ⎜painful sex ⎜p in v ⎜public sex (...kinda) ⎜spitting ⎜curtis says some mean things about jack ⎜why do my jack fics always have him getting in a fight ⎜jack really is the kind to talk you through it ⎜ jack being oh so careful and gentle ⎜ synopsis: some things are private not secret - but your relationship with jack…oh that's definitely a secret. word count: 10k authors note: four nations jack has me feeling some type of way...this fic has some vaginismus rep in the smut scene with some mentions of painful sex so I hope everyone enjoys and let me know what you think!

(unedited)

You never pictured yourself as someone with a fuck buddy. 

You never pictured yourself having quickies in a supply closet. 

To be honest you never really pictured yourself doing anything other than sitting in a library studying … but here you are. 

 “You need to get up.” You hiss, smacking you pillow against the bare back in the bed next to you. You sigh, hitting the back one more time, before slumping against the mattress. “You’re insufferable.” 

“And yet you call me every weekend anyway.” The voice chuckles back, finally rolling onto his side facing you with a teasing grin on his face, his body lifting slightly as he reaches over you, turning off the alarm ringing on his phone. 

“Just admit that you like me.” He teases, his smile only growing as you shoot him a sharp glare. 

“I don’t like you, I just happen to get some satisfaction from your dick.” You mumble, finally smiling as his own expression drops. You’re not prepared to protect yourself and he launches forwards his arms wrapping around your waist pulling you down to a lying position as he wrestles to kneel above you, his hands gripping your arms as he pushes you into the bed. 

“Do you want to say that again, pretty girl?” He questions, his eyebrow quirked as you try to squirm in his hold. His grasp doesn’t falter for even a moment as you thrash beneath him, letting out soft chuckles every time you struggle a little too hard. 

“Fine, you win.” You whine, your body relaxing into the mattress as you stop your movements gazing up at the half naked man above you. “You look very handsome like this.” You comment, your eyes wandering over the man above you. His hair tousled, sharp eyes, his lips pulled back in a grin. His cheeks flush with heat and he watches you, watching him. 

You take the faltering in his grip to rip your arms from his hands, your thighs gripping onto his torso as you roll the two of you over, your hands taking the position his were in pushing his forearms into the mattress. His eyes trained on yours as you make yourself comfortable on his pelvis. 

“You win.” He mimics. You flash him a quick grin before leaning down to capture his lips with yours. It takes no more than five seconds for him to break free from your grip, his arms lifting off the mattress, his hands cupping either side of your jaw as he pulls you closer to him, one hand leaving your face to pull your hips down onto his. 

“Jack…” You mumble against his lips as you feel him smile against your lips, his own slowly trailing down your jaw as you drop your head to the side with a long sigh - Jacks hands making teasing motions against the edge of your panties, as the loud knock on your door startles you both. 

“Jack, dude we have to leave for practice in like fifteen minutes.” The voice of his roommate carries through the door, another sharp knock on the white wood pulling you away from the man below you. 

“You didn’t tell me he was here.” You hiss as quietly as possible, you’re quick to slide off the bed, reaching to the floor pulling your leggings on as quickly as possible before reaching over to Jack’s desk pulling on his hoodie. 

“I didn’t know he was.” Jack hisses back, making quick work of pulling on his own t-shirt just as the doorknob turns the two of you barely managing to get dressed as Jack’s brother steps into the room. 

“Dude, we have to leave — oh, sorry I didn’t know you were here.” Luke pushes open the door his gaze shooting to yours in surprise, you let your head fall in shame, the room falls silent as Luke looks between half naked Jack on the bed and then back to you - Luke had been the first one on the team to meet you through your older brother, when the youngest Hughes found himself abandoned to stay in jersey for all star weekend on his own - Curtis inviting him over for dinner so the young player would eat at least one home cooked meal that week. Luke had eventually introduced you to the rest of the team at events, insisting on you coming anytime your brother brought up inviting you, hence the awkward position you and Jack find yourself in now - Luke just sighs, shooting Jack a stern glare, “Look, I don’t even want to know.” Luke sighs, looking at both of you against with a shake of his head, “Curtis is gonna kill you, you know.” He remarks as he slips back out of the room, closing the door softly behind himself. 

This is not how things were meant to go. 

The silence that follows Luke’s departure is thick enough to suffocate. Jack runs a hand through his already messy hair, exhaling sharply as he swings off the side of his bed. “Well,” He says finally, dragging the word out as he reaches for his phone on the nightstand, tucking it away into his pocket. “That went well.” Jack lets out an ‘oof’ as you shove at his shoulder, rolling your eyes as you gather your stuff into your tote bag. 

“I can’t believe we got caught like that.” Your voice is a harsh whispers, your hands gripping your bag in frustration as you frown - you should’ve never let your guard down - of course Luke would be here, this is his house too. Jack just grins, unfazed as ever as he walks towards you, his hands landing on your hips as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“I mean I’m surprised we didn’t get caught earlier if he was here the whole time,” Jack starts, and you shove him off you as you realise where his words are about to go. 

“Don’t say it.” 

“You were pretty loud last night, if I do say so myself.” 

“You said it.” You huff as his teasing words, unable to ignore the burning rising up your neck, you shoot him a glance over your shoulder, shoving the rest of your stuff into your bag before turning to face him - Jack still looking like he wants to do nothing more then drag you back into his bed - an easy smile on his face.  You scoff at his bright smile, shoving him again before spinning toward the door, your heart still pounding from the close call. “I need to leave before my brother finds out and buries your body under the ice at the rink.” Jack chuckles, but there’s a flicker of something else in his expression—something that makes you pause for half a second. 

Before you can place it, he speaks again, his voice softer than before. “You know, I wouldn’t mind if he knew— maybe we should tell him before things get out of hand.”

Your stomach tightens.

You shake your head, refusing to acknowledge the weight behind those words. That’s not what this is. This isn’t supposed to be complicated. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, nothing more.

“Tell him what,” you finally say, forcing a casual tone as you reach for the doorknob. “‘Hey curtis I’ve been fucking your sister for months and thought I should just let you know because I want to keep doing it just not in secret’.” You drop your voice in a bad impression of Jack, letting out a long sigh as you dismiss the idea, “It’s not going to happen, Jack.” Jack’s eyes darken slightly, but you don’t give him the chance to respond. You slip out of the room as quietly as possible, your pulse racing as you make your way down the hallway.

You send a quick nod to Luke who is perched by the kitchen counter sipping from his water bottle - “You’re continued silence is much appreciated.” You coo towards him as you slide into your shoes, the youngest Hughes brother shrugging. 

“He’d kill me too if he knew I knew - consider it for my own protection.” Luke hums, giving you a small wave as you slip out of the apartment. You let out an exhausted sigh as you get into the empty hallway - you shouldn’t be feeling like this—like you just barely escaped something dangerous. It’s just Jack. Just an ongoing mistake you keep making because, well…

You can’t seem to stop yourself. Something about Jack pulls you back each and every time you think of finishing things. 

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out, already knowing who it’ll be.

The Devil 😈: Next time, you should stay till I get back. We could ‘discuss’ things more

You roll your eyes, but your fingers hesitate over the keyboard.

Stay till I get back. 

Like it’s normal. 

Like everything about this is normal. 

You shove your phone back into your pocket without replying, picking up your pace as you head toward your car.

This has to end.

But deep down, you already know the truth: It won’t.

You don’t text him back.

Not that day. 

Not the next. 

Not for an entire week.

You tell yourself it’s for the best. That if you give yourself enough space, enough time, the pull toward him will lessen. That the way he makes you feel—like you’re skidding too close to the edge of something dangerous—will eventually fade.

But then Friday night rolls around, and you’re sitting on your bed, staring at your phone like an idiot, pretending you don’t know exactly what you’re waiting for.

“Are you coming over after the game tonight, pretty girl?”  You mimic, your same bad impression coming to the surface as you glare at your blank home screen. 

“Hey, are you coming to the game tonight? Renee can’t make it any more and I have that ticket.” Your brother knocks on the door the your room - well the spare room - poking his head in as he takes in your body sprawled across the bed, your gaze shooting up at him in surprise, as you body jumps a little, your hands automatically tucking your phone under your pillow as he lets out a soft chuckle. 

“I assume she didn’t get a chance to ask you.” He jokes, he already has his game day suit on - making you look so much worse in your pizza stained pyjamas. 

“I haven’t seen her all day.” You respond, confirming his suspicions that his wife never got the chance to ask if you want to go. “But I’m down if you can wait fifteen minutes to give me a ride?’ You say hopefully, a smile lighting up your face to mimic your brothers, his head nodding quickly as he shoots you an unsure glance. 

“I’ll give you twenty - you look like a mess.” He says with a grimace. 

“Ha Ha, very funny Curtis.” You sneer, sliding off the bed and shutting the door in his face as you glance around the room at any available clothing that might be lying around, “I knew I should’ve done laundry.” You manage to find some relatively clean jeans, and a cozy red hoodie, tugging them both on as you comb your fingers through your hair before securing it to the back of your head with a claw clip just as Curtis calls for you by the front door. 

“Are you coming or should I just assume you’ve died in your own filth?” He calls, your eyes rolling as you yank your purse of the back of the door, bolting down the stairs to meet your brother by the car. 

“My filth has not overcome me, as you can see.” You hiss as you slide into the passenger seat, your brother sending you an amused glance before pulling out of the driveway - the ride to the arena being relatively silent aside from the kids bop covers Curtis refused to turn off - you’ve never been more glad to get out a car then you were as he pulled into his spot at the prudential centre. 

“You know Luke was asking about you earlier today…” Curtis starts as you both slide out of the car, your brows furrowing as you look towards him, “Yeah, he was asking if you were coming today - said there was something he wanted to talk to you about.” Curtis continues, a knowing grin spreading on his face. 

“I don’t know why.” You say quickly, hiking your bag further up your shoulder as you glance over at him, the two of you making your way into the building. 

“Neither, but he’s a good kid.” Curtis starts, “Wouldn’t be mad if there was something going on between you two.” He adds, your brows raising in surprise jack’s words slicing through your head. 

I wouldn’t mind if he knew. 

“At least he’s nothing like his brother Jack, god he’s a piece of work.” Curtis cuts through your thoughts, “Don’t get me wrong, I love the kid but don’t even bother with someone like him — all he’ll do is break your heart.” He says quickly, your thoughts deflating quickly as you just nod along. 

After your joyous heart to heart with your brother, you find yourself standing outside the locker room, shifting on your feet as you wait. The hallway is buzzing with players walking in and out, staff moving quickly through the space, and the occasional fan sneaking glances inside. You’re distracted, lost in thought, when a passing player jostles you, your feet losing their place as you stumble, trying to catch yourself before ultimately giving up and just bracing for impact. 

“Woah, gotcha.” a pair of large hands grip your waist, steadying you. You blink up at Luke holding you upright, his hands firm against your sides. His expression is amused as you steady yourself, your fingers lightly gripping his forearm for balance. 

“Timo you gotta be more careful, we’ve got precious cargo over here.” Luke shouts down the hallway - a murmured ’sorry’ shot your way as the large Swiss player continues on his way. 

“Thanks, I really thought I was gonna eat shit for a second there.” You joke, Luke’s hands still firm on your waist until he’s sure you’ve caught your balance again and quickly releases you. 

“No problem - I swear you’re clumsier than me.” 

“Only when hockey players shove past me like I’m invisible.” you reply dryly, Luke chuckles as he helps you dust of the invisible dirt all over your clothes, “So, my brother said you were asking about me today?” You start, crossing your arms over your chest as you raise a brow towards the youngest Hughes brother. 

“Oh, yeah.” Luke starts slowly, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh, “It’s just were trying to plan this congratulations party for Jack for making team USA and I was hoping you’d be able to make an appearance?” Luke explains, your eyes widening in surprise as your gaze shoots over where you are to look for signs of your brother - you grab hold of Lukes arm dragging him closer to the wall as you whisper. 

“I can’t go if Curtis is going to be there - it’s going to be too suspicious.” Luke lowers his head as the two of you continue your oh so secret conversation, not noticing the ever darkening presence coming up the hallway - their focus trained entirely on you and his younger brother huddled in the corner. 

“Curtis isn’t going - that’s the best part.” Luke starts, “He said he’s never support his teammates betrayal of Canda and to count him out.” He expands, your head nodding - it does sound exactly like something your brother would say - “Besides do you think I’m dumb enough to invite you and your brother, I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but I know how to keep a secret.” You nod again, your grip releasing on Luke’s sleeve as you glance around the hallway, your eyes locking with Jack’s glaring blue ones as you step away from his brother. 

“Send me the details.” You say quickly, as you motion for Luke to glance over his shoulder, the boy jumping as his older brother slides up besides him. Jack’s grip on his duffel bag flexes before he steps forward, his movements deliberate. 

“You ready for the game?” Jack asks Luke, his voice even, but there’s a rough edge to it that wasn’t there before.

“Yeah, man, almost,” Luke replies casually, but even he seems to pick up on the change in Jack’s demeanour. Jack doesn’t acknowledge you at first, his gaze lingering on Luke for a second too long. Then, finally, his eyes flick to you, filled with something unreadable. “Just catching up with the littlest Lazar before the game.” He jokes, slinging his arm over your shoulder, definitely not catching the tension simmering off his older brother. 

Jack glances between the two of you again before marching off towards the locker rooms, Luke letting out a deep exhale as you push his arm off your shoulder. “Do you think he heard?” 

“Luke, I don’t think that’s your biggest problem.” 

+

+

The energy in the arena is electric. The crowd roars as the players hit the ice, the sharp scrape of skates against the surface sending a thrill through your spine. The Devils are locked in an intense battle against their rivals, the game fast and aggressive. You try not to focus too hard on Jack, but it’s impossible. Every time he’s on the ice, your eyes are drawn to him like a magnet.

He plays with the same recklessness he carries everywhere else in his life—fearless, fast, and a maybe little too confident. And for a while, it’s working. He’s everywhere, setting up plays, taking shots, chirping at the other team like he was born for it.

But then it happens.

It’s late in the second period when Jack takes a bad hit. You see it the second it unfolds—his body angled just slightly off balance when he gets checked hard into the boards, his body crumpling to the ice as he holds onto his side, his head pressing against the floor as he pulls himself on his knees. 

Your stomach lurches.

Jack stays down longer than he should, and the entire arena holds its breath. He shifts, attempting to push himself up, but it’s clear something’s off. Trainers rush onto the ice, helping him upright as he tries to shake them off, but you can tell from your seat—he’s rattled.

“Shit,” Nico mutters beside you - the captain still on the injury reserve after his own set back on the ice a few weeks ago - his jaw tight as he watches his teammate get escorted off the ice. You feel his eyes flick toward you, and you force yourself to stay still, to not react too obviously.

It doesn’t matter though, your pulse is hammering and all you can think about is whether Jack is okay. Everyone watches as Jack disappears down the tunnel, and you’re on your feet before you can think twice about it. “I’m gonna go grab some water,” you tell Nico hastily, ignoring the way his eyes narrow slightly at you.

You don’t give him a chance to question it before you slip into the crowd, heading straight for the hallway leading to the locker rooms. Security is tight, but you know enough people, recognise enough faces, that nobody stops you as you weave through the chaos. When you push past the door leading into the medical area, Jack is sitting on the exam table, his head down as a trainer checks him over. His jersey is half off, revealing the sheen of sweat on his skin, deep bruising already forming along his ribs. His hair is damp with sweat, and there’s a frustrated set to his jaw that tells you he’s pissed—at the hit, at himself, at the entire situation.

He doesn’t notice you at first, too focused on whatever the trainer is saying. But when the door clicks shut behind you, his head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours. Something flickers across his face—surprise, then something softer, something unreadable.

“You checking in on me, pretty girl?” Jack’s voice is slightly hoarse, his usual cockiness tempered by the clear ache he’s feeling. You roll your eyes, stepping further into the room, ignoring the way your heart clenches at the sight of him like this. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter, arms crossing over your chest. “Just making sure you’re not dead. Luke would be devastated.” Jack huffs out a laugh, wincing slightly as the trainer adjusts the ice pack. 

“Yeah, Luke would be torn up.” He tilts his head slightly, looking at you from under damp lashes. “But what about you?”

You scoff, shifting on your feet, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze. “I’d be mildly inconvenienced.”

Jack grins, and despite the swelling starting on his cheek, he still somehow looks impossibly good. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

The trainer clears his throat, looking between the two of you before stepping back. “You need to sit out the rest of the game,” he tells Jack firmly. “I’ll let Coach know.” Jack groans but doesn’t argue, his gaze never leaving you. The trainer slips out, leaving you alone with him. The silence that settles is thick, charged with something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“You didn’t text me back.” Jack’s voice is quieter now, more serious.

“I panicked.” You shift your weight, your pulse quickening. “And I didn’t think there was anything to say.”

Jack studies you for a moment before shaking his head with a small, humourless chuckle. “Bullshit.”

Your stomach tightens. “Jack—”

“No,” he cuts you off, pushing himself up slightly, wincing but ignoring it. “You keep acting like this is just some stupid game, like none of this means anything, but we both know that’s not true.”

Your breath catches, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. “You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

Jack lets out a sharp exhale, his frustration evident. “Or maybe you’re making things easier then they actually are.”

“This has to end eventually, right?” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

Jack’s gaze darkens, his fingers flexing against his knee. “Do you want it to?” You don’t answer immediately, because the truth is, you don’t know. “Is this because of Luke?” His question surprises you, your head tilting in confusion as he shakes his head slowly, “Never mind.” He shifts slightly, wincing as he moves, but his eyes stay locked onto yours. “You can keep pretending you can’t feel what’s right in front of your face, you can keep telling yourself it’s just a mistake,” he says, voice low, steady. “But we both know you’ll be back.”

Your stomach twists because he’s right.

He always is.

+

+

The party is already in full swing by the time you arrive - a chorus of cheers as you step through the door, each of the boys giving you a slight nod as you walk by them and into the Hughes brothers kitchen, the bottle of water in the cooler calling your name. 

“Oh, hey you made it.” Lukes voice carries through the kitchen, the lankiest Hughes shoving his way over to you, moving his teammates out of the way as he grabs his own drink from the cooler, leaning a hip against the counter as he smiles down at you. “I wasn’t sure you’d still come, Jack said it’s been a week or two since you two—” Luke hesitates, pursing his lip as he thinks for the right word, “talked.” He finishes, smiling as he takes a sip from his drink as you let out a low groan. 

“It felt wrong not to at least show my face.” You agree, rolling your eyes at looks teasing glance, his eyes locking on something over your shoulder, his face dropping quickly as he clears his throat. 

“Oh Curtis, what’re you doing here? I thought Canadians had no place in a team USA party.” Luke’s voice sends a shot of panic down your spine, a fake smile plastered on your face as you turn to face your older brother, who in return looks at you in confusion. 

“I wasn’t going to come to a filthy USA party but what kind of teammate would that make me?” Curtis teases, his arm slinging on your shoulder as he turns his attention down to you, questions in his gaze, “and it looks like I’m not the only Canadian here.” You let out a soft chuckle as you shuck your brothers arm off your shoulder, sending a pleading glance towards Luke. 

You hadn’t expected him to be here, and judging by the way Luke suddenly finds his drink fascinating, neither had he.

“Yeah, well,” you say, shrugging off his arm as casually as possible, “someone’s gotta get the inside scoop.” Curtis chuckles, but his gaze lingers on you a second too long, like he’s trying to piece something together. You don’t give him the chance, instead you decide that water’s just not going to cut it and reach to grab another drink from the cooler and twist the cap off, taking a slow sip as you scan the room.

You shouldn’t have.

Jack’s already looking at you.

He’s leaning against the far wall, a beer dangling from his fingertips, his darkened gaze locked on you with an intensity that makes your skin heat. He doesn’t move, doesn’t break eye contact, and for a moment, everything else—the music, the bodies pressed together in the living room, the weight of your brother standing too close—fades away.

You swallow hard, willing your pulse to settle, but the way Jack’s lips twitch, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, only makes it worse.

“Hey, you good?” Curtis’ voice pulls you back, his brows drawn together in concern. “You disappeared for a second there.” 

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to look away. “Yeah, just tired from all my spying.” He doesn’t look convinced, but before he can push, a few of his teammates call his name, giving you the perfect excuse to step back. “I’m gonna grab some air,” you say, already moving. The night air is cool against your skin as you step outside onto the back deck, inhaling deeply as you press your palms against the railing. The music inside is muffled, just a low thrum beneath the distant hum of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from the party still raging inside. But out here, it’s quieter—easier to breathe.

At least, it should be.

You can still feel the weight of Jack’s gaze from across the room, the way he looked at you like he already knew you’d end up here. Like he knew you’d run.

You close your eyes for a moment, tilting your head back as you exhale slowly, trying to shake the tension coiling in your chest. You shouldn’t have come tonight. You knew that coming would make things so much harder to avoid, to pretend like nothing was going on and yet here you were, standing outside during the congratulations for your achievement party of your fuck buddy.The door creaks open behind you, your thought spiral pausing as you take a long sip for your drink and even before he speaks, you know who it is.

“What are you doing here?” Jack’s voice is rough, edged with something you can’t quite place.

“It was too noisy in there.” You comment, not missing the way Jack lets out a soft chuckle. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” 

You straighten but don’t turn around, keeping your hands braced against the railing. “I was invited.”

“That’s still not what I meant, I know you were invited. ” His footsteps are slow, deliberate, and then he’s next to you, close enough that the heat of his body seeps into yours despite the cool air. “So why did you come?”

You huff out a breath, finally turning to face him. “Does it matter?” Jack lets out a quiet, humourless laugh, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his already-messy hair. He looks frustrated, but more than that—he looks desperate.

“It matters,” he says, voice quieter now, like he’s afraid of what you might say. “It fucking matters to me.”

Your stomach twists, fingers tightening against the railing as you force yourself to hold his gaze. “Jack, don’t do this.”

His jaw flexes, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Do what?”

“I didn’t come here to fight with you.” You can’t help the sigh that falls from your lips, “don’t make this into something it’s not meant to be.” 

Jack exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”

You stiffen. “Excuse me?”

“Bullshit,” he repeats, stepping closer. “You’re acting like you didn’t come here for the same reason I asked Luke to invite you—you think you can just pretend like there is nothing between us and I can tell that it’s killing you inside” He scoffs, his eyes flashing in the dim light. “You really think we can just go back to pretending like we were nothing after this?”

You swallow hard, your pulse pounding against your ribs. “I never thought we were nothing.” Jack’s expression falters for a split second before he recovers, stepping in even closer until there’s barely any space left between you. 

“Then what are we?” You don’t answer, because you don’t know how. Because if you say it out loud, it becomes real. Jack studies you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, looking for something—anything. And then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it—

“I want us to be something real.”

Your breath catches, your fingers digging into the railing behind you.

Jack takes a shaky breath, his voice lower now, raw. “I know what we agreed to in the beginning but—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t want to be just some guy you used to sleep with. I don’t want to be the mistake you try to forget.”

Your throat feels tight, your chest aching with something you don’t know how to name. “Jack—”

“No,” he interrupts, his hands flexing at his sides like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to. “Just tell me. If you really don’t feel anything—if this really was just some casual thing to you—tell me, and I’ll walk away.”His voice drops even lower, barely more than a whisper. “But if there’s even a chance—” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “If there’s even a part of you that feels the same way, just—don’t lie to me.” You look away, staring at the ground, because it’s easier than looking at him. 

Because if you meet his eyes, you’ll break.

Jack lets out a slow breath, nodding like he’s already bracing for the worst. “Okay,” he murmurs, barely audible. “I get it.”

He turns like he’s about to walk away, and something in you panics. Before you can stop yourself, your fingers curl around his wrist. Jack freezes. His breath is uneven when he turns back to you, his gaze darting from your hand on his skin to your face. Your heart is in your throat, pounding so hard you think he might be able to hear it.

And then, finally— “I don’t want you to walk away.” Jack exhales, his eyes closing for a brief moment, like he’s trying to keep himself together. When he opens them again, they’re filled with something so intense, so devastatingly real, it nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

He steps closer, his free hand hesitating for only a second before he cups your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

“Then don’t make me.” His voice is barely a whisper now, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “Just let me in.” Jack’s breath hitches when you don’t pull away. His fingers tighten slightly where they rest against your jaw, like he’s grounding himself, like he can’t quite believe you’re here, letting this happen. Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, your hand still curled around his wrist, keeping him close. For once, you don’t have the energy to fight it—to fight him. Jack shifts slightly, tilting his head just enough that his nose brushes against yours. His lips part, his breath warm against your skin. He’s so close.

 Just a little more and—

“What the fuck is this?” The sharp voice shatters the moment like glass. You jolt back, your pulse spiking as your head snaps toward the open doorway.

Curtis.

Your brother stands just inside the threshold, arms crossed over his chest, his expression a mixture of shock and pure, unfiltered anger. His dark eyes are locked onto Jack, his posture stiff, radiating hostility.

Shit.

Jack straightens but doesn’t step away from you. His jaw clenches as he meets Curtis’ glare, his whole body suddenly tense, like he’s already preparing for whatever’s coming — his body covering most of you as he lets out a soft groan.

“Curtis,” you start, stepping around Jack, but he shakes his head sharply, his lips curling into a bitter smile.

“Oh, don’t fucking ‘Curtis’ me,” he snaps, his gaze flicking between you and Jack. “What the hell is going on here?” You swallow hard, feeling like a kid caught doing something they shouldn’t. 

“It’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Curtis’ voice is tight, low with barely restrained anger. His eyes burn into yours, waiting for an answer, for some kind of explanation that won’t make him want to deck Jack right here and now.

Jack exhales sharply, finally turning to face your brother, stepping forwards and putting himself slightly in front of you. “It’s not exactly what you think.”

Curtis scoffs, his expression twisting. “Oh, really? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you’re messing around with my sister.”

Jack’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t back down. “It’s not like that.”

Curtis lets out a cold laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Because you’re such a committed guy, huh, Hughes? Never had a casual thing in your life?” He takes a step forward, his body language shifting from disbelief to outright anger. “Are you fucking serious?My sister?”

“Curtis—” you try, but he barely even spares you a glance.

“This is what you’ve been sneaking around for?” His voice rises, his gaze locked on you now, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Jack fucking Hughes?” He shakes his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Jesus Christ.”

Jack takes another step closer, his voice firm. “Neither of us is sneaking around.”

Curtis’ head snaps toward him, his expression thunderous. “No? Then what the fuck do you call this?”

Jack doesn’t flinch. “I care about her.”

Curtis lets out a sharp, humourless laugh. “You care about her?” He gestures between the two of you, his voice laced with disbelief. “What, like you care about all the other girls you’ve been with?”

Jack’s nostrils flare, his whole body going rigid. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” Curtis glares at him, stepping in close enough that they’re nearly chest to chest. “What’s not fair is you treating my little sister like she’s just another one of your hookups.”

Jack’s eyes darken, his fingers twitching at his sides like he’s forcing himself to stay still. His voice is low when he speaks, steady but sharp. “She’s not.”

Curtis scoffs. “Yeah? Then what the hell is she?”

Jack doesn’t hesitate. “She’s everything.” The air between them crackles with tension.

Curtis’ expression falters for half a second before his hands curl into fists, his whole body coiled like a spring. His gaze flickers to you, his jaw tight. “You actually believe this shit?”

You exhale slowly, meeting his eyes. “I—” You hesitate, your throat tightening. “It’s not that simple.” 

Curtis barks out a laugh, taking a step back and raking a hand through his hair. “Not that simple,” he repeats, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Jack shakes his head, his voice edged with frustration. “Look, man, I know this isn’t what you wanted—”

“No, you don’t know,” Curtis snaps, turning back toward him. “You don’t get it, Jack. She’s not—” He cuts himself off, his eyes flickering toward you for the briefest moment before he shakes his head. “She’s not one of them.”

Jack’s expression hardens. “I know that.”

Curtis lets out a bitter laugh. “Do you?”

Jack steps closer again, his voice rough, his whole body radiating tension. “I’m not playing games with her.”

Curtis narrows his eyes. “You really think you’re good enough for her?”

Jack’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t back down. “I don’t know,” he admits, voice tight. “But I know I’m not gonna walk away just because you don’t like it.”

Curtis stares at him, something unreadable flashing across his face. Then, suddenly, his shoulders shift, and before you can react, he’s moving.

“Curtis—!” you shout, but it’s too late.

His fist flies before either of you can stop it. It connects with Jack’s jaw with a sickening crack, sending his head whipping to the side, Jack barely reacting beyond a sharp inhale. He exhales, his jaw tightening as he lifts a hand to his face, his fingers brushing over the fresh bruise forming just below his cheekbone, a small cut on his cheek from Curtis’s wedding band.

He lets out a slow, steady breath before straightening.

He doesn’t hit back.

Curtis shakes out his hand, his breaths heavy. “Stay the fuck away from her,” he grits out.

Jack wipes at his lip, where a small bead of blood is forming, then lifts his gaze to Curtis—calm, steady. “That’s not your call to make.”

Curtis’ jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring. His gaze flicks toward you, his expression still tight with anger. “Come on. We’re leaving.” You hesitate, glancing at Jack. He’s already looking at you, his eyes soft despite the tension still simmering in the air. And that’s when you realise—he’s waiting for you to decide.

Curtis sees it, too.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “You can’t be serious.” Your pulse pounds. Jack doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his face unreadable but open, waiting, he wants you to make the choice. 

Leave now with your brother and this whole thing is over or stay. 

“You should go, Curtis.” You finally say, a glare focused on your brother as you slip your hand into Jacks, his fingers gripping yours for dear life, “You’ve done enough damage for one day, we can talk about this later.” You conclude tugging Jack behind you as you both slip inside, your hand guiding him through the crowd as you avoid his teammates questioning stares as you shove open the bathroom door slamming it behind the both of you with a click of the lock. 

Jack leans against the bathroom door, exhaling sharply, his fingers still wrapped tightly around yours, his jaw tight. His chest rises and falls with controlled breaths, though the slight tremor in his hands betrays just how hard he’s trying to keep himself together.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, but no less intense.

You shake your head, your heart still pounding against your ribs. “Yes, I did.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable before he exhales, running a hand through his constantly messy hair. “Curtis might actually fucking kill me.”

You huff out a short, humourless laugh. “Well, considering he already got one good shot in, I’d say he’s off to a great start.” Jack winces as he touches his jaw, the skin already bruising from the hit. You step closer without thinking, your fingers reaching out before you can stop yourself. Jack stills, his gaze locking onto yours as your fingertips ghost over the tender skin.

“You should put some ice on it,” you murmur.

Jack doesn’t move. His breath is warm against your skin, his body still tense but rooted in place. “You don’t have to do this,” he says again, but this time, there’s something else in his voice. Something almost vulnerable.

“I know.” Your fingers trace lightly along the forming bruise, and Jack exhales, his eyes fluttering shut for half a second before they snap open again, pinning you in place.

A beat of silence stretches between you, heavy and electric.

Then, suddenly, he moves. One second, he’s standing there, looking at you like he’s fighting every instinct screaming at him to touch you, and the next, his hands are on your waist, his fingers gripping you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath fanning over your skin. “Please tell me to stop.”

You don’t. You can’t. Instead, you reach up, your fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair as you tug him down to you. Jack doesn’t hesitate. He crashes into you, his lips slanting over yours with a desperation that makes your knees weak.

The kiss is anything but gentle. It’s raw, urgent—like he’s been holding himself back for too long and he can’t anymore. His hands slide up your sides, pressing you against the door, pinning you between him and the cool wood as his lips move against yours like he’s trying to memorise the way you taste, the way you feel beneath his hands.

You gasp against his mouth, and Jack takes full advantage, his tongue sliding against yours, deepening the kiss until you feel dizzy from it. One of his hands moves up, fingers tangling in your hair as he tilts your head just right, devouring every sound you make like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your lips, his voice hoarse, almost wrecked. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.”

You do. Because you’ve wanted him just as much.

Jack groans softly as you tug at his shirt, your fingers slipping beneath the hem, pressing against the warm skin of his stomach.

His muscles flex under your touch, and he leans into you more, like he can’t get close enough.

Someone bangs on the door. “Occupied,” Jack snaps, barely breaking away from your lips before kissing you again, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, lifting you slightly as he presses you tighter against the door.

Your head is spinning, your skin buzzing, and you know you should stop—should at least slow down—but then Jack pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Tell me this is real,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming out in uneven pants. “Tell me I’m not making a fucking idiot of myself here.”

Your chest tightens. “Jack—”

“Tell me you want this as much as I do.” His voice is barely a whisper now, but the weight of it crashes into you like a tidal wave.

You reach up, cupping his face gently, your thumbs brushing over the bruise already forming on his cheekbone.

“I do,” you admit, your voice steady despite the way your heart hammers in your chest. “I do, Jack.”

The relief that washes over his face is immediate. He lets out a breath he must have been holding, his grip on you softening just slightly before he kisses you again—slower this time, but just as intense, just as desperate. Like he’s trying to make up for all the time you’ve wasted pretending this wasn’t inevitable. 

Jack’s hands move lower, fingers brushing the hem of your dress before slipping beneath, calloused fingertips dragging along the sensitive skin of your thighs. The touch is light at first, almost hesitant, but when you let out a soft gasp, pressing closer, he groans.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his lips trailing down your jaw, nipping at the skin just beneath your ear. “You’re gonna kill me.”

His hand slides higher, knuckles teasing along the crease where your thigh meets your hip, and you shudder at the contact. Jack tilts his head, watching your face as his fingers move, testing, teasing, until he finally slips them beneath the fabric of your underwear.

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers digging into his shoulders, and he groans at the feeling. “Already so wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice rough, full of something that makes heat pool low in your stomach. “God, you’re perfect.”

His fingers find your clit, circling in slow, deliberate strokes, sending sparks of pleasure racing through you. Your head tips back against the door, a soft moan slipping from your lips, and Jack swallows the sound with a heated kiss, his movements never stopping, never slowing.

He presses against you, his free hand gripping your waist to keep you steady as he works against your clit, firmer this time. “We don’t have our supplies.” He whispers against the skin of your neck, pulling his fingers away as you let out a whine at the loss of sensation. 

“Jack—” Your voice is breathless, needy, and he shushes you with another kiss, his lips curling into a smirk against yours.

“I know, but it’s going to hurt you.” He grumbles, distracting you by sucking on your neck, sliding your underwear back into place as you shake your head. 

“It’s okay.” You coo, pulling his face away from your skin to look in his eyes. “It’ll only hurt for a little bit.” 

Jack’s expression shifts the moment the words leave your lips. That heat, that hunger—it’s still there, simmering beneath the surface—but something softer overtakes it. Concern. His fingers trace slow, absentminded circles on your thigh, grounding you.

“Baby,” he murmurs, voice gentler now, “I know you’re saying that, but I don’t want you hurting just to give me something.” Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat. He knows. Of course he does. You’d told him before, in hushed conversations that never felt like they mattered as much as they do now.

“I want this, Jack,” you say, and it’s the truth. But still, your body hums with the familiar tension of anticipation—of wanting and fearing in equal measure.

Jack tilts his head, watching you like he’s searching for something. Then, slowly, he leans in, pressing the softest of kisses to your lips. “Let me help, okay?” Your breath shudders out of you as he kisses a slow path down your jaw, his hands shifting—one pressing against the small of your back, the other slipping between your thighs again, fingers teasing along the damp fabric of your underwear.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmurs, voice rough with restraint, but there’s no rush in his movements now. “That’s good, baby. That’s gonna help.”

You nod, exhaling shakily. Jack hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down carefully, like he’s giving you time to change your mind. When you don’t, he kneels slightly, lifting one of your thighs over his so he can settle between your legs.

Then you watch as he brings his fingers to his lips, tongue flicking out to wet them before lowering his hand back down, dragging the slick digits along your entrance. The difference is immediate. Where tension had been bracing you for pain, Jack’s touch eases the worst of it, slick warmth helping him slide against you with more ease.

You whimper as his fingers stroke slow, deliberate circles around your entrance, never pushing, never rushing. Jack groans softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “That feel better?”

You nod, breathless.

“Good,” he rasps, lips brushing against yours as he moves again, teasing at your opening until, finally, he slides one finger inside. The stretch is there—but it’s different this time. Less sting, more pressure, more of the sweet, aching fullness you’d always wanted to enjoy without the pain. Jack watches your face the entire time, eyes dark and careful, his free hand stroking soothingly over your side. 

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.” You exhale, body relaxing a little more, and Jack presses a kiss to your temple. 

“We don’t have to rush,” he murmurs. “I just want to make you feel good. You tell me if anything doesn’t.” His words pull a soft laugh from your throat as you glance around the small bathroom, the sound of music playing just outside reminding you exactly where you are.  Jack keeps his pace slow, his touch deliberate. He watches every shift in your expression, every shudder of your breath, like you’re the most important thing in the world.

And to him, maybe you are.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth as he moves his finger inside you, testing, gauging your reaction. “You’re doing so good for me.”

The praise sends a different kind of warmth through you, pooling in your stomach. You exhale shakily, fingers curling into his shoulders. “Jack…”

He groans at the way you say his name, tilting his head to capture your lips again. This kiss is different—deeper, slower, laced with the same patience he’s giving the rest of you. His free hand strokes up your side, grounding you in the warmth of his touch. After a moment, his movements pause. “Can I try another?” His voice is hushed, full of care, and he doesn’t move until you give him a small nod. Jack swears under his breath when he slides another finger in, moving with even more caution now, waiting for any sign of discomfort. There’s a stretch, a pressure—but not the sharp, stinging pain you were bracing for.

“Still okay?” he asks, his forehead pressed to yours.

You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Mhm.” Jack exhales like he’s been holding his breath, kissing you again, his fingers moving in slow, careful strokes, coaxing pleasure from you with practiced patience.

 “That’s my girl,” he breathes against your lips. The words make your stomach tighten, pleasure curling low as he works you open, his touch easing some of the tension you didn’t realise you were still holding. Jack shifts, dragging his fingers back just enough to tease at your entrance before pushing in again, curling just right, and a soft moan escapes you before you can stop it.

His lips curl into a smirk against your skin. “There we go,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with approval. “That’s what I wanna hear.” Your cheeks burn, but Jack just kisses you again, deeper this time, like he wants to pull every sound from your lips.

“See?” he whispers, his breath warm against your cheek. “We’ll take our time. I’ll take care of you.” And with the way he’s touching you, the way he’s watching you so intently, so carefully—

You believe him.

Jack’s fingers work you open with slow, careful precision, never pushing too far, never rushing. His lips brush against your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—small, grounding touches that keep you from slipping too far into your own head.

And it’s working.

The usual tension, the worry that pain will creep in and ruin the moment, is fading. Replaced by something warmer, something sweeter. Pleasure unfurls in slow, steady waves as Jack curls his fingers inside you just right, stroking against that sensitive spot that has your breath catching in your throat.

“Jack—” His name slips out, breathless, needy, and he groans like the sound alone could undo him.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his thumb circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. “You feel okay?”

You nod, your fingers digging into his shoulders, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of him. “Better then okay.” You hum.

Jack smiles, tilting his head so his nose brushes yours. “I want you to let go for me,” he whispers. “Don’t hold back.” You exhale shakily, thighs trembling as the pleasure builds, coiling tight in your stomach. Jack keeps his pace steady, keeps his lips moving against yours, swallowing every little gasp, every whimper, every soft moan like they belong to him.

“You’re so perfect,” he breathes, his voice rough with want. “So beautiful when you fall apart for me.” His words, his touch, the way he’s looking at you—it’s too much. The coil in your stomach snaps, pleasure crashing over you in warm, shuddering waves. Jack groans as he feels you tighten around his fingers, his movements slowing but never stopping, working you through it, letting you ride out every last pulse of pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, kissing you slow, deep, reverent. “Such a pretty girl.” Your body trembles against him, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as the aftershocks leave you warm, pliant in his arms. Jack pulls his fingers from you carefully, bringing them to his lips without breaking eye contact, sucking them clean with a low groan.

The sight sends another shiver through you.

Jack smirks, kissing you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Told you I’d take care of you.” Jack doesn’t let go of you. Even as you tremble, breathless from the high he just pulled from you, he keeps his hands on your hips, grounding you, stroking soft, soothing circles into your skin.

“You still with me, baby?” His voice is rough, but there’s nothing but tenderness in the way he presses a kiss to the side of your neck.

You nod, exhaling shakily. “Yeah.”

Jack hums in approval, his lips curling into a grin against your skin. “Good.” His hands skim down, gripping your thighs, your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can feel exactly how hard he still is.

Your breath catches.

Jack groans at the way your body reacts, his fingers flexing on your skin. “Fuck,” he mutters. “We need to leave— I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.” He mumbles, his pupils blown as he looks down at you, the anxiety in your chest easing as you place your hands gently on the sides of his face, shooting him the most reassuring smile you can muster. 

“I want you inside of me.” You almost laugh at the way Jack chokes a little, his mouth falling open as he tries to shake his head, “I’m serious, Jack. I trust you.” His mouth opens and closes, the words failing him as he moves to pull away, your hands holding him steadily, “Please fuck me, Jack.” He doesn’t need you to say anything else before he’s positioning you in front of the mirror with practiced ease. He stands behind you, his body pressed against yours, his hands roaming slow and deliberate.

“Look at yourself,” he murmurs, dragging his lips over the shell of your ear. “Look how perfect you are for me.”

Your cheeks burn, but Jack doesn’t let you turn away. His hands slip beneath the hem of your dress, pushing it up inch by inch until he can pull it over your head, leaving you bare.

“Fuck,” he groans, eyes raking over you in the reflection. His hands slide over your stomach, your thighs, possessive and reverent all at once. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

One hand drifts lower, between your legs, teasing, testing. His breath shudders as he feels how wet you still are.

“You still want this?” His voice is hoarse, strained with restraint.

You meet his gaze in the mirror, your own breath coming in uneven pants. “Yes.” Jack lets out a shaky exhale, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment before he steps back just enough to push his jeans down, kicking them aside. Then, he does something that has your stomach twisting with anticipation.

He lifts his hand, palm up, and looks at you through the mirror, his lips curving into a lazy, knowing smirk. “Spit in my hand, baby.” Heat floods through you at the request, at the rasp of his voice, dark and needy. You hesitate for only a second before doing as he asks, watching as your spit pools in his palm. Jack groans, eyes darkening as he brings his hand down, slicking himself up with slow, teasing strokes. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he mutters, squeezing the base of his cock before lining himself up behind you.

His free hand returns to your waist, gripping you firmly as he leans in, lips brushing against your ear. “Keep watching,” he murmurs, voice thick with need.

Then, he pushes in.

The stretch is slow, careful, but still enough to steal the breath from your lungs, your eyes squeezing shut as he rubs a soft hand over your back. Jack groans, his fingers tightening on your waist as he sinks deeper, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated inside you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” he breathes, forehead pressing to the back of your shoulder.  You whimper, fingers gripping the edge of the counter as your body adjusts, the fullness almost overwhelming. Jack stills, holding himself back, his other hand continuing to rub slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“You okay?” His voice is softer now, laced with patience, with care.

You swallow, exhaling a shaky breath before nodding. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Move, Jack.” 

Jack pulls back slightly before thrusting in again, setting a slow, deliberate pace, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror. “That’s it, baby,” he groans. “Look at how good you take me.” And when you do—when you see the way your bodies fit together, the way he holds you so tightly, like he never wants to let go—

Jack's thrusts become deeper, more urgent, his fingers digging into your hips as he chases his own release, and you can feel the tension building again—an undeniable pull, something that tells you this is where everything is supposed to fall into place. Your breath quickens, your hands gripping the counter so tightly you think your knuckles might crack, but you don’t care. It’s all heat and friction, and the way he fills you, the way his body presses against yours—it’s all so perfect, so desperate.

And then, suddenly, a sharp knock on the door breaks through the haze of desire.

"Hey," a voice calls from the other side, cutting through the charged silence like a knife. "Can you guys not fuck in the bathroom?"

Your body freezes, Jack’s movements halting just as quickly. You both stare at the door, eyes wide, hearts still racing, but now, a mix of embarrassment and disbelief swirling inside you.

"Luke," Jack groans, his voice thick with frustration, his forehead resting against the back of your shoulder. "Are you fucking serious right now?"

The voice on the other side of the door doesn't sound particularly concerned. "I’m just saying," Luke continues, "there’s a whole party out here. The bathroom's not your private fuck zone."

You can't help it. You burst into a laugh, your body shaking with the absurdity of it all. Jack lets out a low groan, pulling out slowly and backing away from you, frustration and amusement both warring on his face.

"Alright," Jack says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "We’ll wrap it up, Luke, just give us a damn second." You turn to face Jack, both of you still catching your breath, and you share a look, the tension from the moment still hanging thick in the air—but now, at least, it’s softened by the ridiculousness of Luke’s timing.

"Can you believe that?" you laugh, wiping a tear from your eye.

Jack shakes his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Only you and I would get interrupted in the middle of something like this."

Another knock.

"Seriously, guys! The party’s waiting. Come on!"

You both laugh again, the situation breaking the heavy atmosphere as you gather yourselves, still breathless but with a grin. “Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, reaching for your clothes. “We’ll be out in a minute, Luke. Don’t start a riot.”

As you both adjust yourselves, Jack leans in for one last kiss, soft and full of promise.

"I guess we’ll just have to finish this later," he murmurs against your lips.

You smile, a playful glint in your eyes. "You better believe it." Jack pauses for a moment his eyes catching his own reflection in the mirror as he winces lightly. 

“I really hope your brother isn’t still here.” 

[shockercoco]

Better Late Than Never

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings - fluff, some kissing, Valentine’s Day shenanigans, flirty!Bucky

Word count - 2167

a/n - Happy Valentine’s Day everyone, especially to all my fellow single readers! I’ve somehow ended up in my Sebastian Stan era again, so I thought why fight it. It’s been a while since I’ve written an imagine, and I’m feeling a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy and thanks in advance for reading :)

“What’s got you smiling so much?” You ask Wanda as she sits down across from you.

It was Wanda’s idea to meet up for lunch after finding out about the rough morning you had, and she had also told you that she had some good news to share that might cheer you up. 

You had woken up late for work, couldn’t find your car keys, and when you reached the halfway point on your journey to work, you realized you didn’t have your phone. Today just wasn’t your day.

“Remember how I said I had some good news?” Wanda asks, her smile huge as she leans in and rests her elbows on the table. When you nod, she continues. “Well, Vision surprised me at work and finally asked me to be his girlfriend! He brought me flowers and everything.”

Yeah, today just really wasn’t your day.

“That’s really great, Wanda, but how exactly is that supposed to cheer me up?” you question, giving her a small smile to soften your words.

“Because you were the one who suggested that I should confess my feelings to him, and you’ve pretty much been with me every step of the way,” Wanda tells you. Her expression then turns into confusion. “Is something wrong?”

You honestly were really proud and happy for Wanda, and if this were any other time of the year, your reaction would’ve been different. But it’s not. Valentine's Day is at the end of the week and you just want the week to be over with.

While you were walking down the street on your way to the restaurant, you walked past a woman getting proposed to in the park. While you were waiting for the light to change in order for you to cross the street, you saw a couple making out. As you walked past a street vendor selling flowers, you overheard the vendor making conversation with a man who was apparently looking for the right flowers to buy his crush. Now, Wanda hits you with this.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you quickly shake your head. “I’ve just had a weird day.”

She looks at you for a moment longer, not fully believing you. “Hmm, there’s something else. Tell me.”

You let out a laugh. “Wanda, I’m fine. It just…it’s nothing really. I’m good.”

“It’s just what?” Wanda asks. When you hesitate again, she adds, “We’re not ordering until you tell me what’s up,” she smirks at you. 

A small groan leaves you, before you speak up, “It’s just that Bucky hasn’t asked me to be his valentine yet, and this is our first Valentine’s Day as a couple. It stupid, I know. I shouldn’t even be upset.”

“No, it’s not stupid. Have you mentioned how you feel to him?”

“No, I didn’t think I had to since he’s always surprising me with gifts any other time of the year. I just figured this would just happen naturally, but nothing yet.”

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. After all, it’s still the beginning of the week. Who knows, he could just be waiting for the actual day to come,” Wanda says, and when you don’t say anything, she places a hand on top of yours and continues, “I’d honestly be surprised if Bucky does absolutely nothing for you. Everyone knows how obsessed he is with you.”

That makes you smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am, and when Valentine’s Day comes and he still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine, call me, I’ll hunt him down,” Wanda tells you right as a waitress walks up to the table to take your guys’ order. She catches the end of Wanda’s sentence and has a confused, yet amused look on her face. “Sorry, just relationship problems.”

The waitress laughs as she says, “Don’t worry I understand.”

Later that night when you're at Bucky’s place for a movie night the two of you had planned the week before, you can feel Bucky looking at you repeatedly while your eyes are still on the screen. You’re cuddled up into his side with his arm wrapped around you, but you still notice the constant shifting of his head.

You finally give in and look up at him. “Is there something on my face?” you ask him, your tone teasing.

Bucky’s confused with your question. “No, why?”

“Because you keep looking at me.”

“What, I can’t admire my own girlfriend anymore?”

“It feels more like staring than anything,” you tell him, and Bucky just laughs.

“Well, then I’m sorry,” Bucky apologizes as he places a hand on your cheek to lift your head up. He leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips, a smile still tugging on the corner of his lips. When he pulls away, he still keeps the distance between the two of you small as he looks into your eyes.

“Seriously, what is it?” you whine as you playfully shove him away from you, causing him to laugh. He knows how much you hate it when he does that. “Is there something bugging you?” you casually slide in the question, slightly hoping that he would use this time to ask you to be his valentine.

“No, there isn’t,” he laughs and pulls away, turning his attention back to the screen, but keeping his arm still wrapped around you. “I’m done, I promise.” 

He misses the slight drop in your expression, but you quickly fix your face before looking back at the tv as well.

As the week goes on, you try to focus on more important things, but as Friday continues to get closer, your hope continues to diminish. You and Bucky continue to text normally throughout the week, but when Thursday afternoon comes Bucky calls you to let you know that he’ll be going on a mission the next day. On Valentine’s Day.

“I’m sorry it’s such short notice, doll, but Steve needs me,” you hear Bucky softly tell you through the phone. You’re sitting on a chair in front of your window watching people pass by with Bucky on speaker.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I understand,” you say, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “How long will you be gone?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, before Bucky speaks, “A couple of weeks.”

Weeks? 

Your heart drops at his answer and you feel your throat start to tighten. You quickly mute yourself to clear the tears from your throat, before unmuting.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asks, noticing your delayed response. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? There’s people out there that need you,” you speak up.

You catch sight of your neighbor’s boyfriend walking up to her house with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You momentarily forget you’re on the phone and unintentionally let out a frustrated sigh at the sight, catching Bucky’s attention.

“Listen, I can probably get out of it. I’m sure Steve doesn’t need me that bad, there’s a whole team of people that are available to help out.”

A sad laugh leaves you. “Bucky it’s fine, I promise. He’s your best friend and he specifically asked you because he wants you, so go.”

“If you insist,” you hear Bucky sigh “I know you’re upset, though, so I promise to make it up to you when I get back, okay?”

That makes you crack a smile. “Okay.”

When the next day rolls around, you take your time getting out of bed. Unfortunately, you had the day off today, which of course you would’ve been happy about under different circumstances. 

You decide to keep yourself busy and do some chores to pass time, but by the time you’re done cleaning every crevice and doing laundry, it’s only four in the afternoon.

At some point, Wanda calls to check up on you and asks if you wanted her and Vision to come over and have dinner with you. Vision was planning on cooking for just the two of them, but he told you he had no problem making more. Although the two of them both repeatedly insisted they didn’t mind making the drive to your place, you declined.

It felt wrong to intrude on a special night like tonight. 

After telling Wanda and Vision that you would just order in, the two of you finally end the call.

You weren’t currently that hungry so you decided to just order something later. You make yourself comfortable on the couch and decide to put on a tv show you’ve been wanting to watch. 

A couple episodes later, you finally start to get hungry, and right when you’re about to place an order, your doorbell rings. You shake your head thinking it was just Vision and Wanda coming to share their food, but as you look through the peephole to see Bucky standing outside holding a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed animal you had been wanting, your heart drops along with your jaw.

You look down at your outfit and contemplate quickly changing, but decide against it.

“Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you had to go on a mission?” you ask when you open the door.

“Surprise!” Bucky greets you with a bright smile. He leans in to give you a kiss, before whispering, “Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart.”

Bucky can see that you’re still shocked and at a loss for words, so he just laughs as he pushes past you and makes his way inside. You close the door behind him and watch as he makes his way into the kitchen and lays the flowers on the counter along with the stuffed animal.

“As much as I’m happy that you’re here, why are you here?” your eyebrows are furrowed as you lean against the counter, your arms folded across your chest. 

Bucky sends you a smirk as he quickly puts the flowers in water before making his way over to you. He places his hands on your waist as closes the distance between you two.

“You didn’t really think that I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day together, did you?”

“I didn’t even think you remembered, I mean you haven’t said anything about it all week,” you tell him.

“Yeah, Wanda told me you were a little upset,” Bucky mentions and your eyes widen.

“What a traitor, she wasn’t supposed to say anything,” you say slightly embarrassed as you look off to the side. Then a thought hits you, and you look back at him. “Wait, did you just come here because of what Wanda told you?”

“No, I was already planning on coming here tonight.”

“But what about your mission?” you ask, still confused.

Bucky smiles. “There never was a mission, doll. I made it up because I wanted to surprise you. You really thought I would spend today with Steve instead of you?”

“...Well, he is your best friend.”

“That’s true,” Bucky nods, grabbing your hands in his and placing kisses on your knuckles, “but, you’re my best girl,” he whispers as he looks into your eyes, causing butterflies in your stomach and your face to heat up.

What were you upset about again?

A chuckle leaves Bucky as he watches you shyly smile as you look away.

“You could’ve at least said something this whole week,” you tell him.

“I know, I know,” he admits, “but I was trying to get everything together.”

“Get what together?” you ask.

Bucky stays silent for a moment as if trying to find the right words to say. Then he says, “I want you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches as you stare back at him. “What?”

Maybe you inhaled too many chemicals while cleaning.

“I want you to move in with me,” Bucky repeats. “I know we’ve been dating for less than a year and I completely understand if this is too fast for you, but there’s plenty of room for you at my place and I would be much happier if I was able to have you next to me when I wake up every morning.”

Oh. 

You blink.

“You’re serious?” you ask, even though there's no indication on his face to tell you he’s lying. 

Bucky lets go of your hands to place his on either side of your face. “Completely. Like I said, you’re my best girl.” He watches a smile slowly form on your lips. “So, what do you say?”

“Yes,” you say, and Bucky’s grin grows wider, but you hold your hand up. “Don’t start smiling yet, I wasn’t finished.”

Bucky quickly fixes his face and tries to suppress his excitement. “Of course, continue.”

“I say yes, only if you agree to never pull anything like this ever again.”

“Ever?” Bucky repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Bucky!” you playfully hit his chest.

“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you. Then he pulls away just enough to murmur against your lips, “I’ll just wait until you forget.”

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[kiwriteswords]

oh oh i have a fluff v day request! maybe reader is jacks teacher and they have a class valentine’s day party, when hotch picks him up after school, jack is trying to set them up by planting one of those silly cartoon cards in either of their pockets 🤭

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match [Aaron Hotchner x Teacher!Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 1k|| AN: Happy Valentine's Day! Thank you for this request, lovely! I had so much fun writing it--I never usually write Jack-related fics, but when I do, I wonder why I don't more often because they're so sweet! ||Requests are still open for Ki2k!!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, Valentine’s Day, non-bau!Reader, teacher!reader, Jack's teacher!Reader, Jack Hotchner is present (for those who do not like kid fics, lol), sadly had to use Y/N Y/L/N :P--sorrry!!!

Summary: Jack comes home beaming about his pretty teacher to Hotch everyday, so when Valentine's comes around, he finds the perfect reason to get the two of them together.

Jack's little feet pounded on the pavement as he bounded towards the car where Hotch was waiting, his face lit up with the day's excitements. Throwing open the car door, he barely waited for the buckle to click before he started.

"Dad! Did I tell you what Miss. Y/L/N did today? She showed us how to make volcanoes with baking soda and vinegar! It was awesome!"

Hotch smiled, driving off as he listened. "Sounds like you had fun. Miss. Y/L/N seems very creative."

"She is!" Jack's voice was earnest, eyes wide. "And she's really pretty, too. She wears these nice dresses, and her hair is always perfect."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a small chuckle escaping him. "Is that so?"

"Yeah! And she's super smart. She knows everything about science and books and... um, maybe you should ask her about the Civil War? You like that stuff, right?" Jack's attempt at casualness was comically transparent.

"I do," Hotch replied, his interest piqued both by the mention of history and the subtle undertone of matchmaking in his son's voice. "Sounds like you think she'd be good company."

Jack nodded vigorously. "She'd be the best! You always say you want someone smart and kind. And she's the best teacher ever. Everyone thinks so."

As they pulled into their driveway, Hotch ruffled Jack's hair, considering the little seeds his son was planting. "Maybe I'll have to meet Miss. Y/L/N at the next parent-teacher conference."

"Yeah! And maybe you can ask her about her favorite book or something," Jack added, hopeful.

Hotch laughed softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement at his son's not-so-subtle matchmaking. "Maybe I will, buddy."

Jack grinned, satisfied, his mission for the day accomplished.

The next time Jack came bursting into the car after school, his backpack swinging wildly as he clambered into the passenger seat.

"Dad!" He held up a piece of folded paper, waving it excitedly. "Miss. Y/L/N gave you a note!"

Hotch glanced over as he pulled away from the school parking lot, one hand steady on the wheel. "Oh? What’s it about?"

Jack grinned like he was holding the world's greatest secret. "I think she likes you."

Hotch blinked. "What?"

Jack wiggled in his seat, practically vibrating with excitement. "She sent you a note! Teachers don’t just send notes unless it’s important. And I heard my friend Olivia say that when someone writes you a note, it’s because they like you."

Suppressing a laugh, Hotch reached for the paper at a red light, unfolding it with careful fingers. His eyes skimmed over the words--just a standard, typed letter about an upcoming parent-teacher night and some classroom updates.

"Jack," he said, amusement coloring his voice, "this is just a general note. Every parent got one."

Jack frowned, his enthusiasm faltering for the first time. "Oh." He thought for a second, then brightened again. "But maybe she really wanted you to see it!"

Hotch sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. "I’m sure Miss. Y/L/N is a wonderful teacher, but she’s just doing her job. It’s not a secret message, buddy."

Jack crossed his arms, unconvinced. "I don’t know…she does walk me to pick-up.” 

"Because she walks all the students to parent pick-up," Hotch countered. 

Jack sat in contemplative silence for a few moments before mumbling, "Still think you’d be a good couple."

Hotch chuckled. "Noted."

The school hallways were quieter than usual, the loud bustle of daytime replaced by a hushed, anticipatory energy as parents trickled in for the evening's parent-teacher conferences. Hotch adjusted his tie as he approached your classroom, Jack's enthusiastic endorsements echoing in his mind.

He paused at the doorway, spotting you as you animatedly discussed a student's progress with a couple before him. Even from a distance, your passion was palpable, your gestures animated and your smile bright. When it was finally his turn, you looked up, recognition and warmth lighting up your features.

"Mr. Hotchner, it's great to finally meet you," you greeted, extending a hand. "Jack speaks so highly of you."

"The feeling is mutual," Hotch replied, taking your hand. "He hasn’t stopped talking about you since school started."

As you both sat down, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You shared insights about Jack's strengths and areas for improvement, your words thoughtful and encouraging. Hotch was struck not only by your understanding of his son but also by your genuine care for all your students.

"I strive to create an environment where they can all feel supported and challenged," you explained, your eyes lighting up with a fervor that resonated deeply with Hotch. It was clear teaching was not just a job for you but a calling.

The conversation shifted from academic achievements to personal interests, and Hotch found himself discussing topics he rarely explored with strangers. Your interest in classical literature and your hobbies sparked a shared enthusiasm. Hotch was pleasantly surprised by how much he enjoyed talking about his own rare escapes.

which he seldom shared due to his demanding job.

As the meeting concluded, Hotch stood up, feeling an unexpected reluctance to end the conversation. "Thank you for everything you’re doing for Jack," he said sincerely. "And not just for him--for all the kids."

"It’s truly my pleasure," you replied with a smile. "They make it easy."

There was a brief pause, a moment of shared understanding, and an unspoken acknowledgment of a connection neither expected.

"If you ever need help with any class activities or if you organize any field trips," Hotch added on impulse, "I’d be happy to contribute."

Your smile widened, pleased and surprised. "I'll definitely take you up on that."

As Hotch walked away, he couldn’t shake the warmth that filled his chest. Jack might have had childlike motives for wanting him to meet you, but Hotch couldn’t deny the genuine interest he felt--a spark ignited, perhaps, by the passion and beauty you exuded, both inside and out.

The door clicked shut behind Hotch, and the familiar sound of home was a welcome relief after the draining hours of a difficult case. As he shrugged off his coat, the sight that greeted him was anything but the quiet he had expected. 

Jack was in the midst of chaos, surrounded by a whirlwind of craft supplies--glue sticks, construction paper, crayons--all spread out like a tornado had swept through their living room.

Jack had just begun staying home for short periods of time by himself--something Hotch didn’t take lightly, but this was not a sight that he ever expected to see. 

"Jack, what's going on?" Hotch aske, his tone a mixture of amusement and concern as he stepped carefully over a stray roll of tape.

"Dad!" Jack looked up, his expression frantic but determined. "I need to make the perfect Valentine's card, but nothing looks right!"

Hotch knelt down, picking up a half-finished card that was more glue than paper. "Isn’t tomorrow just the school Valentine's party? What about the box of cartoon Valentines we bought last week?"

Jack shook his head vigorously, sending his hair into disarray. "Those are for my classmates! This one has to be special--it’s for Miss. Y/L/N. I want it to be perfect because I want her to come over for dinner and have a romance like in the movies. Like the Disney ones!" His eyes shone with the earnestness only a child could muster. "And you have the right hair to be like Prince Charming!"

Hotch couldn’t help but laugh softly, touched by his son's intentions yet aware of the need to tread carefully. "Jack, it’s very sweet that you want to do this for Miss. Y/L/N, but inviting her over for dinner and trying to set up a romance--that’s something she and I would have to talk about. It's not on you to worry about."

"But Dad, I just want you to be happy, and Miss. Y/L/N could make you smile," Jack protested, his lower lip trembling just a bit.

Sitting down beside his son, Hotch put an arm around him, pulling him close. "I know, buddy, and that means a lot to me. It’s okay to make her a card, but we should keep it about thanking her for being a great teacher, okay? As for dinner, how about we invite her over as a thank you from both of us, just to enjoy a meal, not as a date? We can see where things go from there."

Jack seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding, a small smile creeping back onto his face. "Can we still make it the best card ever?"

"Absolutely," Hotch agreed, his heart lightening at his son’s quick recovery. "Let’s see what we can create with less glue this time."

Together, they spent the evening crafting a more modest but heartfelt Valentine's card, Hotch guiding Jack’s enthusiastic efforts. As they worked, Hotch couldn’t help but think about your reaction, the warmth of your smile in his mind giving him more hope than he wanted to admit. 

Maybe Jack’s little plan wasn’t so far-fetched after all, just premature. As they set the finished card aside to dry, Hotch found himself looking forward to handing it over, curious and slightly hopeful about where a simple dinner invitation might lead.

Valentine's Day had brought its usual flurry of excitement, and amidst it, Hotch received an email that made him pause. It was from you, thanking him for the generous card and his contributions to the classroom Valentine's Day party. Reading between the lines, Hotch assumed it was also a nod to the dinner invitation Jack had ambitiously included. Buttoning his coat, he headed to the school, curious and admittedly a bit nervous about the meeting.

As he entered the classroom, the scene was vibrant with kids laughing and trading candies and cards. Jack spotted him immediately and with a grin wide enough to split his face, dashed over and grabbed his hand, tugging him through the clusters of giggling children.

"There’s my dad!" Jack announced proudly, pulling Hotch towards you.

You laughed as Jack nearly yanked Hotch off his feet. "Easy there, Jack, don’t break your dad’s arm off!"

Jack paused, gave Hotch a comically exaggerated wink, and said, "I’ll leave the romance to you two--it is Valentine’s Day, after all!"

You chuckled, shaking your head at Jack's antics. "Hotch, you’ve raised quite the little charmer."

Hotch, a bit flushed but smiling, replied, "I’m not sure where he gets that from. I’m currently at a loss for words.

"That’s alright," you said with a gentle smile. "I don’t mind coming up with the words, as long as that dinner is still on the table."

"It definitely is," Hotch assured you, his tone warm and more confident.

From the corner of his eye, Hotch saw Jack giving a not-so-subtle thumbs up before darting off to join his friends, leaving Hotch and you to chat amidst the joyful chaos of the classroom party.

As the children continued their celebrations around you, the two of you discussed logistics for the dinner, the conversation easy and flowing naturally. It was clear that what started as a child’s innocent matchmaking might just turn into something truly special, much to Jack's delight--and perhaps to his credit.

[luvoooenha]

Lucky charm!

Pairing- Boyfriend! Jake x Girlfriend! Y/N

Summary- Jake, the top soccer player at UNI, always relied on Y/N’s support—until a huge argument left him distracted before a big game. Without her in the stands, he struggled to play, missing shots and worrying his team. Realizing how much he needed her, a teammate called Y/N, who debated but ultimately showed up, looking her best. The moment Jake saw her, his focus returned, and he played like himself again. After the game, they made up, proving that Y/N was truly his lucky charm.

Warnings- FLUFF, FLUFF, FLUFF, anger, angst, arguments, happy couple… (jokes! Not really)

Word count- 1.8k

plsplsplsplsplspls dont copyyy my work!

“You don’t get it, Y/N!” Jake’s voice was sharp, frustration thick in every word.

“Then explain it to me, Jake! Because right now, it feels like I’m the only one trying.” Y/N’s arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her voice shaking between anger and hurt.

Jake let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t care? That I don’t appreciate you?”

Y/N exhaled sharply. “Jake, I’ve been to every single game, every late-night practice, every stupid press conference where they ask you the same questions. And not once have I ever complained.” Her voice broke slightly, but she pushed on. “But the second I bring up how I feel, I’m the bad guy?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The look in her eyes—raw and filled with unshed tears—made his chest tighten.

“I can’t keep doing this if you don’t want me here, Jake.”

His stomach twisted. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. But his stupid pride got in the way, and instead of telling her the truth—that he needed her more than anything—he muttered, “Maybe it’s better that way.”

The second the words left his lips, he wanted to take them back.

Y/N’s face fell, her jaw tightening as she nodded slowly. “Okay.”

And just like that, she turned and walked away.

Jake stood frozen, watching her disappear into the night.

He had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

-

The silence between them was louder than anything Jake had ever experienced.

Y/N hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called. Hadn’t shown up to practice.

Jake told himself he was fine. That he could focus better without distractions. But when game day rolled around, it hit him like a freight train.

He jogged onto the field, scanning the stands on instinct. But the seat where she always sat—third row, left side, just behind the team bench—was empty.

His stomach clenched.

He tried to shake it off as the game started, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. His passes were off. His speed felt sluggish. Every shot he took either hit the post, went wide, or was blocked by the keeper.

The frustration built with every mistake, weighing him down like lead.

The final whistle blew, and UNI had lost. Jake barely heard the post-game speech from his coach, too busy replaying every missed opportunity in his head.

When he got back to the locker room, he didn’t even bother taking off his cleats right away. He just sat there, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor.

Jay, his closest teammate, nudged him. “Dude. What’s going on?”

Jake exhaled slowly. “Nothing. Just an off day.”

Jay scoffed. “Nah, man. This is more than that. I’ve never seen you play like this.” He paused. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it?”

Jake didn’t answer.

Jay sighed. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but it’s obvious you’re a wreck without her.”

Jake clenched his jaw. “She’s probably better off.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “Yeah? Then why do you keep looking for her in the stands?”

Jake said nothing.

Jay grabbed his phone. “I’m texting her.”

Jake should’ve stopped him. Should’ve told him to leave it alone.

But he didn’t.

Y/N sat on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, as she mindlessly scrolled through her camera roll. Each swipe brought a new memory, a new reminder of everything she and Jake had been before it all fell apart.

There was a photo of him grinning at her during one of their late-night study sessions, his notes forgotten as he balanced a pencil between his nose and upper lip, trying to make her laugh. She had rolled her eyes at the time, but she could still remember the way her stomach had fluttered when he looked at her like she was the best part of his world.

Another picture—Jake, covered in sweat but grinning like a fool after a big win, his arm slung lazily around her shoulders. She had been laughing, caught mid-cheer, his jersey draped over her like a second skin. She had been so proud of him. She always was.

And then, one of her favorites—a candid shot of them from a lazy Sunday morning. Jake, shirtless and half-asleep, stealing bites of her breakfast as she swatted at his hand, laughing at his shamelessness. His hair had been a mess, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but he had looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Y/N’s chest ached.

She missed him. More than she wanted to admit.

Her fingers hovered over his contact, the familiar urge to text him creeping in. But then, like a cruel reminder, his words echoed in her head.

"Maybe it’s better that way."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, locking her phone. If that was what he wanted, then fine. She wouldn’t be the one to break first.

But then, as if the universe was laughing at her stubbornness, her phone buzzed.

Jay: Jake’s a mess. He needs you. Badly.

Her heart clenched.

She should ignore it. He was the one who pushed her away. He was the one who made her feel like she didn’t matter.

But… if that were true, why was he struggling so much?

Y/N exhaled slowly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes betrayed her, filled with something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

She could walk away. Let Jake figure this out on his own. Prove to herself that she didn’t need him as much as he needed her.

But that was a lie.

Because no matter how angry or hurt she was… she still loved him.

And she wasn’t sure she ever wouldn’t.

With a resigned sigh, she grabbed her jacket and touched up her makeup.

If she was going, she was going to make an entrance.

She headed out the door, her heart pounding.

Jake needed her.

And whether she liked it or not… she needed him too.

-

Jake jogged onto the field, his mind clouded with doubt.

His body felt heavy, his nerves shot. The last few games had been a disaster, and the weight of failure clung to him like a storm he couldn’t outrun. He tried to shake it off, stretching his arms and bouncing on his feet, but nothing felt right.

Then, instinctively, he looked toward the stands.

And everything stopped.

His breath hitched. His heart stuttered.

Y/N was there.

Sitting in her usual spot—third row, left side, just behind the team bench.

Jake blinked, half-convinced he was imagining it. But no, it was real. She was real.

And damn, she looked good.

Her hair was styled just the way he liked, her makeup subtle but stunning. She wore his favorite shade, the one he always said made her eyes stand out, and even from across the field, he could see the way her lips curved in something between challenge and amusement.

She came.

A rush of energy shot through his veins, the kind he hadn’t felt since before she left. His pulse pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves—it was from something deeper, something electric.

His lucky charm had returned.

And just like that, everything clicked back into place.

The whistle blew, and Jake was unstoppable.

Every pass was precise, every shot powerful. He weaved through defenders with the confidence he’d been missing, his movements sharp and deliberate. The frustration that had been drowning him for days melted away, replaced by pure instinct.

And every time he scored, he didn’t look at the scoreboard. He didn’t look at his teammates.

He looked at her.

Y/N sat there, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed. But he saw the way her lips twitched, the way her fingers tapped against her thigh. She was proud of him—he knew it.

By the final whistle, UNI had secured the win. The crowd erupted in cheers, his teammates swarming him with congratulations, but Jake barely acknowledged any of it.

His eyes were locked on her.

Without a second thought, he sprinted toward the stands, pushing past the crowd. Y/N had already started making her way down toward the field, and when she stopped in front of him, they just stood there, staring at each other.

For the first time in days, Jake could breathe again.

“I was an idiot.” His voice was breathless, raw. “I didn’t mean any of it, Y/N. I was just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “I was scared. Of how much I need you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed. “Yeah? I figured, considering how hard you flopped without me.”

Jake huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I deserved that.”

“Damn right, you did.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, but Jake didn’t miss the way her tough exterior wavered, the way her eyes softened just slightly.

He took a step closer. “Y/N, I mean it. I never should’ve pushed you away.” His voice dropped to something quieter, more vulnerable. “You’re everything to me.”

She sighed, finally uncrossing her arms. “Jake… you can’t shut me out when things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

“I know,” he admitted, his gaze never leaving hers. “And I won’t. Ever again.”

Y/N studied him for a long moment, and then, finally, she sighed in defeat. “You’re lucky I like you, Sim.”

Relief crashed over him, and before she could say anything else, he closed the distance, wrapping his arms arowund her and pulling her in tight.

She hesitated for half a second before melting into him, her arms circling his waist.

Jake buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume, and everything felt right again. “I missed you,” he murmured.

“I know,” she teased, voice muffled against his jersey. “I could tell from your embarrassing game stats.”

He chuckled, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Guess I need you to keep me in check.”

“Clearly.”

Jake reached up, brushing his thumb over her cheek, his voice softer now. “So… does this mean you’ll be at the next game?”

Y/N smirked. “As long as you keep winning.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead before whispering, “Then I guess I have no choice.”

Because she wasn’t just his biggest supporter.

She was his lucky charm.

isa note! - lallalala first story!!! lalalall so excited! lalalalalla

taglist~ @firstclassjaylee

if wanted to be tag plspslplspsls let me know! 💗

© luvoooenha on tumblr 2024-2025. please don’t copy, repost, or translate my works! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :)

[wcnderlnds]

the heart wants what it wants | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: he hates himself but you kinda, sorta love him. ・❥・word count: 1.3k ・❥・warnings: usual squid game stuff, swearing. ・❥・ authors note: as if i was gonna leave my boy thanos out of valentines fics. here's something a lil fluffy while still (hopefully) in character for him.

“What’re you sitting there looking like someone just pissed in your cereal for? And don’t try and tell me it’s because of that last game or whatever because I know that’s bullshit.”

Thanos’ voice pierced through your ears as he sat down beside you on the steel stairs between the bunks. His arms rested on his knees, hands dangling between his open legs as he looked at you expectantly. That was Thanos down to a tee – he needed to know everything immediately, patience wasn’t his strong suit. It frustrated him when he didn’t get answers. You had known this man for far too long to know the signs. The way he was clenching his jaw, his fingers tapping against his leg. 

“...I don’t want to tell you because you’ll laugh at me,” you mumbled, head resting on your arms that were crossed over your pulled up knees.

“Come on, spit it out,” he waved his hand, dismissing your worries. “I probably will laugh but since when did that shit bother you?”

He was right. You never cared before so why now? Well, you knew why. Being trapped in this place with him had resurfaced something you had thought you’d got rid of a long time ago. When you had first met Su-bong, you had the world’s biggest crush on him but he had turned you down, telling you that you should just be friends so… that’s what you were. Now, eight years on and that all consuming crush was back. You were trapped in a life or death game with him, he’d been protecting you and making sure that no harm fell on you. His hand grabbed yours at any opportunity like he just had to be touching you to make sure you were still here. You had never seen so much panic in his eyes than the moment you had almost fell in Red Light, Green Light. Luckily, he had managed to grab your arm to stop you from meeting your end. Su-bong wasn’t someone that wore his heart on his sleeve but when he cared, he cared. That was one thing you were certain of; he cared about you. There were ways he showed it without saying it. Like now, he had come to sit with you, asking you what was going on even if it was in his own annoying way. He had to act like he didn’t care otherwise it would consume him, his anxiety would sky rocket. That was why he was popping those colourful little pills. They may make him act insane but inside they calmed him, made him think clearer so he could protect you.

“Fine,” you sighed. “...it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m just sad I’m stuck in here and not enjoying some chocolate covered strawberries fed to me by some super hot person. Happy now?”

Thanos couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, nudging you with his shoulder. “That’s why you’re feeling sorry for yourself?” He narrowed his eyes, examining you before he decided you weren’t telling him the full truth. A quick shuffle and he was sitting right beside you, his leg touching yours. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. It was unusually soft for him but he had these moments with you sometimes. The only person who wouldn’t judge him was you, that was something he knew for certain. “You ain’t tellin’ me the whole story so I’m gonna need you to get that pretty mouth of yours talking more before I go get Nam-su to come glare at you with those beady little eyes of his.”

“You know his name is Nam-gyu, right?” You rested your head on his shoulder, nervously wringing your hands together. Thanos noticed almost immediately, placing a hand on them to stop you. “Remember when we first met? When… uh, when I had a crush on you and your turned me down?”

“Yeah, how could I forget?”

“Well, I might be feeling that way again.”

At those words, he froze up. His body tense, panic flashing across his eyes. Yeah, you shouldn’t have said anything. He would only close himself off now and that was the last thing you needed right now. He had been your whole support system here. The silence between you was almost deafening until he finally spoke. “...you shouldn’t.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Wish it was that easy, Su-bong.”

“You wanna know why I turned you down all those years ago?” He had pulled away from you slightly, both his hands now resting on your shoulders as he made you look at him. “Because you fuckin’ deserve better than me. I’m a mess. I’ve always been a mess. I’m no good, especially not for you. Someone like you? You deserve the fuckin’ world and I can’t give you that. I wish I could but I can’t. You need someone who can treat you like the princess you are but, baby, that man ain’t me.”

If it wasn’t anyone else, they wouldn’t have caught the waver in his voice, the way he was looking at you as if pleading for you to listen to him. He meant every word he said but you didn’t. You knew he often got lost in his self loathing thoughts, thinking that he was scum of the Earth but he wasn’t. He was just a lost boy, someone had never had someone care about him like you.

“I don’t care, Su-bong. My heart knows what it wants and it wants you. It isn’t going to stop. It’s been eight years and it’s always felt this way. You are everything to me, you always have been. I wish you could see in yourself what I see in you,” your hand cupped his cheek, the gesture so soft he almost nuzzled into your palm but refrained. “Sure, you’re not perfect but neither am I. I’ll respect whatever you want but… just know that my heart belongs to you.”

His eyebrows scrunched together as if he was in deep thought, one of his hands playing with the chain of the necklace that hung around his neck. His cross; the one that contained his drugs. It looked like he was in an internal conflict with himself before, finally, he pulled the necklace over his head and onto you. You felt your heart pounding as his fingers skimmed across your chest, making sure the cross laid properly. “You’re a damn pain in my ass, you know that? But… I’ve been into you the day we met, just thought you deserved more than I can give you. So, this is my promise to you to show you that I trust you, that maybe I’ll try and be the person you deserve some day. Ain’t never let anyone wear this other than me, by the way.”

The gesture meant more to you than you could even put into words, your heart hammering against your chest as he tapped the cross. You smiled up at him, hand resting over his. “The highest honour, huh?” You couldn’t help but tease to at least ease some of the tension. “It means a lot… and Su-bong? I believe in you.”

You heard the small, breathy laugh that came from his lips as he looked at the ground trying to hide it. That meant more to him than you would know. Finally, he looked back up at you, his arm back around your shoulder to pull you back into his side. “We get out of this shithole and I’ll feed you all the damn chocolate strawberries you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

As you rested your head on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on yours, you knew that once you got out of here things were definitely going to change but it gave you something to look forward to. His promise the one thing that would get you through these deathly games.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @justsisse @djarindroid @angelofbooksworld @taivantaylor @sherlocke3d @basquiat-top @urmomsg1rlfreind @belladonna-303 @seunghyunwifey @infinetlyforgotten

[luvyeni]

jeno is obsessed with you and he knows it , so much he wants to put a baby in you …

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 이제노 x fem!reader )   ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. unprotected sex, breeding kink, pregnancy kink word count. 0.5k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ i don’t write for him enough and it’s crazy cause he’s one of my biases

jeno couldn’t help it , he just loves you so much. he needs to be around you at all times, touching you in some way — cuddling with him is always a dream , his body on top of yours , like a weighted blanket but you loved it.

“jeno we’ve been like this for two hours.” you said ; he hummed, his head pressed against your chest. “best two hours of my life.” you giggled , seeing him smile. “jen , it’s starting to get uncomfortable.” you said , trying to wiggle around but he held you still. “just a bit more.” he wispered.

“you’re so clingy.” your fingers raked through his hair. “i just love you so much.” he said. “you’re obsessed with me.” he nodded. “very.” his hand rubbing your waist. “so obsessed that i think about you having my baby so you can never leave me.” you lightly slapped his back. “jeno don’t say that.” you said shocked. “just being honest baby.” he said , bringing his hand to your boob , giving it a squeeze. “jeno.” you sighed , the once cute moment , now turned into something heated. “seeing these filled with milk.” you could feel him getting hard as he caressed your boobs. “fuck.” he whispered pulling you tank top down. “so pretty.” he brought his lips to your nipple. “fuck jeno.”

he refused to detach his lips from you boobs , fixing him so he was now hovering above you , his hard cock aligned with your clothed core. “je-jeno please fuck me.” you moaned , grinding your hips up against him , he groaned against your boobs. spreading your legs wider , putting your hands into his shorts , stroking his cock , pulling him out of his shorts. he pulled away , groaning as you jerked him off. “gonna put a baby right here.”

you moaned; pulling your panties to the side. “fuck me.” you whined , lining him up with your entrance. “mmh , sh-shit baby.” he bottomed out. “you’re so wet , telling you i wanna fuck a baby into you makes you wet?” you nodded. “so wet , jeno i love it so much.” he grabbed both your calves , folding you in a mating press. “jeno!” you screamed out as he reached deeper inside. “shh , baby let me fuck you.”

and god did he do exactly that , he had your body folded in a mean mating pressing as he plowed into you. “love this fucking pussy baby.” he moaned. “so fucking good , gonna give you what you want.” he sped up , his tip kissing your cervix. “give you a pretty baby.”

“jeno please.” you begged , tears in your eyes. “please cum inside me , give me a baby , i want it.” hearing you beg for him to give you a baby set something off inside of you. “fuck baby.” he gripped your hips , his cock twitching inside of you. “take my cum like a good girl okay?” he groaned just as you felt the warmness of his cum. “mhm fuck baby , take my cum.” he rolled his hip , triggering your orgams. “jeno.” he pulled out , stopping at the tip. “don’t want it spill out.” he said , sliding back inside, making you moan.

“guess i have to stay inside you , just to make sure it sticks.”

©️LUVYENI

[watchmegetobsessed]

LITTLE NERDY VALENTINE

A/N: one day late, but here's a bit of valentine's day cuteness with fratry bc i've been thinking a lot about him lately

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

SUMMARY: Harry wants to celebrate Valentine's Day, but you're not a fan of his plans of going out and you have your reasons for that, but talking about them is not easy, so it causes some frustration.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“So, what do you want to do on Friday?” 

Harry is lying on your bed with a textbook lying open over his chest, but he hasn’t read a single word of it in the last hour, he’s been too busy playing on his phone while you were sitting at your desk, working on a paper that’s due next week. He came over to study, but you both knew you’d be doing all the studying, you actually have no idea how Harry has good grades. 

“Friday? What’s on Friday?” you hum, still typing away on your computer, pretending to be oblivious.

“You know…” He draws out the words, sitting up so his back is against the wall. He puts the textbook aside, closing it, done pretending he is actually reading any of it. 

“Hm?” You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes glued to the screen, but you can feel Harry’s burning eyes on your back. 

“Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day,” he chuckles, giving up the game. “We are having a Cupid’s Party at the frat house, but if you want to go out, maybe have dinner or something I’m down.”

“Uh, I don’t know…” 

“Or we can go to the movies, I’m willing to watch that new romcom with you, if you want.”

“Harry…” Sighing you give up and finally turn with your chair to look at him, but you wish you didn’t because he is giving you those puppy eyes he knows you can’t resist and he is hugging your pink fluffy pillow like a little kid. 

“Y/N?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out.”

You catch the tiny wince that twitches his lips, but he recovers quickly. You were really hoping you could avoid this conversation today, though part of you knew it would come up, since it’s Wednesday, only 2 days until Valentine’s Day. 

His eyes jump down at the pillow as he starts fumbling with it, like a hurt kid who just got told no. 

“Harry…”

“Are we ever gonna leave this room and act like a real couple?” 

“Don’t start this again, please…”

“I just understand, Y/N,” he groans as he looks up at you again. “We’ve been together for over two months and I haven’t even held your hand in public.”

“That’s not true, you held my hand when–”

“When we were hiking in the middle of the woods so no one could see us. Yeah, you’re right,” he scoffs. 

“We’ve talked about this,” you say, looking down at your lap as the guilt bubbles in your gut. 

“Actually, we haven’t. You just keep telling me you need more time, but never really explain why or what bothers you. I’m trying to be patient, but I really want to take our relationship out of this tiny dorm room.” He gestures around your room where you spend the majority of your time together with him. 

Chewing on your bottom lip you just keep picking on your chipped nail polish, not looking at him, but then he climbs to the edge of the bed so he is sitting right in front of you. He lifts your chin gently, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong? I’m more than happy to wait for you, but I need to know a bit more.” He places a hand to your thigh, reassuringly rubbing it as he waits for you to say something. 

“I’m just… I don’t know, I like that it’s just the two of us.”

“Bullshit. It would still be just us.”

Ugh, you hate how well he knows you, you can’t lie to him, but you’re not willing to tell him the truth either. 

“Can we just not talk about this right now? I really need to finish this pa–”

“Y/N, stop avoiding this, please. You know you can tell me anything.”

He is looking at you, waiting and expecting, but you just can’t give him what he wants. His gaze keeps flickering between your eyes, hoping you’d finally open up, but you keep your mouth shut. And then he loses his patience.

“Alright then,” he whispers, jumping up to gather his things, showing everything into his backpack.

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching him tug the zipper angrily before swinging the bag over one shoulder. 

“I can’t do this, Y/N. I don’t want to hide and not even know why. You wouldn’t tell me what bothers you, so I have to draw my own conclusions and want to know what all of this seems like to me? Like you don’t want to be seen with me, like you’re ashamed of being with me.”

“Harry, that’s not true,” you protest, standing from your chair. 

“Then what is it?”

You open your mouth, but your voice dies in your throat. Unfortunately, Harry takes that as your answer. 

“Okay. Call me when you’re willing to talk.”

And with that, he is out of the room. 

A couples’ party might not have been the best place to be today for Harry, but the thought of easing his mind with a few rounds of beerpong was good enough to make him leave his room and join the party. 

Cupid’s Party usually has two groups of people: the happy couples, attached by the hip, eating each other’s face off and the single people getting wasted, hoping to at least hook up with someone. Currently Harry doesn’t feel like he belongs to any of these groups.

He assesses the living room over the rim of his red solo cup and tries his best to ignore the pain in his chest at the sight of all the happy couples in matching outfits, celebrating their love. In the beginning of the week he was still hoping he and you might be one of them, but things didn’t turn out to be the way he planned. 

After the fight in your room you texted him, asking him to come back, but he made it clear he wouldn’t be doing that unless you’re willing to talk.

Which you werent, so it’s been radio silence since then. 

He had to stop himself from texting or calling you like a million times, it’s been quite the fight since Wednesday, he’s been missing you like crazy, but he is also determined to finally move forward. 

“You alright man?” Niall pats him on the back with a cup in his own hand that smells so much of alcohol that Harry can’t stop himself from wrinkling his nose. While he likes to have drinks, he is often surprised how some of his friends in the house haven’t died of alcohol poisoning.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he nods with a sigh. 

“Uhuh, that’s why you’ve been moping around for days, right?” Niall laughs.

“I have not–”

“I have not been moping, you arse!” Niall mocks him, which he finds hilarious, but Harry just rolls his eyes and takes a swig from your drink. “Alright, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push it, but if you feel like you need a shoulder, you can come to me.”

“I know,” Harry sighs. “Thanks, I’ll just get a refill for now,” he says, holding up his cup. Niall nods and they go their separate way.

Harry fights through the crowd towards the kitchen and tries his best not to get stopped by drunk girls that are more than eager to hook up with him tonight. He would love to tell them he is taken, but he can’t. Even despite the fight you had, he still doesn’t want to go against your will and tell everyone that you’re dating. 

The kitchen is a mess, but he quickly finds the tequila and then mixes it with some pineapple juice, then he stops by the pizza and grabs a slice so his stomach wouldn’t be completely empty. Though his original plan was to get drunk, but now he is not feeling that, so this is probably his last drink, since he is starting to feel a bit dizzy. 

Leaning against the counter he is debating if he should just go back to his room and spend the rest of the night playing video games, but then he spots an all too familiar face in the crowd outside in the hallway. 

You look very uncomfortable, navigating between the half drunk people while looking like you’re searching for someone. Harry puts his pizza slice down right away and he just starts moving towards you when he sees a guy bumping into you, making your shoulder hit the wall.

“Ah, sorry sweetheart, you alright?” the guy asks and his hand is already on your arm, leaning way closer than you’d like him to.

“It’s okay Dave, I got her.” Harry pats him on the back in a friendly manner, though inside he is fuming at the way he is looking at you right now, like he is ready to peel you out of your clothes. 

“Harry, hey! I was just–”

“I know, I got her,” Harry repeats, this time with a tougher look at the guy, which he finally notices so he just nods and wanders away. “Are you okay?” he asks, finally looking at you, keeping one hand on your elbow.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” you ask and Harry nods right away, moving his hand to the small of your back, guiding you upstairs, towards his room. 

You’ve been to his frat house, you actually met him at a party here, but you’ve never been to his room. If the other boys saw you coming and going from his room it would have been quite obvious there’s something going on between the two of you, so you usually stayed at your dorm room where it was easier for Harry to sneak out without being noticed, that place is too big for anyone to notice him.

The hallway leading to his room is scattered with couples making out by the wall and you try not to stare at the pair that’s practically dry humping each other like they are in a private place. 

Harry unlocks his door with his keycard and then ushers you inside, finally shutting the noises of the party out. You’re curiously looking around the room that’s a lot tidier than you expected. Aside from a few clothes lying in the corner and two unwashed mugs on his night stand, it’s pretty neat. On his desk you notice the book you gifted him a week ago. You pick it up and open it where the bookmark is at around the third of the book and then you realize the bookmark is a polaroid of the two of you. It was taken the first time he slept in your room, your faces are mushed together as you laugh at something. You remember him taking a picture, but you weren’t expecting him to use it as his bookmark, which is such a sweet thing. 

He has been nothing but sweet to you and that just makes your guilt even worse for treating him the way you did. 

When you turn around you find him watching you with his hands in his pockets, just patiently waiting for you to start talking. 

“I’m sorry for making you feel like I’m ashamed of you. That was never the case and… yeah, I’m just really sorry.”

Harry nods, but then just keeps looking at you and you know he wants you to continue. So taking a deep breath you force yourself to keep talking before you chicken out. 

“I was actually thinking it was the other way around.”

That confuses him, he frowns but before he could ask anything you just continue.

“We are not really from the same crowd. You’re… You live in a frat house, you play football, people know you around campus while I’m more like just… a face in the crowd. I know it’s such a cliché, but I felt like that if people saw us together they would question why you’d go out with me a-and–Um… I just…”

“And you thought that I would also question why I’m with you?” he finishes what you couldn’t and you just nod, feeling your throat closing up. It’s been such a heavy weight on your chest the past weeks and now that you said it out loud it’s a relief but you’re also worried how Harry will think of you now. 

Then his eyes soften and stepping closer he gathers your hands between his palms, holding them to his chest. 

“Y/N, you realize this is not a movie where there are popular kids and nerds and they never talk?” he asks with a soft chuckle, making you laugh. 

“I know. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s just been haunting me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” you repeat. “Deep down I knew it, but I just couldn’t help it. I thought that I could get rid of it with time, but I couldn’t and I swear I didn’t want to hurt you with all of this, it’s just that I can easily get into these… spirals and it’s so hard to get out of them.”

“I know,” he softly says and leaning closer he kisses your forehead. “I just wish you told me so I could help you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay.”

Letting go of your hands he cups your cheeks in his palms as he pulls you in for a kiss while your hands fist the fabric of his shirt at his waist. He is sweet and gentle, his lips reassuring you that he is right here, with you. He rests his forehead against yours, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. 

“By the way, did you just call me a nerd?” you ask, opening your eyes, making Harry laugh with your words.

“Do you not fit the nerdy stereotype of romcoms?” he challenges you with a wide grin on his face.

“Well, I do study a lot and spend every other afternoon in the library.”

“See? You’re my little nerdy Valentine,” he arches an eyebrow and you just roll your eyes at him, but can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips. Then slowly, his expression turns more serious. “So what would you like to do now?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a sigh.

“Listen. If you need more time… I’m okay with that. I want you to feel comfortable and if that means that I have to convince you that no one will point fingers at us if they see us together, then that’s what I’ll do.”

You’ve known it from the beginning, but Harry just keeps proving that he is the right person for you and you couldn’t be more thankful for him. 

Leaning in you kiss him shortly. “I want to move forward, I’m just a bit scared.”

“Then you’ll lead us in whatever pace feels comfortable for you, okay?”

You nod and he kisses you again. 

“Do you want to go back down?” he asks, nodding towards the door. 

“Yeah, I would like that.”

Walking out of his room he locks the door and the two of you head back down and you notice that he is still keeping his distance from you, not trying to change everything all of a sudden. Returning to the kitchen he makes you a drink and he grabs another slice of pizza when Niall emerges from the crowd. 

“Hey, you’re still here! Thought you’d lock yourself up in your room soon,” he chuckles seeing Harry.

“You thought I’d bail?” Harry grins, leaning against the counter. Niall’s eyes move over to you.

“I think we haven’t met yet. I’m Niall.”

“Y/N,” you shake his hand. You catch a look the two boys exchange and after that, Niall just smiles at Harry knowingly.

“Alright, I’ll be by the beerpong tables if you need me,” he waves before making his way out of the kitchen. 

“You have a bit of sauce there,” you point at Harry’s mouth smiling.

“Hm? Here?” he asks, wiping his lips, but he completely misses the spot, making you laugh. “Where?” he grins.

“Right there…” You raise a hand to help him out, but it stops midway when a thought pops into your mind and before you could talk yourself out of it, you lean in and kiss his lips. 

“Now you’re good,” you smile against his lips. Harry can’t contain his growing grin, because this was the first time you kissed him in front of other people. 

“I think it’s still there.”

“Oh yeah?” you chuckle at him.

“Yeah, all over my lips, everywhere.”

“Stop,” you roll your eyes at him laughing. He leans down and kisses you shortly before he continues eating his pizza, trying his best not to comment it when your hand sneaks into free hand, fingers lacing together.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[notlongtolove]

to be an accountant of the heart

because it’s utterly, bone-deep terrifying. to look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and feel the weight of a possibility that you might love them more than they love you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst-ish, fight and makeup

content: established relationship fight and makeup woof woof rookie bau reader feels insecure about how much she loves spencer, worries she's too clingy, spencer reid best bf ever

word count: 5k

note: this was haunting me in my drafts for the longest time... please be nice my heart can't take it (psa guys don't ever tell ur partners that they love you more than you love them bc 5 years down the road they'll cope by writing deranged spencer reid fics like this)

a line: You’ve always been this way—more flame than moth, more lightning than thunder. It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

and then it is hundreds of hours later, and you are still hunched over your flowcharts and abacus, trying to decide if you have gotten enough. This is the loneliest job in the world: to be an accountant of the heart. - tony hoagland

The English language draws a neat line between many and much. It divides the countable from the uncountable.

The word many is meant for things you can count. How many cups of coffee have you had? How many days will you be gone for? 

The word much belongs to what cannot be counted, what cannot be numbered. How much longer do we have in bed? How much did you miss me? How much do you love me? 

How much?

It’s an innately impossible question. Love, after all, is supposed to be infinite, unbound, unquantifiable. Any attempt to measure it—to reduce something so sacred to a number, a unit—is to taint it. And why would you want to do that? Why would anyone? There shouldn't be any need to measure something so inherently immeasurable. 

Deep down, you know there's no actual way to count love. You suppose this instinct to measure has always been there, to wonder if the love you received can be tallied like time. It’s buried deep, old as the child you once were. 

Still, the question begs itself. How much? How much more? How much less? If comparison is the thief of joy it’s only because it leaves you with the revelations nobody asked for, the truths nobody ever wants to see. 

Put love on a scale, wait and see—Will it balance or won’t it? 

“Glaring at the clock isn’t going to make time pass any faster,” Elle teases from two desks away, her eyes locked on the report she’s skimming.

You don’t bother hiding your sigh as you glance up from where your chin rests heavily in your palm, elbow propped against the desk. The pencil in your other hand twirls idly, betraying your impatience. “He said they landed an hour ago,” you grumble. Only the faintest trace of a pout slips through.

“Working hard or hardly working, ladies?” 

Your head perks up at that. Trust Derek Morgan to know how to make an entrance, arriving right on cue, grin wide and swagger intact. 

JJ, seated beside you and noticeably more amused by your restlessness than concerned, spins her chair around as she asks, “How was the convention boys?”

“It was great—more than great actually,” Spencer says, appearing from behind Morgan. He’s lugging a bag that seems twice as heavy as when you’d helped him pack it five days ago. “All the speakers were incredible. I got to talk with Lonnie Athens himself. He gave me a signed copy of his latest book.” His grin widens tenfold. “It’s not even out in stores yet.”

You’re halfway out of your seat, ready to pounce on Spencer the moment he sets his bag down. But instead, he offers a halfhug and a light squeeze to your shoulder. It’s understated, but it’s Spencer. Public displays of affection aren’t his thing, and you know better than to expect more. Still, five days without him makes you ache for just a little more.

“It was alright,” Morgan interjects with a casual shrug as he takes a seat at the edge of your table, narrowly missing your nth mug of coffee. “Great sandwiches though.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed interested in the sandwiches,” Spencer says dryly, the kind of tone that suggests sandwiches were not the main attraction.

Morgan smirks, unbothered. “New York, man,” he says with a grin. “New York.”

You turn your attention back to Spencer. “How’d you sleep?” you ask, your question aimed entirely at him.

“Surprisingly well, actually,” Spencer replies, “Despite the snoring.”

Morgan’s response is immediate—a light thwack to the back of Spencer’s head. “How’d he sleep? More like, how’d I sleep. Lover girl over here had him on the phone half the night.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him. But then your gaze drifts to Spencer, searching for confirmation. “Was I?”

Spencer hesitates, his lips pressing into a faintly sheepish line. “I did wake up late for one of the panels,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh, you think you had it bad? I’ve never seen someone go through so much coffee in a week,” JJ says, nodding in your direction, “She wiped out the entire stock.”

“Almost bashed her over the head with a cup of coffee myself when I had to settle for the instant stuff,” Elle chimes in. A collective shudder goes through the group. “No offence, Reid,” she adds.

“None taken,” Spencer replies smoothly, just in time to earn another smack on his arm, this time from you.

You’ve endured more than your fair share of teasing—it comes with the territory when you’re part of a team like this. You, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, three years his junior. Him, more comfortable rambling about the number of kernels on an average cob of corn than talking to any girl, let alone one with a smile like yours that could make his knees buckle. What had been an odd match to some, made perfect sense to others—Though Spencer would argue that Garcia just liked seeing him with any girl who could make him laugh the way you could, especially within three days of meeting him. It’s a feat nobody else has yet to achieve in the year you’ve been on the team. 

“Missed you,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

Spencer flushes as his lips part, maybe to respond, but Elle cuts in before he gets the chance. “Save it for later, lover girl. Some of us want to hear about those sandwiches.” 

“Oh, they really were better than last year’s,” Spencer begins, now distracted, completely oblivious to Elle’s sarcasm, “Probably because the annual reports showed an increased budget for the global initiatives.”

JJ raises an eyebrow in amused disbelief. “You read the FBI’s annual budget breakdown?”

Spencer looks genuinely surprised by the question. “You don’t?”

Chuckles echo throughout the group and though you smile faintly, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You just can’t help it as the tally marks start to stack up in your mind. One for the way his attention is just a little too distant, his excitement seemingly aimed at everyone but you. Another for every time you wait for his gaze and it doesn’t come. He’s too absorbed in recounting a discussion about deterministic causality he’d had with a keynote speaker. 

Compared to Spencer, who was often so reserved, it was easy to feel like your emotions were too big, too eager. Dragging him, wide-eyed and stammering, up the stairs to Hotch’s office six months ago had been nothing short of a test of strength and sheer determination. You’d been the one to silence him with a gentle kiss to his knuckles, promising him that everything would be okay. You were a live wire compared to him, everyone knew that. Lover girl, they teased, though never cruelly. In the field and out of it—Clingy to a fault, always wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

Lover girl through and through, you wait patiently for Spencer to look your way. 

He doesn’t. 

“Yours or mine?” Spencer asks as you stand side by side on the curb, bags in tow. 

“Think I’ll go to mine,” you reply curtly. You don’t trust yourself to say anything else right now.

“That’s fine. I’ve got an extra day’s worth of clothes with me.”

“You can go home,” you say, cutting him off. It comes off sharper than you intended. Then, softer, as if trying to backtrack, you add, “If you want.”

He looks at you, baffled. “Why would I do that?” 

It’s not a rhetorical question, he genuinely doesn’t understand. Weekends apart have never really been your thing. 

“Because—” You cut yourself off mid-sentence. What could you even say? Because you seem so perfectly fine after 120 hours apart. Because the tally marks said so. Because the scale said so. Instead, you huff an exhale and settle for, “No reason. You look tired. Thought you’d want to go home or something.”

“Again sweetheart. Why would I do that?” he repeats, incredulous. 

You fight off a resigned sigh, though you’re sure he catches it, and pull out your phone. “I’m calling a cab,” you mumble, thumbing at the screen. “Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” he says, still calm but clearly confused.

“Fine.”

The ride home is quiet, save for the driver’s rambling complaints about freeway traffic at this hour. Normally, you’d be the one to humour any conversations with strangers, chiming in with polite nods and oh, reallys while Spencer watched, bemused by your ability to make small talk with anyone. But today, you’re just not in the mood, leaving poor Spencer to fend for himself.  

Which to his credit, he does—By turning the conversation into a tangent about how traffic patterns correlate with certain hours and commuter behaviour, and delving into a detailed explanation of the queueing theory. He does this till eventually, even the driver goes silent, though whether it’s out of confusion or exhaustion, you’re not quite sure. 

You can feel Spencer’s eyes on you in the silence, flicking toward you every now and then. The concern in his attention does nothing to soothe you. If anything, it only fans the flames of your irritation. When the car finally rolls to a stop outside your building, you hand the driver a $20 bill, wave off the change, and stride toward your door without another word. You’re out before Spencer can even pull his door open.

Inside, you drop your things on the couch resignedly and kick off your shoes without so much as a care. They land in a scattered heap that you don’t bother to fix. Spencer lingers behind you, ever patient.

“What do you want for dinner?” His voice is soft, tentative, as he bends down to pick up your discarded shoes, lining them neatly by the door. “We could order something. Chinese, maybe?”

Spencer knows you well—knows how your mood sours when you’re running on fumes. Particularly on days like this, when your only sustenance has been a cup of crappy coffee and a few stale crackers he’d coaxed you into eating earlier just before you left, bribing you with a quick kiss on the cheek—After checking that nobody else was in the break room, of course. 

Sullen as you are, you can recognise the offer for what it is. It’s sweet. A thoughtful acknowledgement of how well he knows you, how much he cares. He’s offering you a lifeline, a quiet invitation to let the storm pass without forcing you to name it, something you’re evidently trying not to do. 

But tonight, it feels almost patronising. It’s a spotlight on the hurt you can’t quite temper, like he’s trying to fix something you’re not yet ready to admit needs fixing.

“I can run down to the—”

“I’m not hungry.” 

You walk straight into your bedroom without another word, leaving him standing there in the doorway. You hear him exhale quietly, not quite a sigh but close. Probably one of resignation. Another tally mark falls on the scale. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts. You know he’s testing the waters, trying to find an opening. But you don’t look at him, don’t give him anything to work with. “Can we talk?” he asks, his fingers brushing yours as he takes a seat at the edge of your bed.

“Talk about what?” You’ve always been good at feigning ignorance, but the way you pull your hand away from his is anything but subtle. Spencer sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes briefly. He’s clearly exhausted. This is exhausting. You’re clearly exhausting. You can’t help but wonder why you always do this. 

“Was it Elle? Morgan?” he ventures cautiously. “The teasing?”

“They always tease me,” you say with a shrug, your voice dismissive. “I don’t care.”

It’s a half-truth, and you both know it.

Spencer nods slowly as he tries to piece this together. He knows you’re not usually one to let things fester. You’re never angry for long, and even when you are, you laugh it off, always quick to join in on the joke. He knows better than to profile you—it's an unspoken rule within the team and, more importantly, within your relationship. But Spencer’s anything if not desperate to understand.

He watches you slip into the bathroom with a sigh, shoulders dipping. The light flickers on, but you don’t meet your own gaze in the mirror. You’re not angry. That would be easier. There’s something quieter in your eyes. Defeat, maybe. 

“I missed you,” he offers, stepping into the doorway. His tone is softer now, pleading.

“Did you?” It’s almost sarcastic, but not quite. Irritable but undercut by something raw, as though you don’t really believe he did.

Spencer swallows. “You don’t think I missed you?”

“A little hard to tell between the fawning over Lonnie Athens,” you say, wiping mascara from under your lashes. “Or was it the in-depth analysis of sandwich platters?”

It’s a snap, all sharp edges and fire, and for a second, he forgets the minefield he’s meant to be tiptoeing through. Has to bite back a smile. You’ve always been this way—more flame than moth, more lightning than thunder. It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

“Is that what this is about?” The words slip out before he can stop them, and the second they do, he knows. Rookie mistake. Your spine straightens, your jaw sets, and he wants to take it back, rewind, try again.

“This,” you echo, turning to face him. “What exactly do you mean by this?”

Spencer reminds himself that fire is never snuffed out with ice. You douse a flame gently, carefully. So, he steps forward, quieter now, fingers grazing yours before he takes your hand in his, guiding you toward the bed. He doesn’t pull, doesn’t rush, just leads you toward the bed with the same patience he knows you need when you’re fragile and burning.

Regardless, you try to resist, to hold yourself upright. You’re fighting the urge to sink into it—His touch, the bed, all of it. 

“Sweetheart,” Spencer murmurs, taking a seat beside you. “I know you’re not angry. You’re sad. And I’d really like to know why. Tell me, please?”

Deep inside, you know you’re just clinging on to the last embers of your frustration. But it’s hard—impossible, really, when you’re a fire with no kindle left to burn, and Spencer is all soft whispers and gentle hands, featherlight and soothing. 

You hesitate, twisting the fabric of the duvet between your fingers. “I just—I—You were being mean.”

Spencer lets out a slow, quiet breath. Relief, almost. Not because he agrees—He knows himself well enough to be sure that ‘mean’ isn’t the right word. But he knows you well enough to understand what it means when you say it.

Mean is what you say when you’ve been hurt and don’t know how else to put it. 

So he follows your lead. Doesn’t fight it.

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles stroking your hand with his thumb. His touch is warm as it is gentle. 

Because it’s not about whether he was mean or not. Spencer knows that. Knows you. Knows that kindness has never been a given for you, knows that you wouldn’t recognise patience if it came knocking. And he knows you well enough to know that you think in some twisted way, that you’ve brought this hurt upon yourself, that you deserve it. 

What matters is that you were hurt. And that’s the one thing he never, ever wants to do.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Can you tell me how I did?”

“You just kept going on and on about the stupid conference. You didn’t even hug me or—And then you—” 

You don’t continue. You can’t. You feel ridiculous. Stupid, even. Mopey and small over something that shouldn’t matter this much. Over the realisation that he doesn’t need you. And why should he? It’s not Spencer’s fault. Not at all. 

His indifference is what it is and what it was. Indifference. It sits like a weight on your bones—Cold, sharp-edged, piercing. He can go 5 days without you. You can’t. The tally marks accumulate, unbidden.

“And then I…?” Spencer prompts gently, prying your fingers from the duvet and replacing the tension with his thumb, tracing slow, soothing circles into your palm instead.

“You ignored me, and I just—” Your voice wavers, frustration bubbling over. "I just felt so—so ignored!"

Wonderful vocabulary. Of course, your words would fail you now.

“And the teasing—I know, I know, I can be impossible sometimes, but I just—I just really missed you! And I get it okay? I’m clingy and you’re not and god forbid anybody else is but it’s because I love you!” You inhale sharply, your hands slipping from his to curl into fists in your lap. “And you didn’t react at all, you didn’t even care! You made me feel like—I thought that you—” 

You cut yourself off before the flurry of tears take over and drown you out. 

Spencer waits a beat, choosing his next words carefully. 

“You thought… that I don’t love you?” His voice isn’t laced with sarcasm, nor does it carry incredulity. It’s a genuine question, as though he’s retracing the moments between you, trying to understand how you could possibly come to such a conclusion.

“No, it’s not that—” you’re quick to say, desperate to correct him. You know Spencer loves you. Of course, you know that. How could you not? It’s Spencer. He loves you like it’s his life mission to show you just how much he loves you. “I know you love—I know that. I just—” 

You bury your face in your hands, fingers pressing into the hollows beneath your eyes—A feeble attempt at hiding.

Because it’s utterly, bone-deep terrifying. To look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and feel the weight of a possibility that you might love them more than they love you.

To want to shout: Love me. Please love me, and please feel it with every fibre of your being as I do with mine. The kind of love that makes you want to scream from rooftops, to etch it into the sky, to burn the world down just to prove its enormity. 

Because then the question comes: Which would be worse?

To shout into the vast, open air and hear nothing in response? No echo of the same intensity. Or to stand amidst the smouldering ashes only to look into their eyes and find they don’t recognise you anymore? To see confusion or pity where love used to live.

You blink your watery eyes open, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you settle on the knobs of your knees, tracing their shape with your gaze. 

Anything but Spencer. Not right now. 

You take a sharp breath, steadying yourself before continuing.

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t need me as much as I need you and that scares me. And I know it’s stupid, even I feel stupid thinking about it. I don’t even want to be codependent or whatever but I—I just can’t help but think that sometimes—” 

Your breath shudders out of you, long and uneven, “I love you more than you love me.”

To say Spencer feels his heart break would be an understatement. It’s not a clean break, not a single, shattering moment—it’s a slow, relentless unraveling. It’s a gut punch, pain and duress packed tight, failure laced in every syllable. His heart shatters, splintering into pieces so sharp they lodge in his throat, in his lungs, in every part of him that has ever loved you. 

Silently, he’s always known the teasing would hit a breaking point. You’ve worn that insecurity for as long as he’s known you—too young, too green, too desperate to prove yourself. He just didn’t think it would carve its way between you the two of you like this. He’s watched you lean into it, let the jokes land, let them chip away at you. Newbie. Rookie. Lover girl. As if laughing along might soften the edges of it all. 

You flop onto your back on the bed, boneless, the confession stealing the last of your fight. There’s a splotch of blue paint on the ceiling from last month, when you both tried to repaint the room and got distracted halfway through. It doesn’t make you smile, not even  a little.

“That’s not true.” The mattress dips under Spencer’s weight as he settles beside you, thumb tracing your hairline. His arm moves, coaxing you to toward him, gentle in the way only he knows how to be with you.

“You’re not impossible, sweetheart, you never are. And I know they tease,” he murmurs, fingers of his other hand grazing over your knuckles, “but I also know for a fact that you don’t fall apart without me when I’m gone. That would be co-dependency. And I know that’s not you. You passed your requalifications with flying colors while I was away,” he says. “Garcia sent me the records. You know you even beat Morgan’s old score?” 

You sniffle, startled. That had been your surprise. You’d wanted to tell him yourself. 

“She told you?” 

He shakes his head. “I asked. I always ask for updates on you when I can’t be there.”

A small “Oh,” is all you can get out. 

With every other guy you dated, you’d attempted to play it cool, dialling down your enthusiasm, biting back your texts, and pretending to care less than you did. But every relationship seemed to end the same way: you were “a lot” and they weren’t equipped to handle it. It never quite stuck though, and thank god for that. 

Because then you met Spencer.

Sweet, steady Spencer, who didn’t just tolerate your spark but cherished it. Spencer, who had let you cling to his hand during every takeoff and landing on the jet the first week on the job. He never flinched, never teased—Even when everyone else casted him sympathetic looks, the kind that silently acknowledged how your grip was probably cutting off his circulation. Spencer who has kept every scrawled doodle and note you’ve ever given for him, even the ones scribbled haphazardly on napkins or receipts. He knows carbon prints fade within months so he stores them in a shoebox tucked away in his cupboard—Just so they can last that much longer. 

Spencer didn’t just accept the parts of you others found overwhelming. He singlehandedly brought them back to life. Every bit of your spark that had been dimmed or snuffed out by someone else had found new light in his presence.

Spencer’s fingers tighten around yours, a quiet kind of reassurance that draws you back to the present. 

“Being clingy is not the same as being codependent. I know you know that. There’s a clear psychological difference in brain chemistry.” His lips twitch, the smallest hint of a smile slipping through. “You’re clingy, yes. But I love that about you. I love coming home with you. I love coming home to you. I love how hard you love me, how proudly you love me. I know I haven’t been the best at reciprocating that around the team, and I’m sorry. I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t love you, or miss you.”

He shifts closer, eyes searching yours, open and earnest. “Because I did miss you. So much. I nearly blew a month’s paycheck in the gift shop. Spent half of it stocking up on those jelly crackers you told me about.” He shakes his head, like he can’t believe himself. “Morgan said I was whipped when I paid thirty bucks for a pair of souvenir socks.”

With a raise of your eyebrow you ask tearily, “and exactly how many pairs did you buy?” 

“Got you three pairs.” A sheepish little laugh escapes him as he ducks his head. 

And just like that, you’re smiling too. Albeit a small one, but that’s progress nonetheless. “And I don’t think you quite understand how much I love you when you say you love me more.” He leans in, his voice dropping, teasing. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m very competitive.”

“Oh, so I’ve heard Doctor Reid,” you quip, eyes rolling. Spencer’s lips curve, just slightly. You don’t even notice the way you press closer to him, but Spencer does. He takes the opportunity to go on.

“In a way, you’re right. I don’t need you,” Spencer says. Whiplash doesn’t even begin to describe the way your head snaps toward him. Flame and lighting, no doubt. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly, his expression already twisting in regret. “I shouldn’t have phrased it like that.”

“I don’t see what other way you could possibly phrase something like that,” you snap pettily, already pushing yourself up to stand. 

“Hey, hey.” His hand reaches out, not quite grabbing yours but close enough to make you pause. “Lie back down, honey. Please.” 

Against your better judgment, you relent, sinking back into the bed. “What I meant to say was, I don’t need you,” he repeats, slower this time, deliberate.

You scoff, a bitter laugh slipping through your lips as you swipe harshly at your damp lashes. “I get it, Spencer. Clearly you don’t.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” he says, his voice unwavering. “Biologically speaking, I wouldn’t cease to exist without you. My heart would continue to beat, my lungs would continue to expand and contract, my brain would maintain its synaptic functions. I would survive.” He pauses then, eyes searching yours, “And can I tell you something?”

You don’t answer, but you don’t pull away either. He takes that as permission to go on. “You don’t need me either.” 

Your lips part, the beginnings of a protest forming, but he cuts you off gently.

“I know you said you do, but your autonomic nervous system would still regulate your breathing, your neurons would still fire, your body would persist.” He swallows, voice dipping lower. “But that’s not the point, is it? Love isn’t about biological necessity. It’s not about survival. It’s about choice.” 

The word "choice" feels almost ironic when it comes from Spencer Reid. You knew that the moment you met him. It was never really a choice, not for you. It was him, or nothing. Desperately, you'd like to think it was the same for him, too.

Your answer comes in the form of his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. He’s patient, always, even when you aren’t. Kind in a way that sinks deep—Like you deserve it. You’re all sharp edges, brittle and worn, and he’s five days off a lumpy hotel mattress, yet the only thing he cares about is brushing away the tears from your skin. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t love you because I need you. I don’t think that would be love at all. That’s survival. I love you because I choose you to,” he continues. “Because you are the strongest person I know. Because you are kind, even when the world hasn’t been kind to you. Because you give so much of yourself without hesitation, without ever expecting anything in return.” 

Spencer smiles, shaking his head. “Because you’re the only person I know who will spend thirty minutes on a call recounting every little thing everyone did in the office that you think I’d like to hear about—before you even think to tell me about your own day.”

“It was funny! Since when has Hotch ever tripped on the stairs?”

It’s unfair really, how easily his laugh breathes life back into you. Your heart stumbles over itself as his hand brushes tenderly along your jaw. 

“I’ve spent every day in awe of you since the moment I met you. And I fall in love with you more and more with each one. Even on the days I’m not with you. Even on the days I’m miles away. Even then.” Spencer presses his lips against the back of your hand as he adds, “Especially then.” 

“Really?”

You can’t help it, the quiet little thing in you that wants to hear it again. 

Your tears have dried, but their traces still shimmer faintly on your skin. Spencer presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He’d say it again. A hundred times. He’d make that speech a thousand times over, if you needed him to. If it meant you’d never doubt it again.

“Really, my love.”

And just like that, a million tally marks fall at your feet.

A million for the way he presses another kiss to your lips, unrushed. A million more for the way his nose bumps against yours, lingering, breathing you in. Another million for the spark that creeps back into your eyes. 

It’s infinite, unbound, unquantifiable—The way he loves you, the sheer depth of it. You feel foolish for ever having questioned it. You thank your lucky stars—all of them—for Spencer Reid. For the way he’s looking at you like you strung the constellations together yourself. For the way he chooses you, again and again, even when you don’t choose him, when you shut down, when you go quiet. 

Because love to Spencer isn’t desperation, isn’t need—it’s choice. The deliberate, unwavering act of reaching out, of staying, and of saying over and over: I choose you. 

Not because he has to, but because he wants to. To be the one to put you back together again when you’re all embers and ash, to cradle you back onto earth when stare past him into the ceiling, to remind you that there’s still warmth in you left to hold.

To breathe the spark back into your eyes—It’s a choice he made the very moment he met you. It’s a spark Spencer swears he’d spend his whole life keeping alight.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: daylight by taylor swift intrapersonal by turnover