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harrysfolklore · 24 days

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still a little bitch - cs55

summary: yn piastri and carlos sainz don’t hate each other anymore, but she still calls him a little bitch. PART ONE word count: 9.1k + social media posts

folkie radio: HERE IT IS !!!! THE LONG AWAITED PART TWO OF LITTLE BITCH!!! i’m going to be completely honest with you i’m beyond terrified of posting this. little bitch was overwhelmingly liked by all of you and i’m scared this won’t live up to it 😭 but i really really hope you like it. i’m not a fan of doing part two’s of fics but this one deserves it <33 buckle up for a ride or angst, some tears and a lot of little bitch calling. LOVE YOU ALL

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

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ynpiastri highlight of imola: LEO LECLERC

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

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username1 OMG LEO IS SO CUTE

username2 MISS THE SECOND PICTURE ???

username3 PIASTRI SIS HAS A BF?? OMG

alexandrasaintmleux My boy 😍😍

username4 what is carlos doing in the likes i thought they hated each other 😭

username5 HOW DOES OSCAR FEEL ABOUT HER BF I NEED TO KNOW

username6 not tagging the person in the second pic she’s such a piastri

landonorris You’re not slick at all my friend

↳ ynpiastri i literally never asked for your opinion

↳ username1 HEEELP

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If someone had told you a year ago that you would be making out with Carlos Sainz in his driver's room hours before the Monaco Grand Prix, you would've laughed in their faces and told them they were completely out of their mind.

Because why would you ever think of even breathing near the little bitch, right?

And yet, there you were. Your bodies pressed together as his lips explored your neck.

"Carlos," you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair, "we shouldn't... someone could come in..."

He lifted his head, his brown eyes gleaming with desire. "Do you want me to stop, hermosa?"

"No," you admitted, "I don't want you to stop."

A satisfied smile played on his lips before he pressed them against yours again. His hands caressed your hips, pulling you even closer.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he whispered against your lips.

You couldn't help but smile. "The feeling's mutual, you little bitch."

He chuckled softly before speaking, "And to think that you hated me."

"I still do," you replied, but your tone lacked conviction. "It's just… I hate you a little less when you do that."

His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, making you shiver.

"Oh yeah?" he murmured, his hot breath against your skin. "And this?"

You let out a small moan, your nails digging slightly into his shoulders. "Maybe I hate you even less now."

He laughed softly, his hands sliding under your t-shirt. "You definitely don't hate me."

Almost a month had passed since that night in Carlos' car, and things between you two were amazing. You hadn't put a label on what you were yet, but you felt happier than ever.

You found yourselves seeking each other out more and more. But it wasn't just about the physical attraction or the tension of your bickering anymore. You discovered a side of Carlos you'd never seen before – his warmth, his humor, his vulnerability.

And you finally let your guard down and let him see that part of you, too.

The sarcastic remarks and playful insults were still there, but now they were tinged with affection rather than malice. Your friends had started to notice the change in your dynamic, especially Lando, who couldn't quite hide his knowing smirk whenever he saw you two together.

However, you decided to play it cool, not letting your friends know that there was something more between you and Carlos. They might be able to tell by now, but you still didn't want to admit it to them.

Which lead to secret rendezvous in hidden corners of the paddock become frequent occurrences. Like right now.

"As much as I'm enjoying this," you said as his lips still lingered on your neck and his hands roamed underneath your shirt, "I should go, someone's probably coming to get you shortly."

Carlos let out a soft groan of but nodded, slowly pulling away from you.

"You're right," he admitted, his hands reluctantly leaving your skin. "I wish we could stay like this, though. "

"I know," you smiled, reaching up to smooth his tousled hair. "But we can't risk getting caught, especially not today."

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Tonight, then? After the race?"

"Assuming you don't crash into a wall, sure," you teased.

"Such faith in me," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll show you, hermosa. Watch me on that podium."

You were about to retort when a sharp knock on the door made you both freeze.

"Carlos? Five minutes until the briefing," came a voice from outside.

"Coming!" Carlos called back, "Looks like our time's up."

"I'll sneak out after you. Good luck out there, little bitch," you whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Gracias, mi amor," he murmured, the endearment slipping out naturally.

You paused for a moment, surprised by the warm feeling that spread through your chest at his words. But there was no time to dwell on it. With a final kiss on your lips, he was out of the room.

Your heart was pounding as you tried to casually make your way out of Carlos' room. You were so focused on appearing nonchalant that you almost walked right into Charles.

"YN?" he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise and a knowing smirk slowly spreading across his face. "What are you doing here?"

You felt your cheeks flush as you scrambled for an explanation. "Oh, Charles! Hi! I was just… uh… coming to wish you good luck on the race."

"In Carlos' room?" his smirk widened.

Your heart sank. Of course he'd noticed where you'd come from. You tried to keep your voice steady as you replied, "No, no… I just got a bit turned around. All these corridors look the same, you know?"

"Uh-huh," Charles said, clearly not buying it for a second. "Well, thanks for the good luck wishes. Though I'm not sure how sincere they are if you're sneaking out of my teammate's room."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the knowing look in Charles' eyes made you realize it was pointless. He'd figured it out.

You were surprised Alex haven't told him already, anyway.

"Relax, YN. Your secret's safe with me," he said with a wink. "Though you might want to fix your hair before you see your brother. It's a bit… disheveled."

You groaned, quickly running your fingers through your hair as Charles walked away, still chuckling. You tried to make the flush on your cheeks go away as you reached McLaren hospitality.

Carlos Sainz was driving you crazy in the best possible way.

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ynpiastri LECLERCCCCCC FINALLY WON AND PERFECT PODIUM TYSM MONACO 😩😩😭

tagged: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lilyzneimer

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username1 I NEVER SAID ANYTHING BAD ABOUT THE MONACO GP

username2 her friendship with charles is so underrated love them

landonorris I wish my best friend celebrated my podiums like that

↳ ynpiastri i wish my best friend got more podiums to celebrate

↳ username1 HELPPP 😭

username3 UM HELLO??? posted sainz, TAGGED HIM, said it’s a perfect podium and she’s not coming for his neck for the touch with oscar on track that made the race re start ????? WHAT IS GOING ON

↳ username2 OH I SEE

charles_leclerc Thank you for coming to Ferrari just to wish me good luck and not anything else, that was definitely what made me win 😉

↳ ynpiastri stfu

↳ alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂😂😂

↳ oscarpiastri I’m really confused right now

carlossainz55 ❤️

↳ username1 BITCH WTF

↳ username2 ENEMIES TO LOVERS ???

TWITTER

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The party at Jimmy'z was in full swing, the air electric with the excitement of Charles' Grand Prix victory. The club was packed with F1 drivers, team personnel, and celebrities, all riding the high of the race day adrenaline.

You stood near the bar, your fourth glass of champagne in hand, feeling pleasantly buzzed. The room spun slightly as you looked around, your gaze inevitably drawn to Carlos. He was across the room, laughing with Pierre and Charles, but his eyes kept finding you in the crowd.

Every time your eyes met, you felt a jolt of electricity. The memory of his touch from earlier in the day lingered on your skin, making you crave more. You watched as he excused himself from his conversation and made his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with effortless grace.

"Enjoying the party, hermosa?" he asked, his voice low and husky as he leaned in close.

You shivered at his proximity, the scent of his cologne making your head spin even more. "It's alright," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Could be better though."

Carlos's eyes darkened at your words. He glanced around quickly before leaning in even closer, his lips barely brushing your ear. "Meet me outside in five minutes."

Before you could respond, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd. Your heart raced as you waited, trying not to watch the clock too obviously. When five minutes had passed, you made your way outside, your steps slightly unsteady.

The cool night air was a relief after the stuffy club. You spotted Carlos in one of the alleyways behind Jimmy'z. He turned as you approached, a smile spreading across his face.

"Remember the last time we were here?" he asked, pulling you close.

You giggled, the alcohol making you bold. "Yeah, when you kissed me unprovoked."

"Unprovoked?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, his hands settling on your waist. "I was being provoked by how insanely gorgeous you looked. Still do, by the way," he leaned even closer. "And if I recall correctly, you enjoyed it a lot."

"Maybe I did," you giggled, drunkenness clear in your every move. "Should we do it again?"

Without overthinking, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a bold, impulsive kiss. It was tentative at first, testing the waters, but then you felt Carlos smile against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

As the kiss intensified, you felt Carlos's hands slide from your waist to your lower back, pressing you even closer against him. The heat of his body contrasted with the cool night air, sending shivers down your spine. Your own hands moved up to tangle in his hair, earning a low groan from him that you felt more than heard.

Breaking apart for air, Carlos rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in quick pants. "I'm crazy about you, Piastri," he murmured before leaning in for another kiss.

You were so lost in the moment that you didn't hear the footsteps of someone approaching.

"You freaking muppets! I knew it!"

You broke apart, startled, to see Lando standing there, a triumphant grin on his face.

"Lando!" you whined, burying your face in Carlos's chest. "Leave us alone!"

Carlos chuckled, his arms still around you. "How long have you known, cabron?"

"Please, you two are about as subtle as a neon sign," Lando smirked, crossing his arms. "Oh, this is too good. You two are so busted."

"Lando, please," Carlos started, but you cut him off.

"Go away, Lando!" you whined, clinging to Carlos. "We're busy."

Lando laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you lovebirds alone. But we're definitely talking about this later!"

As Lando walked away, you turned back to Carlos, wrapping your arms around his neck, suddenly feeling very tired and more than a little drunk. "Take me home?" you asked, your words slurring slightly.

"Of course, mi amor," Carlos nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll drive you to Oscar's."

"Nooo," you whined, clinging to him. "I want to stay with you tonight. Please?"

Carlos hesitated for a moment, clearly torn. "YN, you're pretty drunk. Are you sure that's a good idea?"

You nodded vigorously, then immediately regretted it as the world spun. "I'm sure. I just want to be with you. Please?"

"Alright, alright, you win. Let’s get you back to my place," he said gently, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

You beamed at him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, little bitch."

The night might have been a blur, but one thing was crystal clear—you were falling hard for Carlos Sainz, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

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ynpiastri have you guys ever tried hangover pancakes ?

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username1 OMG???

username2 SHE DOES HAVE A BF

lilyzneimer 👀👀👀

username3 BITCH THATS CARLOS SAINZ

↳ username1 nah there’s no way, they hate each other

charles_leclerc I did before you did

↳ ynpiastri don’t be jealous charlie 😚

landonorris BUSTED BUSTED

↳ ynpiastri bro get over it

↳ landonorris never

↳ username1 LET ME INNNNN

username4 people saying this is carlos sainz, do you guys not know their history or something

↳ username5 yeah but enemies to lovers is a real thing

oscarpiastri 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

↳ ynpiastri ily can you pick me up?

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You could practically hear your friend's and brother's laugh through the phone as you muted the conversation. Shaking your head, you grabbed your jacket and headed out to meet Carlos.

He was waiting for you outside, leaning against a lamppost with casual smile. The sight of him - dressed in jeans and a simple t-shirt, his hair slightly tousled by the breeze - made your heart skip a beat.

"There you are," he said, his face lighting up as you approached. "Ready to go?"

Without thinking twice about it, you wrapped your arms his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss, taking him by surprise. Carlos' eyes widened but he quickly melted into it, his arms wrapping around your waist. When you finally pulled away, he was looking at you with a mix of delight and wonder.

"Well," he said, a bit breathlessly, "that's quite a hello. What was that for?"

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the blush creeping up your cheeks. "Do I need a reason to kiss you?"

"No, hermosa," he said, pulling you closer. "You never need a reason. You're allowed to kiss me whenever you want."

With a playful glint in your eye. You pulled him in and kissed him again.

God you were down bad, it's embarrassing.

"Dios mio," he murmured as you pulled away, "I could get used to this."

You laughed, linking your arm with his as you started walking. "Don't get too comfortable, little bitch. I still have a reputation to maintain."

Carlos chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Of course, Piastri. Whatever you say."

As you strolled through the streets of Montreal, you found yourself initiating more little touches - a squeeze of his hand, a kiss on the cheek, leaning into him as you walked. Each time, you noticed how Carlos's face would light up, how he'd pull you a little closer.

It occurred to you that maybe he'd been holding back, worried about pushing you too far or too fast.

For the past month, you'd been letting your guard down, bit by bit. Carlos had somehow managed to sneak past your defenses with his charm and the warmth that had been hidden beneath all that banter. You'd always prided yourself on being independent, on not letting anyone get too close. But with Carlos, things felt different, at least now they did.

Still, there were moments when doubt crept in, when old insecurities bubbled to the surface. What if this was all just a fling for him? What if you were reading too much into the way he looked at you, the way he seemed to treasure every kiss and touch? What if you eventually went back to your bitterness towards each other?

You hadn't put a label on whatever this was between you, and the ambiguity sometimes left you feeling unsteady, as if you were walking on a tightrope without a safety net.

But bringing it up to him felt intimidating.

"Whats on your mind?" Carlos asked once he noticed that you went quiet and your eyes were wandering.

You considered bringing up the subject, but decided to ignore the thought for now.

"Nothing," you replied with a small smile, squeezing his hand. "Just thinking about how Lando is going to have our heads for not wanting to hang out with him."

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. "Lando will survive. He can’t have us all to himself all the time."

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TWITTER

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As the Spanish Grand Prix weekend approached, you found yourself in Barcelona, exploring the city with Carlos in a way you never imagined possible.

The man who once irritated you beyond belief was now showing you his childhood spots, sharing stories of his youth with a boyish enthusiasm that made your heart flutter.

When you told Oscar about your plans to head to Barcelona early with Carlos, you braced yourself for the teasing that was sure to follow.

Your brother didn't disappoint, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he launched into a series of jokes about you "fraternizing with the enemy" and how you'd "finally succumbed to Sainz's charms." But beneath the banter, you could see the genuine happiness in Oscar's eyes.

After the laughter died down, he pulled you into a hug and told you he was glad you'd found someone who made you happy, even if it was "that Spanish menace."

He was the best brother you could've asked for.

"And this," Carlos said, gesturing to a small, unassuming restaurant tucked away in a narrow street, "is where you'll find the best paella in all of Barcelona. Maybe even in all of Spain."

"That's a bold claim, Sainz," you raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You better not be overselling it."

"Would I ever lie to you, Piastri?"

"Yes, absolutely," you retorted, but there was no bite to your words.

As you sat down to eat, the aroma of saffron and seafood filled the air. Carlos watched expectantly as you took your first bite, and you couldn't help but close your eyes in delight at the flavors.

"Okay, I'll admit it," you said, opening your eyes to see his triumphant smile. "This might actually be the best paella I've ever had."

"I told you!" he exclaimed, looking far too pleased with himself. "Never doubt a Spaniard when it comes to paella."

"Alright, you win this round," you rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips.

As you continued to enjoy the meal, a comfortable silence settled between you and Carlos. It was in these quiet moments that you found yourself marveling at how far you'd come - from barely tolerating each other to... whatever this was now.

"You know, I've been thinking," Carlos broke the silence, his voice softer than usual, "We've talked a lot about my childhood here in Spain, but I realize I don't know much about your early years in Australia."

You looked up from your plate, a bit surprised by the sudden change in topic. "Oh, well, what do you want to know?"

Carlos leaned forward, his elbows on the table, genuine curiosity in his warm brown eyes. "Everything. What was it like growing up there? What did little YN enjoy back then?”

You paused for a moment, caught off guard by Carlos's question. Your mind immediately went to your childhood memories with Oscar, and you found yourself launching into a familiar narrative.

"Well, growing up in Australia was quite an adventure, especially with Oscar around," you began, a fond smile playing on your lips, “Oscar's always been obsessed with anything that has wheels. Even as a toddler, he'd zoom around the house with his toy cars, making engine noises..."

As you launched into the story of Oscar's journey from go-karts to Formula 1, you found yourself getting carried away with the memories. You talked about the early morning drives to races, the smell of petrol and rubber that became a constant in your life, the way your parents juggled work and Oscar's growing career.

"...and then there was this one time, Oscar was about 14, and he'd just won a major championship. The interviewer asked him who his biggest inspiration was, and do you know what he said?" You paused, smiling at the memory.

Carlos shook his head, completely engrossed in your story.

"He said it was me. Can you believe that? His older sister who couldn't tell a thing about cars. I think I cried for an hour after that interview."

As you finished your tale, you noticed Carlos watching you with an unreadable expression. "What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Carlos smiled softly, reaching across the table to take your hand.

"Hermosa," he said gently, "I asked about your childhood, and you've told me all about Oscar's racing career."

You blinked, realizing he was right. "Oh, I... I guess I got carried away. Sorry about that."

"No, no," Carlos squeezed your hand reassuringly. "I love hearing about Oscar, truly. But I want to know about you. What did you like growing up? What were your passions, your dreams?"

You blinked, suddenly realizing that you had automatically steered the conversation towards Oscar, as you had done countless times before when asked about your childhood. The fact that Carlos had redirected the focus back to you left you momentarily speechless.

"I... wow," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before."

"Really? But surely people must have been interested in your childhood too?"

You shrugged, feeling a sudden lump in your throat. "Not really. I mean, Oscar was always the star, you know? My pride and joy, the racing prodigy. People were always more interested in his story."

Carlos squeezed your hand gently. "Well, I'm interested in your story. Tell me about little YN Piastri, not just Oscar's sister."

You took a deep breath, feeling a lot of emotions you couldn't quite name. Carlos's genuine interest in your personal story touched something deep within you, a part of yourself you'd almost forgotten existed.

"Actually," you began, your voice soft as you delved into long-buried memories, "I was always drawn to art. Not just painting or drawing, but all forms of visual expression. I remember spending hours in our backyard, arranging leaves and flowers into patterns, or using chalk to create massive, colorful murals on our driveway."

"That sounds beautiful. Did you take classes?" Carlos leaned in, his eyes bright with interest.

"Not really. I wasn't great in school, to be honest. Sitting still, focusing on textbooks - it just wasn't my strong suit. But give me a blank canvas or a lump of clay, and I could lose myself for hours."

"So why didn't you pursue it?" Carlos asked gently.

You paused, considering Carlos's question. It was something you'd never really articulated before, even to yourself.

"I guess... I never saw it as something to pursue," you said slowly. "My focus was always on Oscar. From the moment he started showing promise in racing, I just naturally fell into the role of his protector, his support system."

You smiled softly, remembering those early days. "Oscar was so talented, but he was also just a kid with big dreams and even bigger pressures. I felt like it was my job to shield him from the worst of it, to be his safe haven. It wasn't a sacrifice, not really. It was a choice I made out of love. Oscar's success, his happiness - that became my passion."

"But what about your art?" Carlos pressed, his tone careful but curious.

You shrugged, a mix of emotions flickering across your face. "It just… faded into the background, I guess. There were always races to attend, equipment to pack. My sketchbooks got buried under stacks of racing magazines. My easel gathered dust in the corner of my room."

Carlos reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "YN , that's… that's incredibly selfless of you. But don't you miss it?"

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you at Carlos's question, his gentle touch grounding you.

"I do," you admitted softly, your eyes meeting his. "I've been Oscar's sister, his supporter, for so long. I'm not sure I remember how to be anything else."

"Oh, mi amor," Carlos said softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "You're so much more than just Oscar's sister. You're YN - a woman with a beautiful heart and a determinate mind. Your love for Oscar is admirable, but it doesn't have to be the only thing that defines you," he paused, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, "I'm honored to be close to that woman. The one who sees beauty in leaves and flowers, who can lose herself in creating art, even when she forgets about it."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. But old habits die hard, and you found yourself deflecting with humor. "Wow, Sainz," you said, a teasing glint in your eye. "Are you always this sappy, or am I just special?"

Carlos's face broke into a grin, recognizing your playful tone. "Only for you, Piastri. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

"Oh please," you rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. "Your reputation as what? A little bitch?"

Carlos' face broke into a wide grin, "One day you'll stop calling me that."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the earlier conversation dissolving into familiar banter. "Keep telling yourself that, Sainz."

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ynpiastri te quiero barcelona 🫶

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username1 OH

username2 WHAT IS HAPPENINGGGG

alexandrasaintmleux 👀❤️

username3 SHE THINKS SHES SLICK CROPPING CARLOS’ EYES GIRL WE CAN TELL ITS HIM

lilyzneimer 🥹

username4 the piastri - sainz beef turning into piastri - sainz romance wasn’t on my bingo card

nicolepiastri You failed Spanish like three times in high school…

↳ username1 HEEEEELPPP

↳ oscarpiastri 😂😂😂😂😂😂

↳ username2 mama piastri is too iconic for constantly dragging her kids

↳ ynpiastri 😩

landonorris I SEE HOW IT IS NOW

↳ username1 help lando’s dreams came true

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Saturday arrived in Barcelona, which meant it was time for qualifying.

After your quick rendezvous with Carlos in his motorhome - something that was routine by now- you made your way towards the paddock club to meet Alex and Kika. Your mind was still buzzing from Carlos' touch, your skin tingling where his lips had been just moments ago.

Your hair was slightly tousled, a result of Carlos' fingers running through it. You could still feel the ghost of his kisses on your neck, and the memory sent a shiver down your spine. Pausing briefly, you tried to smooth down your clothes and fix your appearance in the reflection of a nearby trailer. The last thing you needed was more knowing looks from your friends, you had enough when Lando teasing you and Carlos whenever he had the chance.

Approaching the paddock club, you spotted Alex and Kika waiting for you near the entrance.

"Hey, there you are!" Alex called out as you neared. "We were starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "In a place I've been coming to for years? Not likely."

The three of you sat down at a nearby table and ordered something to drink. The conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from race predictions to the latest paddock gossip.

"So," Kika said, leaning forward towards you, "how are things going with Carlos? You two seem pretty cozy lately."

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, the warmth spreading to your cheeks. You took a sip of your drink to buy yourself a moment, but you couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips. "Things are good. Really good, actually."

"But…?" Alex's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied your face.

"But nothing," you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "We're just enjoying each other's company."

Kika's eyebrows shot up, her expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Wait, has he not asked you to be his girlfriend yet? I thought for sure you two would be official by now."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, bringing all your insecurities rushing to the surface. The ones you've tried to push away since this thing with Carlos began.

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your friends knew you too well. The smile you'd been wearing moments ago faltered, and you could feel the doubt creeping in.

"Hey," Alex said softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. Carlos is crazy about you, anyone can see that. Every relationship moves at its own pace."

You nodded, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, of course. We're just taking things slow, that's all."

But as the conversation moved on to other topics, you couldn't shake the doubt that had taken root in your mind. You found yourself only half-listening, your thoughts a swirling mess of questions and insecurities.

Why hadn't Carlos made things official? Was he keeping his options open? Were you still just his rival's sister who picked fights with him in his eyes? The rational part of your brain tried to argue that labels didn't matter, that what you and Carlos had was special regardless of what you called it. But the insecure part wouldn't be silenced so easily.

As you sat there, surrounded by the chatter of your friends and the energy of the circuit, you felt a strange sense of isolation creep over you. You were in Carlos' home city, surrounded by his world, and yet you'd never felt more unsure of your place in it.

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"Finally," Carlos breathed, as he opened the door. Before you could utter a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside, kicking the door shut behind you. In one fluid motion, he pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours.

"Carlos, what-" you started, but he silenced you with a searing kiss.

When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless. "Sorry," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I've been wanting to do that all day."

"You saw me right after the race, you needy little bitch."

Carlos' hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer. "That was hours ago. Far too long."

"Seriously?" you teased, though you couldn't keep the affection out of your voice. "You're ridiculous, Sainz."

"Maybe," he conceded, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. "But you like it."

Carlos began to trail kisses down your neck, his touch igniting sparks across your skin. You laughed as he pulled you towards the bed, your fingers intertwining with his.

"Slow down, hotshot. The bed's not going anywhere."

"But my patience might," he turned to face you, "Do you know how hard it was to focus on the post-race interviews when all I could think about was getting you alone?"

"Oh, poor baby," you teased gently, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "It must have been tough, going over the race data after a P6 finish."

Carlos groaned dramatically, pulling you closer. "Torture, hermosa. Absolute torture."

Carlos guided you towards the bed, his hands never leaving your body. With a gentle push, he lowered you onto the mattress, quickly following to hover above you. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and passionate, as his hands roamed your sides, slipping under the hem of your shirt.

You arched into his touch, your own hands exploring the firm planes of his back. Carlos broke the kiss to trail his lips along your jawline, down to the sensitive spot on your neck that always made you gasp.

"You're really needy today, aren't you?" you said, running your fingers through his hair.

Carlos' lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes softening with affection. "I'm always needy when it comes to my girl," he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips once more.

Your breath caught in your throat, not just from the sensation of his warm breath on your skin, but from his words. My girl. The phrase echoed in your mind, stirring up the doubts you'd been trying to push away.

Suddenly, Kika's voice from your earlier conversation rang in your ears. "Wait, has he not asked you to be his girlfriend yet?"

The warmth that had been building in your chest turned cold as uncertainty crept in. If you were his girl, then why hadn't he made it official?

Carlos must have sensed your sudden tension because he pulled back slightly, his brow furrowing. "YN? What's wrong?"

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the doubts. "Nothing," you said, your voice not quite as steady as you'd hoped.

He studied your face for a moment, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you sure? We can stop if you're not feeling it."

"No, no," you assured him quickly, not wanting to ruin the moment. "I'm fine. Just… got distracted for a second."

Carlos didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded slowly. "Okay, but promise me you'll tell me if something's bothering you?"

You nodded, pulling him back down for another kiss. As you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you pushed your concerns to the back of your mind.

A few moments later, you laid tangled beneath the covers, your head resting on Carlos' chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare shoulder. The afterglow should have been blissful, but your mind was elsewhere, racing with thoughts you couldn't quiet.

Carlos must have sensed your unease because he shifted slightly, tilting his head to look at you. "YN? What's wrong, hermosa? You seem… distant. Are you not feeling well?"

You sighed, debating whether to voice your concerns. "It's nothing, really. I just…" you trailed off, unsure how to continue.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

You bit your lip, your heart racing. "It's just… when you called me 'your girl' earlier… I don't know. It made me think."

"Think about what?" Carlos' brow furrowed slightly. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no, you didn't," you assured him quickly. "It's more about… us, I guess. About what we are. What this is between us."

"YN," he said, his voice low and intense. "I thought I've been clear about how I feel about you. I've been yours since that kiss at Jimmy'z last year. Maybe even before that, if I'm being honest."

His words should have reassured you, but they only made your anxiety spike. You sat up abruptly, pulling the sheet around you.

You'd wanted clarity, but now that you had it, you didn't know how to handle it.

"But what does that mean, Carlos?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. "We've been doing... whatever this is for months now, but we've never really talked about it. We haven't put a label on it."

Carlos sat up too, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "I didn't think we needed to. I thought it was obvious how I felt about you."

"Obvious?" you repeated, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. "How is it obvious when we've never actually discussed what we are to each other?"

Carlos reached for your hand, but you pulled away, standing up from the bed. You began pacing, your mind racing.

"YN, please," Carlos said, his voice soft. "Come back to bed. Let's talk about this."

You shook your head, reaching for your clothes. "I can't... I need to think. I need some space."

As you hurriedly dressed, Carlos got out of bed, pulling on his boxers. "Are you really running away, Piastri?" he asked, a hint of anger in his voice now. "I thought we were past this. That you weren't that arrogant girl who was ready to pick up pointless fights with me anymore."

His words stung, cutting deeper than you thought possible. It felt like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs and leaving you reeling. The accusation brought back all the insecurities you'd been trying to suppress, all the doubts about whether you deserved this happiness with Carlos. It was as if he'd reached into your chest and squeezed your heart, leaving you raw and vulnerable.

You whirled to face him, eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "Arrogant? Is that what you think of me?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Carlos ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice. "I just... I thought we'd moved past the point where you'd run away instead of talking to me."

"Maybe I wouldn't feel the need to run if you'd actually communicate with me," you shot back.

"Communicate?" Carlos scoffed. "That's rich coming from you. You're the one who's been keeping me at arm's length this whole time!"

The accusation hit you like a slap. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, YN," Carlos said, his voice rising. "Every time things get too real, you pull away. You make a joke, you change the subject. It's like you're afraid of admitting that this might actually mean something."

"That's not fair," you protested, feeling tears prick at your eyes. "I'm here, aren't I? I've been here! But how am I supposed to be sure that this isn't just a fling for you? Or some twisted way to mess with Oscar?"

"Oscar?" Carlos looked you with wide eyes, shaking his head, "What does Oscar have to do with anything? This is about us, YN. You and me."

"Is it?" you challenged, your voice breaking. "Because sometimes I don't even know what 'us' means. Are we together? Are we just having fun? How am I supposed to know?"

Carlos' expression softened slightly, but his frustration was still evident. "You're not being fair, Piastri. I've always been the one to show my desire to be with you. I did it that night after Lando's party, remember? But you're the one who runs away when things get real."

His words hit home, and you felt a fresh wave of guilt and confusion wash over you.

"I don't... I don't run away," you said weakly, but even to your own ears, it sounded unconvincing.

"Don't you?" Carlos asked, his voice softening. "Every time I try to take a step forward, you take three steps back. I'm not the one who's afraid of labels here."

Silence lingered in the air, you felt physically sick. Carlos' words were true, every single one of them, deep down you knew it. As much as you tried to let your guard down with him, your self defense mechanisms always came through.

"When are you going to stop sabotaging your own happiness for other people?" Carlos asked after another minute of silence. "This isn't about Oscar, or anyone else. It's about you being too scared to admit that you might actually care about me."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, once again. "Scared? You think I'm scared? I'm terrified, Carlos! Terrified of getting hurt, of ruining everything. And you're not exactly making it easy.""

"How am I not making it easy?" Carlos demanded, his voice rising. "I've been nothing but clear about my feelings for you. Every time I get close, you shut down!" Carlos shouted, his frustration boiling over. "It's like you're allergic to any kind of emotional intimacy!"

"Oh, that's something coming from you," you spat back. "Mr. 'I-can-charm-anyone-with-a-smile'. How do I know this isn't just another conquest for you?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You saw the hurt flash across Carlos' face, quickly replaced by anger.

"A conquest?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "Is that really what you think of me? After everything I've shared with you?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," you said, your voice breaking. "This whole thing is just... it's too much. I can't do this."

You turned towards the door, reaching for the handle. Carlos stepped forward, his anger dissipating, replaced by desperation.

"YN, wait," he pleaded. "Please, don't go. Not like this. Let's talk, mi amor. Don't run from me."

The term of endearment, spoken so softly, almost broke your resolve. You paused, your hand on the doorknob, torn between the urge to flee and the desire to fall into his arms.

"I... I can't, Carlos," you whispered, your voice thick with tears. "I need some time. Some space to think."

"YN, please," Carlos said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We can figure this out together. Just... stay. Please."

You turned to look at him one last time, your heart breaking at the pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry," you managed to say. "I'll... I'll call you later."

And with that, you stepped out into the hallway, leaving Carlos standing alone in his room.

You immediately felt like you made a huge mistake.

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You were curled up on the couch in your apartment, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, staring blankly at the TV screen. The sound was muted, the flickering images providing a distraction you desperately needed but couldn't quite focus on. Your phone lay face down on the coffee table, ignored despite the occasional vibration of incoming messages.

Your mind wandered to Carlos, it always did.

The memory of your argument played on repeat in your head, each hurtful word a fresh wound. You couldn't shake the image of his face - the hurt, the anger, the desperation in his eyes as you walked out the door. It haunted you.

Everything that had happened that night felt like a blur. The passion of your initial encounter, the tenderness of his touch, the way he called you "his girl" - it all seemed so perfect until your insecurities came crashing in. You wondered if you had overreacted, if you had let your fears get the best of you.

Carlos had been right about one thing - you did have a tendency to run when things got too real. It was a defense mechanism, a way to protect yourself from getting hurt. But in doing so, were you sabotaging your own happiness, like he said?

The only thing you were sure about was that it wasn't physical attraction or the remaining tension of your bickering from last year anymore, Carlos saw you in a way no one else did, and that terrified you as much as it thrilled you.

Your conversation with Lando from earlier that day came back to you. You had called him in a moment of panic, spilling out all your fears and doubts. Lando, ever the unusual voice of reason, had listened patiently.

"YN," he had said, his voice gentle but firm, "you can't let your insecurities ruin what you and Carlos could have. I've known him for years, and I've never seen him like this with anyone else. He really cares about you."

"But what if it doesn't work out?" you had asked, your voice small. "What if we end up hating each other again?"

Lando had chuckled at that. "You two are so stubborn, you know that? You're both so afraid of letting your guard down that you're pushing each other away. Someone needs to take the first step, YN. And from what Carlos has told me, he's been trying. Maybe it's your turn."

His words echoed in your mind now, mixing with the memory of Carlos' plea for you to stay.

You made a huge mistake by walking away that night, and now you didn't know how to fix it.

A soft knock on the door startled you out of your thoughts. You hesitated, not wanting to face anyone, but another, more insistent knock followed.

"YN? It's me, open up," Oscar's voice called from the other side.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off the couch and shuffled to the door. When you opened it, your brother's concerned face greeted you.

"Hey," Oscar said softly, his eyes scanning your disheveled appearance. "Can I come in?"

You nodded, stepping aside to let him enter. Oscar walked in, his gaze taking in the dim lighting and the general disarray of your usually tidy living room. He turned to face you, worry etched across his features.

"What's going on, sis? I heard you're not going to Austria," he said, his voice gentle but probing. "And it looks like you haven't slept in days."

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I just need a break," you mumbled, moving back to the couch and curling up in your previous position.

Oscar followed, sitting down beside you.

He reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle and familiar. "YN, talk to me. What's really going on? Is this about Carlos?"

At the mention of Carlos' name, you felt a fresh wave of emotion wash over you. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Oscar noticed your reaction and pulled you into a tight hug.

"Oh, sis," he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "What happened?"

You buried your face in your brother's shoulder, finally letting the tears fall. Between sobs, you started to explain everything that had happened in Barcelona - the conversation with Kika and Alex, your growing insecurities, the night in Carlos's hotel room, your argument. As you spoke, you could feel the weight of the past week pressing down on you, the emotions you'd been bottling up threatening to spill over.

"…and now, I don't know what to do," you finished, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I've ruined everything."

"YN, listen to me. You haven't ruined anything," Oscar said, "Relationships are complicated, and misunderstandings happen. But from what you've told me and what I've seen, it sounds like Carlos cares about you a lot. And I think you care about him too, more than you're willing to admit to yourself."

"But what if it all goes wrong?" you wiped your eyes, sniffling. "What if we end up hating each other even more than we did before? What if... what if I'm not enough for him?"

Oscar shook his head, a small smile on his face. "You've always been your own worst enemy, you know that?" you almost rolled your eyes at he familiar statement. "Remember when I left for boarding school? You were so upset, convinced that I was leaving you behind forever. You didn't want to say goodbye, afraid it would hurt too much."

The memory flooded back, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "Yeah, I remember," you said softly.

"But do you remember what happened after?" Oscar prompted.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "We ended up talking more than ever. Phone calls, letters, video chats…"

"Exactly," Oscar said, squeezing your hand. "You were so scared of losing me that you almost pushed me away. But when you finally opened up, our relationship grew stronger than ever."

"That's different, Oscar. This is… it's Carlos. It's complicated."

"Is it?" Oscar challenged. "Or are you just making it complicated because you're scared? I've seen the way you two look at each other. It's not just some leftover tension from your rivalry. It's real."

You sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. "But what if-"

"No more 'what ifs'," Oscar interrupted. "You can't live your life afraid of what might happen. You're missing out on what's right in front of you," you were quiet for a moment, considering his words until he spoke again, "I know you’ve held back a lot in your life—for me, for our family—but I don’t want you holding back when it comes to Carlos.”

You blinked, slightly caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Oscar hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I mean… I’ve seen how much you sacrifice for the people you love. You’ve put so much of your own life on hold to support me, and I’ll always be grateful for that. But when it comes to Carlos—this thing between you—it’s different. I would never forgive myself if you sacrificed that for my sake.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you realized how much Oscar understood you, maybe even more than you realized. “Oscar, I’m not holding back for you, I—”

“I know you’re not doing it consciously," he interrupted gently, "But I can see it. You’re worried about how our dynamic will change, or maybe how I’ll react. But, YN, I want you to be happy. If being with Carlos makes you happy, then I want you to go for it. Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

You sat there, absorbing what Oscar said. His words made you feel a lot of different things all at once. You realized he was right - you had been holding back, not just with Carlos, but in many parts of your life. This scared you, but also made you feel free.

It was time to put yourself first.

"I hate that you're always so wise, you're my little brother, I'm supposed to be the one giving you advice, not the other way around."

"To be fair, I was thrown into the motorsport world at an early age, you experience all kinds of drama there," he shrugged, making both of you laugh, "Now, are you going to talk to him, or do I need to drag you to Austria myself? Or even Madrid?"

You let out a small laugh, the first genuine one in days. "I guess I'll talk to him. But I still don't feel like going to Austria, I need some time to gather my thoughts."

"Fair enough," Oscar nodded, "Just don't take too long, okay? You both deserve to be happy. And Lando is freaking out because you're ruining his dreams again."

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ynpiastri i almost forgot how it felt to watch a race on tv. congratulations boys 🥳 and ty to my queen @carmenmmundt for the last picture

tagged: oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, georgerussell63

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username1 QUEEN WE MISS YOU WHAT HAPPENED

username2 the paddock is not the same without the most iconic piastri

lilyzneimer 🤍

carmenmmundt 😚😚

username3 im pretty sure this is the first time she’s not at a race since oscar’s f2 days

username4 THE 55 HELLO?????

username5 WHATS THEIR SHIP NAME?? PAINZ???

username6 she’s down bad for the smooth operator this is what i call enemies to lovers

landonorris You seem happy for my DNF…

↳ ynpiastri stfu

carlossainz55 ❤️

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You paced nervously in your apartment, your heart racing as you waited for Carlos to arrive. The soft carpet muffled your footsteps but did nothing to quiet the storm of thoughts in your head. You had rehearsed what you wanted to say a hundred times, but now that the moment was here, all your carefully prepared words seemed to evaporate.

Your eyes flitted to the clock on the wall, then to your phone, checking the time for what felt like the thousandth time. The knock on the door made you jump, your pulse skyrocketing. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "It's just Carlos," you told yourself, but that thought brought both comfort and a new wave of anxiety.

With trembling hands, you smoothed down your shirt and ran a hand through your hair before opening the door. Carlos stood there, looking tired but as handsome as ever. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his hands through it—a nervous habit you'd noticed before.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, a mix of relief and apprehension in his gaze. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken words and emotions.

"Hi," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You stepped aside to let him in, hyper-aware of his presence as he moved past you.

"Hi," he replied, his voice warm as he entered.

You led him to the living room, settling on the couch. There was a moment of awkward silence, the tension palpable. You both opened your mouths to speak at the same time.

"I'm sorry—“

"I wanted to—"

You both laughed, some of the tension dissipating. The sound of his laughter, even tinged with nervousness, helped to ease some of your anxiety.

"You go first," Carlos said, his eyes soft as he looked at you. His gaze was patient, encouraging, and you drew strength from it.

You took a deep breath, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, knowing he deserved your full honesty. "Carlos, I'm so sorry for running away in Barcelona. It wasn't fair to you, and I've been kicking myself ever since. I… I panicked. Everything was happening so fast, and I just… I couldn't handle it."

He nodded, his expression understanding. He reached out to take your hand, his touch sending a shiver through you. "I appreciate that, YN. Truly. But I owe you an apology too. I shouldn't have pushed you or made assumptions about your feelings. I got caught up in the moment and didn't consider how overwhelming it might be for you."

"No, Carlos, you were right," you shook your head, squeezing his hand. "I do run away when things get too real. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to myself either."

You paused, gathering your courage. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure Carlos must be able to hear it. "The truth is, I care about you. A lot. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time. And that terrifies me."

Carlos moved closer, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. The tenderness in his touch almost undid you. "Why does it terrify you, mi amor?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours.

You leaned into his touch, feeling tears prick at your eyes. The vulnerability of the moment was almost overwhelming, but you forced yourself to continue. "Because I'm not used to feeling this vulnerable. I've always prided myself on being independent, on not needing anyone. It's been my armor, my way of protecting myself. But with you… you see parts of me that I don't show anyone else. You've managed to slip past all my defenses, and it scares me how much I want to let you in completely."

Carlos listened intently, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as you spoke. His warmth, his steady presence, made the walls you had built around yourself seem almost unnecessary.

"It's okay to be scared, hermosa. I understand why you feel like you need to protect yourself. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I’m here, and I want to be here for you, with you."

Your heart swelled at his words, and despite the vulnerability, a small part of you felt lighter, freer. "I’ve never let anyone get this close before," you admitted. "But I don’t want to keep running, Carlos. I don’t want to keep pushing you away."

Carlos smiled softly, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "I don’t want you to run, either. I want us to be together, whatever comes next. But only if that’s what you want."

You exhaled shakily, emotions swirling inside you like a storm. "It is what I want," you said, your voice firm but laced with emotion. "I want to be with you. I’m tired of being scared of something that could be so good."

A look of pure relief crossed Carlos' face, and he pulled you into his arms. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, feeling his heart beating steadily under your cheek. His arms wrapped around you tightly, as if he were afraid you might disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, answering the unspoken fear that lingered between you both.

Carlos kissed the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that."

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest, "I promise I'll change, I'll be-"

"Mi amor," Carlos interrupted softly, "I don't want to change you. I fell for you exactly as you are—stubborn, brilliant, and fiercely independent. Those are the qualities that drew me to you in the first place."

You couldn't help but smile at that, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Even when I was being a pain in your ass?" you asked, a hint of your usual sass creeping into your voice.

"Especially then," he chuckled, the sound warming you from the inside out. "You know, even when we were at each other's throats, I was always drawn to you. I wanted to know you better, to understand what made you such a firecracker."

"Really?" you asked, surprised.

"Really," he confirmed, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Besides, you were infuriatingly attractive when you were angry. The way your eyes would flash, the flush on your cheeks… it took everything in me not to kiss you right then and there sometimes."

You felt a familiar warmth spreading across your cheeks at Carlos' words, but you couldn't help the playful smirk that tugged at your lips. "Oh, so that's why you were always trying to rile me up, huh? And here I thought you were just being an insufferable little bitch."

"Ah, there's the Piastri I know," Carlos threw his head back in laughter. "I was wondering when your sharp tongue would make an appearance."

"You love it," you teased, feeling more like yourself than you had in days.

"I do," he admitted, his eyes twinkling.

Carlos' gaze dropped to your lips. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn't want to. Not anymore.

Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he was still afraid you might run. But as you responded, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, filled with all the emotions you had both been holding back.

When you finally pulled apart, Carlos rested his forehead against yours. "I meant every word I said," he murmured. "I'm serious about this. I want to make this work."

You took a deep breath, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now. "I'm serious too, Carlos. It scares me how much I want this, but… I want to be with you."

The smile that broke across Carlos' face was radiant. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again.

"You're still my little bitch after all," you couldn't help but laugh as you parted.

"When are you going to change that to something more romantic, hmm?" Carlos rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. "'Mi amor,' perhaps? Or 'cariño'?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I failed Spanish in high school?" you rolled your eyes back at him. "And I thought you liked it when I called you that. Didn't you say once that it turned you on?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that statement," he said with a grin. "But how about this—you can call me your 'little bitch' if you want, but I get to call you my girlfriend. Deal?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the word 'girlfriend.' It should have scared you, but instead, it filled you with warmth.

"Deal," you agreed, pulling him in for another kiss.

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ynpiastri fitting 💋

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username1 OMGGGG

username2 ICONIC

alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂😂😂

username3 WHOS THE BOYFRIENDDDD

logansargeant Is this who I think it is? 👀

↳ ynpiastri little bitches everywhere

username4 THATS CARLOS CONFIRMED

username5 CARLOSYN PAINZ 😩

landonorris BITCH FINALLY

↳ username1 i bet lando manifested this

nicolepiastri We been knew since Singapore 2023, by the way

↳ ynpiastri MUM 😩

↳ username2 I LOVE YOU NICOLE PIASTRI

carlossainz55 ❤️

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The Hungarian Grand Prix had been a whirlwind of emotions. The entire paddock was still buzzing with excitement over Oscar's maiden Formula 1 victory.

Your little brother had driven the race of his life, leading most of the laps to take the checkered flag. The memory of him standing on the top step of the podium, eyes glistening with tears of joy as the Australian national anthem played, was one you'd cherish forever. The pride you felt was indescribable - your baby brother, the kid you'd watched grow up and chase his dreams, was now a Grand Prix winner.

It had been three blissful weeks since you and Carlos had officially become a couple. After your heartfelt conversation at your apartment, you had both taken the time to navigate this new phase of your relationship, and it had been everything you could have hoped for.

Telling your close friends and family was the easy part. Lando practically squealed with delight, Oscar and Carlos had a nice chat, and of course, Nicole Piastri, a fan of dragging her own kids, reminded everyone that you failed Spanish in high school multiple times, so Carlos had to make sure to constantly translate for you. The rest of the paddock had quickly caught on, and soon, Carlos Sainz and the eldest Piastri were the talk of the town.

But you didn't mind the attention. Being with Carlos felt so natural and right.

Now, as you sat in the airport waiting for your delayed flight to Monaco, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. Sure, the hours-long delay was less than ideal, but you were surrounded by the people you cared about most, celebrating Oscar's first win with good old fasioned airport McDonalds.

"I can't believe Oscar got his first win," Lando exclaimed, already halfway through a Big Mac. "That's crazy, mate."

"I know, I still can't believe it," Oscar beamed, "It hasn't really sunk in yet."

You reached over to give your brother's arm an affectionate squeeze. "I'm so proud of you, Osc. You deserve it."

"Thanks, sister. Couldn't have done it without your support all these years."

"Oh, come on," you teased, "I didn't drive that car. That was all you out there."

"Yeah, but you've always been there," Oscar insisted, his voice softening. "Through the karting days, the junior formulas, all of it. It means a lot."

You felt a lump form in your throat, touched by your brother's words. You pulled Oscar into a tight hug, blinking back tears of pride and joy. "You're my little brother, Osc. I'll always be in your corner, no matter what."

Oscar returned the embrace, squeezing you tightly. "I know, YN. And I couldn't ask for a better cheerleader."

When you finally pulled apart, you noticed the others watching with fond smiles.

Across the lounge, Carlos was engaged in an animated conversation with Lando, their voices a low hum in the background. You couldn't help but watch him, admiring the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the graceful movement of his hands as he gesticulated. Even in casual clothes, hair slightly mussed from the long day, he took your breath away.

As if sensing your gaze, Carlos looked up, his eyes meeting yours. The soft smile that spread across his face sent a flutter through your chest. You patted the empty spot next to you on the couch, a silent invitation. He nodded, excusing himself from his conversation with Lando, which couldn't help but tease about the two of you being codependent now.

"Missing me already, mi amor?" Carlos teased as he approached.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't keep the smile off your face. "Don't flatter yourself, Sainz. I just didn't want you to strain your neck looking over here every five seconds."

Carlos chuckled as he sat down next to you, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "Ah, but how can I resist when the view is so beautiful?"

You snuggled into his side, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. "Smooth talker," you murmured, but there was no bite to your words.

"Only for you, hermosa," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, watching as the sun began to set through the large windows. The quiet was occasionally punctuated by laughter from where Oscar, Alex, and Lando were playing some sort of card game.

"How are you feeling?" you asked Carlos softly, noticing the slight droop to his shoulders.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Tired," he admitted. "It's been a long few weeks. But happy," he added, squeezing you gently. "Very happy."

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I'm glad. You drove amazingly this weekend, you know."

"Thank you," Carlos leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. "It means a lot coming from you."

Carlos let out a contented sigh, his hand coming up to cover yours where it rested on his cheek. "I can't wait for the summer break, you know?" he murmured. "Just you and me, in Mallorca. No distractions, no obligations..." he turned his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm, his gaze holding yours. "I've been looking forward to it for weeks. Getting you all to myself, finally."

"That sounds perfect," you sighed happily. "Though I hope your plans also include plenty of time for just lounging around and doing absolutely nothing."

"Of course, whatever you want, hermosa."

"Whatever I want, huh?" you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye. "That's a dangerous offer, Sainz."

"I think I can handle whatever you throw at me, Piastri," he grinned, leaning in closer.

You were about to reply when a french fry hit you squarely on the forehead. You turned to see Oscar looking at you with mock disgust.

"Seriously, you two? We're right here," he groaned.

"Oh, like you and Lily aren't just as bad," you retorted, throwing the fry back at him.

Oscar caught it mid-air, popping it into his mouth with a grin. "At least we have the decency to be gross in private."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to see you all lovey-dovey," Lando chimed in.

"Shut up, Lando," you rolled your eyes, "I seem to recall you being the one who was pushing for this whole thing in the first place."

"Yeah, well," Lando shrugged, "I'm starting to think I preferred it when Carlos thought you were insufferable and you called him a 'little bitch'."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, glancing over at Carlos and pecking his cheek. "Oh, I still do."

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liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri 403,664 others

ynpiastri my little brother, the grand prix winner 🥺

oscar, watching you stand on that top step today brought tears to my eyes. i still remember the day you left for boarding school to chase your racing dreams. i felt like i was losing my little brother, and a piece of my heart went with you.

but seeing you now, living your dream and achieving what so many thought impossible, all i can feel is an overwhelming sense of pride. you've grown into an incredible man and driver, but you'll always be that kid who used to steal my snacks and beg me to play race cars with him.

your journey hasn't been easy, through every challenge, every setback, you kept pushing. and now, here you are, a grand prix winner, battling with the best (and occasionally a spaniard little bitch 😩)

you've grown so much, but some things never change. like how we're celebrating this monumental victory - stuck in an airport, chowing down on mcdonald's.

i love you so much, little bro ❤️

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris, carlossainz55, landonorris, alex_albon

view all 4,648 comments

username1 im SOBBING this is so beautiful

username2 THE PIASTRI SIBLINGS ARE JUST TOO PURE

mclaren 🧡

nicolepiastri 🥲🥲🥲

username3 AHHH THE PICTURE OF HER AND CARLOS IN THE PLANE I CANT

username4 this is too pure as an eldest daughter im sobbing

username5 PAINZ CONFIRMED

carlossainz55 ❤️

↳ username1 he only comments hearts come on bro

username6 THE LANDOSCAR PIC🥺

oscarpiastri Sis, you've got me tearing up in the middle of this crowded airport. Your support has been the backbone of my journey, and I couldn't have done this without you. You've worn so many hats - cheerleader, mentor, occasional bodyguard (those Twitter wars were something else 😂 but look at you and Carlos now). But most importantly, you've been my rock. When Mum and Dad couldn't be there because of work, you stepped up. You've been my third parent in every way that counts. So yeah, we might be stuck in an airport eating McDonald's right now, but I wouldn't want to share this moment with anyone else. You're the best sister and 'bonus parent' a guy could ask for.

↳ ynpiastri bitch stop it my therapist has enough issues to deal with (ILYSM)

↳ username1 SHES SO REAL

↳ username2 OSCAR CONFIRMING CARLOS-YN

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TWITTER

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The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in oranges, pinks, and purples. The water was gently hitting the side of the yacht, making a calming sound. This peaceful feeling matched the quiet mood around you and Carlos.

You were sprawled out on the deck, lounging on plush cushions as the warm Mallorcan breeze caressed your skin. Carlos lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"You're staring," you murmured, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Carlos didn't even try to deny it. "How can I not?" he replied, his voice low and husky. "You're breathtaking, mi amor."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, still not entirely used to the way Carlos could make you feel with just a few words. "Flatterer," you teased, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly in contentment. When he opened them again, the look he gave you was filled with such warmth and adoration that it made your heart skip a beat.

"It's not flattery if it's true," Carlos insisted, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

You couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you as his lips trailed up your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Carlos," you breathed, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver through you. "Yes, hermosa?"

"Kiss me," you demanded softly, tugging him closer.

Carlos was more than happy to oblige, capturing your lips in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. You lost yourself in the sensation, in the taste of him, in the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

When you finally broke apart, Carlos rested his forehead against yours. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, his accent thicker than usual.

"Good. That's the plan," you grinned

Carlos groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "You'll be the death of me, Piastri."

"But what a way to go," you quipped, running your hands down his back.

He chuckled against your skin, the sound sending pleasant vibrations through you. "Indeed."

As Carlos lifted his head to look at you again, something caught your eye over his shoulder. Squinting slightly, you realized what it was and couldn't help but let out a small sigh.

"What is it?" Carlos asked, noticing the change in your expression.

"Don't look now, but we've got company," you said, nodding slightly towards the distance. "Paparazzi, about a hundred meters out."

Carlos groaned, dropping his head back to your shoulder. "Can't we have one moment of peace?"

You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair. "Hey, it's okay. We knew this was part of the deal."

"I know. I just… I want to keep you all to myself sometimes."

The possessiveness in his tone sent a thrill through you. "Well," you said, a mischievous glint in your eye, "if they're going to intrude on our privacy anyway, we might as well give them something to see."

Before Carlos could react, you pulled him down for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, and decidedly more public-friendly than your previous ones. When you pulled back, Carlos looked slightly dazed.

"Dios mio, your family is going to see those," he shook his head, "What will Nicole Piastri think of me? Oscar will run me off the track, too."

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Oh, please. My mum adores you, and you know it. As for Oscar, well… he'll just have to get used to it," you shrugged, "He was the one who encouraged this to happen anyway."

Carlos only shook his head with a smile, pulling you in for another kiss, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, feeling his skin against yours.

When you finally broke apart, Carlos's eyes were soft, "Te quiero," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with emotion.

You couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "I failed Spanish, remember?" you teased gently, your heart racing in your chest.

Carlos's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back. "I think you know what that means," he replied, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I love you too, you little bitch."

Carlos let out a dramatic groan, but the affection in his expression was unmistakable. "I should have known the sappiness wouldn't last."

"Hey, you signed up for this," you teased, poking him playfully in the chest. "Might as well accept it."

Pulling you close, Carlos pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "Gladly, mi amor. Gladly."

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liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 476,458 others

ynpiastri he’s still a little bitch 😚

tagged: carlossainz55

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username1 AHHHH

username2 THIS HARD LAUCH

alexandrasaintmleux love to see you happy my girl 🥰

lilyzneimer 💓💓

username3 THIS is enemies to lovers

username4 i still can’t believe they’re together 😭 THEY HATED EACH OTHER

georgerussell63 WELL FINALLY

↳ alex_albon For real

↳ username1 THE ENTIRE GRID JUST KNEW

↳ ynpiastri why are all of you so damn nosy

↳ pierregasly Or you and Carlos were too obvious

↳ charles_leclerc 😂😂😂😂😂

oscarpiastri Yup, this is weird

↳ username1 OSCARRRR

oscarpiastri However, I’m really happy for you sister ❤️

↳ ynpiastri ily little indirect matchmaker

carlossainz55 You’ll never stop calling me that, won’t you hermosa?

↳ ynpiastri NEVERRR MY LITTLE BITCH FOR LIFE

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unequivocallyreid · 9 days

Text

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #fic rec #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #friends to lovers #friends to enemies to lovers #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic rec

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ybklix · 2 months

Text

homewrecker!

★ pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader x lee minho part two

✦summary: The summer you thought would be boring, starts to become entertaining once you meet two beautiful mature men with whom you look forward to having fun for a while, Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Minho, whose perfect lives with wives and children become entangled in their own downfall as they fail to control themselves with your sweet and wicked game of seduction.

♡ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, bit angst, dilf hyunjin & minho, sub!hyunjin, dom!miho, cheating, age gap, sugar daddy, oral sex, masturbation, fingering, grinding, pet names (some dreg), kinks: breeding, daddy, unprotected sex, creampie, mention of spanking, slapping.

₊ ⊹ word count: 17.7k

masterlist - taglist ⭑.ᐟ

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ NOTES: nerd hyunjin from mountains mv as main inspo of his looks!!

miniplaylist: she by harry styles / cola by lana del rey / homewrecker by marina / older by isabel larosa

a/n: thinking about nerdy dilf hyunjin since this post of mine hehe & added minho for more fun lol EDIT: this extended too much, sorry, so I decided to split it in a part 2♡

divider by youre-ackermine

Everything started in that summer, a messy and unforgettable summer where you explored lands of desire, madness, passion, and lust.

You never thought spending the summer at your older sister’s house with her newly formed family would be so much fun, you were in paradise, surrounded by attractive mature men who lost their sanity with your slightest affection and youth; Hwang Hyunjin as a private tutor, Lee Minho as your neighbor, two men whose mid-life crisis went off in a war against themselves by not knowing how to control themselves with your sweet and perverse game of flirting, which you were not going to stop until you obtained your goal, no matter obstacles in the way, like their perfect lives, families and wives, you just wanted to have some fun. You never took it seriously, just some good sex, until the circumstances changed, sometimes not always for good reasons…

It all started, to be exact, on a Friday afternoon when your older sister picked you up from one of your friend’s house, where you stayed after leaving your college dorm for the summer. To be honest, you had two options: go to your parents’ house in your small town for the break, where you would be forced to take any job, or spend it at your sister’s big new house with her very well-behaved 7-year-old stepson and her husband, who was offering you a chance to visit his workplace sometimes, which was more than a dream since Mr. Bahng was a well-known and respected prosecutor and would feed your knowledge in your degree. The second option sounded pretty good for you, plus you’d be very useful to Missy, your sister, by taking care of little Chase, Bahng Chan’s son, from time to time.

You didn’t see anything wrong with the situation, you adored your sister even though she was a few years older than you, you were best friends without a problem, so you knew you wouldn’t have a dull moment, at least not all the time. Missy met Bahng Chan when she was 24 and studying for her graduate degree, Chan was then, her professor, 32 years old, a year divorced with an also 1 year old son, somehow, they fell in love and, Missy who for her motherhood was not an option, had no plans to conceive or adopt, accepted Chan just like that. They dated for four years, you knew Chan since you were younger, he was absolutely part of the family; they finally married two years ago and just last summer Chan bought a house in one of the nicest neighborhoods, moving in with her and him, and on special occasions when he had full care of his son.

To everyone’s good fortune, Chase was an adorable little boy identical to Chan, causing your sister so much tenderness as she watched him grow up that even on a couple of occasions her mentality was altered by wanting to conceive Chan’s child. Still, Chase was a little nerd, he loved school, he was too smart, and at his young age he had a life plan to get into the best college in the country —which you knew it wouldn’t be hard for him, seeing the kind of influences and contacts his father had—, but everyone knew he could make it on his own merit; he was of course at the top of his class and school, active, he played sports, he had a love of technology and above all, he was pure and very well disciplined. Missy and Chan would have him all to themselves the entire summer.

“Well, welcome, you already know which room is yours, oh, I didn’t ask if you were hungry” spoke your sister, closing the large door behind her.

“Mmm, I don’t think you cooked anything” you jokingly replied.

“No, but you can order something" she replied obviously, playing along, “If you want I’ll pay for it.”

“Thank you, Miss, I’m fine for now. Where’s Chase?”

“Mmm… I think he’s in his room.”

You left your things in the extra room you were going to stay in and headed animatedly to greet the little boy. His door was already half open, so you decided to slowly walk in.

“Chaseee” you chirped.

You could hear the sounds of video games from his television and when you were finally inside you confirmed that it was little Chase playing, however, he was not alone. You saw the attractive back of a slender man with long black hair sitting on the boy’s bed. As soon as Chase jumped up to hug you, he turned around revealing an attractive clean face done to perfection, bushy straight eyebrows, sharp dark eyes, accompanied by rectangular glasses, a slightly prominent nose, and full lips. He smiled at you, his gaze and smile were warm, and he stood up from his place, putting the console aside and walking towards you.

“Hello, auntie Y/n” Chase greeted you adorably.

You were so engrossed in reading the man with your eyes that you barely noticed that Chase had paused his game to go over and hug you, you returned the gesture, still standing and only hunching your posture slightly to gently rest your arms on him.

“Hi, Chase” you greeted him animatedly, looking at him quickly and returning your gaze to the man, who now stood before you.

Up close he looked a little better. He dressed a little unusual, making him look a little nerdy, but something about his look and gaze radiated so much confidence as if he knew how incredibly handsome he was. His black hair was slicked back, leaving free little strands that fell gracefully towards his face, and he looked so young as his lightly tanned skin was so smooth, but at the same time, you could tell he was someone older than you. He was tall and his limbs were long, his arms, his fingers, his legs in those black pants of a washed-out denim, baggy on his body, a collared shirt of a soft, thick gray fabric with the designer’s name on the pocket detail, giving the appearance of wearing another button-down collared shirt of red and white grid patterns, watch on his wrist and a thin necklace decorating his slightly bare chest; he looked good, too good for your taste, it felt good just to look at him.

“Ah, Aunt Y/n, this is my Uncle Hyunjin” the little boy spoke again.

“Nice to meet you, Hwang Hyunjin” finally said the man in front of you.

He sounded young, and had a unique voice that rumbled inside you. He didn’t stop looking at you either, almost as if he was mesmerizing you as well. He extended his right hand, you saw his large limb before shaking it, enjoying his light squeeze.

“Nice to meet you, too” you replied, trying to hide your huge grin, smiling downwards.

“Ah, you must be Y/n, Missy’s little sister, right?” he was quick to say, to which you nodded, unable to speak, but you had to, something in your nature wanted to flirt with him, “I’m a close friend of Chan’s and I come here for a few days in the afternoons as a private tutor for Chase.”

Hyunjin thought in those moments that you were not so little after all, you were quite a young woman and he felt the need to explain to you what he was doing there, in fact he felt the need to talk to you, you were a fresh and pretty young woman, you sparked in him the curiosity to talk further; regret came later for him, as he read your subtle bright look, implying that you were also interested. Hyunjin was older and knew every move of the game perfectly, so he blinked suddenly, coming out of his trance as he recognized that you were beginning to arouse in him curiosity for another woman, when he was happily married for almost a decade to the love of his life and they had two beautiful children.

You didn’t know what to reply, your brain was working fast to respond instantly to the handsome man, Chan’s friend; however, the little boy interrupted.

“Oh yes, auntie Y/n, Uncle Hyunjin is the best, he teaches me physics and math and also loves computers. He’s a biomedical engineer with a PhD, don’t tell anyone but he’s my favorite uncle” Chase spoke quickly, impressing you that the whole academic area was very important to him at his young age.

Hyunjin laughed softly, lowering his gaze to look more tenderly at the boy with a very cute smile traced on his face, his cheeks lifted and his eyes narrowed more, you thought he was adorable too. Seconds later, before anyone else could speak, footsteps could be heard down the stairs and a booming, animated, “Heyy, mate, where are you my champ?” in Chan’s distinctive voice.

The man entered his son’s room with a huge smile narrowing his eyes, “There you are, my boy” he said happily, seeing his mini-me version of himself and his purest creation.

“Oh, hi, daddy!” ran Chase to hug him.

Chan squatted down to better embrace his son, looked up and said:

“Oh, hi everyone” Chan extended his hand, greeting you and Hyunjin, with a shy smile.

You smiled back, you had to admit that Chan was always a very attractive and well conserved man for his age, he was a good man, he loved his son, his wife and he had to wear a suit almost every day that looked great on his muscular body, no doubt they were both lucky, because your sister was extremely careful with her appearance and she was a dream, a prosperous and sexy woman in her thirties, childless and with a professional career.

“Alright, lil’ mate, enough video games, go play outside” Chan commented softly to Chase, watching his face tenderly and still holding him.

“Will you play with me, daddy?” he replied, eyes sparkling.

“How about you let me change my clothes and then I’ll go to play with you right away, okay? You can play with Hyunjin.”

Chan looked at him, stood up and Chase turned to look in the direction of the two of you.

“And with aunty Y/n, too!” exclaimed the little boy.

“Alright, she can play too” Chan replied in a tired sigh, loosening his tie more, making him look effortlessly attractive, “Go with Missy so she can put some sunscreen on you before you go out.”

“Oh, I can do it” you replied at once, to which Chan whispered a soundless thank you, leaving his son’s room.

And again you were alone with Hyunjin… and Chase. You were slightly nervous, you had never stood like that in front of a boy, but you thought it was perhaps because you were very sure that Hyunjin was not a boy, but a man and you had never witnessed such a unique beauty as his. Hyunjin placed his hands in his pockets, also wandering in his thoughts, distracting himself from thinking about you and waiting for you to finish putting sunscreen on the little boy.

But Hyunjin couldn’t help it, his problem was always that he imagined too much, he loved to do it, it was his gift and curse at the same time, he was a bit delusional and kept fantasizing about how old you were, if you had a boyfriend, what year of college you were in, what your major was; because all he knew about you so far was your name, that you were the little sister of the wife of one of his best friends and that you were studying at the university. But it felt so wrong to have an interest in another woman. Normally he is not like that, he’s kind of shy but he has to socialize in his work from now and then, and he does it with female colleagues, he asks them about their life, he eats with them together sometimes, with another of his colleagues, in his lunch break, he texts them without concern when it’s something work related, he wishes them happy birthday… but feeling interest in you somehow felt so heavy and so wrong to him… and he recognized deep down that it was because of the fact that he found you attractive, so those two things combined, just resulted in Hyunjin’s light flirting, something he hadn’t done in years, at least not to impress or get the attention of any woman other than his dearest and most beloved Yeji.

Hyunjin was a romantic, he could be a bit of a nerd but he loved living a glamorous life, money, travel and love; so he goes through life quietly, exploring and living all kinds of experiences and, he comes to recognize when another woman is beautiful to him, but then he just moves on, remembering that there is no one more beautiful than the woman who wakes up in his arms every day, but for him… feelings are extremely important, he lives on hunches and feelings… and something deep down inside him is hard for him or he thinks it will be, to just let it go just like that, getting rid of you.

You played a little soccer in the sunshine together with Chase and Hyunjin, but quit as soon as Chan joined them, exaggeratedly pretending to be exhausted and shouting ‘time out!’ over and over again, just to get out of the situation, making the two men laugh, and made Hyunjin find you adorable, thinking you had a very cute relationship with Chase. You weren’t like that with all the kids, most of the time you didn’t know how to treat them, except for Chan’s boy, who was someone very special and smart and you almost saw him grow up too.

You entered the house, heading to the kitchen for some water, you already knew the place very well, you had stayed there a couple of times, Chan always reminds you that you are more than welcome and you know the pure kindness of your brother-in-law in his actions and words.

You took a napkin to wipe the light sweat from your brow and stood there, enjoying your refreshing water and the coolness of the house from the air conditioning everywhere. But your tranquility was disturbed when you saw that Chan’s handsome friend also entered the kitchen, confidently grabbing orange juice from the refrigerator. He walked over to you without thinking, standing next to you, with his glass in hand and finally taking a sip of the juice.

You thought everything about him in seconds, as you watched him slyly do the deed: his long fingers intertwining in the glass cup making it small held by him, his eyes closing softly as he directed the glass to his plumpy lips, his long neck and Adam’s apple moving as he drank, the ends of his hair slightly damp with sweat, everything about him was wow, the scene passed so slowly, you wanted this man, you were so determined and pumped up, until something shiny dazzled all your hopes away. As he lowered the glass from his mouth you noticed a ring on his finger, an important ring that indicated he was a taken man, belonging to someone else.

Hyunjin didn’t notice or acknowledge your displeasure, so he just continued with his questions, with a slightly guilty but bright smile on his face, convincing himself that he only wanted to ask about you, out of kindness, and not because he was really interested…

“Mmm… and you came to visit Missy?”

You turned to stare at him, you couldn’t do it because it made you nervous, but at the same time you just wanted to watched him over and over, you were embarrassed because you had a million of not-so-nice thoughts about a married man. You thought you should have seen it coming, Chan is 38, and his friends should be around that age, but he... something about him still remained so young, but it was to be expected that a man that handsome in his thirties would be married, more so with that shy, nerdy look; but something about you wanted to read him as a mature man, single, living life by visiting the children of his friends who did have children… your brain spun around, thinking if Hyunjin had children too and who was the type of person waiting for him at home.

“Oh, something like that, but I’ll stay here for the summer if that’s what you’re asking” you replied, as normally as possible.

“Ah…I see” he couldn’t have been happier to know that there was a possibility of seeing you often, “I’ll be teaching a few days a week for Chase, like a summer course… I guess, I’ll see you around.”

His slight change in tone, his look… you couldn’t process the fact that he might be flirting with you. You decided to give him back his vibe, you knew it was wrong, unbelievably wrong and that you’d be internally calling yourself a slut for the rest of the week, but you leaned back slightly more comfortably on the edge of the kitchen counter, smiling:

“So… what are you doing here? I assume your work is hard.”

He released a chuckle.

“It is to those who don’t enjoy it. I’m head of the whole department so, that has its perks” he hissed softly and smugly.

Hyunjin licked his lips, smiling and checking you out completely, giving you chills and now without any doubt he was flirting with you. Once again he used a slightly smug tone as did his expression, you couldn’t believe it, your body temperature began to rise… no doubt this was a man telling you that he basically did what he wanted and that he was the one in charge.

“Oh, I see, biomedical engineer you said? Well… said little Chase, it must be very interesting, really.”

Hyunjin took another sip of his juice, finishing it completely, staring at you as he licked his lips again, this time less casually and more sensually, savoring every last taste of the sweet but sour juice.

“What’s your major?”

“Law” you wobbled softly in place, approaching him smoothly.

“Oh, just like Chan and your sister” he spoke interestedly, raising his eyebrows, to which you nodded, shyly, “What year are you in?”

“Third.”

“Ah, I see, you’ve been in college for a while now… at this point I want to assume you like it, huh.”

Hyunjin thought eighteen plus three, giving you the sweet age of 21, if you had already turned it, he thought what a very nice number, it seemed like a number that had no limits… you were free, young and beautiful, able to do anything. Or you could be 22, 23, either was fine for him, he felt comfortable talking to you.

You made a grimace, your mouth slightly pouting, a sign that you doubted it, which made him laugh, a laugh so cute that you almost forgot that he was a completely taken man.

“Well… I like it but it has its moments…”

“I guess it’s hard, you should never underestimate any major…” Hyunjin was just about to tell you something from him in college, but he held back, the last thing he wanted was for you to see him as an old man, as the age difference was slightly considerate, over a decade gap, that he was sure of, while you were playing and probably around Chase’s age, he was in college and dating his current wife, “But hey, I see you did great this semester, you’re already here relaxing a bit…”

You looked into his eyes the whole time, each time you were getting closer and closer until both of your bodies were getting tighter and tighter together, almost sticking your blouse in the waistband of his pants, it was as if you both enjoyed seeing each other. This time you looked at him, innocent, with shining bambi eyes, raising your gaze because he was taller than you, tilting your head and running your tongue along the inside of your cheek. Hyunjin had to resist, clenched his left fist, and almost fell to his knees, in pity; he had never seen, he thought, such bright eyes, such a unique gaze in which he could see his anguished reflection of a distressed older man grieving, eagerly wanting to take your young body and pin you against the wall, screaming and scolding you to stop looking at him like that just now or…. he could fall, he was doing it, his gaze lowered to your lips, shiny from the water you were drinking, he didn’t know what was wrong with him, he hated it, but the feeling of wanting someone was filling him again, suddenly he felt all his blood rushing through his body, he was so alive again.

You were about to talk, to ask him meaningless empty questions that you knew he would be compelled to answer you… because his worried expression spoke for itself. He was so frustrated you almost wanted to squeeze his soft cheeks, telling him he looks a little tender when he’s needy.

Thoughts were betraying Hyunjin so much, it was like his final day where a little devil was whispering all sorts of things in his ear, and the little angel on his other shoulder had completely abandoned him. His body tensed, if only you could read his thoughts… you might be able to judge how dirty he was. He felt filthy, a dirty married man lusting after a college girl, as if there was no other cliché.

You liked seeing him like that, you didn’t really do anything elaborate yet, you were perplexed to think it would work so fast, you just gave him your best innocent look asking for sex, your best fuck me eyes, and the man almost trembled in front of you. But you took it as a game, as much as you wanted to fulfill his every fantasy and whatever he was thinking, as much as you were dying to get down on your knees right there and give him a blowjob… he was married and god, you studied law you knew the huge controversy about adultery backwards and forwards, you couldn’t do it, even though something deep down inside tingled in you, besides your throbbing clit trapped in your panties.

Just as the thoughts were about to have a fatal effect on Hyunjin’s body, Chan and Chase interrupt you, breaking the tension and making you slide down the kitchen island to get away from the dangerous distance you were with Hyunjin.

“Daddy, let me sleep over at Suho’s house, please!” the boy exclaimed, entering the kitchen with his father in the back.

“Go wash up and get your things ready, I’ll talk to your Uncle Minho to tell him if you can stay.”

You and Hyunjin remained silent, Hyunjin pushed up his glasses with a single finger, nervous and agitated, with his hands resting on the counter, crestfallen and embarrassed, about to be caught doing something improper; you on your own part were calm, watching Hyunjin’s expression with amusement, he was almost on the verge of tears. He cleared his throat, drawing the attention of Chan who watched him with a raised eyebrow in confusion.

“I have to go” Hyunjin suddenly spoke, his voice thick.

Oh, it was just starting to get good and create tension, you thought, disappointed, but you were comforted to see Chan agitated and sweaty in a sleeveless shirt, his strong arms and veins detonating; you couldn’t help it, you were just a girl with judgment and critical thinking, you admired your sister for getting someone very handsome.

“Oh, sure, Hyunjin, see you later.”

“Ah, yeah sure” he started to say nervously, avoiding looking at you, “Let Chase know I left, see you in a bit with rest of the guys… Bye, Y/n” he mentioned again a little awkward and more shy.

You smiled at the idea that he was so hard to read, he was confident, but then suddenly seemed so shy and clumsy, anyway, you thought that whoever he was married to, they were so lucky to have Hwang Hyunjin every day, while you… had him for the moment, just slightly wrapped around your finger, but you were sure it was a little slip and burst of lust, that he would go home with his partner and try to forget it all.

And he left, that time being the first time you met Hwang Hyunjin, an afternoon that moved every part of his world and left him thinking until his thoughts became a headache. Finally, he did exactly what you thought, he wanted to evade the guilt and his near slip. He came home, being greeted by the greatest loves of his life, his two sons, four and two years old, and his wife, who sweetly asked him how it went at Chan’s house, kissed him, and told him she had his clothes ready to wear for the night out with his friends later, without the slightest idea of what happened. Hyunjin knew the millions of opportunities he almost had, and a lot of women approaching him, but he was more shy and did not pay attention to them, he only had eyes and heart for Yeji… But now, how did he explain himself. He almost cried, however, he decided to release all those feelings and frustration by trying to make love to his wife, without success, it was relatively early for the kids to sleep and they were not giving them enough privacy; Hyunjin then remembered… they had gone weeks without intimacy with Yeji and sex was very important to him, they used to be so active and sexual, always on top of each other… but now, the last sexual encounter with the love of his life was when he gave her oral sex one morning before their kids woke up. He loved her, every part of her was delicious to him, and he knew her like a map by heart… yet the most typical frustration of a man ached in the deepest part of his being, not having sex. That night Hyunjin cried in the shower, masturbating thinking of you, and got ready, feeling pathetic when he still had it all, he was handsome, young, successful, and above all, he had time to stop and do things right.

You, on the other hand, stayed in to watch a movie with Missy, both of you relaxing, until little Chase went to disturb your peace a little.

“I’m off to Suho’s house now,” he warned.

Missy grimaced slightly, not wanting to go drop the little one off at the Lee’s house.

“Won’t your daddy drop you off?” asked Missy softly.

“Daddy’s still getting ready.”

“Ahh, I see, Y/n, take him,” your sister ordered you, causing you to be a little awed, but you couldn’t say no to the tender wobbly silhouette of Chase, all ready with a backpack on his back that Chan helped him sort out, “It’s here with the neighbors on the left.”

You smiled at Chase and got up from the couch to join him, he hurried off, leaving Chan’s property and heading for his friend’s house. It was getting dark, but there was still some light. You were surprised to see the house, thinking damn, little Suho must have a lot of money, or at least his parents, you had never paid attention to the rest of the houses, besides most of them were private properties, like Chase’s friend’s, he animatedly told you the code in secret so the gate could open, giving the view of a mansion… you knew the neighborhood was exclusive and Chan’s house was impressive, but this one you saw was much better.

You both walked to the door, now you knew why Chase couldn’t go alone, it was a few minutes walk despite being neighbors. You rang the doorbell, waiting a little over a minute for them to open.

“Oh, aunt, you’ll really like Suho!”

“Oh, Chase, I don’t think I’ll be able to stay and meet him…”

And they opened, abruptly, another handsome man, wearing a sleeveless black shirt showing off his strong arms and marked pecs and abs. He looked at you confused, almost in a rude manner, blinking in disbelief not knowing what you were doing on his property since he didn’t know you. Shiny, smooth, straight black hair, perfectly styled, his features were so sharp, sharp straight nose, big round feline eyes and thins lips with his pronounced nasolabial furrow. You thought about how many attractive men you had to see today and, if it was possible it was your lucky day.

“Can I help you…?” he was about to say, somewhat annoyed, frowning and narrowing his eyes.

“Uncle Minho!” greeted Chase, causing the man to lower his gaze and his countenance softened completely.

Minho laughed, hiding his upper lip slightly and showing his teeth.

“Ah, it’s you little Chase, come in, Suho is in his playroom.”

Chase suddenly became shy of Minho’s presence and came in a little embarrassed, being more respectful and less animated, giving you a little wave goodbye, and leaving you and Minho alone. You didn’t know anything about him, you barely even knew his name because Chase mentioned it and he was starting to intimidate you as well, his presence was so heavy but pleasant, his big eyes… if he saw you properly, he could look so kind… but just now he looked a bit unfriendly; even Hyunjin could have a bit more the appearance of a villain, but you couldn’t see him like that, instead Minho, something about him was so overbearing.

“Ah, I came to drop Chase off, I’m Missy’s sister… have a nice night!” you smiled at him, not knowing what to say.

Now Minho found you tender, he had already been impressed when he opened the door and the first thing he saw, as he was in a hurry as if to check through the cameras who it was, was a young girl, with the background of the sky painting itself in colors as night fell, your image was like a divine revelation, like an angel knocking on his door, but he hid the feeling perfectly.

“Wait” he stopped you, a great idea came to him, and you turned around, “What will you do today?” he asked suddenly.

You didn’t know how to answer, to which he continued, “Ah, it’s just that… would you mind watching Chase and Suho for a moment? And… a little girl. It’s just that my wife and I have to go out…”

You felt your luck crumble once you heard him say he had a wife, although of him you were ready any time he mentioned it, something about him was so domestic, it was obvious, to you, that he screamed husband material. Besides… a mansion to have it by himself with his son didn’t sit very well with you. Now you understood that it was about him, his wife and two children, Sunho and a girl.

“Do you want me to tell Chan or Missy to see if they agree or…?” he spoke again when he got no answer,

“Oh no, it’s okay, sure, I’ll do it.”

He smiled broadly, looking incredibly attractive, you didn’t know if you liked Hyunjin or Minho more, either one, it was a forbidden little crush, that you hoped wouldn’t pass into anything more than from your own thoughts, you weren’t that crazy and cynical, right?

“Thank you! It’ll only be a couple of hours. I’ll pay you, obviously” he said letting you in to which you nodded and entered, “Suho!!! Come here” he shouted, scaring you a little, being all fatherly, “What did you say your name was?” he asked you softly in contrast to his previous shout, standing next to you.

“Y/n.”

Minho looked you straight in the eyes and nodded, within seconds Suho and Chase appeared in front of you, and your nephew smiled happily at you waiting for the news.

“Y/n is going to take care of you tonight. Be good boys and take care of yourselves and obey her” said Minho in a serious tone to which they nodded animatedly.

You observed Suho for the first time, he was so similar to Minho, but at the same time, there were some slight differences to him.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Lee Suho” the little guy introduced himself so politely, causing you so much tenderness.

“Nice to meet you, Suho” you said with a smile.

Minho looked at you tenderly, and you deciphered that this was Lee Minho; he hadn’t even introduced himself and you had already said yes so he and his wife could have their moment.

“Go back to the playroom, Y/n will be right there in a minute” he warned, coming out of his trance, you liked hearing him say your name, “I’ll take you to meet Minji, she’s one year old, she’s so smart for her age” Minho spoke adoringly.

He guided you to what seemed to be her room, it was pink but still looked a bit sophisticated for a little girl’s, there were slight elements that gave you hints that it was a little girl’s room; you were impressed in every corner you knew of that house. As you entered you saw a slender woman playing with the little girl, both sitting on the floor.

“Park Suji” Minho spoke to her, a little coldly, catching the woman’s attention.

You noticed how he didn’t refer to her as Lee.

The woman turned around, causing you to finally see her fully and your jaw almost dropped to the floor, internally as on the outside you didn’t react. It was none other than Park Suji, one of the most recognized and highest paid actresses and celebrities, her face was everywhere, it was known that she was married and had two children, but she was extremely careful with her image and kept everything private, the world was dying to know what her children and husband looked like, everyone speculated that she had married a billionaire, but to her fortune, it was the handsome Lee Minho as her husband.

Suji looked at you both expressionlessly, waiting for Minho to speak.

“I got you a temporary babysitter, just for today, she’s Y/n, she won’t say anything, she’s Chan’s wife's sister” Minho explained himself a little frustrated.

Suji smiled broadly, finally hearing good news, she carried the girl and walked quickly in the direction of her husband.

“Thank you so much, honey, I knew you would, I love you,” she replied happily, giving Minho a kiss on the cheek, “Can you take care of Minji? I have to finish getting ready.”

Minho carefully carried his little girl, smiling at her instantly, Minho’s big eyes suddenly shone in adoration, seeing the baby return the gesture of happiness. You looked for brief seconds at Suji, she was so beautiful in person, she made a great pair with Minho, the two of them looked so fucking good together, you didn’t understand why Suji didn’t show him off to the world.

“Hey, my baby, she’s your newest friend, Y/n” Minho baby-talked, consumed with tenderness, making him press his lips together, gently squeezing her chubby arms.

You looked at him fondly, after being intimidating to you, seeing his soft side just because of his little daughter made you tender. Plus he looked fucking handsome with his big bare arms.

“As you can see, my life with Suji is very private, I really want to trust you that you won’t share any information, our children’s names, their appearances, ages…” Minho suddenly spoke seriously, his voice cutting and thick, returning to his intimidating self.

You shook quickly, “Oh, yes, I understand, Mr. Lee” you replied somewhat submissive and scared, making him smile sideways.

“Well, they’re all yours” he said, trying to pass you the little one to hold, but she objected mumbling a soft daddy, “Daddy will play with you, okay? I’ll bring Soonie to you, you want to see Soonie?” you held the little girl finally as she babbled a tiny Soonie, “I have three cats, they’re running around all over the house, I hope you’re not allergic. Well, I’ll finish getting ready and come say goodbye in a moment.”

Minho left in a hurry, leaving you stranded with his little girl in your arms, the little girl was calm and somewhat quiet with a stuffed animal in her arms, you saw her up close, she was completely the female version of Minho.

You didn’t know what to do, it was a bit easy to get lost in the house you didn’t know, but you went to Suho’s playroom, where at first he joked about being a girl-free space and minutes later he started having fun with his sister, who was running and shouting his name over and over again. Then you heard a shout from Minho, calling Suho back, he ran out, alerting him that we were all in his playroom.

Minho walked in, taking your breath away, he looked so casually dressed. He added a leather jacket on top of black sleeveless shirt, silver chains and necklaces with his light blue jeans.

“Okay, you know the emergency numbers and I’ll leave you mine just in case. I’ll be right back.” Minho addressed you.

“Daddy, did mommy leave too?” Suho asked him.

“Didn’t she say goodbye to you?”

Suho softly shook his head with a slight pout and wide eyes, to which you caught a glimpse of Minho annoyed, sighing and rolling his eyes almost disappointed. You passed your cell phone to Minho to type in his number a little nervously, you booked it as Lee Minho. He typed quickly on your cell phone and passed it to you; saying goodbye to all the kids with affection and goodbye to you with a gentle see you later.

Hours passed, you talked to your sister about how you got caught and you couldn’t say no, she laughed and joked about how Chan’s friends were all dilf’s. You gossiped with her a bit, having a celebrity as a neighbor, to which Missy told you that Minho works in an extremely famous entertainment company, which Suji is a part of and from there their love story began.

As it got later in the night you gave them dinner because Suho suddenly wanted pizza, hesitantly you asked Minho by message what his kids were eating, you didn’t want to bother him, but he immediately replied that it was okay to order pizza for the boys, as long as Suji didn’t notice, as she apparently had a healthy diet specifically for their kids; he only helped you a little by telling you what to feed little Minji. Finally getting ready for bed both children, six-year-old Suho, and 7-year-old Chase, completely independent in their routines, put on their pajamas, brushed their teeth, and went to sleep. The real challenge was little Minji who suddenly started crying, you didn’t know what to do, her diaper was clean, she had no fever, and she had eaten well… you were scared for a while, until you put cartoons on her and she managed to calm down little by little, leaning her little body on yours on the couch, where you both fell completely asleep.

You lost track of time and a manly voice calling your name softly woke you up, startling you a little, and the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Minho’s attractive face looking at you carefully and closely. Once you woke up, he pulled away a little, and you felt embarrassed to realize that you had his little daughter cuddled up, sleeping next to you on the couch, thinking what a good job it was to have left her in her comfy bed, but the TV was still playing cartoons.

“Oh, Mr. Lee, I’m sor-”

“It’s okay, I arrived a little later than expected, sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, a little frustrated, you wised up, noticing a relaxed expression on his face and his drooping eyelids, “I imagine Suji hasn’t arrived, right?” this time he slurred his words a little but did his best to sound aligned, you shook and a displeased expression reappeared, “It’s okay, let me take Minji to bed and I’ll come back to you.”

Minho approached his daughter, who whimpered softly as she was moved but instantly recognized her daddy’s strong arms. You were restless waiting, it was almost 3 a.m. and you wanted to sleep. He returned after a few short minutes.

“Did the kids behave well?” he said as he returned, to which you just nodded.

Minho suddenly moaned in a soft groan, “Agh, I drank too much. Y/n, it’s late, do you want to sleep over in the guest room or shall I walk you to Chan’s house? He’s there, we just arrived.”

He stared into your eyes, you felt like a little girl changing houses. Suddenly, the not-so-nice thoughts appeared in your head but now with Minho.

“Will you be alright in the morning?” you mentioned somewhat sheepishly, as you noticed he did look a little drunk.

Minho smiled, “Of course I will.”

“I… I can go to Chan’s house by myself, it’s just a few minutes away…”

He shook his head disapprovingly softly, “Come on, I’ll walk you quickly, everyone’s asleep.”

You made a very good impression on Minho the first time he met you, he thought at least for a few minutes in totality, about you, but then stopped as he got distracted and told himself he has better things to think about. And you, in those short minutes when he walked by your side, you saw him slyly, his hair shone under the light poles illuminating the street and the road, something about him was very different from Hyunjin, as much as you wanted to flirt with him, something stopped you and it wasn’t exactly morals and ethics.

That meeting Minho had with his friends had been chaotic and he learned slightly more about you, when Hyunjin suddenly brought the topic of conversation to the table, you… causing Minho to be immeasurably curious as to how it was that you knew Hyunjin and why you met him before him. Later Hyunjin realized that you were texting each other as you babysat Minho’s children, making a slightly inebriated Hyunjin think about hiring your services as soon as possible just to see you longer.

He finally left you at the door, where he quickly pulled out his wallet to pay you for your very unexpected service. You didn’t know how much a babysitter earned for a night, but you were sure that the amount he was giving you was a bit exaggerated, you tried to tell him, but he refused and before you both could say more, an also slightly drunk Chan opened the door.

“Ah, there you are, Y/n, come in. Goodbye, Minho” you turned to see him, unable to say thank you as Chan had closed the door.

“Sweet dreams” he wished you, leaving with tired steps to his room.

That was the time you met Lee Minho for the first time. There was no need for your intervention for him to start doubting his wife, he had been doing it for months, since Minji was born they started to have problems since Suji always wanted only one child; Minho agreed since it was her body and they would make a nice family anyway, but there was a time when Minho mentioned how much he wished for two since he grew up a bit lonely being an only child and always wondered how it felt to have a real sibling, Suji did not take it seriously and by an accident, she became pregnant with Minji, after four arduous years of taking care of herself after Suho’s birth, however, she did not tell anyone about her pregnancy and was planning on having an abortion, she was already contacting her manager to schedule doctor’s appointments, but that afternoon after taking the pregnancy test, her sister came into her bathroom to find it and getting excited, she congratulated Minho without a second thought. He found out while he was at work and ran to his wife to ask her what was going on, she told him that she refused to keep them, she was about to start filming a show and didn’t want to feel pregnant. Minho had to put up with it and let her do what she wanted, he knew perfectly well that she was not going to listen to him, she was not going to listen to him when he said how much he dreamed of feeling another little one in his arms again and being there for her at any moment, but to Suji’s bad luck, her sister had already told her parents, she was so genuinely happy that she could not contain herself, so Suji, out of intense love and respect for her conservative and religious parents, kept the fetus, but she really didn’t want to, arguing that her body would be deformed, that she was already in a critical situation being in her thirties, that one more pregnancy and birth would destroy her career.

But Suji’s problem was never with Minji, she loved and loves her creation resulting from her loins, sweat and pain… but somehow she took it out on Minho, resulting in endless fights and an incredible lack of communication. Minho didn’t understand, he loved her with a fierce passion… but since Minji’s pregnancy she stopped being the one he loved.

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But after the anguish and pain, a fatal relief came to the tormented souls of those two men. A relief so beautifully short-lived, the first time they both tasted the forbidden fruit, and the first sinner to commit the heinous act of adultery was Hwang Hyunjin.

After a week of getting to know each other, of flirting with him when no one was around, of talking and talking endlessly with certain guilty looks of desire, that’s when it all fell apart. One Saturday, when you let yourself get carried away with pleasure without thinking about the horrible consequences of your actions.

Missy informed you a day before that she would have her first meeting with the wives of their respective husbands, of Chan’s friends and that she felt happy and included, as a new woman; she mentioned that they accepted the invitation and that it was probably only because she was married to Chan and she would invite his close friends with their families. Missy invited you too and you couldn’t deny the opportunity to host a gathering full of mature and incredibly hot men of their ages. You couldn’t deny it, ever since you met Hyunjin, and from time to time talked to Minho, your mind was racing with thoughts of having a taste for men who were older. You fantasized about how experienced they must be, the way they must move, your thoughts made your legs go limp.

And it all happened the next day, when you did your best to dress slightly elegant but casual knowing the kind of people you were going to see, like Minho’s superstar wife and a few other rich women. Finally, the perfect families arrived, at least some perfect in appearance, the Hwang family, Lee, and one more, the small Han family of childless newlyweds. And then Missy and you showed up, whose women internally judged both of you to be the youngest of them all and not so much in keeping with their group, somehow. They thought for a few seconds that you were like some sort of dolls, two bimbos designed to make men happy but not enough to take you seriously enough to marry you.

You saw Hyunjin arrive with his wife and two children with his same slitted eyes and something inside you died. You had to stop, you couldn’t start creating more temptation in him, flirting with him felt so much worse. You met Yeji, a beautiful woman with long straight hair, dyed light brown color, she was also incredibly gorgeous, you even stopped understanding the reason why Hyunjin would even fantasize about you, having someone like her every day.

Then the Lee family appeared, with Suji’s perfect, clean-cut appearance. To be honest, you hadn’t flirted with Minho since, besides the fact that you hardly saw him often, you didn’t think Minho was an easy target, something about him made you extremely nervous, sometimes he looked at you normally, sometimes softly with slight sweetness but there were also times when he was so intimidating.

And lastly, Han Jisung, you didn’t know him that well, he looked slightly younger than the rest but his face was so mature, as was his soft and deep voice; he was accompanied by his young wife and they had just married in the spring.

The children were playing in the huge Chan’s yard, the women were sitting in a shaded area, ready to be served by their husbands… And you, you were there as an outsider, being the youngest of the group, not belonging to any man who was cooking, unless of course if thoughts spoke, you would mentally be Hyunjin’s property, he drove you crazy, he was so witty and nerdy that you wanted to do so many things to him.. and deep down, only with this one you had a harder time accepting it since you knew his kids, he was Minho’s, fuck, you would do anything just for a little touch from Minho, he was unbelievably hot and his sex appeal was undescribable. Something about those two men made you super horny and you were sick of holding back.

So, you just watched them secretly, between complicit glances, of which Hyunjin returned each one of them, however, Minho was taking care of Minji, while Yeji was taking care of her youngest two-year-old —at the same time not taking her eyes off her other son playing with Chase and Suho—, whose adorable little boy with the same face as his father was sitting nicely still on his mother’s lap. He was so quiet and adorable, you definitely felt so guilty sleeping with his daddy.

Yeji called Hyunjin to come over, telling him if he could please bring her Yoojin’s favorite toy, the youngest boy of them, which he had forgotten in the car and the adorable boy was starting to get restless for his toy and, while Hyunjin was there, he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation, the typical question of one of them asking you if you had a boyfriend, if there was some one interesting in your college, if you saw yourself formalizing with someone; Hyunjin suddenly felt jealous but was comforted to know that you didn’t have a boyfriend and thought that he could treat you better than any other immature boy of your age.

You for yourself felt stupidly bad about the obvious closeness of him and his wife, you didn’t know what was wrong with you, you knew it was pathetic and illogical to feel this way and that you needed a really good reality check, that your silly fantasies were not going to be fulfilled and that you were getting carried away with a married man with children.

You watched them play, endearing and making you feel miserable, Hyunjin and Yeji, smiling in the grass, with Yoojin and Yoohyun, the little boy and big brother. You felt a little listless and slowly walked into the house, not wanting to see anyone, not having the slightest idea that your image hadn’t faded Hyunjin and Minho’s mind and thoughts.

You sat on a couch in the living room, checked your cell phone uninterested thinking that you had worn your very nice and elegant sundress, had done your hair and makeup to… impress men out of your limits. You wanted to laugh at yourself, you really did, but a part of you seriously needed to try at least one of them or you felt like you were going to die, besides… you just wanted some sex, it wasn’t like you were looking to snatch their love for their wives.

You sighed in frustration, you were seriously about to text a guy your age from one of your classes just so you could see each other and please you, you had sex a couple of times, and at least this time you could imagine it was Hyunjin or Minho filling your pussy. You were really about to message him, you were in his chat trying to decipher the perfect message, but a bigger mistake suddenly appeared.

“Why that face?” a voice you knew so well spoke you softly.

He had managed to sneak away and searched for you until he found you, sitting looking like a beautiful little doll in your short dress. You looked up, meeting Hyunjin’s long physique, your gaze swept from his thighs to his face which had an adorable smile on it. However your eyes stopped for a second on his crotch, whose bulge in his jeans was so visible and wasn’t even hard, you salivated, thinking about how incredibly big his cock must be, causing you to shiver as it excited you a little.

Hyunjin adjusted his glasses and sat down next to you, so close to you that your thighs touched the denim of his pants. You raised your shoulders with a little pout, Hyunjin found you so cute, he wanted to rub his whole cock on your face, he had never felt such a big sexual appetite as just now, he wanted to satiate all his desires and satiate you, the magnetism of your bodies was incredible.

“I don’t know” you replied nonchalantly, you now being the one to divert your thoughts, he was married and his wife was out with their children, it wasn’t fair, “There are a lot of people out there.”

He laughed incredulously, not taking his eyes off you.

“Adults outside bore you a bit, don’t they?” he asked in an amused tone.

You nodded softly, watching him and downplaying it and trying to calm the small fire that lit your insides, you needed him so badly that you lowered your gaze to your thighs, unable to cease your thoughts and emotions.

“Then let’s have some fun, I’m a little bored too” he whispered to you so seductively that he caught your attention quickly and you found him licking his lips, you watched him raptly, as if you had imagined his phrase, but no, “What do you guys do nowadays for fun?” he purred, completely aroused and, a little hesitantly, he placed his large hand on your bare thigh, squeezing it gently.

You saw his hand and then you saw him. You couldn’t say no, you could, but you didn’t want to. You wanted every inch of him making you smile like you never had before.

Just this once, you promised and prayed, just this once you will have sex with someone married, you thought as you swore in vain, you hoped you would be forgiven and never caught.

“Would you like to know my kind of fun?” you smiled broadly.

Hyunjin nodded frantically, stroking your thigh; his cock throbbed in his pants within seconds of touching you, your soft, smooth skin, you looked so angelic to him that he could get down on his knees and make you his new religion, he needed you, he could eat you day and night, he couldn’t even organize his thoughts. He had lost himself, he never thought he could control his lust and put it over everything and everyone. He moved his hand up, closer and closer until he approached your center, feeling in him a rush of adrenaline, as if he was about to reach a goal that he exahusively determined to reach. You watched him, every limb of his manly body, weak, taut and yielding in sex, his bulge grew, his eyes sparkled… he was a new man, ready to fuck.

“But let’s do it somewhere else” you tried to say.

You were so weak too, you were a young woman about to fulfill her fantasy, it was obvious that your body was vibrating with excitement.

You stood up, your pussy was soaking wet and he barely caressed your thigh. You led him to your room, in such a fugitive and manic way, checking that there was absolutely no one inside the house who could see you enter the same room. Walking so excitedly feeling your sticky folds with every step you took. And wasting no time, once you locked the door, you raised your gaze, Hyunjin watched you with his sharp dark eyes as if he was catching his prey, with a smug smile on his face and in timid steps he approached your body, until he joined your body to his completely, finally catching your lips so passionately and desperately.

Hyunjin held you from your lower back sticking you to his body and performing the dirtiest and most atrocious act ever committed in his entire life, an adulterous relationship, an affair outside of his matrinomy, but the dirty man didn’t think for a second about all the life he led and built with hard work and love around the years, he was crazy but only his brain was working to think of you and the throbbing pain in his crotch from his well erect member.

You tried to keep up with his rhythm, his lips felt just as you had imagined them, soft and fluffy, and he kissed with such skill that it was a little hard for you to keep up with him but you enjoyed every second of the act, of his big hands lifting your dress to squeeze your ass, his erection colliding with your body and his face attached to yours to the point of feeling his glasses bump into your face, everything about him made you so horny and you couldn’t believe it was happening. His attacked somehow slow and romantic kisses continued, satisfying the inside of your mouth to perfection until surrendering in breathlessness, yet he kept depositing little pecks on your lips, so lost in you, every part of you that he wanted so much, finally for himself.

Slowly, Hyunjin opened his eyes again to pleasantly meet your face, smiling at it in a mischievous way and almost immediately, you got down on your knees, impressing him a little and making him eager to know exactly what you were about to do, he never wanted you to stop.

Both bodies were tense, lewd and full of sin in a spiritual context, surrounded by evil and lust, both bodies engulfed in flames ready to unburden their darkest secrets on that bright summer afternoon.

You licked your lips, two of your very important organs throbbing in pleasure for the forbidden, your heart protruding from your chest and your pussy getting more and more lubricated, you watched him with feigned innocence behind your not virgin eyes and unbuckled his belt, and the tedious button and zipper that blocked you from tasting your new favorite food, you were so hungry for his cock that you thought you would explode with excitement. You swallowed nervously at the sight of a big size still in his boxers and, finally you could take it raw in your hands, making Hyunjin let out a soft whimper.

“Fuck, play with my cock as much as you want, baby, please” Hyunjin whimpered needily, stroking your face and hair delicately.

His comment coming from the deepest part of his darkest desires sent an electrifying shock to your sensitive spot of your needy femininity, which was begging for some spoiling as well. Hyunjin was lost, he wanted to take you, to see what he swore would be the most delicious and pretty pussy his eyes had ever seen, so shiny and dripping for him, but an unknown force was taking over his fragile body and it wasn’t exactly guilt, it was something inexplicable that he let himself be carried away by every single thing you decide to do, he was for you and by you, absolutely devoted.

You looked at his erect and throbbing shaft between your two hands, thinking it was obvious you’d have too much fun, Hyunjin was ridiculously big, long like the rest of his limbs; you didn’t wait to play with his entire length, unable to believe he was hiding such an amazing cock under his tender and nerdy appearance, sometimes a bit of a loser.

You wanted to rub your whole pussy on his cock, it really impressed you, you had never seen one this big, but you just limited yourself to masturbating him, with trembling hands palpating every corner of his sex, from carefully and gently squishing his balls while resting his tip leaking precum in your tongue with your mouth open.

“Do you like it, Mr. Hwang?”

Hyunjin sighed and nodded, so excited by the formal way you spoke to him, even though you know he likes to be called simply Hyunjin.

“Ye-es, please keep doing it.”

He was so desperate for the moment he didn’t even know where to place his hands, he looked first timer, he felt first timer, like he was doing it for the first time and his cock was getting to know the feeling of a warm cavity to please him. He forgot the last time his wife had blown him, he was so hormonal and needy, but just radiating delicious, masculine pheromones that made you lose your mind. Tasting a man’s sweet, big cock, you felt so fulfilled. His hands found your hair again and you began to suck him hard, squeezing your cheeks so he could feel the softness of your mouth. Hyunjin trembled, so close to his orgasm as you teased him to the limit.

You continued more confidently, licking his entire length, moistening it to dirty slurping sounds on it, teasing his needy, squirting, pink glans, until you took his cock again, wrapping your lips around it, struggling to get it deep into your mouth.

Hyunjin whimpered, babbling your name, his every energy was focused on his cock and as he felt you sucking him at an exquisite pace, bobbing your head all over his cock, it was doom for him, you were doing it so well he had to throw his head back panting “Fuck.”

Hyunjin bit his lip, holding back his moans and watching you take his cock so well he grabbed more of your hair into a sort of ponytail to gently push you in, he didn’t want you to take your lips off his cock, his pumping sex hadn’t felt this good in a while, all of him came alive again.

“Fffuck, mmm baby, I’m gonna cum, you’re sucking it so good, oh my god.”

You would have liked his cock to fuck your throat, but you didn’t want to hurt yourself, he was so big you just wished he would use his big gift for good, and so he could keep fucking you, you wanted him so bad.

You sucked harder, masturbating the rest of his length, you were so turned on you thought about bringing one of your hands up to your pussy to attend to it a little. Hyunjin gasped in exasperation and cum all the way into your mouth. Saliva and his cum started coming out of your gob and you pulled his cock out of your mouth for a few shots to stain your chin making you smile broadly. Hyunjn was so full that he wanted to keep fucking you until you pumped him dry, no kidding, he wanted to be completely yours.

Hyunjin was ready to continue with you but the sound of his cell phone indicating a call in his pants pocket that lay lowered halfway down his legs startled you both. He snapped back to reality, he had loved the way you had done it and would pray for it to be repeated again and again… but you weren’t alone, there were people outside, waiting for you, and his family was one of them. Hyunjin nimbly pulled up his underwear and pants, adjusting his big cock and verifying that indeed his call was from his wife.

You stood up, somewhat confused, to which he leaned close to your ear to whisper:

“I’m sorry I didn’t make you cum, next time I’ll make sure to take care of you, okay?”

Next time… you thought.

Hyujin was about to leave, but shyly asked you if you could let him know there was no one there, you did, telling him there was no one around so he walked out of there, leaving you with your heart racing and incredibly aroused, you couldn’t calm down, you were so frustrated you had to play alone a little with your pussy until you made yourself cum with your own fingers.

Hyunjin felt dirty and guilty, but you made him see stars and now he was addicted to you. He just hoped he didn’t look so agitated.

On the way, Hyunjin met Minho, who was looking for you since your sister asked for you and he offered to do so, without any objection, however he met a nervous Hyunjin who strangely denied in a heavy manner to have seen you and left, leaving Minho blinking in confusion and came to your room, where he was about to knock on your door and call your name, but sweet somewhat strange and compromising sounds awakened something in him all of a sudden. You were moaning softly, holding back the sounds as you filled your pussy with your fingers, fantasizing about being touched by someone else, fantasizing that it was Hyujin and his big cock, you were so damn horny that you couldn’t calm down, you only got more aroused and prolonged your orgasm more.

Minho could decipher that your sounds were sexual and his mind went off in all possible scenarios, just like Hyunjin, he hadn’t gotten good sex in a while…

You on your hand, kept playing with your whole vulva, caressing and penetrating your slick entrance while thinking and thinking… putting yourself in his wife’s place, thinking that if you would have a hot husband and a promiscuous college girl managed to seduce him you would surely cut his penis in his sleep, but shit, it’s just that Hwang Hyunjin? you didn’t want him to waste his amazing size by not using it, you could take care of him.

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Your second atrocious and immoral act, was attributed to Lee Minho. You couldn’t deny it, the damage was already done, you already felt like a dirty slut and you might go to hell but the taste and feeling of Hyunjin’s big cock struggling to enter your cavity was not taken away from you by anyone.

A little secret didn’t hurt anyone if it was taken to the grave, right?

Ever since Minho heard you moan like a dirty needy little slut, or so he thought, every aspect he had of you changed, before he saw you as the pretty girl who was somehow Chan’s family and rarely thought of you, like when he felt lonely at times of the day, he would start thinking about what a young girl like you would do, oh, but after that afternoon, the sweet sounds of pleasure from your mouth made him so hard that he had to go off to work it out on his own, thinking it was unfair the way you left him and that you had to be even. That day he wanted to break down your door to fuck you right there.

Chan was giving you opportunities to visit his office to see a few cases and it just so happened that the big entertainment company that Chan also works for and of course, Minho does there too, was across the long avenues, but were basically across the street from each other.

It was strange, but suddenly Minho started visiting Chan more, hoping to find you there and when he did, he would take the opportunity to flirt with you in his unique way, which worked very well for you, you liked Minho so much but wanted to deny it.

Minho was more… you couldn’t explain it but he was more different, in fact he was so different from Hyunjin. Minho despite being rich liked to live a simple life and enjoyed the little things, it was as if being a father and being in a house suited him so well, he was such an old man. But he also had fantasies and liked to have a little fun, in fact he loved to tease people, which he started to do and you didn’t know how to act at first, maybe you were quite intimidated by the fact that his wife was literally a superstar, yet that didn’t stop him so that one afternoon when he seemed friendly and happy, he talked to you and as fate would have it, Chan stepped out for a brief moment, leaving you and Minho alone, so he began to tell you what he did at work and how he was also a professional choreographer and dancer, impressing you but justifying his maintained appearance and body.

He started joking with you, which made you feel good, his smile was adorable and you could melt right there just listening to his laugh. Minho started talking to you about a supposed new choreography which he invented and…. one second it was laughter and games and the next it became completely serious, as he suddenly stood behind you, holding your waist and placing his face next to yours, Minho had never touched you before because there was no need to. Your body tensed and your breathing momentarily cut off.

“And I’ve told the boys to take their work very seriously, dancing can leave them exhausted at times” Minho whispered close to you.

You found it meaningless what he had said, what did that have to do with him touching you, lowering one of his hands to your ass and the other near your pussy, but you didn’t complain.

“I had to tell them that in order to find themselves in such a sensual dance, they should start doing sensual things too…”

You were transfixed at his touch, he moved his body closer until you finally felt the touch of his cock as he was wearing loose shorts that clung a bit to his body, at least in his exquisite crotch.

You didn’t say anything, you just enjoyed the moment and how your body was struggling to keep up, but you were beginning to get hopelessly aroused.

“But me… who can help me with that, to give them my best too…”

Minho squeezed your pussy, surprising you, his whole hand under your femininity over your jeans. You collapsed, losing yourself, but before you could react, he pulled away from you abruptly.

“And well I also told them that creating some good tension on stage might be good for them by having the audience hooked on their movements” Minho spoke more relaxed, as if nothing had happened, almost in a mocking tone.

You turned to look at him, distressed. Minho had a haughty smile on his face and laughed softly in such amusement, naughtily running his tongue across his lips, but you didn’t find it funny, you found it ridiculous the way he had to approach and touch you, or so you wanted to feel as you were pathetically horny, screaming for sex from a mature, married man. Again, from a new man.

He saw your expression, so tenderly needy with eyes begging him to touch you again. He found it amusing and got even with you by letting him masturbate in the bathroom that day at Chan’s house. However, your expression… drove him crazy, he wanted to fuck you so hard until your pleading look is genuine, until you are covered in tears and in his cum. The thought made his cock twitch in despair.

“Minho…” you whispered, seeing his face and body in his snug, comfortable, sporty clothes.

His expression changed, giving you a dirty look, “Minho? Address me with respect, I’m older than you, kid.”

His authoritative tone and annoyed expression shouldn't have excited you so much, but it did, almost weakening your legs. Before he acted, however, Chan arrived.

And the next day it really happened, when you used the old technique of a slightly provocative outfit, getting all dolled up and thinking that if that worked on Minho it would be funny if he fell for the most typical and obvious, but you had to resort to that, you didn’t know how to approach him properly, when in fact you shouldn’t even do it.

But you were dying for a taste of Minho. One more unforgivable act and you would stop, you swore again.

Minho kept thinking about you, but he had no plans to fuck you, he had done enough with teasing you and that had already turned him into something he never thought he would be, a fucking cheating bastard, since he had no reason to touch another woman. But he kept fantasizing about how good you must feel, how inexperienced you must be, all horny, riding a cock senselessly and frantically believing that was the right way to satisfy a man, since that’s how you’d been taught to do it, at least by the dumb, immature college boys, or so he thought. Minho would be lying if he denied that he was incredibly attracted to you. But it was so wrong.

That day he casually went to see Chan on legal advice about something that came up as a conversation at his work earlier in the day, he could talk to him on the phone, but he wanted an excuse to at least see you, if he wasn’t going to allow himself to fuck you.

And he found you, attractively sitting behind a desk reading some papers, making notes, so focused and cute, making him feel so guilty and dirty as he had recurring thoughts of your weak sex-weary destroyed body.

But your face lit up at the sight of him and your attention was drawn to him.

Minutes later in the midst of conversation with his friend, Chan had to apologize and said that he remembered he had to leave urgently and it would take perhaps all afternoon, if Minho could please go drop you off at his house, to which strangely for Chan, Minho agreed instantly, leaving you alone once again at such a critical point for both of you.

Minho came dangerously close to you, with the dirty thought of fucking you on his friend’s desk, but he had to stop himself.

“Chan had to leave, I’ll drop you home” he spoke to you sharply.

“Now? I’ll leave now?”

“Yes, that’s when I have some time off.”

You had gone over the situation, feeling even guilty about raising looks from Chan towards you, that was not what you wanted, Chan was never your target because you had enormous respect for him and you thought that maybe you should start acting sane and also keep respect for his friends, stopping all the craziness.

You grabbed your stuff and your short skirt got exactly the kind of reaction you wanted from the beginning for Minho to have. It took nothing for him to drop you off at Chan’s house, go back to his job where his wife was busy on another floor and fuck her right there, but it took nothing for him to fuck you either.

“Oh, sure, wait here, I’ll go get my car,” he said.

He was so engrossed that he stopped thinking clearly. You got in his car, leaving Chan’s assistant to close the place later at closing time.

You were nervous and tried to distract yourself, thinking about how his car looked so good on him, it looked just like the kind of car Lee Minho would drive, you thought about what to eat once you got to the house, you just wanted to stop the crazy ideas, but now it was Minho who had them.

You didn’t even see him drive and acted modestly, while his piercing gaze saw every part of you, of your subtle cleavage and skirt so short he could see your panties easily in that position. Minho cursed menatally and thought he should have let you order a fucking cab. Chan argued that Missy was at some sort of all-important convection for Chase and they had the tickets for a while, so he didn’t want to disturb them at their bonding time and he didn’t want to keep you waiting.

You felt his heavy gaze and stirred a little excitedly in the seat, revealing a little momentary glimpse of your white panties. Minho tightened his grip on the steering wheel and looked straight ahead, so annoyed and helpless that he couldn’t do anything, he pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose a little, trying to calm himself down, you were literally doing nothing and you had him with his libido full, his mind spinning and his cock so hard it was squeezing in his jeans.

Minho was blinded in lust and finally spoke, confessing what his mind always wanted you to know:

“I bet you taste delicious.”

You blinked in confusion, thought you hadn’t heard his murmur right, innocently believing he was talking about food all of a sudden. Minho stopped at a red light and you both turned to look at each other. His intense gaze surprised you and you noticed him subtly agitated, his expression was serious and monotonous but his breathing was heavy, he was aroused, you noticed, it was impossible not to see his notorious bulge protruding from his pants.

You felt dizzy and heated, thinking how unreal the situation was.

“Excuse me?” you asked almost breathlessly.

“That I bet you taste delicious. I want to taste your sweet pussy until I make you scream, that’s what I said.”

You were surprised by his boldness and honesty. Minho spoke to you so directly, in such a demanding and serious tone, but you managed to see his slight sparkle in his eyes, almost enjoying what he said. He moved the car forward and it wasn’t superfluous to say that your world spun in every possible way.

“And… where will you do it Mr. Lee?” you returned to yourself, your weak body filled with pity and guilt glowing in desire again.

Minho smiled, so happy all of a sudden.

“I can’t fuck you in the car, the daylight is too bright. But we can do it at my place, there’s no one there now.”

You shivered and Minho was so happy that you easily agreed that he caressed your thigh; you sighed softly, he enjoyed teasing you until he brought his hand to your pussy, you didn’t understand how he could look so calm, with his cock aching and still driving while he pulled the fabric of your panties aside to caress your pussy, you were already a mess, it felt so good, but it was so wrong.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already, I see” Minho giggled softly, “We’re almost there, doll. Don’t worry.”

And Minho was almost cumming in his pants, his cock screaming for attention. All of you were doing it.

You arrived, Minho’s wife was gone, his children were being watched by his mother, everything was lining up perfectly for you, it seemed. You felt dirty again, with an ache in your chest but you couldn’t stop, you kept thinking about his mouth on your pussy.

Minho turned off from his cell phone every security camera in his house and directed you to a room, which didn’t look fancy enough to be his main room, but still looked spacious, nice and clean.

“Take off your clothes, sweetie” he commanded, so desperate, his hands on his hips waiting as he gasped for breath.

You obeyed him in a heartbeat, you felt so dirty filled with a voracious sexual hunger. Minho watched you, biting his lip eagerly until he saw you naked in front of him.

“Fuck” he sighed breathlessly, lust in person, so young and full of life, with soft round breasts and hard nipples, “Lie down and spread your legs, I’m gonna fucking eat your pretty pussy.”

His gaze was so penetrating and in trembling, excited steps you did his bidding, a command so rough and tactless it made your clit vibrate.

He moved closer to you, admiring you in that position with a smug smile, so submissive and begging to be serviced. He wanted to hear you ask for it. However, Minho resisted no more and pulled down his pants and underwear with a tug, you caught a glimpse of his big and taut cock so erect before he got on his knees facing the edge of the bed and in front of your pussy. You sighed, he was just as you expected.

Minho bit his lip at the sight of your exposed lubricated vulva, which throbbed in untouched pleasure.

“Look at you” he began to say amused, “the little slut so horny, tell me how badly you want it, say it now.”

You gasped as you felt the fingertip of his index caress your clit, your cheeks were beginning to burn in embarrassment, wanting to tell him that he was just as needy for pleasuring someone younger who was not his wife, such an old man horny for the forbidden.

Minho brought his face close to your pussy finally with you feeling his heavy hot breath and breathing, you shivered, watching him with your elbows resting on the mattress, he saw your whole body perfectly from that angle.

At this point you had no dignity, sex with two older, married men in a period of days were your biggest mistakes. So begging Lee Minho didn’t sound so bad after all.

“I-I want you to eat me, Mr. Lee.”

Minho smiled widely.

“Magic word” he requested, his eyebrows raised as if he was reminding something to a kid.

“Please” you whispered haltingly.

Minho gently pinched your clit before withdrawing his hand and taking care of your sensitive spot with his mouth. You moaned, small shocks of pleasure filled your body at the sensation of his warm and steady tongue making circles on your clit, then taking it over completely, biting and sucking hard, sticking his soft lips on the skin of your pussy. You arched your back and reflexively brought one of your hands to his soft, straight hair as you struggled to lean back with your other arm because you didn’t want to let him out of your sight, he looked so attractive with his face buried in your core. Minho left his right hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly and with the other he caressed the rest of your pussy, your sticky wet labia until he reached down to tease your entrance with his thick thumb, subtly inserting it making you sigh in desperation.

He finally lowered his mouth slowly to the rest of your cunt, licking and sucking your folds until he inserted two of his strong fingers into you, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise, Minho smiled with his lips pressed against you. You were a mess, you had never had your pussy eaten with so much attention and patience, you could tell he knew what he was doing and exactly which spots to touch, lick, nibble and suck, you were going crazy; most guys your age would lick senselessly and without a rhythm, with their exhausted jaws wanting to make you orgasm, they were inexperienced, they would be offended if you told them which spots to touch and you had to beg for oral sex… but Lee Minho, the expert Minho didn’t have to take any orders, he was giving them and he was making you see fucking heaven.

His fingers were filling your pussy so well like no one ever had before, digging deep inside you, your walls squeezing his digits so satisfyingly as he feasted himself on your delectable young cunt. Minho’s poor, exposed cock was on the verge of intense ejaculation, but he had incredible control of his body and wasn't going to cum until he was inside you.

You whimpered as you felt his restless tongue inside you as he removed his fingers from you, his nose bumping against your pussy as he tasted your perfect entrance, staining his chin and mouth, being strong evidence of how good he was making you feel.

After sizzling whimpers and your pussy being treated so specially, you were about to cum and Minho sensed it, so he replaced his tongue once more with his fingers, pulling away from you to see your beautiful flustered face about to climax.

You saw him, his lips and chin glossy from you, Minho was slightly flushed, his ears were bright red, he looked so tender and dominant at the same time, penetrating your insides with his fingers.

“C’mon, sweetie, cum, I know you’re about to do it.”

You were no longer thinking clearly, the tension of your orgasm was so strong that you frowned uncomprehendingly, your vision blurred slightly, his touches felt for a few seconds a couple of times better than before and in a moderate whimper, you let yourself collapse in an intense orgasm, shuddering and battling with the irregularity of your breathing.

You dropped your body onto the bed, tired as you relaxed your legs as you felt the absence of his digits in you. You were tired, satisfied.

Minho stood with a smile, wiping his residue of you from his mouth and pulled his body closer to you. You were recovering a little, your orgasm had been so intense that you didn’t react to seeing him this close.

“Open your mouth” he ordered.

You looked into his eyes and noticed his fingers heading for your mouth, you took them, sucking on them, tasting his skin and your own orgasm coated on them.

Minho kept watching you with a half smile, so proud to have you like this. He slipped his fingers out of your mouth, brought his face close to yours and played with your lips, running his thumb wildly across them. You were again aroused by the heavy breaths of the two of you and his incredibly dominant look over your body.

Minho pulled away, he was so hot that he stripped off his black shirt quickly, revealing his muscular body. You bit your lip, seeing his body and his thick swollen cock.

You magically regained your strength again and sat up, so fascinated and attracted by his big dick, your eyes sparkled as your brain only worked to think that you had to touch him.

Minho saw your intentions and didn’t stop you, he let you do it, you looked tender with your eyes slightly widened in admiration as you moved towards his cock. You stroked his abds and moved your hand down to his recently shaved and stubbly pubic area that detonated in visible veins his erect member. You looked so fascinated, as if it was all an attraction you could touch.

Your pussy throbbed, still wet in your recent orgasm as you felt his cock between your hands, it was big and thick, so visibly pretty that you were dazzled. Minho moaned, his cock was so sensitive, leaking precum, he had small, slight sensations of an orgasm but had not fully ejaculated his load, his balls ached and his body was tense, that was why he was going to fuck you all at once but he let himself be carried away by your gentle caresses.

You slid your hand down his length, staring into his eyes, Minho was doing everything to look hard and hold his position, but he was dying to whimper and fall to your touches. And, when he saw you were about to bring your mouth close, he stopped you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to do it, but that he was eager to unload every drop into you one by one.

“Enough. Turn around and let me see your ass.”

You looked at him confused, which he intimidatingly raised his eyebrows waiting for you to react quickly.

You got into that position, squealing with excitement knowing that he was going to fuck you, still in the midst of the thrill, you wondered to yourself if you should ask him to use a condom, you didn’t want to end up making a big mistake. Bigger than fucking a married man.

Minho pulled your body with ease, making you stand up from the bed and letting your legs bump on the edge of it.

Minho took his cock, also debating whether to reach for a condom or fuck you with his raw cock, arousing him to immense levels at the thought of filling your entire pussy with every drop of his cum. He bit his lip, teasing your entrance with his bare glans, fantasizing about the idea of making you his, his heart was racing, he was about to do it, fuck you unprotected to feel your insides at first contact. You wiggled your ass while you arched your back ready to be fuck, needy and softly moaning until Minho spanked you hard twice unexpectedly, making you groan in surprise and excitement.

“Fuck” he sighed, “Why don’t you say anything, huh? You’re so fucking needy begging for my cock, you want me to fuck you like this without protection, don’t you?”

Minho spoke, in a thick voice that made your core rumble. The idea of his cock twitching inside you unprotected suddenly felt so good, you turned to see him, letting lust win again for both of you.

“Yes, please, Mr. Lee, fuck me.”

The thought filled his body and cock again, rubbing his cock against your folds to lubricate him and then gently thrusting his unprotected glans into you.

“Say it again” he ordered, the vein in his neck showing.

“Fuck me, please.”

His tip felt so good but you were desperate for his full length filling you up. Minho smiled at your needy expression. You raised your ass higher, the thought of the risk quickened his heart more, Minho was fucking fertile, his wife got pregnant as she ground his cock and cum in her folds and after she took the pill. And he could swear you were too, so young, panting for sex, so naive without measuring the consequences, Minho was blinded by pleasure and temptation that licking his lips he thought amused that he was going to get you pregnant so you would stop behaving like a little whore with any man asking for unprotected sex. He was going to teach you a lesson and at the same time he was going to fuck you like they had never fucked you before, all those immature guys who presumed to fuck you. He was going to make you remember and never forget.

Minho slid all the way in, stretching out your entrance until you felt his balls brush against your body and his tip touch the deepest part of you, caressing your cervix. You whimpered in pain and pleasure, it hurt like the first time. He grunted in pleasure, you were squeezing him so well, making him think for a second if you were a virgin or it was just his swollen, pumping cock that had to hold out so hard.

One of Minho’s hands went to your waist squeezing you tightly the other one grabbed your hips to finally push your body. At first he pushed your body, to peruse your wet open hole giving room for his cock and how his raw cock slid smoothly into you, the skin of his veiny cock coated in your glistening liquid, sliding in and out of your pussy, Minho was going to make sure he left every drop of his cum in you to teach you a fucking lesson, to let everyone know you were his, to make you remember the day when you were so well fucked and accepted his exposed cock in you without thinking.

Minho smiled broadly, starting to ram you deep, moving your body with each intense, rough thrust, making you whimper, you were still adjusting to his size but for now your body was starting to ache, combining with pleasure.

He gasped, your walls were so tight squeezing him so torturously that he could cum weakly in moments.

“What a pretty and tight pussy you have, kitten, it feels so fucking good.”

Minho kept pounding your pussy hard, weakening your body, feeling his large size protrude into your lower abdomen; he noticed how you were slightly desperate not knowing where to put your hands, so he quickly acted and grabbed your forearms with force exalting the veins of his strong hands, leaving you helpless at his disposal, with his cock filling every inch of you, and even more, your poor entrance and interior was starting to be attacked by Minho’s cock as he accelerated his rhythm, moving his hips on you so satisfyingly until reaching your G-spot, finally you managed to combine the pain with your pleasure filling you completely, you couldn’t stop whimpering, each intense impact of his pelvis against your body clouded your sight more and more.

Minho was panting and overbearing to have you at his disposal, listening to you whimpering, his ego went to his head, he knew he was good at sex and fucked hard and he did it so rough that it left you shaking and sore.

Minho kept up his intense pace, thrusting hard into you until you could hear your skins collapsing and your soaking wet pussy sliding on his cock, you were both mesmerized, Minho could count your encounter as one of his best sexual experiences, the inside of your pussy squishing on his cock was an heavenly sensation. Minho hummed in pleasure, finding your submissive position so arousing; you were in a slightly uncomfortable position as he was holding you by your arms so tightly, but the sensation of being slightly motionless made you experience sex like you never had before, Minho was making you explore so many new sensations that you whimpered in pleasure with soft tears forming in your glistening eyes.

“Mmm, you’re taking so well my cook, kitten, look at you like a fucking good slut. You like being fuck hard, don’t you?”

Your whole body got hot listening to him talk dirty, you could listen to him for hours while his cock is shoved in your pussy.

“Y-yes, Min-” he pounded you harder, “Mr. Lee!”

You babbled in a squeak oh my god, enjoying being fucked hard like you had never experienced before.

It was feeling so good but at the same time it was like you were being split in two, your face was flushed red as you were so close to your orgasm. You didn’t know how he was doing it but it didn’t feel like a fuck where he was mindlessly penetrating you, his movements were frantic but the intensity of the perfect control of his hips blurred your vision and took you to the edge.

You felt his cock throbbing in your core as your near orgasm squeezed it slightly tighter, almost milking him dry, however, Minho in one swift movement grabbed both your arms with one hand while with the other went in search of your hair, to pull it back and whisper to you in a husky voice, “Come here.”

You did your best to lift your sore body, with a little of his help, and press your naked back against his bare chest.

“Cum, little slut,” he growled in your ear, grabbing your neck with one of his hands while the other held your quivering body in your mons venus, his nimble fingers stimulating your sensitive clit, “Cum all over my fucking cock and I’m gonna cum all inside you to make you mine. I bet no little brat has ever fucked you the way I do” his lips were glued to your ear, you heard every gasping breath and felt the vibration of his voice on your back as you were pinned to his chest, you shook in response, causing him to let out a smug chuckle in your ear, with the ache in your abdomen from his cock and from your second intense orgasm, “You just love when I make you cum, don’t you?”

“Y-yees” you replied raggedly through the constant battle with your breathing and racing heart, the edge of your orgasm, and his intense thrusts into your pussy that made your body move, blurrily seeing the arm veins that wrapped around your neck.

Suddenly Minho whimpered in your ear, tightening his previous soft grip on your neck.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum too. I’m gonna fill your pussy with my cum you dirty slut.”

His ramming continued and he began to lightly choke you, more tears graced your face, the pain and pleasure was getting so intense that you collapsed again more fiercely and broke free from the growing knot in your stomach, falling into a rumbling orgasm leaving you shuddering and lifeless.

Minho also cum at the sensation of your orgasm collapsing on him, satisfying you audibly as you heard his loud moan and filling the inside of your vagina with every drop of his loaded cock just as he had promised himself. You felt his warm shot into you still with his cock inside and a tired Minho rested his chin on your shoulder as he slowly released his grip on your neck.

He pulled out of you leaving your dripping entrance.

“Let me see your pussy full of my cum, kitten” Minho ordered breathlessly.

Tired, you sat on the bed and spread your legs, you moaned at the tingle of the fluids slipping into you and Minho smiled, to pull you close and give you a short but tender and passionate kiss on your lips. Your first kiss, after the dirty act.

“Aw, you look so tired, you’ve never been fucked this hard before, my babygirl?” he spoke almost mockingly.

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♡🧸ྀི ♡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

You couldn't stop for a while, you lived a double life entangled in the guilt and strong arms of two men. They were both sex gods so ready to please you, they knew what they were doing and it drove you crazy.

There were many differences between the two, but you loved fucking them and having fun with both equally, with the same intensity. Neither of them knew that you were fucking them at the same time, honestly you were there for a good time, not to promise them that you would always belong to them, when they already belonged to someone else in the first place.

With Hyunjin, your encounters became serious when he returned to the topic of not making you cum and promised to do so, renting a penthouse exclusively for the two of you where you could both sin without a problem. That place became a witness to your dirty and fateful encounters.

Hyunjin was softer and more tender with you, he loved foreplay and you deciding what to do, what to touch, he put your needs before his, anyway he knew you were going to please him and that was enough for his miserable and needy slightly mature body.

You loved the contrast of the two of them, some days you would see Hyunjin and others Minho, you'd text for hours, have fun sending each other risqué messages and then take out every sorrow and frustration on you and your young, docile, libido filled body. You loved that with Hyunjin you were soft, he gave you the sweetest kisses and you could be in control… but with Minho everything was very different, he gave you orders for everything and left your body sore.

Hyunjin liked you, because he could fill himself with as much sexual pleasure as he wanted, just like Minho, you seemed to have no limits.

That night you felt guilty when he informed you that he had rented the place just for the two of you, but you decided to accept it cynically. He showered you with expensive gifts and filled your bank account with money, all while giving you some of the best sex. You didn't know where to put the gifts or hide them, so he gave you the keys to the penthouse so you could leave all his gifts and use them once you were alone, without your sister asking where you got a Cartier bracelet or new handbags from the latest Versace collection. You noticed that with his gifts, Hyunjin was looking for something more lasting which alerted you a lot, but then you forgot about it when you arrived at the place with absolutely nothing to worry about, you both had developed the ability to be soulless and cynical monsters, guiltless enough to enjoy sexual pleasures with the city light outside the big windows as your witnesses.

Hyunjin always made sure to kiss you before initiating any sexual act, his soft lips always lived close to your face and body in every moment you shared alone. He loved to touch you and slide his hand under your dress to caress and take care of your pussy. His deft fingers would easily slide into your already lubricated area and he would gently thrust into you. You both undressed and he continued to caress your sensitive pussy until he guided you to the bed still kissing you. You enjoyed his kisses so much that you both dropped on the mattress and masturbated his cock, you adored the feel of his quivering dick, Hyunjin drove you wild that you couldn't say no to his adorable face begging for sex.

Your encounters were like this, on lonely nights when you got overly turned on and asked him to lie down on the bed, Hyunjin with an adorable and wide smile would obey, in contrast to his colossal cock intimidatingly wagging at you as it was exposed. He was also pleasurably hurting your pussy every time you fucked. He was so handsome you could eat him out, you unloaded all that energy as you sat on his erect cock, grinding on it and sliding your wet folds into his stiffness, making him whimper.

“Mmm, fuck, it feels so good, baby, you love my cock, don't you, baby?” moaned Hyunjin taking hold of your breasts tightly and massaging them.

You nodded frantically in response, Hyunjin loved it when you had fun with his cock, putting it in your mouth, on your pussy, while riding him, masturbating him even with lazy footjob on his cock when watching a movie and the two of you are at the far ends of the couch spaced apart.

You continued, sliding up and down, rubbing all over your wet pussy making pressure on his cock and his exposed abdomen, panting, and seeing him so appetizing and handsome. You moved closer to him, as he himself had made you an addite to his lips and you kissed him, the sensation of his mouth working against yours made your pussy throb more and you remembered how good his lips felt on your pussy.

Pulling away from him, you looked at him with your huge bambi eyes that he adores and said:

“Can I sit on your face, Hyun?”

Hyunjin almost cum before your innocent gaze rubbing on his cock as you ask for fucking his face.

You knew Hyunjin wouldn't say no to you. And then he would cuddle you to keep chatting about his whole life, you liked him, you weren't going to deny it, he was handsome, interesting, kind… but he was married, you wanted to keep it to just sex without feelings, at least until your summer was over.

Minho, on the other hand, debated long and hard whether to continue seeing you and ended up giving in completely, offering the cabin he had a few hours outside the city as your main place of pleasure.

You didn't feel proud, you felt dirty and Minho always reminded you of that, he loved to talk dirty and sometimes referred to you with sweet names and sometimes blurted out in excitement somewhat derogatory names, both of which made you horny anyway.

Nights with Minho were darker, he didn't make sure to kiss you before doing any act, he loved to tease you and watch every reaction, whispering dirty and defiantly, “Wasn't this what you wanted?”

You loved to tease him and misbehave only to receive your painful punishment. It was as if you were balancing very well the sweet sex with Hyunjin, with the hard and painful one Minho was giving you.

He was so forward and a total pervert, at first he liked you to call him Mr. Lee, but as he became more confident he asked you to call him daddy. He liked to feel in control and the absolute authority of your body and pleasure.

Sometimes you would get very proud and try to play his same game, making comments that you knew made his blood boil and hurt his ego, throwing at him in a mocking tone, “And you? You're so needy too, daddy, look at you, your wife's pussy isn't enough so you come to taste mine.”

Minho paused, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, letting his heavy hand fall on your exposed and sensitive vagina, slapping it hard and making you cry out in pain. Minho hated talking about his wife when he was with you and hated it even more when you talked about her, unlike Hyunjin who used you as his therapist to tell every complaint he had.

Minho stood up, coming close to your face to slap it too. That night he was so furious, and not exactly because of you, but he was taking it out unfairly on you. He was fed up with his wife's glamorous life, her fame was starting to fall on his shoulders as it was starting to affect his children, which hurt him, they were the most precious thing to Minho.

He moved your body with ease, putting your body over his lap to begin spanking you.

But those were the unusual nights, what Minho liked about you was that you never seemed to get tired, your body never got full of him, apparently, you could take round after round until you ran him dry, he loved to call you derogatory names to remind you how unbelievably slutty you were behaving and in the end he didn't talk much like Hyunjin did, Minho showed his caring and affection by making you dinner and talking softly about him, though he was extremely reserved, though to you… something about Minho caught your attention so much, for days you wanted to deny it, but you liked him slightly more than Hyunjin.

But you lived trapped in the sexual fantasies of two men, you didn't really believe them capable of seeing you with fondness or affection. Two men, running away from home and families just so they could fill your pussy and fuck you releasing every sexual frustration on them. You were their little doll, their fucktoy.

But like everything, your little empire fell little by little once Minho was starting to suspect that you were also sleeping with another man, but he was manic, trying to figure out if that man could be Chan. Also Hyunjin's wife, Yeji began to suspect him, he was late, he didn't come to sleep, she went to designer stores and the workers kindly told her if she wanted another pair of the same garment, bag or shoes that her husband had already bought. But Hyunjin had a very huge problem, as he was slightly falling in love with you. He couldn't help it.

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𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk

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wordsarelife · 10 months

Text

—the game

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: after one night with you, mattheo can't help but want more. sadly, you aren't the type for relationships: “that you no longer are, what you used to be, ever since you bared your skin for me”

warnings: suggestive, mentions of sex, angst

notes: get ready for angsty and soft mattheo riddle who is an absolute simp for you lmao, very angsty but with a happy ending :)

inspired by ‘the game’ by annett louisan

that you no longer are what you used to be ever since you bared your skin for me

"are you alright?" you were laying on the side, observing mattheo's face. he wasn't looking at you, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

"y-yes" he breathed lowly and for the first time in ever, he didn't seem as cocky and arrogant.

"cool" you shrugged. you were just trying to be nice, he wasn't your boyfriend or anything, so his mood wasn't really your problem. you threw back the cover and got out of the bed, tapping across the room to collect your clothes.

"where are you going?" he asked, sitting up. his eyes followed your every move.

"to my room?" you wondered, why he was asking.

"oh" he leaned against the bedframe, taking out a pack of cigarettes. "do you want one?"

"what?" you laughed in disbelief "do i look like a hooker to you?"

"no" he shook his head. you watched him for a few more seconds, before you stepped into your skirt and put your sweater on. "bye, mattheo" you smiled mischievously, before you left the room.

that you′ve lost your head in a single night and you're seeing things in another light

he didn't know yet, but that very night, you left a loneliness in him that he had never felt before. it seemed like ever since he got undressed for you, he wasn't how he used to be.

when you would see him around hogwarts he was often staring at you, thinking.

"you're staring again" theo elbowed mattheo. the classroom was quite big and you were sitting across from him, whispering with your friend.

"huh?" mattheo looked up at theo.

"she might notice" theo reminded "you're not invisible, matt"

"sure" mattheo shrugged his shoulder.

theo was the only one of his friends who had noticed the change in mattheo's character. he was acting unusal, especially because he hadn't hooked up with anyone in the last few weeks. he didn't have the courage to ask him about it yet, but he knew it had something to do with him always staring at you.

mattheo had been interested in sleeping with you for a long time. he had thought just getting it over with would stop his bubbling obsession, but it seemed to have made it worse. he wasn't used to desire someone like that, especially not after he had slept with them.

there was nothing new for him to see and still he wanted to do it again. for him it was like every single girl had suddenly disappeared. there was only you. sitting across from him. in a different light. and that scared him deeply.

during dinner theo had finally stopped making comments. mattheo was thankful for that, but he still tried to stray away from watching you, even if his eyes seemed to automatically find you.

"hey" blaise sat down on the bench in front of mattheo, successfully blocking his sight on you.

"hi" mattheo and theo chorused, before they continued eating. well, theo did, mattheo was just pushing food around on his plate.

"okay" blaise said "what's wrong with you both?"

mattheo send theo a look, who sighed "nothing"

"i should've stayed with pansy and draco" blaise muttered, nodding his head at the two sitting a few spots down. "even if they're hardcore flirting, at least that was some what interesting"

"wohoo!" enzo sat down next to blaise "the party can start!" he announced dramatically. mattheo rolled his eyes at the boy. blaise was annoying on his own, but the combination with enzo was nothing mattheo could take today.

it had been a month without sex and mattheo was feeling the effect.

"are we in a bad mood today?" enzo teased.

"fuck off" mattheo shoved his plate away and crossed his arms, bending his head down.

"hey" a soft voice made the boys look up. you were standing next to mattheo, who quickly scrumbled to his feet.

"hi" he said "how are you?"

"i'm fine" you smiled, sending an irritated look to enzo, whose eyes grew big as he recognized you. "is your friend alright?" you asked mattheo.

mattheo turned around and knew immediately who you were talking about. enzo was flailing his hands dramatically, hitting blaise on the shoulder over and over again, as if that would be enough to transfer his thoughts. "ignore him" mattheo tried his best to smile at you effortlessly, but was nervous about the reason you were talking to him in the first place.

"okay" you stretched, focusing on the boy in front of you again. "you forgot your notebook" you held it in his direction and he tried to hide his disappointment.

"oh" he nodded "thank you" you send him a last smile, before you turned around and walked back to your table

"that was horrible" theo muttered in mattheos direction, when he sat down again. before he could answer anything, enzo broke into a giggle.

"what's going on with you, you moron?" blaise looked at enzo in disgust and slid a bit to the side, rubbing his arm, that was probaly blue now after enzo had hit it multiple times.

"that's the girl!" enzo blabbled "from the party! the one you took back to the dorm!" he pointed his finger at mattheo. it seemed like enzo enjoyed knowing something secretive for the first time. normally he would be the last to hear about his friends flings.

"and?" mattheo shrugged, acting nonchalantly.

"yeah" blaise shrugged "she isn't the first and probably won't be the last, am i right?"

mattheo nodded relucantly and theo wiped his face with one hand, trying to hide his expression.

"hey mattheo" annie, a slytherin mattheo was sitting next to in potions, slid in on the bench next to him. he had been pursuing her for a few weeks, before he had slept with you.

"hi" mattheo replied absentmindedly.

blaise and enzo exchanged a confused look. theo shrugged. and mattheo? he seemed to be utterly uninterested in talking to annie any further. he turned his head away from the girl and she opened her mouth, but before anything could come out of it, blaise entered the non existent conversation.

"i'm good at sex too, sweetheart" he send her a smug smile, followed by a wink, while wiggling his eyebrows.

theo tried to hide his face, ashamed at what his friend was babbling and annie wrinkled her nose, looking at blaise disgusted.

"what?" she asked and then turned to mattheo "aren't you going to say anything?"

mattheo shrugged and took a sip from his water. annie shook her head outraged and got up. "arrogant asshole" she threw her head back and walked off.

that because of me you would leave a love and now I'm all you're dreaming of

"what was that?" enzo asked and even he seemed to be irritated now.

"what do you mean?" mattheo acted like he didn't have a clue what his friend was talking about.

"annie" blaise exclaimed, pointing in the direction the girl had just left. "you wanted to tap that ever since the school year started"

"you just ruined your progress" enzo added.

"i don't care" mattheo got up. his eyes caught yours across the hall. you smiled at him, before you continued your conversation with a boy, mattheo had never seen before, who was obviously flirting with you "i don't want her anymore"

blaise and enzo turned around. blaise clasped a hand over his mouth as soon as he realized what was going on.

"the girl from the party?" enzo asked confused, he was a bit slower.

"y/n" mattheo corrected, burying his hands in the pockets of his trousers

"what about her" blaise elbowed enzo. hard. "ow! blaise!"

"just look at him" theo muttered and mattheo didn't even hear his friends talking anymore. he was too focused on you and that boy, focused how you touched his arm and threw your head back from laughter. a month ago it had been mattheo talking with you like that. now you were the only thing that mattered to him and it seemed he couldn't be more irrelevant to you.

"shit" enzo mumbled as he realized. mattheo took that as his cue to leave and do something about his pathetic situation.

"can we talk?" he asked and you looked up at him confused.

"we're sort of in the middle of something" the unknown boy said. mattheo ignored him, sending you a pleading look.

"sure" you agreed, excusing yourself and following mattheo out of the hall and into an abondened classroom.

"so, what did you want to talk about?" you crossed your arms, leaning you back against one of the tables.

"you're driving me crazy, y/n" he quickly said and you raised your eyebrows. "i can't get you off my mind, ever since that night"

"oh" you simply said "i didn't want to mislead you, mattheo"

that dismal to be when every now and then someone else i′ll see again, it wasn't planned that you now feel like one of many

he sighed, his hand running through his curls. he stepped closer and the worried look on your face was making him go feral, the way you looked up to him through thick lashes, your hair, your smell, everything about you. his hand cupped your cheek softly, his thumb brushing along your lip.

"mattheo" you muttered. you didn't know that he was thinking more of that night "i thought we both agreed that this was just a simple hook up"

"it's not simple anymore" mattheo whispered and his breath fanned over your skin, making you perk up and inch closer. but you had to control yourself. it would be different for you than for him, you didn't want to take advantage of his feelings. "i want you to myself, all of you" he said and confirmed your worries.

"mattheo" you pleaded again. you touched his cheek. and his skin felt like it was burning under your touch. "i don't want to be someone's girlfriend" you muttered and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"i can't bear to see you with him" he admitted "not with anyone"

"i didn't want you to feel like one of many" you said softly. he let go of your cheek and you took his face in both of your hands. "we can do it again" you looked into his eyes "but it's not like that for me"

"i don't care" mattheo crashed his lips to yours. he lifted you up on the table behind you, deepening the kiss and opening your ponytail with a quick gesture. he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. you stroke his cheek and he smiled, tears shimmering in his eyes. "be mine. just for now"

"okay" you said and you felt worse at the smile that appeared on his face.

he nodded. "okay"

that you fall in love, because we do it. that it affects you so much i did not know that

mattheo climbed on top of you, pushing you down on the table and both of you knew that this was a volatile arrangement. you would keep your promise, but he knew you weren't his. he ignored that as he opened your bra and littered your collarbone with kisses.

you looked up to the ceiling and felt the guilt bubble inside of you. this felt wrong. and you were scared that mattheo was confusing lust with love. after all you weren't the type for relationships and you had thought he wasn't either.

you both parted ways after that night in the classroom. you kept out of his way out of guilt. and he kept away from you in the hope that whatever he was feeling was finally going to disappear.

halloween came and went and mattheo felt himself indulge in meaningless hookups, just like before he had been with you, but it wasn't the same. it felt wrong, like a duty he couldn't fulfill.

you weren't able to forget the feeling of the touch of his skin. the way it burned under your hand. they way nobody elses skin had ever burned under your touch. not like that atleast.

it took less than a week for a note to find you and for you to return to the abandoned classroom during nightfall. it made your heart burn to see him like that. desperate for your warmth. that night he took you out of the castle and while you were laying on the grass and watching his features shine under the stars, you had almost wanted to cry.

the sight of him saddened you and made you wish to give him all he was longing for. but you couldn't and mattheo knew that, but that night you were his for a short time once again.

you decided that this was going to be the last time. you would break it off the next time he would send a note. seeing the hurt in his eyes broke you more and more. especially when he tried to advert his eyes from you around the castle. as if he was constantly telling himself off for liking you the way he did.

leave it be, i can't deal, i have too much respect for how you feel

he was waiting for you when you arrived the next night. the glint of hope, any time you came to your secret meetings made everything so much worse.

"we have to stop doing this" you got right to the point.

mattheo's face fell. "what?"

"this isn't doing you any good" you admitted "i can't bear to hurt you"

"okay" he said "then don't go"

"it will hurt so much more if i don't go now"

he shook his head "you don't know that"

"i do" you assured unwillingly "it's not the same for me, matty"

"you don't feel anything?" he muttered, gently touching your face "does this do nothing to you at all?"

"not in the way you would want" you looked to the ground, trying to avoid his eyes. "i don't do commitment"

mattheo stepped back from you and nodded bitterly. "yeah" he shrugged. "why would you?"

you saw the tears glistening in his eyes. "i have too much respect for you and the way you feel than to play with you like that"

"don't say that" he shook his head and adverted his eyes.

"i'm sorry, matty, i truly am" you tried to grab his hand, but he moved backwards "but what did you expect? i told you the truth from the beginning"

"i know" he pushed his hair back, looking from the ground to your eyes "i thought, maybe, if this was going on for longer, you would eventually like me like that"

this was it. this was the moment your heart broke. he was looking at you and a single tear slipped down his cheek. in that moment you truly regretted ever coming close to him.

"you don't want that" you promised "you don't want to know me in a way that's more than for a night"

"i do" he argued "of course i want that"

"i will just let you down, matty"

"don't be ridiculous" he grabbed your shoulders

"loving me is not easy" you said loudly, trying to escape his hold.

"i know" he admitted "it's fucking hell"

you looked up at him in surprise. "you don't know what you're saying" you turned your body away from him with a sudden movement. "you don't love me. you can't love me"

"you'd be surprised at how much" he said softly. you turned around and looked at his face. you had known that he wanted more from you than you were able to give him.. but love? you had initially thought that whatever it was that made him dream of you, would be forgotten in less than a week. at least that was what had happened with any guy that claimed to like you before.

"i love you" he said, more clearly. "so much"

you couldn't allow yourself to hope. you couldn't take his words seriously. you shook your head and his smile died once again. whatever part of him had hoped to convince you was crashed and burning by now. "it will go away"

he watched in dispair as you silently left the room, without looking at him. he sank down on the table behind him, burying his face in his hands. what he didn't know was that you were doing the exact same right outside the classroom.

the next morning during breakfast you felt burned out by how much you had cried that night. your eyes felt puffy and your voice was hoarse. you ignored the conversations your friends were having around you, even if you got talked to. instead your eyes were fixated on the empty spot next to theo nott.

theo, who had noticed your look, send you a sympathic smile and shrugged his shoulders, making it obvious that he knew as much as you about mattheo's absence.

you got up from your seat aprublty, leaving the hall quickly and ignoring your friends questions. you took the fastest way to the astronomy tower you knew. you couldn't sit at the table and act like everything was normal. you wanted to be alone.

you let you legs dangle, the pole inbetween them securing your seating.

"seems like we both had the same idea" a sudden voice pulled you from your thoughts. you looked up. mattheo was standing at the stairs. you got up from your place.

"i'll leave" you assured him. after yesterday, you felt like it was your duty to give him space. he wasn't the problem, you were. and you didn't want to cause him any more harm.

"you don't have to" mattheo shrugged and you noticed that he was lying. he would rather have you leave again then look at you while knowing you would never reciprocate the way he did it.

"it's fine" you smiled, but it wasn't genuine. you walked past him, but unintentionally stumbled and almost fell down the stairs. he reacted quickly and caught your arm.

he let go of you after he had stabilized your footing.

"thank you" you mumbled

he ignored it. "maybe you should go to madam pomfrey, your arm is burning hot"

you perked up at that. "what?" you whispered.

"your arm is burning hot" he repeated, assuming you just hadn't heard him.

you looked at him in disbelief, remembering how his skin used to feel under your touch, and how the reason behind it all had been simple and plain love.

but you had to know for sure. you pulled your blouse from your skirt, quickly unbuttoning the last buttons. you pulled it up, so that your skin was bare. "can you touch me there?" you asked and mattheo's eyes widened.

"what the fuck?" he wondered.

"can you just do it, please?" you asked again and he sighed, but softly touched you. "is it hot?"

"your skin or this situation?"

"the skin" your face reddened.

mattheo nodded and frowned. "alarmingly, actually"

"open your shirt" you directed and to your surprise, he did like you had asked without the slightest hesitation.

you pressed you hand against his chest quickly. his skin was burning underneath it. you smiled.

"touch my face" mattheo cupped your cheeks. he nodded silently, confirming that your face was as hot as the rest of your body.

your smile grew even bigger and mattheo smiled back hesitantely, still confused at what was going on. "can i hug you?" you asked.

mattheo nodded and opened his arms for you to step in. for the first time you were doing something that didn't involve sexual lust. you breathed in his smell of nicotine and perfume and you wondered how something so simple could be so special. you stepped back and you knew that you were now seeing things in a different light, everything, even him.

"i'm probably not good at it" you admitted "but i think i'm in love with you"

mattheo smiled at you and laughed. "you were teribble at it, yeah" he grinned "so there is much room for improvement"

you giggled, but quickly grew serious again "i'm not good at being committed"

"me either" he said and stepped closer, taking your face in his hands once again. "but we will manage, we can learn together" he promised and kissed you softly. both of your lips were burning up.

"that sounds like a plan" you smiled, touching his cheeks with your fingers "but it will be hard to love me" you looked down.

"i don't care" mattheo crashed his lips to yours. he drew you close to his body, deepening the kiss and squeezing your waist in a way that made you squeek in surprise. he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. you stroke his cheek and he smiled, happy tears shimmering in his eyes. "be mine. for longer than now"

"okay" you nodded and you felt butterflies errupting at the smile that appeared on his face.

he nodded and you mirrored his smile. "okay"

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sweetfushi · 3 months

Text

HIS LOVE HABITS PT 1.

fluff, slight angst | giyu tomioka, obanai iguro, sanemi shinaguzawa x reader, mentions of guilt, crying, mentions of death | word count. 1.1k ◦ notes. watching the new season is making me feel nostalgic about the start of the anime :(

GIYU TOMIOKA.

Giyu shows his passion for you by spending most of what would be his alone time with you. He doesn’t always talk much during the times he’s around you, but he isn’t opposed to you talking. Giyu doesn’t mind where he is, as long as he’s with you and knows you’re safe - despite his underlying feeling of perhaps being incapable of protecting you completely. Thus, he sometimes feels guilty for wanting to spend time with you, but he compensates for that by allowing you to guide him - choosing where to hang out, leading most conversations.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like his alone time. You out of all people know best how much he indulges in silent reflection and meditation, but you’ve also noticed that he’d consult you for those things. He’d start using some of his silent reflection time to ask you questions riddled with guilt. He finds that you’re much like Tanjiro in your overwhelming ability to comfort people.

“You know,” you start as you’re walking alongside him, making your way to the noodle house, “I’m really thinking we need to change our plans. The owners know our orders at this point,” you grin, stretching your arms out.

“Supporting a small business doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” he retorts, plopping his hand on your head and ruffling your hair slightly. “Besides, that makes ordering our food quicker, does it not?”

You roll your eyes but are forced to agree.

Following that brief conversation, the two of you spend the next half an hour eating to your hearts’ desires. Giyu will pause every few minutes to remove the food items from your plate that you don’t like and add them to his with a small smile, both at your sweet voice thanking him and the sight of more food on his plate.

You’ll always require a sweet treat after your meal, whether that be a drink or more food, so you either head into town to survey the sweet stands or drop by Mitsuri to see if she has any stored - she typically does and you’re forever grateful for that.

All the while, Giyu will let you ask him question upon question, start conversation after conversation, all without complaints just to lengthen the time he gets to spend with his beloved.

OBANAI IGURO.

Obanai expresses his love through promises. They’re never empty ones and he makes sure you know that, sometimes even goes as far as gently pulling your ear to discipline your ignorance towards such. Sometimes the promises are of small value, such as promising to not eat your food or not start training without you. Other times, they mean the entire world, where he’ll promise that he’ll return from a dangerous mission or that he’ll not get injured because he couldn’t ever be so weak as to let a demon injure him fatally.

Every time he promises you something, the eye contact with him is almost intimidating. Obanai feels as though averting his gaze from you connotes distrust and uncertainty, so he always ensures to gaze into your apprehensive eyes when he speaks his truth. In moments of vulnerability, when you’re crying late at night because you’re certain tonight awaits his death, he’ll emerge from the Master’s room determined to fulfil his assignment and not evoke worry.

When he sees you in such a state, sniffling and averting your gaze, he’s convinced that you’re stuck in a cycle of paranoia and fear.

“Are you really so sceptical of my return? Don’t be so foolish,” he says, narrowing his eyes at your despondent state. “I promise I’ll return to you.”

You hear Kaburamaru hiss before feeling him graze your cheek with his face. You whimper and allow him to do so, only until you motion for Obanai to sit beside you. He does so without question and cranes his neck to look into your eyes, to which you turn away from.

“Have I ever broken a promise made to you?”

You swallow thickly. “No.”

He huffs. “So what is your concern?”

You shrug but, in reality, know what is bothering you. Instead of telling him, however, you lift your head to look at him and pout in an attempt to satiate your tears. “I’m going to kill you if you don’t come back, Iguro. I swear.”

You can’t see his mouth, but you know he’s smiling as he nods and presses a quick kiss to your temple. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA.

Sanemi shows his love for you through acts of service. Initially, you hadn’t noticed it, but you start questioning him when your katana appears sharper and cleaner, your uniform neatly pressed, and your food managed to suit your tastes.

“Have you only just noticed? I’m almost insulted,” he scoffs, gently smacking the back of your head only for you to groan and swat his hand away. “The swordsmiths are practically sick of me,” he grumbles, watching you admire the shine on your katana.

You grin and elbow his side, making him wince and shove you. “You’re so in love with me.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea from,” he teases, flashing you his canines as the two of you lean closer to each other, faces inches apart as your childish squabbling continues. Sanemi snickers as you attempt to maintain your scowl but inevitably fail at the close proximity, turning into loud laughter when you slump over and rest your head on his chest.

As a Hashira, the Kakushi already know you, but recently have appeared in near fear of your presence (despite being aware of your empathetic personality). At one point, you explicitly ask why the change in treatment, to which they respond: “Shinazugawa-san isn’t forgiving if your uniform is anything but perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“As in washed, pressed and perfumed.”

You pause, shock evident in your expression. “Uh,” you almost break into laughter, “you don’t have to do that, really. I’ll… have a talk with him, make sure he’s not bullying you.”

The Kakushi give you a pointed look, to which you nod and purse your lips. You mumble, “well, he’s getting slapped.”

Sanemi always ensures that the menu provided to the cooks that cater to you suits your tastes. However, you’re highly concerned with the fact that Sanemi thinks anything is obtainable through an arbitrary expression of power, but you have the advantage of being able to discipline him for thinking such without consequence.

“The Kakushi help us, not serve us!”

“That’s a very liberal way of looking at it– ow!”Sanemi groans at the punches you land to his chest, making him double over and eventually lay down on the grass with no attempt of fighting back. “Okay, okay, I’ll be nicer.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post. all that is included in this post, aside from the photos, fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer fic #demon slayer headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba fic #kimetsu no yaiba headcanons #giyu tomioka x reader #tomioka giyu x reader #sanemi shinaguzawa x reader #shinazugawa sanemi x reader #iguro obanai x reader #obanai iguro x reader #demon slayer fluff #kny x reader #kny fic #kny headcanons #kny fluff

791 notes · View notes

imaginespazzi · 3 months

Text

Part 1: Simple Things

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

Cause your presence still lingers here (it won't leave me alone)

(In which a procrastinating writer starts another series to continuously procrastinate on)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 5.8K (lowkey shocked I managed that)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Look at me not being a liar! I'mma try to be good with updates but we all know me. This first chapter is mainly buildup and it's not my favorite but it's important to get the plot rolling. I know very little about California and it's going to become more and more apparent throughout this series so everyone who knows Cali, just pretend thanks! Did I edit? Yes. Are there probably still mistakes? Also yes. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked, and what you wanna see next!

February 2033

“Anywhere but GSV,” Paige says adamantly, staring at the white wall in front of her, instead of her exasperated agent.

Talia lets out a deep sigh, perfectly manicured sharp red nails tapping incessantly against her desk. For the most part, Paige is a dream client and when Talia says jump, she says how high. It’s easy to trust Talia’s vision when she hasn’t let her down once since Paige’s management company has assigned her to their basketball sensation. But most of those decisions had been about endorsement opportunities, opportunities that wouldn’t have other ramifications on the rest of Paige’s life, opportunities that didn’t come with personal consequences.

“Paige-”

“How about the Sparks?”

“They’re not offering nearly as much.”

“I’m okay with taking a pay-.”

“You do not pay me as much as you do for me to let you finish such a stupid sentence.”

“Fine,” Paige spins around in her swivel chair, “you’re telling me nobody else is offering me anything as big as GSV.”

“Well I mean Indiana…” Talia trails off, barely able to hide an impish grin at Paige’s pronounced eyeroll, “and of course you could always just stay in Dallas.”

Paige winces at the mention of the current team. With one championship and two MVP campaigns under her belt, it would be incorrect to say her time with the Wings hadn’t been fruitful but she’d never felt quite at home here. And that had been before the personnel changes had hit Dallas and suddenly, the team coming off a near perfect season with a trophy in their hand, was struggling to keep themselves in playoff contention. Paige had stuck it out two more seasons after, a testament to her loyal nature and desire to start and finish her career at the same place like many legends had done but ultimately enough had been enough and she’s come to terms with the fact that she’s not meant to be a part of the Wings forever.

“Can’t you try talking to the Sparks again?” she says, hands massaging her temple as she resorts to begging, “it’s fucking L.A. they’ve got to have some money lying around somewhere.”

“Even if they did, you and I both know the Sparks aren’t a good fit basketball wise either. GSV has everything you’re looking for. They need a PG and you need a championship contender who’s offering you a deal like they are. You can’t throw all of that away just because-”, Talia bites her lip, catching herself before she can vocalise out loud the real reason they’re having such a complicated conversation about what should be a simple decision.

Paige swallows uncomfortably, skin prickling with that all too familiar fire that spreads through her veins every time her past brushes a little too close to her present. It would be impossible to keep them from ever colliding, but for almost a decade now, Paige has managed to keep them separate beyond absolute necessity. She’s done the cordial handshakes when the Wings played the Valkyries and given due diligent praise when the media had asked about the competition, but that was it. More than that would have been like willingly walking into a fire with kerosene all over her body. And Paige can’t do that, not when the burn marks from years and years ago, still haven’t healed.

“Team chemistry is important,” Paige says finally, “I might be an on-court fit at GSV but that won’t matter if it’s a disaster off the court.”

Talia sighs and Paige can tell she’s fighting the urge to whack her head against her desk, “it’s been years Paige. You've lived a whole life without each other. The two of you are adults. You’re professionals and you’re two of the best goddamn players in the league. You have the same goal; you want to win. You don’t think you can put that behind you to get you both what you want?”

You've lived a whole life without each other

It’s like a well-aimed arrow that barely breaks skin but shatters something underneath, something buried deep within, something she should have gotten rid of years ago but hasn’t been able to let go of yet. Something that feels a lot like a forever she’d never gotten to live out and an always that had flown out of her reach. And Paige knows nobody lives the life they’d expected to live at fifteen or even eighteen but the truth is that most of her dreams had come true. The only thing missing was the person she’d expected to be there by her side when they did.

“Okay listen,” Talia begins again, “here’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Bossy,” Paige smirks, bracing herself, knowing she’s not about to like the next words out of Talia’s mouth.

“You’re going to go to San Francisco,” the older woman raises a silencing hand the minute Paige tries to protest, “you’re going to meet the front office, you’re going to meet the GM and you’re going to tour their facilities. And if after talking with them and seeing all they have to offer, if it’s still not enough to counter having to play with her, then we can revisit this conversation.”

“Can I say no?” Paige tilts her head with a sigh.

Talia smirks and it’s enough for Paige to let her head finally hit the table, “your flight leaves in two days.”

***

Azzi wakes up to a light weight sprawled over her back and tiny fingers rubbing circles against her temple. She can’t help but smile, keeping her eyes closed and listening to the sound of her daughter’s quiet breathing as the little girl continues her ministrations. It’s a new skill she’s been taught, to wake her mom up like this instead of screaming. So far, Azzi think’s it’s been a successful transition.

“Mama,” Stephie whispers in Azzi’s ear, “are you awake yet cause I really really want waffles.”

Azzi laughs, finally flipping herself over and Stephie squeals as she goes from on top of her mother, to landing on the bed, “I thought you said you wanted pancakes last night?”

“I did,” a thoughtful look crosses the five-year-old's eyes, “I think I changed my mind.”

“You think?” Azzi suppresses a smile. It’s uncanny really how she’d given birth to her perfect mini-me. The moment the nurses had placed the tiny little creature into her waiting hands, she’d noticed immediately how much it felt like looking through a door into her childhood. And with every passing day, it seems Stephie morphs more and more into Azzi. From the way her face betrays her every emotion to the way she can’t make a decision to save her life, it’s all Azzi and really it makes sense, because Stephie is all Azzi’s.

“Yes,” Stephie nods matter-of-factly as she sits up onto her knee and pulls at Azzi’s blanket, “so can you get up and make me waffles now?”

“Oh of course I can, your highness,” Azzi says dramatically, rising off the bed and letting Stephie climb onto her back, “would you like chocolate sauce or maple syrup with that your majesty?”

Stephie groans, burying her face in Azzi’s neck as if her mother has asked her to make the most difficult decision in the world. They settle into their morning routine, Stephie brushing her teeth as Azzi goes through her meticulous skin care regiment, occasionally dabbing little bits of this and that on her daughter’s skin, eliciting soft giggles from the little girl. It’s her favourite sound in the entire world. Azzi’s life isn’t perfect and there’s a million what if’s, one bigger than all of the others, that plague her mind sometimes but then she looks at Stephie, and she knows she wouldn’t change a single decision she’d made. Because they’ve all led to this moment, 9 am on a Friday, making waffle batter as her five-year old sits on the counter-top. It’s not everything but it’s enough.

The frantic sound of a door being haphazardly slammed open has both Stephie and Azzi startled, until Colleen comes bursting through it like a tornado.

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” Azzi’s best friend and manager says, out of breath, as she throws her car keys on the kitchen table.

“Hi Aunty Leen,” Stephie grins, waffle batter all over her mouth as she continues to dip and lick.

“Hey kiddo,” Colleen ruffles Stephie’s hair before sitting down and staring pointedly up at Azzi, “you might wanna sit down for this. I have news.”

“Sorry to break it to you Collen but your new h-o-o-k-u-p-s are not sit-down-newsworthy,” Azzi smirks as Colleen scrunches up her nose trying to keep up with the spelling.

“Oh trust me Az, I wish this was about my h-o-o- whatever,” Colleen takes a deep breath, “GSV is meeting with a potential point guard this week.”

“I would hope so. We really need a PG if we’re gonna redeem ourselves next season.”

“Right, well- you see- the thing is-”

“Today if you can please Colleen,” but there’s this knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Her sixth sense that’s been dormant for years is prickling and if she’s honest with herself, Azzi knows the next words that are about to come out of Colleen’s mouth before her best friend has even said them.

“GSV wants to sign Paige,” Colleen says slowly.

For a moment there’s silence and it’s ridiculous how all it takes is her name for Azzi’s mind to start flipping through pages and pages of a photo album she’s buried deep in the treasure chest of her mind. And for a second, she allows herself to get lost in a flood of everything we could have been until the sting of her hand slipping against the waffle iron jolts her back to reality.

“Fuck,” she curses, immedaitely blowing at her fingers. It does nothing. She should know by now that when things burn, the flames might die out, but even the ashes remain on fire.

“Bad word Mama,” Stephie chides immediately, unaware that her mother’s world has just been thrown off balance, “you owe me a kiss.”

She juts her cheek out and Azzi complies, trying to ignore the way her heart is desperately trying to beat out of her chest. It only calms down a little when Stephie presses a kiss of her own against Azzi’s cheek.

“Sorry sweetheart, mama’s bad, Here can you mix this batter for me,” Azzi whispers to the younger girl, distracting her child with something to do, before rounding on her best friend, “she can’t come here.”

Colleen sighs, getting comfortable in her chair, “unfortunately I don’t think you have much choice.”

“The h-” Azzi cuts herself off, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, “the haystack I don’t. This is my team and I don’t want her on it and I’m gonna walk into Ohemaa’s office and tell her exactly that.”

“Right and what exactly are you going to tell her when she asks you why you don’t want the best point guard in the league on your team Azzi? Your team, who mind you, lost in the finals last year because you didn’t have a point guard.”

Azzi flinches, gritting her teeth, both at the reminder of the loss that had happened not long enough ago and the fact that she couldn’t very well go into her boss’s office and blurt out the truth about a tragic relationship that had lived and died in secret.

“It's a bad idea, the two of us- we’ll kill each other Colleen,” she struggles to string the words together, swallowing away the we already have that tastes like bile on the tip of her tongue.

“Well you’re gonna have to learn not to,” Colleen says decisively, slipping from being Azzi’s best friend to her manager, “because you and I both know that if you want GSV to win another championship, you’re going to need her.”

“Are you my manager or GSV’s,” Azzi grunts, rubbing a tired hand against her forehead.

Colleen smiles, “it’s the same thing isn’t it? What’s good for GSV is good for you. And we all know the two of you thrive on the court together.”

“We did. Past tense,” the admission falls like lava from Azzi’s lips, singeing the edges of her mouth as everything that she’d let simmer underneath threatens to bubble over, “there’s no guarantee we still will. Besides, it's all a moot point anyways because she would never agree.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Colleen cocks an eyebrow and Azzi groans at the rhetorical question, waiting for the inevitable other shoe to drop, “because last I checked, she’s flying into San Francisco tomorrow.”

***

Paige has a problem. A really big fuck i really want to be a golden state valkyrie type of problem. She’d fought it every step of the way since she’d landed in San Francisco. Something about the city felt like it was bursting with basketball. The drive from the airport into Oakland had been bursting with murals of the Warriors and the Valkyries and for a split second, Paige can see her own face up on the billboards in a #5 Valkyries jersey. She just doesn’t know if it she can imagine herself next to the woman in #35 again, the woman whose smile in the posters is exactly as she remembers it to have been like when it was pressed into Paige’s skin every night almost a decade ago.

On top of that, Omehaa Nyanin had seemed to know exactly what made Paige Bueckers, the basketball player, tick. Every argument Paige had about why she shouldn’t be Valkyrie, the woman had a counter ready, as if she’d already anticipated exactly what the blonde would say. The Valkyrie coach had been even more prepared with videos of their offensive and defensive sets and how they fit in tandem with Paige’s own skill set, all ready to show off the minute she had walked through the door. It should be the easiest decision in the world to let herself just belong to this world that is screaming her name but there’s a rope around her waist trying to tug her back to safety, trying to tug her away from dousing her still-open wounds in salt.

Sighing, Paige lets herself into what she’s been told is called the “chill area”. Coach had offered to give her a tour of the facilities herself but Paige had declined, asking instead for her former UConn teammate and currently Valkyrie centre Jana El Alfy to do the honours, desperate for a familiar face who knew her history to bounce her thoughts off. It clearly wasn’t what the woman had wanted, but considering she was trying to convince Paige to choose them, whatever the blonde wanted, she was going to get. Massaging her temples at this irritating predicament she’s unwillingly found herself in, Paige’s head rolls back against the back of the chair, eyes closing involuntarily.

“You’re not supposed to sleep in here,” a tiny voice echoes and Paige almost jumps out her skin in shock.

“Fucking hell,” she curses as her eyes fall upon a little girl who seems to have materialized out of nowhere, “shit kid, you scared me.”

The child scrunches her nose and Paige feels her heart beat start to quicken as recognition settles in. She knows this little girl, has seen her on the sidelines at countless games and just like every other time, all she can think of is just how much this child resembles the future Paige had once believed would be hers.

“You owe me three kisses,” the girl says matter-of-factly, her tone so similar to her mothers. It shouldn’t surprise Paige, not when the kid has those same dark curls, those same doey brown eyes, that same nose scrunch.

“I owe you three kisses?” Paige repeats.

The girl rolls her eyes letting out a sigh far too grave for someone of her age, “yes. Mama says whenever someone says a bad word around me, they have to give me a kiss. You said three bad words, so you owe me three kisses.”

“And what does Mama say about asking strangers for kisses?”

“Stranger danger duh silly,” the child puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she looks at Paige with a far too familiar expression, “but you’re not a stranger.”

Paige purses her lips, “I’m not?”

“You’re Paige Bueckers. I’ve seen you at Mama’s games and Nanna and Pops have pictures of you in their house,” she stops, staring accusingly, “you don’t know who I am? Did you forget me?”

And Paige doesn’t know what catches her off guard more. The casual mention of a house that used to feel like a home, of people that used to feel like family or the fact that, that puppy dog stare still has the exact same effect on her that it did years ago, even if the owner of said eyes is different.

“Of course I didn’t forget you. You’re Stephanie,” Paige says softly, trying to muster a smile as she adds the last name, “Stephanie Fudd.”

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” comes the immediate correction, “but everybody calls me Stephie,” tiny hands wrap around Paige’s neck as Stephie climbs on to her lap, tapping a finger on her left cheek as she smiles up at Paige, “so now can I have my kisses?”

Slowly, Paige presses three featherlight kisses against the little girl’s cheek and when Stephie squeals in delight, she wishes she could record it. Someone somewhere is playing a practical joke on her, Paige is sure of it. Because all of a sudden, all the little things she’s been collecting as to reasons why she might just like the Bay Area are starting to feel insignificant in front of this one, in front of Stephie and her innocent smile and the way her free hand is curled around Paige’s neck as if she’ll hold on forever. And the world is definitely playing a cruel prank on her because Stephie can’t be the reason Paige wants to stay, not when her mother’s the reason Paige needs to go.

“Your Mama just lets you run around the building like this?” Paige asks, trying to focus on Stephie instead of the turmoil in her brain.

Stephie smiles sheepishly, “well I was ‘posed to stay with Aunty Leen while Mama talks to Miss O but then Aunty Leen got a call and I was bored so I came here.”

It doesn’t take Paige too long to decipher that Miss O must be Omehaa, but she’s stuck on who the hell Aunty Leen could be. She’s distinctly aware that her skin has no right to prickle, her hands have no right to sweat, her stomach has no right to knot, she has no right to feel anything when it comes to Stephie’s mother. But jealousy floods through her anyways.

“Who is Aunty Leen?” Paige asks and then mentally slaps herself for it.

“Aunty Leen is Aunty Leen,” Stephie explains unhelpfully, “so Miss Buecks-”

“Bueckers.”

Stephie shoots her an unimpressed look, “same things Miss Buecks. Are you here to join Mama’s team?”

“I-” Paige scratches her neck, only slightly taken aback by the direct question, “I don’t know.”

“You should,” Stephies says decisively, “Mama’s team is the best team in the world and Mama’s the best player in the whole wide world.”

Paige can’t help but smile at Stephie’s loyalty, “so why does her team need me then?”

Stephie looks contemplative for a moment before she uses her index finger to beckon Paige towards her, “can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course you can,” Paige says, leaning her ear down so Stephie can whisper into it.

“Don’t tell anyone but you’re my second favourite player.”

Paige swears her heart feels like it might burst. She’s been plenty of people’s favourite player and it’s always been nice to hear. But somehow, all of that seems to pale in comparison to being Stephie’s second favourite player.

“Why’s that a secret?” she asks softly.

“Cause you play for the wrong team silly. I can’t cheer for not Mama’s team,” Stephie huffs and then her eyes twinkle, “that’s why you should play for Mama’s team and then I can support you!”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Paige concedes, battling against the part of her brain that’s conjuring up an image of Stephie on the sidelines, cheering for Paige.

“What’s log-ic?” Stephie asks.

“Just means you’re a really smart kid,” Paige says, tapping the little girl’s nose. Her head is ringing with warning bells because this floaty feeling of belonging that’s encompassed in this little bubble she’s found herself in with Stephie is not one she’s allowed to feel, not now, not ever.

“STEPHIE,” a shrill voice echoes outside and Stephie immediately dives into Paige’s neck, hiding herself in the crook of it as a frazzled woman bursts through the door. Her eyes soften when they fall on Paige and the blonde can’t help the caught expression that filters on her face. She knows she’s done nothing wrong; Stephie had been the one to find her after all. But perhaps it’s because she’s scared Colleen will take one look at her and see that tiny rebellious part of her that wants to fight what’s coming next, wants to fight the woman who’s going to take Stephie away from her. Paige isn’t one to get attached easily. It had only ever happened once before when she was fifteen and she’d just known that the girl shooting three’s next to her on the court was meant to be in her life in one way or another. But things had been simple then. Nothing was simple now.

“Stephie,” Colleen says slowly, “what have I told you about running away from me?”

Stephie peeks her head out from Paige’s chest, a coy smirk playing on her lips, “not to do it? But you were boring me Aunty Leen.”

Oh that’s Aunty Leen, Paige thinks and she absolutely should not let out a sigh of relief at that but she does anyway.

“I was on the phone for two minutes, Steph.”

“Two minutes too long,” Stephie counters and Paige has to stifle a laugh.

Colleen rolls her eyes before holding out a hand, “well your Mama’s nearly done so we have to get going kiddo.”

“Can Miss Buecks come with us?” Stephie asks innocently and both Colleen and Paige freeze.

“I don’t think-”

“I’m not sure-”

They both begin before their eyes flicker to each other and they can’t help but smile. It’s funny how relationships work, how one snapped string can cause a whole web to dissolve, no matter how hard everyone involved had tried to make it work.

“I’m waiting to meet someone sweetheart so I can’t come right now,” Paige explains, “but maybe next time?”

And she shouldn’t add that last part, not when Paige should be devising an escape plan to never be in Oakland again instead of giving Stephie false hope about a next time that’s far from guaranteed. But it’s worth it for the way Stephie grins, staring at Paige like she’s given her the world’s greatest gift.

Before Paige can say anything, the little girl presses her lips against Paige’s cheek and she swears she stops breathing for a moment, “I hope you choose to play for Mama’s team Miss Buecks. I think you’d look pretty in purple.”

***

May 2024

“I’ve figured it out,” Paige says triumphantly as she unceremoniously flops onto Azzi’s bed.

“Well hi to you too babe,” Azzi grumbles as she scoots over to give the other girl space. It’s unnecessary because the minute she does, Paige only moves closer, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s torso.

“Hi baby,” she whispers before pressing a kiss against her girlfriend’s lips and pulling away so quickly that it leaves Azzi chasing after her.

Azzi huffs and Paige laughs as she gets herself comfortable, resting her chest on the darker skinned girl's stomach, “I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“Our future,” Paige says triumphantly and Azzi can’t help but smile at the our as she intertwines their fingers together. It’s been years in the making and there’s nothing Azzi’s more confident in than those two words. Not everyone finds forever this young, but she’s certain they have because really she can’t imagine a life where they don’t belong to each other, a life where every night isn’t spent exactly like this.

“And what do you see for our future,” Azzi asks softly.

“Well it’s simple really,” Paige hums, “I’m going to get drafted wherever next year but the year after, you’re definitely getting drafted to Valkyries-”

“I don’t know about definitely-”

“Azzi it’s rude to interrupt,” Paige sends her a chastising look.

“Right of course,” Azzi nods solemnly, “continue.”

“As I was saying. You’re definitely getting drafted to the Valks and then we just have to wait for my rookie contract to be up and boom! I’ll join you in the Bay Area and we’ll be together forever and ever and ever.”

Azzi giggles, brushing her hands through Paige’s hair, “that simple huh?”

“That simple,” Paige promises, catching hold of one of Azzi’s hands to press a kiss to her palm, “it’s us Az, we’ll always be simple. Besides, I think we’d both look pretty good in purple.”

***

May 2033

The Valkyrie facilities are state of the art as expected. Jana is the perfect tour guide, pointing out everything she knows will garner Paige’s attention. As they step foot onto the practice court, Paige feels the overwhelming sense of this could be home that’s been dancing along with her every step of the way today. All the resolve she’d carried with her from Dallas is slowly crashing down and she can practically hear Talia’s sing-song i told you so voice echoing in her head.

“You’d be really good here P,” Jana says excitedly, doing a little spin.

“You’d be lucky to have me,” Paige teases, as she picks up a basketball and subconsciously starts dribbling.

Jana laughs, before a serious expression takes over, “we would. We got really close to winning it all last year and I think you might be our missing piece.”

“I want to,” Paige confesses, “I just-” her eyes flicker to the most recent MVP poster hanging on the walls, Jana’s gaze following hers, “I don’t know if I should. It’s so complicated.”

“Only if you let it be,” Jana says as she swipes the ball out Paige’s hands, “don’t think of everything else P, just- just think of the basketball. Because you know basketball-wise, this is the right move,” she passes the ball to Paige with a smirk, tilting her head towards the basket, “why not take a shot at it P?”

Paige shakes her head, palming the ball in her hands, “can’t believe my son’s all grown up.”

“Children of divorce have no choice but to grow up,” Jana says gravely and Paige laughs despite herself.

Taking a deep breath, Paige raises the ball, arching her arms perfect as she shoots it. It barely touches the rim, before falling through the basket with swish. Hitting the floor with a quiet thud, the ball rolls until it’s stopped by someone's foot. Behind her, Paige can hear Jana cheering for the shot but she barely registers it, her entire attention on the new figure who’s just entered the court. It’s a tale as old as time. Azzi Fudd enters the room and suddenly everything else in Paige’s peripheral fades away, until it’s just her and the girl who still manages to steal her breath away.

“Nice shot,” Azzi says, as she takes a slow step towards Paige. The air is thick with tension as if a time capsule has been opened and their past is leaking onto the pages of their present, staining it with marks of the you and me that we used to be. She should say something, even if it’s just an acknowledgement of the compliment but her tongue feels dry and she’s scared that if she opens her mouth, all the things she shouldn’t say will flood out instead.

“Hey Az,” Jana’s eyes flicker awkwardly between her former teammates, “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

“Had to talk to Omehaa about a couple of things,” Azzi says airly, eyes still fixated on Paige, “Jana can we have a minute?”

“You won’t kill each other will you?” Jana asks nervously.

Azzi laughs and even Paige cracks a small smile, “no Jana, we won’t kill each other.”

“Just making sure because last time-” Jana clamps a hand to her mouth as both Paige and Azzi flinch, “because nothing- you guys- you guys talk. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

She scampers away cursing to herself about putting her foot in her mouth and it would be amusing, if not for the fact that Paige can still barely breathe. They haven’t been alone in a room since last time and the air around them hangs heavy with the casings of the grenades they’d hurled at each other.

“I’ve never seen you with braids this early in the year. They used to be your summer braids,” Paige remarks slowly. It’s a mundane change to notice but it’s significant of the larger truth, significant of all the time that’s passed, significant of the fact they don’t know these new versions of each other.

“Yeah um, can’t really do summer braids with the W season,” Azzi chews at her lip.

“Right yeah- yeah that makes sense,” Paige nods. The awkwardness is killing her. She’d never been a fan of the silence, always more comfortable in the chaos but it had been different with Azzi. There had been something peaceful, something calming, about the quiet, when it was just the two of them, hands intertwined, eyes closed, as they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeat.

“Paige-”

“Are you here to tell me not to come to GSV?” Paige blurts out, “because it’s- it’s okay if you are like I get it. I mean- the two of us- it’s just really fucking complicated so I get it- I get it if you don’t want me here.”

“I didn’t,” Azzi admits and it shouldn’t, but Paige feels it sting anyways, “you’re right. You and I- there’s just a lot there and it would- it would be really complicated and when Colleen first told me I- I was gonna go fight Omehaa and be like abso-fucking-lutely not but-” she sucks in a deep breath, “do you remember the promise we made to each other?”

“We made a lot of promises to each other,” Paige says, unable to keep the harshness out of her tone, “sorry I-”

“No you’re right,” Azzi swallows, “but I meant the promise we made when we first started dating. We said we’d never let the personal affect the professional. We promised each other that no matter what, we’d never let our relationship affect us on the court And I know- I know we’ve broken a lot of promises to each other,” they both let out a breath at that, “but I think- I think maybe we should try and keep this one.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need a championship contender and GSV needs a PG. Paige, I’m not here to convince you to not come to GSV, I’m here to ask you to join our team,” Azzi says resolutely.

Paige isn’t easily shocked by anything really. She’s lived what she’d consider a pretty interesting life but of course if anyone was going to surprise her, it would be Azzi. Azzi, who has always been an exception to every rule.

“You- you want me on your team?” Paige repeats, a little dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Azzi affirms, “you told me once that we could be the best backcourt duo in college basketball and we were, even if it was only for a year, we were and so now I’m telling you that I think we could be the best backcourt duo in the WNBA.”

Paige is silent for a second before a smirk takes over her features, “I think I did a lot more than tell you, pretty sure I had a whole video that proved it.”

“Are you asking me to make you a recruiting video?” Azzi raises an unamused eyebrow.

Paige shrugs, “could be a nice gesture.”

“I have a five year old child, Bueckers. Trust me when I say I don’t have enough spare time for bullshit like that when you can easily just search up our highlights on youtube. Or just look in your trophy case if you’re looking for proof of how good we can be together,” Azzi says, a hint of that familiar sass bleeding into her spiel.

“We really were good together weren’t we,” it spills out before Paige can stop it and it’s like they’re taking two steps back from each other, the friendly-ish banter of mere seconds ago being clouded by a past tainted by their mistakes, “on the court I mean. We were really good on the court.”

“Right,” Azzi averts her gaze, “just- just think about it okay? This doesn’t- it doesn’t have to be about you and me, not like that at least. It’s about basketball. GSV is the perfect fit for you and you’re the perfect fit for us. And deep down you must know that too, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe I’m just in it for the free trip to Cali,” Paige surmises.

Azzi scoffs, “you and I both know you make too much money to need a free trip to Cali. If anything, the hotel they’ve given you is probably cheap for your standards.”

“Maybe I just like feeling important? I always did love people showering me with praise.”

“You always did love the attention,” Azzi grins teasingly, “but there’s one thing you always loved more.”

You, Paige thinks but she can’t say that, “and what’s that?”

“Winning. That’s what this is about. You want another championship, so do we. Come help us and let us help you. It’s that simple.”

As Azzi turns to walk away, Paige can’t help but call out from behind her, “you know I think your daughter’s pitch might have been better.”

There’s a smile playing on Azzi’s lips when she turns her face back a little. It’s a new smile that Paige can only assume is Azzi’s Stephie smile, “yeah? What did she say?”

“She told me she thinks I’d look good in purple,” Paige smirks.

Azzi laughs, and it’s exactly like Paige remembers, “it’s that simple huh?”

“It’s that simple.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

The Price of Pride (6/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, mutual masturbation, infidelity, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before had the wooden ceiling of a bed seemed so interesting to her.

The Maester was trying to be gentle and his touch was respectful – she knew that, but still what he was doing, the fact that there were other people around behind the cream curtains made her tense, even though she knew the verdict would be one.

When the examination was finally completed she sighed quietly and swallowed hard, rising on her elbow – she lowered her skirt down thinking she wouldn't give them the satisfaction and cry – Maester's voice and what he said was like honey to her ears.

"She is a maiden, My King. I have no doubt."

A moment later, she heard the sound of a door opening and closing with a loud slam.

Prince Aemond gave everyone an expression of his fury at this obviously unfounded accusation.

She took a quiet breath as someone pulled aside one of the veils – the king's face seemed satisfied, as if not the end result but the fact that he had once again shown his brother who had the last word was his reward.

"I am relieved, dear cousin, that you have come to no harm under my brother's care. I hope you understand that in no way did I mean to offend you or undermine your virtue." He said lightly, knowing that she could not reply anything other than to confirm his certainly sincere and good intentions.

"I am grateful to you for your concern, Your Grace." She replied, looking him straight in the eye, to her surprise feeling neither bitterness nor regret.

This would at least cut off any further gossip about her and the tongue of the servant who had given her pleasure that day, as promised by the prince.

She guessed he would not leave it at that.

"I wish to see your dragon and judge for myself the value he will bring to the upcoming battles. I also want him to stay in the Dragon's Pit with the rest of the dragons and not with Vhagar." He said, and she nodded, knowing that there was no point in standing up.

This brother or another, what difference did it make.

"He is still wild and untamed, my King. Accustomed to freedom. I fear that sudden confinement may kill his spirit." She replied softly.

Aegon nodded.

"I may yet change my decision. For now, I want to see him."

In accordance with his desire, he, she and a retinue consisting of several members of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston Cole, set off on horseback to Vhagar's lair where the two dragons rested.

When they arrived, she felt joy, or rather a new kind of it, one she had experienced for the first time when she saw Sheepstealer.

Her dragon squawked happily at the sight of her, coming quickly up to her on his paws, watching her from all sides, intrigued, paying no attention to the other newcomers.

He was as sweet as a baby, she thought with tenderness, lonely for long years, craving tenderness, understanding and attention as much as she did.

He was everything she was, which is why the moment she first looked into his eyes she knew she would succeed in taming him.

She knew what he needed and she was able to give it to him, and he reciprocated.

Her dragon was the only man she needed.

"Magnificent. Fierce. And large indeed. Bigger than Sunfyre. Very well." Exclaimed the King with a smile, clearly pleased and reassured.

When his brother was not next to him he felt in control of the situation again.

She stroked the muzzle of her dragon, for some reason also smiling, its scales under her skin hard and rough.

"We are at your service, my King." She replied, wanting to be sure they would leave her alone.

She just wanted to be close to her dragon, nothing more.

"Good. You and my brother will take turns patrolling the sky daily. This will relieve the burden on Vhagar and allow the prince to attend to other, equally important matters." He said, and she nodded.

"Present our subjects with our new dragon. Show them that we are stronger than ever." He commanded, and she held back the smile of amusement that pressed across her face.

Is that so?

Outside? Maybe.

But inside, they were one rotten fruit.

"My King."

Flying over King's Landing was a kind of liberation for her – she felt she was showing not only the world what she had become, but more importantly her father.

She hoped, feeling the wind in her hair, whirling on the Sheepstealer in the skies with laughter, that Daemon was throwing his cups in Dragonstone out of rage, cursing the day she was born.

Although she hated her heritage and her name, it was the dragon that saved her and gave her life meaning.

It felt like they understood each other without words, that one move of hers was enough to make him change his flight course to where she wanted or dive down.

Once they landed, she always spent a bit of time with him, lying on the grass beside him, stroking his muzzle – she wanted him to know that he wasn't just her tool that she used.

No.

She felt something completely different that filled her heart wonderfully.

Love.

Looking out of the corner of her eye at Vhagar lying in the distance, plunged into a deep sleep, completely ignoring them, she wondered if these were the feelings that Prince Aemond had for his dragoness.

You should fall to your knees before her, you fucking whore, not laugh.

This was not an expression of his pride then.

It was an expression of his deep affection for her.

She smiled at this thought, recognising that at last she understood him.

Her expression was gentle and contented when, walking down the corridor of the Red Keep with a guard who did not leave her side, she came across him, apparently heading for Vhagar's liege.

"Where have you been?" He asked disturbed, seeing her riding attire.

She sighed quietly, pulling her black leather gloves from her hands.

"The King ordered that we take turns patrolling the skies. I have done that duty today. You may rest." She said, and he swallowed hard, something expression in his face as if he felt discomfort.

Another thing he was taking away from him, she thought.

"Leave us." He directed his cold words to the guard. He nodded and walked away with the quiet clang of his steel armour.

The prince moved away towards the cloisters, and she moved with him.

He didn't want anyone to hear their conversation.

"What did you say to him?" He asked, looking sideways, as if he couldn't bear to see her.

"To whom?"

"To my brother. Did you betray me?" He asked coldly, throwing her a drawn-out, stern look.

She sighed heavily and shook her head, closing her eyes, tired after the physical exertion, not having the strength for his baseless accusations.

"How?" She asked, his jaw clenched, his body upright and tense.

"Don't play a fucking fool. You know perfectly well what I'm referring to."

She laughed at his words, shrugging her shoulders, bringing him to the brink of fury.

She could see it in his wide-open eye, in his feral, furious gaze.

"I know, but I haven't told him anything and I won't. It's not in my nature to complicate a situation where I'm comfortable. Being your enemy is not my desire. The lack of your unity drastically reduces my chances of survival, and having tamed the dragon, its value in my eyes has increased greatly." She said lightly, looking him straight in the eye, seeing that his hands entwined behind his back were clenched into fists.

He hated it when she spoke to him like that, but he couldn't do anything to her in public.

"I also wish for you to continue to teach me the language of Old Valyria. In return, I will report to you on what I am asked and what the King tells me to soothe your troubled soul." She hummed with a smile, watching with satisfaction as he drew in a loud breath and licked his lower lip, apparently trying not to use his hands on her long neck.

"Do we have an agreement, my Prince?" She asked, cocking her head.

He sighed, glancing sideways, and shook his head, clearly not believing that he had consented to such humiliation.

"In the library. Every day, right after supper."

She learned of Lady Floris Baratheon's arrival in the Red Keep from her maid – braiding some of her hair at the back of her head, she told her of what she had seen.

"Lady Floris arrived in a brown gown embroidered with gold thread. Her hair is black and long, pinned up in a braid, smoothed down in front, her forehead high, her gaze proud and solemn. Her smile, in my opinion, has no lightness or conviction." Said Lysa, and she giggled under her breath, looking at her and herself in the reflection of the mirror.

"What a harsh judgement. Perhaps it was that smile that the prince found so charming that he chose her." She replied lightly, thinking with amusement that her cousin was surely writhing in agony right now, entertaining his betrothed.

Good, she thought.

Let him suffer.

"Perhaps, however, the memory of that day must spend his sleep." Said Lysa, gracefully weaving one of her strands in with the rest of her hairstyle.

She blinked, intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

Lysa looked at her surprised, as if snapped out of her reverie.

"Don't you know, my Lady? It was on this day that Prince Aemond killed Prince Lucerys. That poor boy. His mother searched for his remains in madness and despair, but apparently there was nothing left of him but his cloak. He was devoured by Vhagar." She explained, and she swallowed hard, feeling a cold sweat run down her back.

He says that Luke's death was an accident, but I don't know if I believe him.

I don't recognise him anymore and I warn you that he's unpredictable.

She was sure she would eat her supper as usual in solitude, but it turned out that the King had held a small banquet and she was to attend.

Aegon wanted to show off her dragon and what she had done, while humiliating his brother and his betrothed, she thought wryly, walking there reluctantly.

When the door opened in front of her, she saw a long table, on either side of which sat the royal family and their loyal lords with their relatives.

She did not know where she should sit or what to do, the King, however, decided to take pity on her.

"Ah, here is my dear, fearless cousin. Come here, my Lady, I have assigned you a seat next to my brother. Perhaps your presence will lift his spirits." He called out, and she swallowed hard, lowering her gaze, knowing that she couldn't react to this, that she just had to survive it.

She sat down in the only empty seat, between her cousin and the king's wife, Helaena – she was pale and sad, staring off into the distance somewhere with empty eyes.

She still had not come to terms with the death of her son.

However, as she sank into her grief and sorrow, the King, on the contrary, was bubbling over with a desire for revenge, ready for action.

When she glanced sideways, all she saw was his hand clenched into a fist, his familiar scent reached her nostrils – she swallowed quietly, twisting in her seat, feeling a pleasant pulsing between her thighs, for some reason remembering how pleasant the touch of his fingers was there, sinking into her damp folds.

She reached for her wine cup and took a loud sip from it, not bothering to look to the side, her gaze fixed on the Queen Alicent who sat opposite her.

"My Lady." She heard an unfamiliar female voice directed in her side and she let out a quiet breath, taking another sip from her goblet, hearing her cousin twist restlessly in his chair.

She looked at Floris Baratheon and forced herself to give her the kindest, warmest smile she could afford. Floris was also smiling; had it not been for her gaze, she might have found her expression even sympathetic.

However, her eyebrows arched in some sort of compassion, a sign that she wanted to show her false understanding.

"I congratulate you on taming a dragon. No one expected you to succeed." She said softly, shaking her head as if filled with sincere admiration.

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she managed not to laugh.

"I didn't believe it myself, my Lady. I was convinced that I would burn and become dust." She replied lightly, not taking her eyes off her.

Several people at the table chuckled at her words as Floris watched her for a moment, playing with the small gold ring on her heart finger.

"The gods have spared you. Will you stand to fight your father?" She asked, as if giving her a challenge of sorts.

"Enough." She heard her cousin's impatient voice between them directed at his betrothed.

She, however, found that she was happy to answer her.

"My dragon lacks experience and composure. I will be a mere support for the King and the Prince." She replied, and Floris leaned back, intrigued.

"Support indeed needed." Aegon added, popping a grape into his mouth, biting through it with a loud crunch. "On which we all agree. Now, music!"

For the rest of the feast, she pretended to be very focused on her piece of roast, which she ate slowly, knowing that she couldn't flee immediately if she didn't want to offend the King – she didn't hold him in special esteem but she knew that he held her in some sort of affection, and after what he had accused her of after his son's death, she feared that one wrong move on her part would be enough for her to fall back into his disfavour.

True, the responsible parties had been found and the King himself had brought them justice, however, she could not let him begin to think again that she had helped her father let them into the keep.

He had to be sure that she was faithful to him.

They both had to be sure of it.

Him and his brother.

She swallowed hard, pulled out of her reverie, feeling a shudder when her cousin's knee pressed against hers. She was sure he simply wanted to change position, he, however, spread himself out comfortably, leaving his leg where it was.

Should she move away?

Do nothing?

What was that supposed to mean?

She glanced sideways at his hand out of the corner of her eye – she could see that his fingers were tapping the tabletop in some nervous, impatient gesture.

Their lessons.

Was he trying to tell her to leave and go to the library before he did, so as not to frustrate his betrothed?

She wanted to ask him that, but couldn't, so she decided she would do what she thought appropriate and simply stood up, nodding her head at the King.

"Your Grace. I will retire now, if you will allow me." She said softly, and Aegon nodded.

"I allow it." He replied, his voice through the amount of wine he had managed to drink like a babble.

Gods help me, she thought as she bowed to him and the Queen Dowager, without bestowing even a single glance on the prince or his betrothed.

She waited in her chamber for half an hour, changing in the meantime into the more comfortable, casual silk robe the Queen had given her, throwing it over her nightgown, tying it around her waist.

When she finally stepped outside her guard furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"Prince Aemond wanted to meet me in the library. Take me there." She said – the man hesitated and sighed heavily, indicating with his hand for her to go ahead.

Her cousin was already waiting for her – he gave her one protracted glance from over his open books, his eye open wide as if he was surprised by her appearance, candles all around him.

He nodded at her to sit beside him in the chair, and she did so, leaving her guard outside the door.

He moved one of the books towards her and opened it to a page he apparently wanted to discuss with her.

"We'll start with the basics. The most important and simplest terms." He said matter-of-factly, sliding another book towards her and leaned in, his clearly defined cheekbone close, too close, pointing his finger at one of the words.

"Jelmor." He hummed. "North."

"Jelmor." She whispered, feeling the tension in all the muscles of her body.

"Ñāqon. East."

"Nāqon."

"No. Roll your tongue at the n." He said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, something in his gaze from which her heart struck harder.

It seemed to her that his iris was black.

There was something obscenely intimate in his bent figure, in his slightly parted lips, in his proximity, the place between her thighs all swollen, increasingly moist and warm.

"Ñāqon." She whispered.

"Better." He hummed, his gaze never leaving her face even though his finger moved on to the next words, as if he knew this book by heart. "Vēzor. South."

"Vēzor."

"Endia. West."

"Endia."

"Muña. Mother." He said, something flashed dangerously in his gaze, as if he knew exactly what her reaction would be and he was not wrong.

She froze, clasping her hands on her thighs, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, the tightness in her throat indicating that she felt pain.

"Muña."

"Mmm. Kepa. Father."

She swallowed hard, looking at him with eyes glazed from tears, feeling her body begin to twitch. His lips parted slightly, as if what he was doing to her, the fact that she was vulnerable aroused him.

"Repeat." He whispered.

"Kepa." She said, feeling a single, heavy tear run down her cheek.

Kepa.

She shuddered, looking up at him in horror as his hand rose to her cheek, his thumb lazily rubbing the wet mark from her face.

"Trēsy. Son." He continued, his voice like the sound of water, calm and quiet.

Tender, as if he were moved.

Why?

She sighed as his hand traveled lower, his index finger running over her jaw.

"Tresy."

"No." He said. "Trēsy. The letter 'ē' needs to be read deeper, as if you want to sing."

"Trēsy."

"Tala. Daugther."

She shook her head, pressing her lips together, feeling that she couldn't do it, the feeling as if he was driving needle after needle into her heart made it difficult for her to get anything out.

She sighed, closing her eyes as he leaned lower, in some natural reflex pressing his forehead against hers, his hand sinking into the skin of her neck, his warm, excited breath enveloping her face.

She involuntarily clenched her thighs together, feeling the wonderful, familiar pulsing and tickling between them.

"Tala."

"Hāedar." He exhaled, something in his voice from which she felt her nipples harden, peeking through from under the fabric of her robe. "Little sister."

She opened her eyes, feeling a shiver run down her spine.

And that was a mistake.

He was looking straight into her face.

She sighed when she felt his other hand on her knee, moving slowly up to her thigh.

"Hāedar." She exhaled, feeling her cunt begin to leak with desire against her will.

"Lēkia." He said, as if he had done something definitive, a quiet moan breaking from her throat as his hand closed over her womanhood. "Older brother."

"Lēkia." She moaned and whimpered as his lips pressed against hers in an aggressive, loud, sticky kiss full of their saliva and panting, her palm touching his scarred cheek, drawing a low murmur of delight from his throat.

She touched him.

She sighed as she let her hand sink into his smooth white hair, for some reason seeking comfort in him, an escape from the cold, bleak loneliness and emptiness that filled her heart.

They sank again and again into each other's soft, fleshy skin, his tongue bursting between her teeth as his hand lifted the fabric of her robe, the other clenched in her curls.

She would have cried out in shocking delight had it not been for the fact that his lips muffled all the sound she made of herself as the tips of his fingers dug into the silken folds of her womanhood, dripping and throbbing with lust.

He groaned into her throat when he felt how unashamedly wet she was for him, and she gasped when his free hand slipped from her hair to her wrist, grasping it, drawing her to his body, pressing it against the bulge in his breeches.

He murmured and licked her encouragingly as her fingers tentatively ran over the outline of his swollen manhood, hidden beneath the leather material, hard, long and twitching.

He let go of her hand, embracing her around the waist and pulling her closer as he made sure she was going to give him what he wanted, their sighs of desire melting between their plump lips as his fingers pushed against her hot slit.

She spread her legs wider, wanting to feel it, wanting him to do it to her, but they both jumped away from each other as if burned when they heard the creak of the door opening.

Her cousin wiped his hand, sticky with her moisture in his breeches, looking at his betrothed's figure, pale, and she lowered back the material of her robe, staring blankly at the books open before her.

Was she able to see by their faces, by their quickened breaths what had happened?

She felt shame at the thought that she shouldn't have done this.

She was his betrothed.

She was the one he should be touching like this.

She was the one he should spend the evening with, learning about her body.

"The guards told me I would find you here, my Prince. I did not know you would have company." She said calmly, however, disappointment and understandable annoyance could be heard in her tone of voice.

She swallowed hard, feeling that the material beneath her buttocks was wet with her moisture, her swollen walls pulsing greedily around nothing, begging to feel his fingers again, her nipples hard and sore, clearly outlined beneath her robe.

"I am teaching my cousin the language of Old Valyria. It is the only way she can communicate with her dragon." He said, feigning composure, looking ahead but not at her even though she stopped right beside him.

She touched one of the books and flipped a page, remaining silent for a moment.

"May I join you? I would also like to learn the language of your ancestors, my love." She said, her hand on his shoulder.

She looked at him and saw that he had closed his eye, as if he felt discomfort the moment Lady Floris touched him.

He swallowed loudly and opened his eyelid, his gaze helpless and childlike, filled with pain.

"I will not be able to concentrate with you standing by my side, my Lady." He whispered, his voice weak, as if he had run out of strength.

Floris's hand slid from his shoulder to his forearm, his figure tense, his lips clamped into a tight line.

He didn't look at her.

"Does my presence disturb you, my love?" Floris asked, and she twisted in her seat, deciding that this conversation was too private.

These were their problems, their betrothal, their worries.

Why was she allowing herself to be dragged into this?

"I'll leave you alone. With your permission." She said quickly, wanting to get up, his gaze shifting to her, sharp and angry.

"Daor, hāedar."

She froze in mid-motion with her hands on the table, looking at him in disbelief, feeling her walls clench around nothing at his words.

No, little sister.

Little sister.

She swallowed hard feeling her lips part involuntarily, her eyebrows arching in helplessness, the heat that spread across her chest strangely pleasant and reassuring.

Floris looked at him then at her and shook her head.

"What did you say, my love?"

"I don't allow it. We are not finished yet. Soon her dragon will move to fight at my side and she must be ready. I ask that you never interrupt us again. If you wish, we will take a walk around the royal gardens tomorrow, just as you desire." He said emotionlessly, as if trying to calm a whimpering child.

Floris swallowed hard and looked at her in a way from which she felt discomfort in her stomach, a sense of humiliation, frustration and irritation in her gaze.

"Is it because she is your cousin? Like any Targaryen you prefer your own kin?" She asked quietly, both of them bouncing when his fists slammed into the table, and he sprang from his seat, towering over his betrothed as if he wanted to tear her apart.

She too stood up, grabbing his arm in some helpless, naïve gesture.

"Lēkia." She said pleadingly.

Floris's lips clenched looking at the fact that she dared to touch him, that her prince looked at her and not his betrothed, that it was her opinion that counted, her word that could stop him.

And then Floris' gaze fled lower, to his breeches, and she froze, pale, seeing exactly her answer to all her concerns.

Her hand let go of him when his nostrils stopped twitching with rage, when his jaw relaxed into an expression a little softer, though still frustrated.

He finally looked at his betrothed and licked his lower lip, as if trying to control himself.

"I will consider that you never said it, my Lady. Otherwise I would have to recognise that you intended to insult me and my family. And that would mean, in turn, that my betrothed is a fool. Is that how it is, my Lady?" He gasped in a voice filled with mockery, from which she swallowed hard, lowering her gaze.

Floris Baratheon looked at him with eyes full of tears, and then her gaze turned to her, her lips quivering with rage and grief.

"No, my Prince. I am not." She said, turned and walked away, leaving them alone.

She was unable to look at him – the silence in the chamber, his taut silhouette standing beside her made her feel like her wetness was dripping from between her thighs straight onto the stone floor beneath her feet.

"You may leave." He said finally.

She nodded and moved towards the door on soft legs, walking out into the corridor, thinking that they had both accomplished some amazing feat by not simply fucking each other on that table.

She sighed loudly, running her hand over her face, thinking that maybe she wasn't such a bad person.

She figured that during their next lessons she wouldn't sit so close to him, that she wouldn't look at him or tempt him.

That she wouldn't let him touch her anymore.

She blinked, looking around, only noticing after a moment that there was no guard who should be watching her.

She turned when she heard the rustling of a gown behind her, something long and hard hit her head with all its force, and she fell to the floor with a thud.

It seemed a moment before she lost consciousness that she heard the breathy voice of her cousin's betrothed above her, only a quiet hiss left her lips.

"Whore."

462 notes · View notes

veltana · 4 months

Text

Shared desires

✦ Pairing: Bucky/Fem!Reader, Steve/Fem!Reader, brief Bucky/Steve

✦ Word count: ~4,4k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Canon verse, Wife!Reader, Husband!Bucky, Best friend!Steve, cuckolding, degradation, praise, oral (fem receiving), spit sharing, manhandling, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, angst, hurt/comfort, feels, eventual polyamory, pet names (doll, honey).

✦ Note: NERVOUS! I've never written for an event before, but it gave me the push I needed to finally finish this! For @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar we have Chocolate (a secret revealed) together with Neopolitan (love triangle). Topped with Chocolate Syrup (established relationship) and one could argue a dash of Sprinkles (special event)(it sure is special for them 😂) As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️ Enjoy 😋

Masterlist | AO3

Steve’s mouth is hanging slightly open, cheeks red, and eyes wide. "Excuse me?" he sputters. "You're the only one I trust with this, if you don't feel comfortable I get it, but I thought I’d ask.” "But Buck…" Steve begins, momentarily lost for words, then says, "I don't want to cause a rift between you and your wife." "You wouldn't, we've talked it over so many times and honestly you're the only one she's okay with." "Me?" Bucky reaches over to place a hand on Steve's knee, squeezing it reassuringly. "You've been at our side since the beginning, she knows you, and knows you would never hurt us."

Then he leans back with a smirk. "And don't think I didn't see you looking at her last time we went out drinking." Steve flushes even more, looking away, mumbling, "Those pants should be illegal." Bucky laughs in response.

With a sigh, Steve looks at his best friend, his long lost brother, the person he went through hell to get back. If Bucky knew the truth he wouldn't be laughing. For a second Steve contemplates telling him but as he's done for years, he keeps his deepest secret inside and instead says. "Just let me think about it, okay? It doesn't mean it's a no but just… I need to think, okay?" "Take your time," Bucky reassures him.

***

Several hours later you're ordering take-out while waiting for Bucky to get home from the compound. You could cook but your body is jittery with nervous energy and it's hard to concentrate. Bucky asked Steve today and you have yet to learn how it went. Your husband could have texted you, but Bucky often forgets that texting exists.

When the key turns in the lock you can't keep your cool any longer. Running into the hallway just as Bucky kicks off his shoes you don't even pretend to be nonchalant about it. "Well?" you ask.

With a chuckle, Bucky envelopes you in a hug. To be in his arms is the best feeling in the world. Surrounded by his scent and his warmth, knowing you're safe and cared for. "He's going to think about it, didn't say no. He was just shocked." Pulling back you squeeze Bucky's waist. "I understand that. I was too when you first brought it up," you note.

Bucky starts backing you out of the hallway until your back meets a wall. "But now you can't stop thinking about it," his deep voice taunts, making you light up with desire. "Now you want to get fucked while I watch and get humiliated.” The sound coming from your throat makes it impossible for you to deny it.

***

A few weeks later, you’re sitting beside Bucky, across from Steve in your living room. The guys have beers and you have a glass of wine. Steve's cheeks have been pink since he stepped through the door and looked at you. "I understand if you think it's a little… odd," you say to him. "And even if you say yes now, you can always change your mind later."

Steve nods and takes a swing from the bottle. He's not going to get drunk but it eases the nerves. "So, I'll fuck you while Bucky watches?" "Yeah," you nod. Steve puts the bottle down, dragging a hand over his face. "God, I'm going to be honest, I'm scared it's going to fuck up our friendship Buck. What if we do this and it's not what you imagined?" Bucky nods, but his answer is sure when he responds. "Then we'll stop. And there are no hard feelings. The same goes for you, even if we're right in the middle of it and it starts to feel wrong, just say the word and it stops right away."

Steve doesn’t look convinced. Honestly, you're just glad he wanted to come over and discuss it. A little idea forms in your head. You put down the wine. "How about a trial run?" you suggest. Both men turn to look at you but you only keep your attention on Steve. "If you're okay with it, I'll sit on your lap. If that feels alright we can share a kiss while Bucky watches and if it feels wrong it doesn't have to go any further."

Steve thinks for a moment, then agrees. A small groan comes from Bucky, just the thought of it makes him aroused. You kiss him on the cheek before standing up and slowly walking over to Steve. His eyes follow your every move but he doesn’t look scared.

When you straddle him, his hands immediately come to rest on your hips but then it's as if he realizes what he's done and stiffens. "It's okay," you encourage him. "You can touch me." He relaxes minimally and you settle down completely. "You can stop anytime," you remind him as you cup his bearded face. His tongue comes out and wets his plush lips, nodding.

You let your thumbs run along his cheeks, never breaking eye contact and the moment feels so intimate. You’re unsure what to expect, but your pulse picks up as he becomes more confident, moving his hands up and down your sides. A finger slips in under your sweater and brushes your skin. It sends a shiver down your spine and a pleased whimper comes out of your throat. That seems to encourage him and the light touches turn heavier.

Carefully you lean forward, giving Steve time to stop or to pull away. The hesitation on his face from earlier has fled and instead, you see a spark of eagerness. Pressing your lips softly against his, it takes a second for him to return it.

Turns out Steve Rogers is a great kisser. After sliding your lips together he quickly turns bolder, opening your mouth with his and finding your tongue to play with. His touches get greedier too. When both his hands shift in under your sweater to feel your naked skin you whimper again, longing for more of it. Without noticing you’ve started moving, seeking friction for the throbbing between your legs.

"Oh, fuck yes," you hear Bucky grunt behind you. That makes Steve break the kiss, you meet his wild eyes, pupils blown wide from lust.

"Your husband is getting off on you grinding in my lap, honey." You’ve never heard his voice so deep before. "He has his hand inside his pants, stroking his pathetic little dick while you do your best to hump me.” "Fuckfuckfuck," you hear from Bucky. With a whine you press down hard, feeling that Steve is just as affected as you. With difficulty, you stop yourself from going to the floor and beg to suck his dick. Instead, the both of you continue with the heated make-out session, your hands now heavy on Steve’s body, wishing you had his skin against yours.

The sounds coming from Bucky on the couch grow more urgent and it turns you on to know he's getting off to you making out with Steve. It feels wrong and so right at the same time. Steve nips your lower lip before kissing down your neck, saying, "I can't wait to fuck that sweet cunt of yours." Both you and Bucky moan. "Gonna give you a night you've never had before and make sure every time your husband fucks you all you can think about is my dick."

That makes Bucky lose it, a small shout declaring his climax. Steve and you slow down the tempo of your kissing until it's just soft, barely there caresses. Though the need is alight in your body, coherent thoughts start to tumble back in and after a few minutes, you pull back from him. His lips are swollen, and you feel a tinge of reproach for getting carried away with him. Cupping his face once more you ask, "How are you feeling?" He gives a dry laugh, "It's a mix of shame and horniness."

When you frown he grabs your hands to remove them from his face, squeezing them before letting go. "It's alright, it felt good while it was happening,” he reassures you, before asking over your shoulder. “How about you Buck?" "That's the hardest I've ever come from jerking off in my life I think." Both Steve and you laugh as you collapse against his chest. Immediately he starts caressing your back. You get a familiar feeling in your chest, one you usually only get when Bucky holds you.

"How about you, doll?" Bucky asks. "I liked knowing I was doing something to get you off at the same time as it was kind of "wrong"." A moment later you get off Steve, and sit down on the couch beside Bucky again. Somehow it feels weird to be away from him but you chalk it up to the sexual desire still prominent in your body.

“How about another meeting in a week or so? Get everyone to think it through another round and then we can decide on a date and location?” Bucky suggests. You nod and Steve does too.

***

On a Friday, after numerous more talks to plan the evening and all of you getting your STD tests back clean, it's finally time. The excitement is palpable in the hotel room you decide to stay in.

At Steve and Bucky’s request, you're wearing a very tight dress and the smallest pieces of underwear known to man.

Steve is sitting at the foot of the bed, white shirt tucked into black slacks like he's heading out to dinner, not about to fuck his best friend's wife. Bucky is in jeans and one of his henleys, placing an armchair at the side of the bed.

Even though you know what is about to happen, you feel nervous, but also excited to fulfill your husband's kink. When you take your place in front of Steve, meeting his hungry eyes, there is a buzz in your body making you bite your lip.

"Ready?" Bucky asks and you both nod. The moment Bucky sits down you climb onto Steve's lap. The smooth material of his slacks caresses your inner thighs as you settle. Immediately his hands land at your waists and starts stroking your sides, down to your ass, squeezing and pressing you just a little bit closer. Those blue eyes are a storm, filled with lust and need. Your face probably mirrors his and a second later your lips are pressed together.

Both of you moan and Steve fists the fabric of the dress, threatening to tear it to shreds. A soft groan is heard, and both of you smile into the kiss. Steve pulls away, making you pout, but he tsks at you. "Just be happy that I'm the one kissing you and not the shitty husband you have.”

Something in you wants to defend Bucky because he's not a shitty husband. He's amazing in every way! But you know that this is what he wants, it's part of the game. Bucky gets off on Steve's degradation. You can't deny him that.

Then he's kissing you again, heavier than earlier. Your hands grab his head, messing up the semi-styled hair, anchoring you to him. On their own accord, your hips roll against Steve's crotch, pulling moans from the both of you.

A second later he has you flipped onto your back, smiling down deviously as you stare at him in shock. But when he presses his clothed cock to your soaked panties the shock is forgotten. Pleasure engulfs every sense of your being.

"There you go honey, let me take care of you, let me make you feel better than your husband ever could." With a whine you jerk against him, trying to find relief for the ache in your cunt, but instead, he pulls away, taking your panties with him. Without looking he throws them Bucky's way and another groan comes from him when he feels how wet they are. Steve gets off the bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Show your husband, honey. Show him how fucking wet you are for me."

With a whimper, you spread your legs. The air feels cool against your heated flesh. You don't dare to look at Bucky but understand he sees what Steve wants him to when a broken moan can be heard through the room.

"Touch yourself," Steve commands, and with shaking fingers you find your entrance, letting one sink it into yourself, wondering if you've ever been this wet before.

Slowly you move it, all while watching Steve get undressed. He's in no hurry. With a thick voice, he says, "One more, but don't you dare come."

With stuttered breath push another finger in. The sound that fills the room is obscene but leaves no doubt about how horny you are. When Steve is down to his underwear he pulls the fingers from you, sucking them into his mouth, groaning at the taste. After licking them clean he releases them with a pop and smirks at you. Then he turns to Bucky and it's the first time you get a good look at him.

His hands are gripping the arms of the chair in a death grip, you're surprised his vibranium hand hasn't done more damage. He's taken off his henley and his cock is out, hard and leaking onto his abdomen. Glassy eyes follow Steve's movements. The blond grabs Bucky's face, forcing his mouth open and tilting his head back. Immediately Bucky sticks out his tongue and from above Steve lets his spit run down into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky's dick twitches and leaks more. "That's the only fucking taste you'll have of your wife tonight. Say thank you." Steve rumbles. As soon as Bucky has swallowed down the mix of your slick and Steve's spit he says "Thank you," in a voice hoarser than you've ever heard before.

Steve comes back to you, pulling your dress off and stepping out of his underwear before settling on the bed and pressing your legs up against your stomach. "Now I'm going to get a proper taste of that sweet cunt," he grins.

"Steve!" you cry and your hands immediately find his hair as he dives in. His tongue travels from your opening to your clit, over and over again, soaking you in his spit until you feel it running down your ass. He sucks and licks, alternating pressure, and speed to make sure you're never quite getting enough to make you come but to keep you constantly on edge. The moment he sinks two fingers into you, you arch off the bed and a high-pitched wail leaves your mouth.

You're at the brink of shattering. The current of the climax is cursing through your body. Incoherent babbling fills the room as you try to urge Steve to take pity on you. Luckily for you, he does and concentrates the movements of his tongue to your clit, as his fingers press against your G-spot. A surge of heat fills your core, making it almost unbearable before it takes you and you come with a shout.

Steve works you through it until you're twitching from oversensitivity, pressing on his forehead to get him to stop. "Almost pushed my fingers right out with that," he muses, twisting them, pumping slowly. "Bet your husband has never made you come so hard."

A groan from Bucky accompanies your whimper. "Now tell me what you need honey." "I need you inside me!" "But my fingers are already inside," Steve makes a point by pressing the two fingers inside against your G-spot, making you lose your train of thought for a second.

"I- I mean…" you try. "Yes?" "More, I need more." "Just say the words." "I need your cock inside me, Steve, please!"

Seconds after his fingers have left you, he flips you onto your stomach, then puts you on your hands and knees right at the edge of the bed, at an angle where Bucky can see you. You're trembling with anticipation of what's coming.

Steve caresses your ass and legs, lightly dragging his fingers over your swollen clit and soaked center. "I can't believe this pretty fucking cunt is wasted on your husband." "Please, Steve!" "I bet you're never this wet for him" "No!" "You want me to fuck your sweet cunt, honey?" "Yes!" "Make it drip with my cum?" "Please!" "Should I knock you up, right here in front of your husband?" "Fuck me! Please!" As you feel the warm head against your cunt your arms collapse, your cheek resting against the bed.

"I love it when you beg for me," his strained voice is deep as he pushes inside. Moans, whimpers, and wails fall from your lips once he starts moving. He's big, just like Bucky, and you love to feel so full. You push back as he thrusts forward, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

Suddenly there is a hand on your neck, making you turn your head until you see Bucky at the edge of your vision. "Tell your husband how my cock feels!" Steve demands. "Ah! Bucky! It feels so good!"

Bucky is still not touching his cock, his mouth is slightly open, his whole face red as he watches you. "Yeah, doll, you like it?" "I do! I do!" "Is he big?" "Yes! I feel so full!" That makes Steve laugh. "All she wants is a big dick and all she got was you," Steve tells Bucky.

Bucky is about to burst with those words and the armchair creeks in his grip. Then Steve turns your head again so you can't see him anymore. Instead, you're focused on how he's fucking you rough and deep. "You're gripping me so tight honey, it's like you don't want to let me go." You answer with a strangled moan. "Yeah, you're too full of cock to talk, just be a good little wife and take what I give you."

And you do, body going almost boneless as Steve fucks you. Carefully another orgasm starts to build in your lower stomach, and soon it has you wiggling and whining, needing release.

Steve's hand finds your aching clit. "That's it," he groans. "I need you to come on my cock before I fill you up with my cum. Make sure you tell your husband whose dick it is you're coming on, honey. I want it seared into his mind. Every time he fucks you from now on all he's going to remember is how loud you screamed my name." Nodding helplessly you do as he says and as the dam breaks and pleasure rushes through you, you wail Steve's name.

A moment later the telltale sign of Steve's orgasm floods you and he groans your name. For a moment his hips are plastered to you, keeping everything inside. Then he pulls out and the cum runs down your legs. When he lets go of your hips you don't have the strength to keep yourself up anymore. Falling to the side you watch Steve walk over to Bucky, pulling him up and pushing him towards you. "Go fuck my cum back into your wife."

Bucky all but scrambles over to you, ridding himself of his pants in the process before carefully turning you over onto your back and sinking into you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, your lips finding his in a familiar dance.

"I won't last, doll," he confesses. "Don't need you to," you promise with a smile. A second later Bucky’s hips stutter, his orgasm causing him to cry out against your shoulder. It lasts longer than usual and brings a wide smile to your lips, knowing Bucky's fantasy is fulfilled.

When he's done he collapses on top of you, his weight heavy but welcoming, making you feel safe and loved. A moment later you look over at the armchair, expecting to find Steve, but he’s not there. His clothes are gone too and then you hear the door to the hotel room shut.

***

The anxiety in Bucky's chest grows for every dial tone that sounds and Steve doesn't pick up. The whole weekend he’s tried to get a hold of him but he hasn't answered his phone or been seen at the compound. Bucky sent hundreds of texts, all being delivered but none replied to. There is a hole in his chest where his best friend used to live and it feels like he's getting a glimpse into how it was for Steve to find him and lose him over and over again.

Bucky wanders into the exhibition, eyes searching for Steve. This is the last place on his list of where he could be. After this, he's out of ideas. Then Steve might as well have gone to outer space and Bucky shudders at the thought of searching aimlessly through the galaxies for him. But he would do it.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots a familiar back. As Bucky steps up beside him, Steve’s shoulders go stiff. "You left," Bucky states. "I know," Steve responds, looking down.

"Why? We agreed to talk afterward to make sure everyone was feeling okay. It's called aftercare for a reason." "I don't know, just seeing the two of you. You love each other so much." "We do. But we love you too."

Steve huffs at that and Bucky's eyebrows draw together. "Am I going to have to beat it out of you, punk?" "Maybe this conversation is better somewhere else," Steve suggests, glancing around. "How about we go to our place? She's worried sick about you." Steve nods and together they leave the museum.

***

You’re going to wear a hole into the floor with your endless pacing. Over and over again you replay the moments after hearing the door shut. The look on Bucky’s face. The scramble to find clothes and run after Steve. Not finding him anywhere. Both of you frantically calling him over and over again.

Then you hear Bucky's truck. And a motorcycle. Your bare feet start running before you know it and you fling the door open to see Steve get off his bike. A heartbeat later you're running across the lawn. He sees you and he’s confused, but when you jump into his arms he catches you without hesitation.

You want to scream and beat him but instead, you cling to him. Bucky says something but you can't hear it and then you feel Steve start heading towards the house.

"Doll, you have to let go," Bucky's soft voice says as Steve sits on the couch. In response, you shake your head like a petulant child. "Yes, you do, come on," It's a little sterner now. "Honey, I'm not disappearing again. I promise." Only then do you slide to the side so you're sitting next to Steve, Bucky on the other side of him.

"We're very sorry we got you into this Steve," Bucky begins right away. "It was supposed to be a fun night for all of us." Finding Steve’s hand you squeeze it to let him know you agree with what Bucky's saying. "We never wanted to hurt you," you whisper.

There is a long beat of silence and you're about to speak again but Steve says, "It's my fault that I wasn't honest with the two of you." His eyes are downcast and he brings your hand into his lap, then grabs Bucky's too. "I should have said something earlier but I was scared."

"Of what Stevie?" you ask softly. "We want you to be happy, you can tell us anything." Steve snorts, weaving all your fingers together. "Scared to tell my best friend and his lovely wife that I care for them more than I should. That when I can't sleep, I wish I could feel their warm bodies beside me. That every time I see them kiss, smile, and be utterly happy together I'm both jealous and delighted. I want the two of you to have a good life. But I also want to be a part of that life, more than just as a friend."

The confession knocks the air from your lungs and you share a look with Bucky. He speaks first. "Steve, I had no idea." "That's kind of the point." "And when I suggested that you join us…" Bucky trails off. "I saw it as the only opportunity to be with the two of you, even if it was just for one night." "And when we were done…" You try to think of it from Steve's perspective. "The way you love each other is so evident. I'll never be able to fit into that. Everything just felt wrong and that I was an intruder. So I left. I know I shouldn't have but I was so disgusted with myself I couldn't stand it."

"Oh Stevie," you lean into his side. Never in a million years could you have predicted this. "I understand if you're feeling like you never want to see me again and I’m truly sorry I hurt you.”

"Hey, Steve, listen." Bucky untangles your hands to grip Steve's face and turn it towards him. "We have talked about a lot of things throughout our marriage. We both agree that even if we're not actively looking for someone else, if someone would come along one day that we both feel would complete us, then we would pursue that person and ask if that's something they're interested in. Apparently, we've both been blind because that person has been right in front of us this whole time."

As soon as Bucky says the words you know they are true. If this weekend has proved anything it is that you and Bucky love Steve just as much as you love each other.

The look on Steve's face says he doesn't believe it. "You've already kissed my wife. Can I kiss you, Steve?"

The disbelief is still evident but he nods and Bucky slowly leans in. Steve's eyelids flutter shut the moment their lips meet and you watch as your husband and his best friend find something new in each other. Steve's free hand comes up and grips Bucky's neck, at the same time and he squeezes your hand. Their kiss is slow and sensual, containing emotions that have been locked away for years. It's beautiful to watch.

As they break apart a blush rises in Steve's cheeks and a smile cracks his face. Bucky grins back at him in answer. Everything isn't solved or worked out but now the ground under you feels more stable to stand on and you know that together with these two men there is nothing the world can't throw at you that you won't be able to handle.

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simpxxstan · 6 months

Text

Nobody Else (part 1)

pairing: chaebol!wonwoo x chaebol!fem.reader

genre: enemies with benefits to lovers, smut (minors do not interact please), mild angst

summary: the girl who was proud about making her own destiny, the boy she swore to never interact with. sometimes it takes a lifetime to know someone, even yourself. because who would've seen any of this coming?

chapter word count: 13k

warnings: honestly, way too much smut. cockwarming, oral sex (m. receiving, f. receiving), usage of sex toys, orgasm denial, gagging, overstimulation, dom-sub dynamics, public sex (i don't even know if it's feasible, please suspend your beliefs about reality while reading aah), unprotected sex (please do not do this irl), breast play, spanking, use of spit during sex, usage of petnames (darling, babe, sweetheart for female), usage of word slut (for female), usage of sir and daddy (for male), sir kink, daddy kink, office sex, use of profanities, lots of bickering. let me know if i missed something out!

a/n: and we're back. (or are we?) honestly, i write when i get the time. and i don't know when i'll get my schedule to clear up again </3 hopefully within a few months my life will be back on track.

hope you enjoy this!!! posting this in two parts because it's way too long otherwise. do leave your thoughts, i swear reading them makes me so happy. open to hearing criticism too so pls my inbox is right there for you to rant. have a nice day!

You’ve known Jeon Wonwoo since the age of eleven, but you’d never thought you’d end up like this. Being in the same social circles as you and your family, the young Jeon heir had never really been your friend. However, that did not mean you didn’t meet him. In fact, you met him quite often. He went to the same school as you, he was always there at the parties you went to, and everyone around you kept talking about him. No matter what the season or the age, everyone was infatuated with Jeon Wonwoo.

Objectively speaking, no.

Subjectively speaking, not at all.

You could never understand why one would find a man with no beauties to his personality, nothing to his merit except a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and those never-changing black clothes, attractive. Apart from that, he never exchanged a friendly conversation with you. Never a moment of warmth. And you reciprocated the feeling absolutely. You had no desire to seek his favour. He simply never left the periphery of your life, and it annoyed you. But not enough to bother you. You’d grown used to the sight of the tall boy, who never spoke to anyone except his tight-knit group of absolute losers. And he should have remained in your periphery, never in your focus. You wanted nothing to do with the cold, arrogant nerd.

So naturally, you’d never, in your wildest imaginations, thought that you’d be here, sucking his dick off under his desk while he engaged himself in a meeting on his desktop. You had been in that position for hours, your mouth lolling over the wetness surrounding his penis, both from your saliva and the slow trickle of his pre-cum. While he has switched from meeting to meeting, both with corporates in Korea and internationally, his suit impeccable and the glasses sitting neatly on his nose, you’d cockwarmed him. That would’ve still been fine, had you not enjoyed it so thoroughly that it had become a routine for you both over the months.

After a solid two hours (and a few more minutes), he’d allowed himself to push back the chair a bit, pull his pants down further, spread his legs wide enough to meet the annoying temptation that had been bugging him for so long, and thread his hands into your hair, indicating you to step out of the haze you’d fallen into and get on with the job. And oh boy, you’d obeyed. At this point, it was a reflex for you. Feeling the way his hands caved your jaws and neck, you leaned into his touch, all while keeping your eyes on the little twitches he made on his face. Perhaps it was his need to be dominant, or perhaps it was just his arrogance, but he never slipped during sex. Even when you were giving him the most mind-blowing blowjob, like right now, using techniques you’d picked up over time, slipping your tongue under his cock to feel his veins throb around your tongue, gently nipping the foreskin to make the red tip burn harder, and taking him into your throat completely without a moment of a gag reflex. He’d never show you how much he liked it, never praised you, never revealed that he wanted it as much as you did.

It was all a part of the act, you knew that.

It was designed to make you more eager to perform well, more eager to earn his praise, more eager to put your all into this.

Jeon Wonwoo, with his signature cold stares and the arrogant tilt of his smirk, would break you every time, and you’d come back for it, again and again, addicted mindlessly, like a drug.

Eventually, his cum would flow down your throat, and you’d feel his body relax against yours, as he let you lay your head on his thighs for a few moments to recuperate.

But never enough.

“Up, sweetheart. I thought you had a party to attend.”

He helps you stand up, smirking at the pool of your cum on the floor where you’d been sitting, with the bullet vibrator parked deep into your pussy, which had given you endless orgasms and sent you into heaven, all while you’d felt the weight of Wonwoo’s warmth on your tongue.

His words bring you back to reality, as you limp towards the washroom to clean yourself, slowly breaking your daze. “I do. When are you going to change?”

“I don’t want to. I’ll look good even if I don’t doll up.” With a snicker he goes back to his desktop, and you roll your eyes at the implication of his words.

“I still don’t understand why you’d ask them to deliver the dress here.”

“It is pretty late. Imagine if I’d have to go back home, change, and then leave for the venue. Too much hassle. I would have to leave an hour back. Your place is much closer to the venue.”

“And so you chose to make my bedroom your vanity room?

From Wonwoo’s vantage point in the study, he has a direct view into the master bedroom, where you’re settling yourself into a fresh pair of lingerie and the jumpsuit, which had been designed exclusively for you, for this occasion. The jumpsuit was perfect, made to look professional and yet classy, just as the event demanded, and in midnight blue, your favourite shade. You smiled while wearing it, your secretary had truly learnt your style well and ordered the perfect outfit for you.

“I’ll be out in ten.” You can feel his eyes on your figure, even from the distance.

You’re too engrossed in fixing the zip on your back to notice Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, his eyes fixated on you.

“Do you need help?”

You give him a look. There’s that semi-permanent smirk lingering on his face, he knows he’s pushing your buttons. Outside of sex, you would never ask for help. In fact, you wouldn’t ask Wonwoo for anything. What could he do for you that you couldn’t do yourself?

He doesn’t say anything else, he quietly steps in and takes grip of the zip. After pulling it up, he doesn’t say a word, carefully watching you wear your scanty makeup. It could be a little creepy, but you surprisingly don’t mind. Or perhaps you just don’t care.

“Ah fuck. I forgot to bring the lip gloss.”

“But you just wore lipstick?”

“No,” you turn around and outside of Wonwoo’s periphery. Slipping your feet into your heels and putting on the earrings that had also been sent by your secretary, you told him, “The lip-plumping one. It makes my lips look nice. Well, nicer. They’re already quite pretty, as I’ve been told.” You hear Wonwoo scoff behind you, and you turn around to face him.

“Well, how do I look?”

His hands are in his pockets, his shirt buttons are halfway opened and his hair is messy, but he still looks better than you do after all this effort.

“They’ll love you.”

You smile. That’s more than enough feedback from Jeon Wonwoo. He doesn’t have to praise you outside sex if he can’t do it while fucking.

“They always do.”

And they do. The photographers, the journalists, the social elites, the ministers, their wives, their mistresses, the chaebols, their heirs, and their bastards. Everyone loves you. How could they not? You’re perfect in every way possible. At twenty six, you’re at the height of your life- young, charming and intelligent, everybody wants you. Ever since you took your father’s already prospering business to new heights four years ago, straight out of grad school, by introducing Korea to the world of AI like they’d never seen before. The industry had not just been disrupted by your introduction of AI to the field of healthcare and diagnosis, but also awed by the sheer magnanimity of your creations. You hadn’t spent years perfecting your ideas in vain.

Everyone wants a little bit of your time, a little word with you, slipping in a plea and a pickup line in the same tone, and you love the attention they throw at you. Honestly, this is where you were born to be. The spotlight is where you deserve to belong.

But eventually, the crowd dissipates, leaving you walking towards the bar looking for a martini, arm looped into the arm of your sister. “Y/N-ah, I tell you, let’s go to Jeju this weekend! The weather is perfect now- not too hot, not too cold. The forecast also recommends visiting now!” She tugs at your arm playfully, and you smile fondly. She knows your answer, but she never stops trying. “And what about your husband?” “I need a break from him, please. He’s getting on my nerves!” “Darling, it’s your hormones.” She slaps your wrist. “No! Stop saying that. Kyungmin says the exact same thing, in the exact same tone! It’s so annoying. Stop ganging up against me! Anyway it’s not my fault I’m pregnant. The least he can do is take care of me. If he can’t take care of me now, how is he going to be trained to become a father? Huh? How will he take care of our daught-” “You don’t even know that.” “I do. I have a feeling.” “You can just say you want a girl, you know. There’s nothing called ‘a feeling’.” “Damn it. Just because you have a trash sixth sense doesn’t mean you can dismiss mine, my intuition never goes wrong!”

And you’ve reached the bar, and the bartender serves you your drinks- just a virgin mojito for your sister though. “The canapes are great.” “Hmm… But I’m craving oranges! That’s why we should go to Jeju, yah!” “Unnie, you’ve gotta stop. Don’t excite yourself more than you need to. Do you want orange juice?” “No, eww. Not this artificial flavour.” “If you really want to go to Jeju, take Kyungmin Oppa and go. Don’t ask for me- I’ll never be able to keep up with your tantrums.” “Hmm. That is true. Now that you mention him, I suddenly miss him. For all my complaints, I still love him though-” You giggle at the sudden sappy tone of your sister, tuning out parts of her endless chatter, while your eyes search for someone in the crowds.

Jeon Wonwoo stands out, so he’s easy to find.

He’s wearing the same suit he’d worn earlier, not changed like he had told you. He looks tired and yet, good. Before you realise it, he’s looking back at you, and walking towards where the two of you are standing.

“Oh! Wonwoo-yah! How have you been?” Your sister asks, ever friendly. She’s the only one in the family who doesn’t show that the Jeon and Y/L/N families are rivals in business and hence, avoid speaking to each other. That norm wasn’t broken by you. To be fair, even the nights you spent together had very little conversation. No orgasm-induced dopamine could break through the wall of your egos to encourage you to be friendly with each other. Hell, outside of the bedroom, Wonwoo isn’t even attractive enough to catch your eye.

“Hmm, I’m good, Noona. I see your baby is growing fast. How many weeks left?” His tone is courteous, formal, and sweet. Makes you want to laugh at how different he sounds from the usual voice you hear him speak in.

“About eleven weeks to go. This trimester has been killing me, I swear. I’ve told Kyungmin I don’t want any more kids. Ever. I don’t think I can go through this again, and I haven’t even gotten to the pain of delivery yet. I don’t even know if I can go back to skating after this.”

You scoff. “As if. First get over your never-ending honeymoon period. Then talk about not having any more kids.”

“I support Y/N here. The company will need an heir, and I don’t see anyone else providing any.”

You sigh. There he goes. You roll your eyes at him, “An heir doesn’t have to be through blood relation. Merit exists. But then how can I explain this to someone whose existence is owed to nepotism.”

“Rich of you to say so.”

You take a step closer to Wonwoo, too riled up by the calm way he’s speaking. “I’ve built my world from the ground. From level zero. I haven’t just sat on a throne that was presented to me.”

“Forever the brat, huh? Running your mouth even in public, begging me to shut it?” You notice that Wonwoo has also come closer to you, and you can smell the cologne off him. He’s a solid four inches taller than you, even when you’re wearing heels. But you stare right back into his eyes, yours angry and his cold and superior, as usual. You wonder for the n-th time if his blood even runs warm. You’re tempted to retort back, disgusted by the below-the-belt remark, going off-topic, but your sister’s gently pulling your arm, reminding you that you’re in public. “Back off. Don’t make a scene, guys. Let’s not ruin the evening?” She puts on her best smile to calm you down, and you step away, seething in vain. Wonwoo’s smirk never leaves his face as you two bow and walk away. The way he’s looking at you reminds you of other memories.

You suddenly wonder if your sister had heard the comment or not. Considering her though, probably not. Thank god it was her and not someone else.

The rest of the party flows seamlessly. You’re spiralling slightly in your head though- overthinking can’t be avoided. The way Wonwoo was successful in riling you up has shocked you, to say the least. There have been a thousand such instances, but you don’t remember losing your temper to this extent in any of the situations. But somehow, Wonwoo talking about you not being interested to have children vexed you so much? It just didn’t add up.

It’s the first time you’re doubting your current situation. You’d been absolutely convinced that settlement between the two of you was more to your benefit than his. It wasn’t like you had a dearth of men wanting to fuck you. It was quite the opposite. But a few scandals and rumours had taught you that keeping your private life discreet was the optimal choice. Especially if you were a woman and people simply assumed you’d sucked someone’s dick to get ahead in life.

But the arrangement with Wonwoo was so perfect. He wanted discretion, so did you. He didn’t want to get involved with a random hookup who could get pregnant, you didn’t want a random hookup to get you pregnant. He wanted someone to match his wavelength, and you needed a vent for your stress. Now that you consider the drastic improvement in your energy and efforts, in retrospection, becoming Jeon Wonwoo’s submissive had been the best decision of your life.

It had begun quite suddenly. At your sister’s engagement party. Everyone was delighted with the new couple, especially you. Your sister had never shown any desire to join the company, satisfied with following her passion of ice skating. And now she was getting married to her boyfriend of five years, the love of her life, and everyone was left fondly jealous of the pure happiness on her face, even you.

Perhaps it was because of this jealousy that you’d decided to flirt with Wonwoo at the after-party. Against your better judgement, you’d drifted towards him by the end of the night, until your knees were touching on the barstools, and he was leaning back looking over your figure again and again. I was wondering which spot would be ideal for me to bite first- your collarbones, your cleavage, your thighs or your belly button, he would tell you later. God knows why you’d suddenly decided to find him attractive after fifteen years of knowing each other, but that was it. You’d ended up in a hotel bed that night, fucked until tears ran down your cheeks, begging him to go harder and faster whenever he slowed down to look at the mascara dripping down your face, leaving hickeys all over the soft skin of your breasts, not letting you rest of a second of the night, going at it till dawn.

“Wonwoo… I can’t…” you’d begged, your words muffled through your panties stuffed into your own mouth, the overstimulation hitting you hard as you squirmed against his tongue fucking his cum back into your pussy. “You can, sweetheart, give me another one… hmm? Do you want to be a good girl?”

And you had let loose. Given yourself up to him, to make or break you, as he wanted, and then put you together one by one as the sun rose up in the sky as you’d drifted to sleep. The next afternoon, you’d woken up feeling like a new person, and decided it was the best night of your life. The man in question was nowhere to be seen, but you didn’t care. The bliss ran too deep.

Sadly, not deep enough. The overthinking kicked in a few hours later, and you cussed yourself for becoming so easy for an undeserving man like Wonwoo. Just because he’d made you cum and given you a good time didn’t mean you’d go against your rational thoughts. In a way, he was no better than your best dildo. Except you liked your dildo. You simply did not like Jeon Wonwoo. The arrogant brat had been the type of man you’d avoided all of your life. You hadn’t seen him work hard in school, and now that he had inherited his father’s company, you didn’t see him work any harder either. Sure, Jeon Estates was doing better than ever, but that was only because the economy was booming and the housing market was doing well. He had done nothing extra. Unlike you, who had built your world yourself. You’d never taken your father’s prosperity as complacency, and strived to make a name for yourself. And now people knew of Y/L/N Corporation as synonymous to both your father’s name and your name.

And you had, like a silly stupid girl, gone and slept with this very man.

And you had liked it.

That was the worst bit. An accidental hookup would have been fine. But no, you wanted to sleep with him every night, if it meant he’d treat you to the same feast you’d blissed out on last night. There was a certain happiness in giving up to him, letting go of the constant worries that burdened you down, and allowing him to take control, but god knows how you ended up trusting him so much in bed.

Anyway, you reconciled with yourself, it’s just a one-time thing. It’s not like it’s going to happen again.

You were wrong. Jeon Wonwoo had picked you up that evening and taken you directly to his house.

“What did you want to talk about that you couldn’t do in your car?”

“The chauffeur was there.”

“It’s not a big deal, Jeon. You can just say that you regret last night, cause honestly, same. Don’t want to dwell on it.” You were in a rush to leave, because you didn’t want to think about the memories in this same house the night ago.

“Are you sure?”

His question had taken you aback, as he watched you with his hawk eyes, licking his lips.

“Y/N, I … couldn’t tell you in my car that I didn’t regret it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

You’re speechless, waiting for him to continue, as he took another step forward.

“Wonwoo, I… you know this is a bad idea.”

“I do,” he chuckles darkly. “You look like a bad idea, as I’ve known for years now. But when I see you wearing that hideous turtleneck to hide the hickeys and that tiny skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination, I keep remembering the way you submitted to me last night. For all your big talk and your attitude, you obey pretty easily, huh?”

You stand up, indignant. “Wonwoo, you can’t use that against me. Listen I know we’re not friends-”

“Be my submissive. I want, no fuck, I need you. You’re perfect.” He’s standing an inch away from you, bending his neck gently to look into your eyes. His mask slips for a second. A million emotions flit through your brain, and you’re deliriously begging for your intelligence to kick in, but there’s something about the subtly layered desperation in Wonwoo’s voice that makes you curious.

“What are your terms?”

You look at Wonwoo across the dining table. He looks as put-together as ever, not a hair out of place, as he converses with the middle aged-men sitting next to him while eating dinner. He quickly notes your glance and looks back, and you turn your eyes away before he catches the blush along your cheeks.

No, there’s nothing wrong with the arrangement. It works perfectly in your favour. As long as nobody knows.

You’re wrapping up a meeting with the board members of the company, when you get a call on your phone. It’s Wonwoo. Excusing yourself from the meeting, you pick up the call while walking back to your office.

“Hello?”

“Are you going to the Paris Conclave?”

The invitation for the event had arrived just that evening, the first time they were inviting your company. It had made you gush with excitement, happy that you’d been able to take your company to this prestigious conclave. Moreover, this would be the first time you’d be visiting Paris, one of the few dream destinations of your life. Due to a packed professional schedule, you had hardly been able to travel for the past few years, and the thought of going to Paris made you naturally happy.

“Yes, of course. Getting fomo? I can get a croissant back home for you.”

“I can get my own. See you there.”

He cuts the call.

What was that? He’s going to the conclave as well? That’s impossible. Jeon Estates had never been invited before this-

“Jisung-ah.” You call for your secretary, who appears at your side quickly. “Has the Jeon Estates been invited to the conclave?”

“Ma’am, I- why, yes. I hadn’t checked the list for their name.” His voice drops as he speaks, mirroring the disappointment rising in you too. So, it wasn’t only you who had been invited for the first time.

Fucking Jeon Wonwoo. Even had to call you to rub it in, the nerve.

“Well, we’ll just have to outshine them there. I’m sure we shall. Please organise a meeting with the team leaders and managers today so that we can get the presentations perfected.”

Your secretary bows to you and leaves you alone in your office.

Paris comes sooner than you had thought, and you’re bursting with excitement. Nervousness too, a little bit. But your confidence isn’t so easy to rattle. You’ve picked out your choicest outfits for the trip, hellbent on making it memorable. You’ve even kept a few days extra in hand to allow you free time to travel the city.

You had asked your sister if she’d wanted to come along, but she had said that her doctor hadn’t deemed it safe for her to travel by airplane now. “I’m so jealous! But there’s nothing to be done.” “Go with your husband and your baby afterwards.” You’d kissed her forehead when bidding the final goodbyes before leaving for Paris.

There was just one little worry worming through your brain. Not even a worry, just an irk. Jeon Wonwoo would also be there. You’d have to compete again for the spotlight. As if the jerk deserved to be there.

“Ma’am, do you want to go through your speech once more?” Jisung asked you from the seat next to you. You smiled, the younger man was definitely nervous by the look on his face. “Why, are you scared I’ll forget? You know I take vitamins every day to strengthen my memory.” “I do, but-” “Don’t worry. Don’t let anxiety deter you from forming the memories of the fun times you’ll be enjoying there!”

Fun.

As if. Jisung knew well enough that you rarely had time for fun, and consequently, neither did he. He saw you overwork yourself every day, staying at the office till late, obsessed with perfection, ensuring no loose ends were visible. Even if you tried your best to send him home when his work time ended, he wanted to stay back out of compassion for you. He was truly the best secretary you could’ve asked for. He was godsent- he’d learnt your habits and your thinking process within days, and soon he produced documents and answers before you asked for them, pre-empting your thoughts. After working with you for three years, he was good enough to be your clone- that’s why you sent him to many events and meetings as your representative if you couldn’t make it. You knew he’d handle it as well as you would, and report all the key details to you at the end of the day.

“Yes, Ma’am. I hope it all passes well. We’ve all worked hard.”

“And hard work always pays off, you know that Jisung-ah. Now, sleep quickly so that we’re not tired due to jet lag once we land there.”

They’ve assigned Wonwoo a seat next to you at the conference table. As if seeing his face here wasn’t bad enough.

“Will you never leave me alone?”

He scoffs, “Me? You’ve been at my tail since you were a kid.”

“Oh shut up. Inside school, outside school, at parties, at funerals, at my graduation, at my sister’s wedding, you’re always fucking there. And now you’re here, to steal the spotlight. Not that you can anyway. Don’t try too hard Jeon, you’ll just look pathetic.”

“It’s funny how vain you are. You think I have any desire to steal your spotlight? Go ahead, be the talk of the party, by all means.”

“And I will! I don’t need your permission for it.”

“Hmm-”

The rest of his words get tuned out as the convenor of the conference begins their speech. You turn your eyes towards them, but you can feel Wonwoo’s eyes burning on you.

“What did you say?” You whisper to him.

“Never mind. Do you want to go out tonight?”

“Go out?” You turn your head towards him, leaning in, incredulous.

“For dinner.”

You almost burst out laughing. “And pray, why would I go with you?”

He scrunches his nose and pushes up his glasses. “You’re going to miss out on seeing the Eiffel Tower?”

“No. In fact, I have plans on going today myself. But you didn’t tell me why I’d-”

“Come with me.” He turns his face away from you, his expression cold and unreadable.

“Hell nah. We don’t know each other, okay? Just because we’re both newcomers here does not mean we have to maintain solidarity or any of that shit.”

“You’ll regret it, sweetie.”

“I regret nothing.”

“We’ll see.”

“Jisung-ah! You were scared for nothing. That presentation was flawless.”

“Yes Ma’am. I know our team always works hard, but the nerves never stop,” the young man looks much fresher after the conference wraps up for the day, his tie undone slightly. You can easily understand how his mood changes reflect in his facial expressions and attitude after the long hours you spend with each other on a daily basis.

“Are you still up for going to the Eiffel Tower tonight? I’m planning on skipping the post-conference dinner. But if you want to stay, I won’t force you to come with me.”

“No Ma’am, I was thinking…” he hesitates, but you raise your eyebrows to urge him to continue. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to visit the Eiffel Tower again, so I do want to go with you … but after that I’d like to go to one of the clubs in the nightlife zones? I’ve heard from friends that the Paris nightlife is crazy.”

“Ooh!” You pat him on the back, “Yes please Jisung, finally you’ve started to act your age. Go, be young and wild, I’ll cheer for you!”

“You won’t come along?”

“Oh no. I’m way too old for that. Plus I never was into the club scene. And for real, you should go out and enjoy without me sometimes. People will start thinking I’m your girlfriend.”

Jisung opens his mouth to say something, but ends up just smiling shyly. “Okay Ma’am. Then should we leave for the Eiffel at 7 pm?”

“Yes. Pick me up from my suite then.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Sorry Ma’am, the Eiffel Tower has been booked out for the evening. It’s been a really sudden booking, and we’re sorry for the inconvenience, but it’s just been booked out completely by a private party and no external visitors are allowed.”

You’re wearing your best white silk Gucci dress, the one you spent your entire salary on as soon as it was released at last year’s Fashion week, and a stunning Cartier necklace, ready to spend the best evening of your life atop the Eiffel Tower, savouring life at its finest… but no. Some jerk just had to book it for this evening.

You slide up to the lady at the front desk, whose bored expression does nothing to calm your nerves down. Jisung has tried his level best to convince her, but it’s failed. So you try the one thing you know always works.

“Ruth-” you see her name from her name tag pinned on her chest. “I can outbid the private party.”

“I’m sorry Ma’am, I didn’t get you.”

You laugh, a careful measured laugh, to hide your irritation at having to say it again. “I said, I can pay you more than whatever the private party’s booked it at. I just want ten minutes. Isn’t it a win-win situation for all of us? Ten minutes for me, and your private client can enjoy it for the rest of the night.”

Ruth smiles, pitifully. Wretched woman, she’s clearly not affected by your offer. This is what seeing too many rich people in a day does to a person, it immunes them to bribe, you think. Well, it’s her loss.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, but we really cannot accept your offer. It’s against our rules-”

“Let me speak to your manager, Ruth. Trust me, when they hear my name, they’ll let me in,” you smile again, attempting to remain amicable instead of bursting out into the wildest Korean slang.

Ruth smiles again, “You are, currently, speaking to the Manager here, Ma’am. We simply cannot allow any external visitors tonight. Can we book a slot for you tomorrow? If you’d like to visit again, in the morning or later.”

Jisung tries to interject, but he sounds resigned. He seems intimidated by Ruth, and frankly speaking, you get it. He’s just twenty four and spends over thirteen hours in a day with you, so he’s not used to snarky women. Well, apart from you, and you’re never snarky to him.

“Ruth, my dear. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I’m here at the Paris Conclave.” You say your name solemnly, expecting it to have the same effect it has in Korea, but alas, the woman remains untouched as ever. “I’m dreadfully sorry Ma’am- wait, did you say Y/N Y/L/N?” Your smile becomes wider. Oh so it does have the intended effect. “So you finally will let me in, huh? You do know who I am.”

Suddenly Ruth’s demeanour changes and she’s smiling pleasantly. “Oh Ma’am, the private client has specially informed us to allow you in. Only you.” “I’m sorry, what? Why would they suddenly ask for me-” “Mr. Jeon told us that you would be here. I’m so sorry for the miscommunication, Ms. Y/L/N-”

“Mr. Jeon?!” You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you bitch. Aloud you say, “Mr. Wonwoo Jeon?” “Yes Ma’am. He’s booked the entire place for the evening. He has been waiting for you too,” Ruth smiles graciously, doing nothing to relieve your confusion. “There has been a mistake. I don’t think he meant me. We’ll leave now-” “Ma’am, I’m sure there’s no confusion now. Mr. Jeon asked us to bring you up as soon as you arrived. We’re sorry to keep you standing here on your date night.” “Date night? This is ridiculous. Wonwoo and I are not-” Jisung whispers into your ears right at moment, noticing your bloodshot wide eyes, “Ma’am, I think there’s no point fighting with them on this,” he says in Korean. “This lady seems adamant, and you shouldn’t miss out on an opportunity to visit the Eiffel Tower when it’s lit up so prettily. Even if it is with Mr. Jeon,” you wince at his suggestion, and he smiles apologetically. He’s right, you realise.

“Okay, but Jisung comes with me.”

“I’m sorry Ma’am.” Oh I’ve had enough of your sorries. “No one except you are to be allowed up.”

“Wow. First you say no external visitors. Now suddenly I’m allowed and Jisung is not-”

“Ms. Y/L/N, these are simply instructions from my client.”

Jisung bites his lip and says, “Well I guess it’s not written in my fate then. Ma’am, don’t miss out on my account. Please enjoy. I’ll just go downtown and waste the night away. I’ll see you tomorrow then? Please make sure to eat dinner!” You’re seconds away from whining and pulling another tantrum, but Jisung whispers fighting to you in his soft indulgent tone that he uses on you whenever you’re being a brat and he needs to take care of you. And then he’s gone, and you have no option but to face Ruth. That bloody woman. “Welcome to the Eiffel Tower, Ma’am. Please accompany me as we take you to the top.”

At the top, Jeon Wonwoo stands with a glass of champagne in his left hand and his mobile phone in his right.

“If you’re going to work on your phone and not enjoy the view, why the fuck did you book this place out?”

You walk towards the man standing in the open air viewing area, and he smiles at you. The annoyingly handsome smile, where his eyes crinkle up, and his perfectly white teeth are revealed in a rare display.

“You came. I knew you’d come.”

“How so?” A server appears from nowhere and offers you champagne too, which you accept. You’ll soon switch to whisky though, to calm your nerves down.

“You’re easily predictable. You act like any other average tourist, although you pretend to be such a princess.”

“Everyone comes to visit Eiffel Tower on their first day in Paris, Wonwoo, there’s nothing weird about this-”

“Exactly. Average. Me? I personally prefer to see it from the window of my hotel, so that I can see it in its glory without experiencing this slight dizziness and bling of the night view.”

“You’re stupid. That’s why you have such stupid preferences. This night view? Priceless.”

“Let me inform you, darling, it cost me a hell lot to book this. So not priceless.”

You laugh, looking at Wonwoo, who’s leaning against the railing facing you, and then back at the gorgeous night view. The Champs Elysees looks glorious with the lights. You can sense Wonwoo leaning in closer. His cologne and perfume mix to create a dark, musky smell that’s new. You’ve never smelled this on him before. “Why did you book it? That’s what I've been asking since forever.”

“I want to fuck you against this railing.”

You choke on the champagne, before catching your breath and turning back to face him.

“What?”

“You heard me the first time.” He maintains eye contact, but in that cold, nonchalant way of his, like he didn’t just propose the most scandalous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Aren’t there cameras?”

“Will pay for them to be turned off.”

“That’s probably illegal.”

“I don’t care. I’ll pay enough. Plus, I’ve already located the blind spots.”

You take a deep breath. As ashamed as you are to admit this, it does turn you on. A lot. If Wonwoo would touch you under your dress, he’d find evidence of the same. Sex like this- in public, definitely the most outrageous thing you’ve done. But Wonwoo suggesting it? The fact that he booked this place out on a probability that you’d come and a hope that you’d agree to it? The more you think about it, the hotter your body feels. You can feel your nipples straining against your dress in the cold air, and your face turning red with imagination.

“If you don’t want it, we can just eat dinner and leave.” Wonwoo’s eyes have become impossibly gentler but also darker, like he’s seconds away from losing his control. His sight betrays his words as he keeps looking at your lips. Thank god I applied the lip plumper tonight, you think. But then his eyes go to your breasts, like the pervert he is, and he smirks at the sight of the two nubs pressing hard against the soft silk.

You shake your head.

“Say it.”

“I want it too.”

“Atta girl,” his smirk widens, before he leans in to capture your lips. It’s a rough kiss, nothing romantic like one would expect atop the Eiffel Tower, but it sets the right mood for the night. You realise that all servers have disappeared, and you’re perfectly alone, as his lips move down towards your neck, leaving beautiful hickeys along the way. “It was torture and heaven waiting for you. Knowing you’d come, but fearing you wouldn’t.” His hands take away your champagne glasses and place them on a table nearby, before bending you backwards on the railing, making your head zoom more with pleasure. What if I fall off? What if someone catches us like this? What if he takes a picture of me like this in front of the view, with my tits out and my lipstick ruined?

“No bra, huh? You’re so sexy in this dress, I want to fuck you in it. You mind that?” You’re panting as he keeps kissing you in between his words, tongue dominating yours right away. It’s like a switch flipped inside you. Just minutes ago, you were so against sharing the Eiffel Tower view with Wonwoo, and now you’re letting him fuck you here. It drives you crazy.

“Wonwoo just- I don’t care, I need you now.” He bites all over your shoulder, slipping down the straps to grope your breasts in the rough-handed manner you like, sure to leave bruises with the way he kneads them while leaving open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone.

“Just because we’re out in the open doesn’t mean you forget your bedroom manners.” He bites down on your nipple, surely missing his favourite clamps back home, and you squirm in his iron grip.

“Sir please!”

“That’s better, sweetheart. But what do you want?”

“C-Co-” he alternates his bites with little kitten licks, looking up at you. “Articulation, baby. Speak up.” “Want your cock, in my m- mouth, Sir!” He pulls away from you, leaving the cold air to tease your bruised nipples, and laughs. Fucking laughs, but it turns you on again. “If you insist.”

He takes off his belt and ties your hands behind your back, and then pushes your shoulder down and you fall to your knees, and he stands back, tall. “Oh, what a pretty sight,” he sighs, taking in the night sky view, and then looks down at you, but makes no move to open his pants. You assume you’ll have to take care of it yourself, so you attempt to open the zipper with your teeth. It’s not particularly difficult, but in the process you get some drool over Wonwoo’s cock over his pants. “Tch. Dirty girl, drooling everywhere,” he wipes away the drool from the edge of your lips, before you slot your mouth against his erection, now free from his underwear and pants which have slid down his legs. It’s not as hard as it gets during sex, but that’s what you’re here for. Nothing but a slut for him to use. Your ankles burn against your heels in this position, but it’s okay. You’re losing your mind as you swallow his sheath inch-by-inch, until you feel his skin against your nose, and you stay like that for a second, easing out your gag reflex. But before you can move, Wonwoo thrusts deep into your throat, eyes not leaving yours. It makes you roll your eyes, the pleasure of the surprise way more than the pain, and makes you crave for more. He slowly wraps his hands around your head, a strong broad support for you to rest in, and continues to ram his dick inside your mouth. Your body becomes limp as you slowly surrender to his actions, your mind blank, except a crazy wanton desire to please him and make him cum. You’re too sex-crazed right now to reason out why only Wonwoo elicits this reaction from you.

But then his dick gets rock hard, and right when its weight becomes the best and warmest around your throat, wet with saliva and pre-cum, he pulls out. You can’t frame words instantly, but you whine. “Ah, Wo- I- pl- co- please…” He laughs cockily at your state, and you blush with shame at the way you’re acting. “Get up,” he walks away from you, leaving you to your own devices to stand up in those heels.

It strikes you yet again, just how open this all is. Anyone can walk in. The security guard may be jerking off watching this on the security cameras, and you won’t lie, it’s hot as fuck. The thought of Wonwoo and your activities being porn for someone else- oh fuck.

Wonwoo sits on a couch meant for visitors on the balcony. “Come baby,” he beckons, and you sit on his lap. His cock is still hard, leaking pre-cum, and you’re tempted to lick it off, but you won’t make a move until he tells you to. You can’t disobey him now- if he spanks you in punishment, you won’t be able to walk to the conference tomorrow.

“Spit on it.” And you do. Wonwoo likes your spit, for some reason, and you wordlessly obey. Then he pulls out something from his pocket, and you realise- “No Sir! Please, not the paddle today!” It’s a folded paddle, the pocket-friendly one you can buy at cheap sex stores. “I need to walk tomorrow, I can’t if you spank me-” “But you’ve been so naughty. Begging for my cock in a public place like the little slut you are. Not accepting my invitation to come up here and making me wait for so long. Turning my offer for dinner down at the conference this morning,” You try to protest, but he simply inserts his thumb into your mouth, and you instinctively start sucking on it. “Now be pretty, and let Sir show you your place.” While you’re still distractedly sucking the thumb, you don’t even realise when he’s lifted the back of your dress and the paddle hits the ass flesh exposed by your thong. “Count.” “One,” you whimper out, not wanting his thumb to slip out of your mouth. The spanks continue, alternating on ass. He can alternate between asses and keep the same pressure just by one hand, the other holding up your dress, his hands big enough to cover your entire ass cheek. The spanks burn more after the moment’s relief due to the cold air, and by the time you reach twenty, your knees have given up, and you’re drooling on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Don’t make a mess. Sit up straight.” As you do so, he asks you, putting away the paddle and tucking your hair behind your ears. “Have you learnt how to behave? Or do you need another reminder?” You fervently shake your head, but he whispers in his insanely sexy tone, “Words.” It makes you shiver, and you respond, “Yes Sir. I’ll not misbehave, Sir.” He smirks, and leans back. “Now ride me like you mean your words, darling.”

You don’t need another command. You sit down on his dick quickly, ready to take the burn without any prep, because you’re already leaking down your thighs. He grips your hips with one hand, steadying you, and cards his other hand through your hair. As you begin bouncing down on him, he shudders and releases low grunts, but nothing breaks his composure. He never once whispers Good Girl, as you cum once, but you still keep riding him to ensure he reaches his climax. Somewhere after your orgasm, he starts thrusting up from below to meet your efforts, and it brings him closer to his orgasm as he scrunches his nose and closes his eyes. When he does spurt inside you, he whispers softly enough that you almost miss it, “Fucking gorgeous.”

That’s enough praise for the night, you think to yourself, as you fall limply against his chest, nearly passed out from the strain, his cock still spasming inside of you. He soothes your hair, and you fall asleep.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Please wake up! We’re running late. Ma’am? Ms. Y/L/N?” You open your eyes blearily to see Jisung shaking you lightly. Slowly you come to your senses, and you can hear his voice louder, and see the desperation in his face clearly.

Fuck.

What have you done?

“How late am I?”

“Not too bad, Ma’am,” Jisung scrunches his nose as he looks at the clock on your bedside table. “We have twenty minutes to go.”

“Fuck!” You scramble out of bed, not even bothering to check if you’re clothed, and make your way to the washroom. There’s a pain growing in your head, and it’s only when you see yourself in the mirror that you realise that you’re wearing a t-shirt and shorts. What even happened last night? The last thing you remember, as you try to recollect while quickly brushing your teeth, washing your hair and hopping into the shower all at the same time, is that you had passed out on Wonwoo’s shoulder. Then the world had gone blank. Fucked into oblivion, truly. He must have brought you into your room. Oh fucking hell, he owed you at least that much.

By the time you wrapped your bathing suit around you and walked back into your bedroom, Jisung was gone, but your outfit and shoes were laid out on the bed and there was a note, I’ll pack some breakfast for you, Ma’am. Please come down directly to the conference hall. Thank god for Jisung, that was one prayer you said everyday. He’d been partying too last night, hadn’t he? And yet, he had responsibly made it on time and woken you up as well. You were getting too irresponsible, too lax. Your discipline was gone and you mentally bashed yourself for it. All because of that stupid Wonwoo.

After that, it doesn’t take much time for you to get dressed. Jisung must’ve noticed the hickeys on your neck, and brought you a jacket with lapels and a collar high enough to hide most of the marks. You quickly tied a scarf around your neck, making it look fashionable by adding colour to the otherwise beige monotone outfit, and praised yourself mentally for looking this good even without makeup. Dabbing on some lip balm in the elevator, you quickly reached the conference hall, finding yourself a minute late. Again, thank god for Jisung, the boy had reserved your seat, made excuses on your behalf and kept a croissant and coffee ready at your seat, so that everyone greeted you with kind smiles.

Except Wonwoo, who had that unreadable expression again.

Must be pathetic, living like him. What worth was a face like that if it couldn’t express anything?

Four days later, you land in Incheon amidst the wildest of storms the country has faced in the year. You won’t admit it, but you’re glad you travelled in your private jet, where you can close all windows down and wrap yourself up in a blanket burrito to drown out all signs of the storm. You wish storms didn’t exist, and you wish no one would have to see you in this weak state. Not Wonwoo for sure.

After that first day in Paris, the two of you had barely interacted. Primarily, you were too ashamed to speak to him. How could you smile and talk normally to someone after getting railed by them on the Eiffel Tower, especially when that same someone was annoying as fuck in reality? Sure, eye contact had been made several times, over dinners, over the conference tables, when you’d been on the stage presenting, and when running into each other in the corridor. But words? You possibly couldn’t. It’d be too much for the fragile self-respect you’d been holding on to.

You really want to avoid him once you’re back in Seoul as well. The workload seems to have tripled in the few days you were away, with endless tiny emergencies and approvals pending to be resolved. You’re again thankful for Jisung, but there’s only so much the poor boy can do. You make it a point to send him home soon after his scheduled timing every day, but you can’t say the same for yourself.

It’s the fifth night of you eating ramen from a cup noodles pack and sipping on apple juice from a 1 litre tetra pack, that you finally give up on the abstention. It’s a hard decision, but somehow, your overworked brain and sleep-deprived body leads you to one craving, and one craving only.

Thirty minutes later, Jeon Wonwoo arrives at your office. He’s been to your office only rarely, as you both prefer to meet up outside professional areas, but in the darkness of the empty office, he can easily recognise your brightly-lit room. He’s dressed in formals too, as if he’s just got off work himself, and you think he may be in the same boat as you. But definitely not as much as you- you’re a perfectionist who looks over everything yourself, Wonwoo doesn’t even come close for sure.

“It’s one of those nights, huh?”

He gently opens the door and walks in. Everything about him seems to be delicate today: perhaps it’s because his shirt is damp from the rain he’s surely walked in, his hair is wet and falling over his eyes, and his tie is gone. His jacket is soon gone too, dropped off on the couch, and he takes off his shoes. They’re leaving slightly muddy footprints, and you wonder if Wonwoo even drove and came or just ran like a peasant.

“How’s work treating you?”

“Stop wolfing down that ramen, it’s not healthy. Not as bad as you, as I see. I finished up hours ago,” his eyes don’t meet yours, and you know it’s a lie. It’s one of the signs of lying, as you’ve picked up over the years. Wonwoo rarely breaks eye contact while speaking, always honest, and his lie is really odd to you right now. Why would he lie to you about this?

“I was wondering, if…” you stand up from your desk, taking in the figure of the man sitting on your couch now, manspreading and head leaning back. He’s tired, why did he lie about getting off early?

“Come here, princess.”

That’s all it takes, and you sit on his lap and wait for his lips to meet yours. He indulges you in your wish, and immediately the tension in your body eases out. Along with the stress of work, you’d been even more worried that he’d bring up your last night together, and you’d get too ashamed to remain turned on. But he doesn’t, and you’re glad. You let your lips be bitten by him, but then he soothes over the burns with his tongue. He tastes like candy, and you tell him the same.

“Hmm, low sugar.”

Then he picks you up and gently walks over to your desk, holding you in the same bridal pose without even a muscle flinching. With one hand, he clears the laptop sitting atop your desk to the coffee table, and swipes the rest of the clutter on the floor. It would’ve made you angry otherwise, but you’re already entering subzone with the way he’s handling you. Lips still locked on yours, holding you in that pose with just one hand as you hold on to his shoulders for dear life, it’s a crazy show of strength and you’re getting incredibly turned on by it. You let yourself go, giving it up to this person, who seems to be so reliable, so strong, so manly.

As he lays you down on the desk, he takes off your trousers and underwear in one go, and sits down on the chair you usually sit on.

“You’re so wet, so dirty. Did you touch yourself after texting me to come over?” Your pussy is at his eye level, and you’re looking down at him, his eyes menacing and beautiful at the same time. His question makes you squirm, as you reply, “Of course not.” Then there’s a slap across your cunt, and you whine. “Manners?” “Of course not, Sir.” “Liar,” he smirks, and dives headfirst into your cunt.

It’s a treat he rarely gives you. Only when he’s very happy with you- like after you’ve taken thirty spanks, or you’ve eaten dinner with him while having a vibrator stuffed up your cunt, or you’ve let him wash you in the shower (for some reason, Wonwoo likes that a lot. He ties you up to these poles he’s attached in his bathroom, and plays with your body by applying as much oil and soap he wants, making sure not to touch your pussy for hours, denying every release to you even as it builds up just from the oversensitivity of having your nipples and ass played with).

You wonder why he’s so happy.

But you can’t care enough, now that his tongue is working so hard against your clit. The sensation makes you lose all rational thought, as you lean back against the desk, mind empty, and just moaning his name. You remember the first few times he’d fucked you with your mouth gagged, but then he’d told you he likes your sounds way too much, so you’d stopped controlling them too. He gets what he wants. After all, only he can fuck you so well.

“Wonwoo, please-” He moves his head up, licking his lips which are glistening with your slick. “How do you address me baby?” “S-sorry! Sir, please I-” “Hmm?” He leans back in, humming against your clit. His tongue now moves to your hole, nose brushing against your clit. “Can I come? Like this? May I? Please?” When he moves away again for breath, he removes his hands from your thighs, and you see the red marks he’s left there just by how tight he was gripping them. It’s a wild sight, and your climax hits you right then, coming before he could answer. “So impatient, coming all over my face even when I’ve told you not to come without my permission.” But even his scolding sounds gentle tonight, softly chiding rather than his usual harsh coldness. In your post-orgasm clarity, you wonder again what’s gotten into him.

He licks away your cum, and it makes you burn with overstimulation. “Uhhhhh, please-please Sir!” “Stay still.” His hands are back at your thighs, spreading them apart, and he seems hellbent on getting another orgasm from you. Your screams are louder this time, and you’re growing even more desperate to get something bigger to fill you up. You wrap your hands in his hair, and tug unconsciously while he keeps licking at your pussy. His entire face is hazy with your slick, thank god he’d taken off his glasses earlier, but he doesn’t care. He keeps diving in.

“Sir, please, I’m going- uhhhh,” he pulls away instantly and smacks your cunt hard. “No coming until I allow you to. Let Sir have his treat.” “Please Sir I’ll be so good, I promise, I- please let me, just this once.” Another smack, and you’re screaming. Thank heavens the office is empty.

“Do you not understand my words? Should I retrain you?”

“No! I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Hmm, you better be,” and this time he doesn’t just lick your pussy, but also starts entering two fingers alongside his tongue, hitting your g-spot almost instantly. You’re whining yet again, losing your breath, but everytime you’re about to come, he pulls away. You can’t figure out how he realises, but soon two hours pass by, and you’re still being edged. Your legs are shaking, and you can’t think straight. You just want more of his fingers, you want his cock, inside your mouth, your cunt, hell, you just want to orgasm once.

“Girl, stop moving. You’re so filthy, dripping like this. What would your boytoy think if he saw you like this? Should I call him to clean this mess on your desk?” He’s curling his finger inside you, and it’s really hard forming words when you’re seeing stars like this.

“Sir, I-” “What’s his name? Jieun?” “Ji- Jisung. Aaah, please-” “Look at you begging. So pathetic. No wonder your secretary is so pathetic. He really likes you, you know?” Your eyes go wide, trying to register his words. “Why- why are you- how do you–” “Hush. I want to know, is he jerking off to you now? Thinking of how slutty you looked in those grey trousers, how perfect your ass looked? Bet you show off in front of him on purpose.” You’re squirming harder, not wanting to think about Jisung right now. “But- but daddy, I on- only want you!”

He laughs, then he leans in to whisper into your ear, “Daddy? That’s a first. Say it again.”

“Daddy, please! I only want your cock.”

“Really? So demanding, like a wife. But you’re just a slut. You’d do this to Jisung as well, won’t you?” “No! I swear- please. Daddy, just, it’s just you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I swear!” You nod feverishly, the sensation building up inside you again.

“Okay baby girl. Come for me. Come for daddy. Then I’ll take you home and fuck you good. This desk is too small.” You don’t need to be told twice. You gush all over his hands and some of your come ends up on your desk and his pants too, but he only chuckles. Licking off the come on his hands, he smiles. “You taste like sugar, sweetheart.”

The sheets you wake up in smell overwhelmingly like Wonwoo. The man is nowhere to be seen, but the blankets next to you are shuffled and the pillow has a dent, and you remember being caved by his warmth at night when the storm had hit Seoul again and you’d woken up for a second before falling asleep to the steady rise and fall of the chest wrapped around you.

You wake up slowly, adjusting your eyes to the sunlight. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in Wonwoo’s bedroom, but this is the first time you’ve slept over. Usually you leave, no matter how late it is. But it feels good. It feels oddly intimate.

Your legs burn when you walk, but you try to look for your clothes.

Your shirt is ripped again.

You strut out of the room after wearing your panties and bra, which is barely holding on to one hook remaining, and find the man standing in the open kitchen, wearing a tank top and sweatpants. He’s drinking coffee, and a book is in his hands.

“Wonwoo, you’ve torn my clothes again. How am I supposed to go home like this?”

He turns to face you, smiling and fixing his glasses, and standing up. He looks so good in the warmth of the sunlight falling on his golden skin. “You’re up.”

“Do you think I can keep buying new clothes?”

“Yes. Now, calm down. Do you-”

“Wonwoo!”

“For god’s sake, I can’t take your shit this early in the morning. You want to fight, please do. Not now. It’s too early. You just always find something up your ass and have to pick on me for nothing, huh?”

His smile has faded, and the warmth in your body seeps away. About time, though. You don’t want to start feeling safe in Wonwoo’s private space. It’s too intimate- waking up in his bed, seeing him walk around in sweatpants, drinking coffee he’s making for you. It’s too much.

“This has to stop, Wonwoo.”

“Okay, fine! I’ll not rip your shirts. Take my card and buy something-”

“This arrangement has to stop.”

He turns away from the coffee machine for a second, and stares at you. You walk towards him, and he looks even better up close. His tank top shows off his arms, and they look soft yet really firm. You want to touch-

“Why? Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not-”

“Do you want to date someone? You can, you know. I don’t care-”

“Wonwoo-”

“Did I hurt you? Was I too much last night?” he steps closer to you, furrowing his eyebrows in evident confusion, and you suddenly can’t breathe. His expression is very much readable and it only reads as one emotion- concern.

“Wonwoo, please.” You take a step back, hugging yourself with your arms.

“Does it hurt? I am sorry if it does-”

“It’s not your fault. It’s a me thing, I swear.”

His eyes become clouded by even more confusion, and you quietly walk away and sit down on the kitchen counter.

“This is becoming too much for me. I- I got into this arrangement thinking that it would be a good way to vent stress. But it’s toxic now- I can’t think of any other way to deal with stress except this. Don’t you notice how our meetings have become more frequent now, especially initiated from my end? In the last three months, I’ve initiated sex fifteen times, and you’ve only six times. You see? This has become my only solution now.”

Wonwoo doesn’t look at you, but he keeps wincing at your words as if he’s being hit physically. Then he responds, when you’re done, “That does sound like a you problem, like why-”

You slide off the counter with a huff, muttering Fucking jerk under your breath, but he catches your wrist before you can walk further away.

“Don’t touch me if you’re going to react like that. I fucking knew it, why did I even talk to you? I can just walk away, I didn’t even need to expose my weaknesses to you.”

He yanks you closer using your wrist. “This isn’t a war, Y/N. I don’t get off on knowing about your weaknesses, for fuck’s sake. Can you stop being paranoid?”

You sigh. You know you’re always paranoid around him- funny, because he’s seen you in more compromising positions than anyone else. If he wanted to blackmail you, or hurt you, by hitting your weaknesses, he would, you realise. Is that why you’ve learnt to feel so safe around him?

“I’m sorry I reacted like that, Y/N. Talk to me, let’s work this out together. Let’s set up a system to slow our meetings down if you like?”

You bite your lip, and look up at him. “How?”

“Umm, how about you start to find other sources for it? Like hanging out with friends? Developing hobbies?”

You huff again, twisting your hand out of his grip. “Wonwoo, if I had other sources, would I not use them?”

“Darl-”

“Don’t call me that! We’re not having sex right now.”

“Y/N. Take your time to find other sources, then. If I’m your only means of relieving stress, it is extremely toxic. You’ll become dependent on me, and-” his pupils shake, looking away from you, “you’ll find it tough to date and all. Been there. Done that. That’s why I can tell you this.”

You’re about to reply something, when your phone rings out in a shrill tone. Surprisingly, Wonwoo’s phone rings out at the same time too.

You jog into the bedroom to find your phone and pick it up. It’s your sister.

“Y/N-ie! You’re not at home?”

“No. Why? Are you coming over?”

“No, I just made Kyungmin drive us to your place to see your place is empty. Where are you?”

“Never mind where I am. Why did you come over?”

“Mum and Dad want us to have lunch with the Jeons,” you can hear her giggle. But you’re stunned. “With the Jeons? Now? Today? For what joy? Are we buying their company?” She giggles again, leaving you more frustrated. “You’ll find out. I’ll send you an address then, come over directly!” And she promptly ends the call, leaving you blank and confused. Your phone pings- there’s the address of a restaurant, and a message asking you to be there within an hour. You realise only now how late you’ve woken up, and you’re glad it’s a Sunday.

“Why am I eating lunch with your parents?” Wonwoo walks into the bedroom, that confused look on his face again. “I could literally ask you the same damn thing. What’s going on?” “Does it look like I’ve got a single clue, babe?” He smirks at your cluelessness, and walks into his ensuite bathroom, leaving you speechless. Did he just call me babe? You wonder, but then your mind flits back to the issue at hand.

“Wonwoo!” You scream at him from outside the bathroom. You’re sure he can hear you, so you don’t wait for a reply. “Yah! What am I supposed to wear? You’ve torn my clothes, you fucker!” Your stress levels are rising again. You’re going to have to go back home to wear something appropriate. You realise that you haven’t even brought your car. You’ll have to ask Wonwoo to drive you back. But fuck, what if your sister is still at your place? Then she’ll see you both coming together, and undoubtedly she’ll prod and poke you. Then you won’t be able to have the upper hand at lunch when Wonwoo signs his company over to you. But there’s no other option as well. Well, there is- you can always stop at a boutique or a shop to buy something and wear it on the go. But that’d mean you’d have to go out in this hideously ripped blouse of yours. Oh!

“Wonwoo! You dumbass! I hate you! What have you done now? Why are we going for this lunch? For god’s sake.”

“Stop screaming, woman.” The door suddenly opens, and a half-naked Wonwoo steps out, engulfed in the steam from what was definitely a very hot shower. You have to stop yourself from moaning out at the sight. It reminds you of the three times you’ve showered together, and you can’t help but think back to the vivid memories of those sessions.

“How can I stop screaming? I don’t even know what’s going on. You knew about this, didn’t you? Why are you so calm?” Wonwoo takes another step towards you, and he runs his hands along your arms. You shiver under his touch, realising you’re still wearing just your underwear. “Calm down. This isn’t a big deal, you’ve dealt with more serious issues. It’s just lunch.” “But it’s lunch with your family. I don’t even know why.” He presses a hand along your cheek, and you’re feeling even more conscious and nervous. Why? This is really unusual, because Wonwoo is right. You’ve been in worse emergencies. Why is this getting on your nerves? Probably because your periods are due this week. These are just your hormones.

“Just enjoy the food. You’re anyway good at ignoring me in public places, and you can do the same to my family too.”

You bite your lip, and shake your head. “I need fresh clothes.”

“Yeah okay. Get into the shower and clean yourself up. I’ll ask my secretary to send something over.” “What? How-” “I think she’s the same dimensions as you.” “Oh.” You step away from him, swallowing whatever words you had to say. “I’ll go into the shower then.”

Thirty-five minutes and a very nice warm shower later, you’re standing in the bedroom and there’s a very pretty black dress on the bed. There’s also a new pair of lingerie next to it, complete with red roses sewn into black lace. Wow, that’s what Wonwoo asked his secretary to buy, huh. He definitely knows her dimensions very well. And the clothes fit, almost perfectly as if tailor-made. The dress is of unknown brand but the feel of the satin on your skin feels nice enough for you to forget about its origin.

“Done?” Wonwoo steps into the room. “Jeez, can you knock? Scared me.” You’re applying Wonwoo’s sunscreen (frankly shocked to see him owning it, but then, his skin is pretty nice). You’ve also applied the same perfume as his, and combed your hair in a million different ways, to make up for the lack of make-up or your usual products.

“Knock when I’ve seen you naked in this very room a hundred times? No thanks. Let’s go, we’re late.”

“Hmm,” you slip your feet into your shoes and pick up your bag. “I’m ready.” So is Wonwoo, you notice, who’s dressed in a grey sweater and jeans. The softness of his clothes contrast the sharpness of his features, and it… looks nice.

It takes you two twenty minutes to reach the restaurant, the ride passed in silence as you catch up on work mails from your phone.

“I’ll go first, and you come ten minutes later, okay?” “Yeah. And Y/N, don’t tell them you were with me, okay?” “Of course not. I’m not a dumb nut like you.” And you shut the door of the car with unnecessary force as you walk out of the car. You swear you can hear Wonwoo curse behind you, but you give no fucks.

“Oh! Y/N-ie! Welcome!” You walk straight into the arms of your mother, who’s dressed in a gaudy dress that does not suit her figure. “Eomma! How many times have I asked you not to wear these dresses?” “Oh shush! I bought this last weekend. Don’t tell me it looks bad, I’m in a good mood now.” You grimace and walk towards the table where your sister, her husband, and your father are waiting for you, smiling from ear to ear. Mr and Mrs Jeon, and Wonwoo’s younger brother are sitting on the other side of the table, also smiling from ear to ear. The excessive smiles are disturbing you, you’ve positively never seen Mrs. Jeon smile that wide.

“Oh, you look so good! Did you lose weight, Y/N-ie?” Mrs Jeon beckons you to sit next to her, and she takes your hand in hers. You force a smile on your face, still clueless about what’s going on. You can only hope they start talking about it when Wonwoo comes.

Speaking of the devil, he does come way earlier than you asked him too. You’re suddenly nervous, as the families start smiling again. “Aigoo, our handsome boy is here. Sit here, sit here.” Your sister welcomes him and he sits wedged between her and his mother.

“Eomma, what’s going on?” he asks.

“Aah, straight to the point. Forget about that, tell us, did you both come together?” You spill out the drink from your mouth, almost choking. “Us? Together? Hahaha. No, of course not! Why would you think that Mrs Jeon? Hahaha.” “Hmm…” your sister exchanges looks with your mother and Mrs Jeon, before finally giving you that stupidly bright smile again. “Is there something you both want to tell us? We’ll give you a chance before-” Wonwoo interrupts, “Appa, what’s this nonsense? Just tell us without this suspense.”

Mr Jeon, who’d quietly been busy on his phone for so long, looks up and stares a little blankly. His wife nudges him, and then he seems to remember. “Oh, so, Wonwoo. You know you both can tell us what you want.” Your father pipes in, “Yes, same goes for you, Y/N.” Wonwoo and you exchange confused looks before you speak up, “Okay, but really. What’s this suspense for?”

“We know you’re dating.” Your sister blurts out, and there’s a sudden silence at the table.

You think your eyes may burst out from the shock, and the way in which your palms instantly become sweaty is a dead giveaway of your nervousness. “What?! Unnie, are you out of your mind? What the fuck?”

“Language, Y/n-ah.” Your mother says, “You think we don’t know what you both are doing, huh?” And then she giggles. The damn audacity.

“I think there’s some grave misunderstanding, Mrs Y/L/N. Y/N and I are… certainly, not dating.” Wonwoo’s mother grasps his hand across the table, and says, “Oh my son. My dutiful son. You don’t have to pretend about this. Just because Jeon Estates is rivals with Y/N’s company, doesn’t mean you both have to be secretive about dating!” There’s a little cough from both fathers, and Kyungmin and Wonbin, Wonwoo’s brother, burst out laughing.

“Eomma, we’re not hiding anything. It’s a fact, we aren’t-”

“Explain these then. Booking out Eiffel Tower for a dinner date, huh?”

“Eomma, how do you know? Are you spying on me?”

“No! Of course not! We just looked at your credit card bill, accidentally. Then I spoke to Bora, your secretary, and she confirmed that you’d been spending a lot of time with Y/N. Not only that, there’s more-”

“Yes, indeed. Y/N-ie, why didn’t you ever tell us?”

You gasp, feeling lightheaded. “Did Jisung…? That trai-”

“Not Jisung. Jisung wouldn’t open his mouth. So I spoke to your chauffeur. He tells me he regularly picks you up from Wonwoo’s place?”

That’s it. This is it. It doesn’t get worse than this. This is your end. Oh, earth, swallow me up.

“Darling,” Mrs Jeon rubs your back, “Please don’t feel so shy. We know that our husbands haven’t left a great friendship for you two heirs. But you need not worry about all this rivalry.”

Your sister joins, “Yes. I’ve convinced Appa, and our lovely Aunt Jiwoo has convinced Mr Jeon too. Oh you both are so silly, hiding a precious thing like this from us.”

Wonwoo and you glare at each other. You realise there’s no point in explaining things to these people sitting in front of you. If they’ve reached the point where your sister is calling Wonwoo’s mother as aunt, then they must have discussed this extensively before calling you two to this lunch. An ambush, that’s what this is, you think in despair.

“So what we’re saying is, instead of keeping it hidden like this, why don’t the two of you get married? Wonwoo-ah? You’re turning thirty next year, aren’t you? I want to see my grandchildren too,” Mrs Jeon says, and everything falls in place. This is blackmail. Your mother’s been asking you to get married ever since you took over the company, claiming that having a man at your side would help your life be perfect and free of any troubles, and even forcing you on some arranged dates. Wonwoo must be going through the same kind of thing, with him being three years older to you also. It fixes the nail in the coffin, and you stand up from your seat.

“That’s not happening. Mrs Jeon, Mr Jeon, Wonbin-ah, I’m sorry if this disappoints you, and the same goes for my family too. Wonwoo and I are grown adults. What we do is none of your business.”

“But if you are dating, what’s the issue with getting married? And from what I hear, it’s not even a recent fling. All this has been going on for a year now!” Your mother cries out loudly. Although you’re sitting in a secluded corner, the restaurant isn’t quite empty.

“We’re not… dating. That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

“Well, then are you guys enemies having movie sleepovers?” your sister adds, and it’s too annoying. “And why did you come over in Wonwoo’s car?” How the fuck? But then you realise, nothing is beyond these women. They may be keeping tabs on your and his car GPS for all you know.

Wonwoo stands up, looming over your figure. “That’s quite enough. Like Y/N said, what we do is not your business. Thank you for your concern, and enjoy your meal. Eomma, since you’ve taken access to my credit card already, might as well use it to treat yourselves with this meal.” He steps out of the chair, and walks over to where you’re standing. He swiftly grabs your wrist, and pulls you away, “Let’s go. This is a waste of time.” And just like that, the two of you walk away.

Six days later, a wedding invite stands ready in front of you, held out in Jisung’s pale hands. “Does it look good, Ma’am? I’ll send it for printing then.”

You sigh, and nod your yes.

part 2 is now out!

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nikxlaii · 4 months

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➽ 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓

☁ Pairing: Zhongli x gn!reader

☁ Category: Angst

☁Synopsis: He excludes you every time he's with her, and now he's living with the consequences of his actions, weighed down by their heavy toll.

☁ Note: It looks better in my head, lmao. I got back into writing after school ended. Still preparing for 12th grade, I'm scared. Good luck reading this. Let me know how it goes. 06/12/2024

Do you not see me?

You stood in the field of glaze lilies, the soft night breeze gently caressing your skin, a sense of isolation surrounded you. The silence was deafening, save for the voices of the divine beings before you, talking as if you were not there. It was as if they were lost in the charms of the evening, indifferent to your presence.

You knew that going with Morax was a foolish decision the moment you realized that the God of Dust, Guizhong, would also be there. You shouldn't have come, you shouldn't have gone. But your heart would not permit you to resist the urge to spend time with the man you've always loved, even though it may not have been the wisest course of action.

Despite the sinking feeling in your stomach, you couldn't let the chance of being with him slip through your fingers. Yet as the night wore on, a seed of doubt had started to take root within you, gnawing at your innermost thoughts. You now wish you had the foresight to realize that accompanying Morax wasn't the most commendable choice.

"Here," Guizhong, with a playful glint in her eye, reached down to pluck one of the glaze lilies dotting the ground, a sweet scent filling the evening air. With a sweet smile, she tucked the lily behind Morax's ear. "How nice it looks on you!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with amusement. Morax's eyes softened at Guizhong's sweet gesture as he smiled softly at her, an expression you'd never seen on his face before. It was clear that only Guizhong could bring that soft smile to Morax's stoic face.

You stood there watching them, a silent observer, as they talked to one another. Even what they're talking about is unknown to you, making you feel like nothing more than a passive object in the room. You bore witness to the way the man you loved gazes at her with yearning and adoration—a glance that you wish was aimed at you instead.

The sight was not one to behold, causing a deep and unrelenting pain to well up within the deepest reaches of your emotional being. It was a peculiar feeling that possessed you. It was as if a sense of resentment towards the goddess gradually seeped into your bones, permeating your very essence.

But how can you hate such an innocent god who has never actively done any harm? In particular to you? Nonetheless, deep down you can't help but wish she'd never come into his life. That he had chosen you instead of her, that it was you in his arms, the object of his desire. Yet you know it's a futile dream, for you two are incompatible, you are the god of war while he is the god of contracts, forever parted by the gulf between your natures.

Guizhong, being the epitome of refinement and grace, captivates all who lay eyes on her. Unlike you, the deity of battles, Guizhong was a wise, compassionate, and intelligent god who never harmed a single soul. Conversely, you nevertheless bore the scars of battle on your body. Your skin stained with blood from countless battles. You see why Morax is so captivated by her—she was everything that you weren't.

"Oh, I think it's best I leave for now. Perhaps we can meet another time?" You force the words past your lips, your voice a mixture of hurt and disappointment. You hug your arms tightly to your chest, waiting for a response from either the two of them, only to realize that they don't seem to care about your presence. They're too caught up in their own world, and you're not a part of it. Maybe it's best to leave them be.

That night marked the end of your presence in their lives. It was then that you knew that it was time to move on. You couldn't change the way things were, nor could you force Morax to love you. As difficult as it was, you had to accept that your relationship with him was not meant to be. So, with a heavy heart, you decided to leave, choosing to cut all ties and put the past behind you. It was the only way to find peace and move forward.

In a tragic turn of events, the Archon War raged on with no end in sight. The God of Dust lost her life in a fierce battle over the Guili Plains and perished amidst the Glaze Lilies, leaving behind a sea of sorrow in her wake, particularly for Morax. Imagine his grief when he lost her too. He should have known the impending doom that was about to happen, and maybe, just maybe, he would have saved her too. Everything was a massacre.

Despite the passing years, he never ceased his search for you, holding a faint glimmer of hope that you were still alive. Despite giving up his gnosis, his rulership, and the weight of responsibility that he's borne for millennia, his determination to find you remains steadfast. It's as if he's incapable of letting go of the notion that you're still out there, somewhere, waiting to be discovered. Perhaps the gnosis is now in the hands of the Fatui and has become their possession. He continues to look for you without ceasing.

Despite the selfish intentions behind his actions, he continued to search for you over and over again. He knew that he was to blame for your departure, as his behavior had led you to leave his life forever. Nevertheless, he persisted in trying to find you, driven by the guilt and regret that had filled his heart. He struggled to come to terms with the consequences of his actions, and the sadness that weighed upon him only continued to grow. All he could do was hope that somehow, someway, he could make amends.

But...

Would he ever see you again?

☁ Note: Zhongli, you selfish man, jkjk, I love you. No hate towards Guizhong! I love her so much. She's so cute. Who do you think is at fault here? Of course, me! for creating this.

#angst #genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #morax x reader #guizhong #zhongli x reader angst #morax x reader angst #genshin x reader angst #genshin impact x reader angst #guizhong angst #no comfort

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kiss-me-muchoo · 3 months

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𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞? || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚

part one: here || part two; i’ve been the archer

summary_ after returning from Egypt, you are set to marry your half brother Geta. When you fall in love with General Marcus Acaius, your brother tries everything to prevent you from slipping away from him.

warnings_CRINGE, age gap!, semi incest (do not romanticize irl) reader x Geta, drama, angst, VERY quick love confessions, implied SMUT +18

NOTES_ who’s afraid of little old me?, I just wished there were gallows in Ancient Rome, listen to my awful playlist for Marcus and the classic I have for Pedro bb.

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist + Marcus’s playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

If there was something you’d never miss… were the carmine sunsets. Those lasted more than usual. That kept the beginning of the night warm and made you the silent promise of another good day by the following morning.

It had been easy for your father to send you away as soon as your mother quit their marriage. Your brother was a big inconvenience and a hidden mistake that shattered your little wealthy family. Under the cautious look of the Roman Senate, your parents were still bonded in a strong marriage. But the truth was that your father never truly loved the woman who gave birth to you. Which led to your mother leaving for Egypt, a Roman Province. Soon after her departure, you were sent to Alexandria too.

Each day was a boost to your status. Learning a vast variety of languages and dialects, learning different types of dances, being able to handle weapons, and gaining control over the Egyptian cities, to help your powerful father; The Emperor.

You barely missed Rome. Your mother was a cold Empress that loosened all the knots your father could have tightened around you. Growing up used to the Egyptian parties, drinking the finest beer and bread. Taking occasional lovers since virginity was not a necessity for marriage in Egyptian society. One of those lovers specifically, was a tall warrior with sun-kissed bronze skin that transformed you into a woman in every aspect you couldn’t discover by yourself. It was a shame when he died after a bad injury during war.

In the present, being in your first years as a young woman, things were likely to change, and you were very aware of it. That didn’t stop you from having the time of your life in the vivid city of Alexandria. With very few friends, a dead lover, and a dream.

Every night you savored those carmine sunsets to pray to Venus. Perhaps your dream of finding a true love hadn’t happened yet due to praying to her instead to Hathor; the god of love in Egyptian territory. Nevertheless, you intended to marry a man who was ridiculously, recklessly, and borderline obsessed with you. You wanted to live the broken dream of your mother.

Until desires were abruptly paused one night. When you received a letter from your father.

“A letter from the Emperor. It is the wish of your father to have you back in Rome” Your walls crumbled into pieces. The face of shock was splashed all across your face as you listened to your mother.

“What motivated his decision?”

“I can assure you, I don’t know, my child,” your mother says vaguely, tending his favorite flowers inside the palace.

“Do not lie to me, mother” she sighs and suddenly, she starts crying. You don’t know what to do, but the sight unsettles you.

“He wants you to marry Geta…” your eyes get impossibly wide open, and you gasp in shock.

“My brother?” your mother nods. You pace back and forth, wondering why and how could your father come to that conclusion.

Although you were used to attending weddings in Egypt that came from a mother marrying her son, to a brother marrying his sister, it was… awkward. This was the boy that destroyed your family, the boy that would take half of your rights as heir was meant to be your husband and father of your children.

The mere thought scares you.

“Will you accompany me?” It’s the first thing you come up with.

“I must stay here since Egypt won’t have you now” You frown at her words. But your throat tightens, defying to produce tears that quickly threaten to spill everywhere.

“Be strong, remember everything I’ve taught you. No men will defy the tenacity of the emperor’s daughter.” you nod, your eyes prickling with fear that explodes in your chest.

“And in between, find the love I couldn’t keep, no matter what, y/n…”

“I’m seeing you again, Right, mother?” she nods, giving you a cold hug.

“I’ll always be here…”

For the first time, the carmine sunset does not bring you peace. Your mind is edging towards collapse as you approach Rome. As the light of the light leaves, you question everything. So many questions and nothing of time.

…

There were no shattered crystals after dinner as you expected. Your brother Geta welcomed you in Rome with excitement and it confused you even more. He gave you a short and personal tour of his newest garden and prepared the finest banquet made by all of the servants.

Geta is a sole copy of your father. Same mannerisms and style. Only behind his attentive look, you were aware of the sadistic man who talked to you with respect.

“Where is Father?” you ask him, sipping at your wine.

“An important meeting surged. He’ll join us tomorrow, we are preparing vast festivities”

“Festivities for what?” he smiles, you don’t like how compassionate and polite he’s being.

“Our marriage, soror” The heavy makeup on his face does everything to hide the truth of the narcissistic man he is.

You could swear he hated you because your mother was the sovereign empress and you the rightful heir. Your father just happened to have two wives and two kids at the same time.

And despite everything, you didn’t hate your brother. You despised her mother for drawing your own apart from your father. For convincing him to send you away from your solemn fair future. For transforming your brother into some incompetent who seemed to have a hunger for chaos and madness.

“I must thank you, for welcoming me… despite our background differences” It takes him aback. Geta expected a disheveled girl, a rebellious female who followed the ways of the savages; the Egyptians. But he encountered a bright and marvelous sister who tried to act with peace after being so far from home for so long.

“I wished we could’ve grown together, like a united family” you admit coldly, avoiding the whole marriage issue.

“We will be a family, y/n. I’ll make sure of that” he says hiding his lips in his cup of wine and it sends shivers running down your spine.

Geta sees how you stand up and politely push forward the chair you were seated in; excellent manners.

“As a tradition of mine, I’ll see the sunset and pray before going to rest. Please excuse me….” your brother nods, still processing your words as you leave the imposing place where you were born. You desperately need fresh air.

Near there’s a meadow with empty spaces. It’s just a piece of land that soon would probably serve to build another coliseum.

One thing is noticeable. Sunsets in Rome aren’t carmine… they are mauve. And for some reason, you can’t feel peace.

But you hold tight to your dream. Your happiness is what you’ve prioritized ever since a teenager.

That’s why you hadn’t failed a day to pray to Venus.

Venus, hear me, please. You whose care, throughout all the centuries, the unions of men and their lovers have been placed, what, I pray, have I come to merit? Release me from this uncertainty, gift me a lover, who will warm my heart for eternity. Venus, save me from the hells of my ancestries.

Someone touches your naked shoulder, it makes you gasp in horror.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” someone says. When you turn around, you are facing a man who’s incredibly taller and broader than you. He’s significantly older than you, but he’s graceful. The second he takes to appreciate the sunset as well is your chance to study his profile. Gorgeous classical profile.

“Excuse me, but… Who are you?” you ask, moving aside, leaving his hand that rested on your shoulder in the air. He noticed it.

“General Marcus Acaius… I wondered why a woman was here all alone” you know him. He’s the most successful general your father ever had. He was a concise warrior, even considered a killer.

Somehow, you couldn’t help but find some sweetness in his deep voice. By knowing him for just a second, you felt comfortable by his side.

“I take pleasure in appreciating the sunset…” your soft features intrigued him. You looked slightly different than most of the women he sees in Rome.

“I haven’t appreciated the sky since I was a kid”

“What a shame, General. You would find some peace hidden between the clouds” Your accent was slightly colder than everyone’s. You didn’t have the golden hair that usually meant power. He was infatuated and tremendously interested in the woman he was facing.

“I must know where you come from…” he says, paying attention to your eyes. You smile, touching the little pearls that fall from your pale blue dress.

“I was born here… but circumstances made Alexandria my home. I arrived last night…” his eyes show surprise. He analyzed your bracelets, made of pure gold. You had a leaf crown with tiny sapphires that shimmered around your head. It wasn’t hard to tell who you were.

“majestas… you shouldn’t be here” he mutters and you don’t even flinch.

“I can assure you, General Acaius… I rarely find myself in the position of damsel in distress” he chuckles and you are relieved to see he doesn’t carry a ring around his finger. It was happening so fast, you wanted to know everything about him.

“You may call me Marcus. Except when we are in the presence of your father or brother” you remember you are supposed to marry your brother. But it wasn’t official just yet. And you were quickly falling for this older and gorgeous General.

After a sweet battle or glances, he has to put down his sword. You notice the details and the signs of years of use it has.

“Is this the weapon you master the most?” he nods, noticing the dry blood around the edges.

“Indeed… I learned to wield it before I even went to school” You smile, nervous but eager to throw your next comment. He was speaking very softly towards you. But it was obvious that he was a reserved and serious man.

“I use the spear and axe” Your revelation leaves Marcus surprised. There were very few female gladiators, most of them being treated worse than common slaves. No female in the Roman hierarchy wielded weapons.

“You truly are one of a kind, majestas” As the emperor’s daughter, you weren’t supposed to ever wield a weapon. Contrary to that rule, you were required to learn about politics. In Egypt, you were free.

“Oh, don’t call me that… my name is Y/n”

“Precious name…”

His smile mixed with yours burst in an obvious mutual flirtation. After talking for about two hours, the moon is the only witness in the dark meadows, where Marcus and you kiss until your lips are swollen and he has hydrated him after days of dryness. He promises to keep close to you as his fingers slip under the fabric of your tunic. You swear to welcome his touch no matter what as your hand palmed his girthy length under his heavy armor.

That night both of you seal your fate. That night Marcus Acaius ignites a vivid fire inside your heart.

…

Often, you wondered if candles could run out due to the excessive use of them each night. At least thirty candles are illuminating the place. You patiently wait in the room Marcus had in the Emperor’s palace, seated on the edge of the bed. When the General comes out, he spots you at his resting place. Immediately, you frown at him.

“You said it was a minor injury” There’s a lot of dry blood on his shoulder. He had taken a bath… but the injury was there, uncomfortably lying over his skin.

“It is a minor injury.” He assures, sitting beside you on the bed.

It’s been only a couple of days since you met him… and you are already too keen on him.

“There are no gladiators where I come from. Only warriors… Generals only command their soldiers. We never used weapons as a spectacle”

“I’m starting to believe Egypt is a better place than Rome” you shrug.

“I miss my home. I miss the freedom. I can’t marry Geta…” you admit out loud for the first time. Marcus huffs, he doesn’t have a problem with letting you know he is jealous.

“Right… the wedding.”

“I have to marry him after all. Only that way I could share the title of Empress with him” Marcus sighs tired.

“Am I descending into madness for these strong feelings I have for you?” you turn to look at him. Your hand moves to the end on top of his.

“I look into your eyes… and I feel safe, Marcus” you admit, straddling him. Your fingers trace his beard as you lean to kiss him deeply. He reciprocates and holds your hips steadily.

It’s a wild moment to openly share carnal passion, but neither of you cares. You push him against the feathery pillows and continue kissing. His hair gets tangled around your fingers and his forearms and hands have disappeared under your dress. You start throbbing and he gets hard. But the moment is suddenly interrupted by some footsteps near the room. In a blink of an eye, you get away from Marcus and he stands up from the bed too.

“Use the trail at the end of the hallway. I’ll see you tomorrow, satis” he says, kissing your forehead before you quietly leave his resting place.

Some guards were wandering around the place as usual. You skillfully pass by them, using the trail Marcus told you. But it’s dark and very quiet, not even illuminated by torches. Your sandals barely make a sound against the floors.

So it’s a huge surprise when a hand covers your mouth and the next thing you feel is getting slammed against the wall. It didn’t hurt you but it was violent.

You gasp for air and encounter your half-brother. He has his golden crown and velvet robes, his face almost clean of tints that weren’t his natural skin.

“What were you doing with General Acaius?” You frown.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” his ginger hair is the only thing that shines in the dark trail.

“Quit the lie, soror. Has he made you impure?”

Oh dear brother, if you knew my purity has been gone for many years. But the truth was that Marcus hadn’t claimed you his yet.

“No. And it should not be a matter of importance to you” he chuckles.

Geta isn’t an idiot. He had seen the way Acaius looked at you during dinners. He noticed you came back to rest later than usual. And it was making him boil in anger. His disgust towards you before your arrival was strong. But after you turned to be a delight for his taste, Geta was burning for you.

“Oh, but it is a matter of importance to me. You are my future wife” he says, threatening to seal his lips with yours. The arm that was holding you still sneaked around your waist, applying a little too much pressure.

“Do you think I like the thought of other men touching or even smiling at you?”

Oh… so he was jealous.

His lips gently brush your neck as you set your eyes on the moon, waiting for the moment to be over. His touch is vicious, possessive, and harsh. The trail his lips have followed from your collarbones to your throat ends in your chin, mere inches away from your lips.

“If we can even consider this love… you have an odd way of showing it” he lets you go, the cocky smile on his face never leaving.

“Love or not… you are going to be mine”

“I’m also the heiress of the Emperor. We’ll see about that, Geta.” You spit bitterly, literally running away from him.

You have converted into an enemy for him. And you had to be ready to walk cautiously. Because you had changed your mind. Perhaps you would lose the crown… but weren’t going to marry him.

…

You missed dates so badly, but then the following morning, when a plate of them was included in the morning, you couldn’t resist. You are eating alone. Until the doors open and your father appears followed by two guards.

“Father…” you stand up, making a reverence to him. He smiles, extending his arms to hug you.

“I have wonderful news. We’ve arranged an encounter for you to demonstrate your abilities in combat” You are extremely confused.

“What?” Your father sighs, breaking the hug.

“I’m aware you performed in celebrations back in Alexandria. This is just the perfect opportunity to show the senate and council you are a prepared lady to receive the title of Empress one day…”

“Father… as much as I appreciate the intention. I’ve performed as a way to train for battle; gods forbid us from having to go to war, but… here, your soldiers and slaves fight for the mere feeling of feeding the greediness of hierarchy. I can’t do that…”

You weren’t a target for the empire to show off. You were more than just a woman with the ability to carry a weapon. You valued your freedom. And ever since arriving in Rome, day by day, you feel that you keep slipping away from it.

“The decision is taken. Heavens know why but the official announcement of your engagement with Geta remains being delayed. Hence, I won’t turn the Senate and council against me when there's no need. I may only wish you good luck, dear” You remember Marcus. He could have voted against the encounter. He was the General.

Suddenly you are bursting in anger, making the coldest reverence to your father as he leaves.

Your angry steps lead your way to Marcus. You found him taking a rest on a nearby balcony. When he spots you, his smile vanishes.

“You couldn’t impede that brainless idea of me participating in a combat?” Marcus has to sigh, placing his hands on his hips. He was expecting your anger to be honest.

“I couldn’t say no. If it did, they would suspect. I already have your brother behind my back all the time” You can fight him because he’s right. But it doesn’t dissipate your anger.

“You are going to be fine. I may be able to arrange the rules. I can choose the gladiator that will fight you, but your father and brother have the last word. What weapon do you want to use?”

“The spear…” he nods.

“Female gladiators tend to wield the bow and sword. You can easily disarm her…” you are not scared, you are just frustrated.

“Teach me the methods warriors use here…” you mutter. Marcus nods, taking your hand and giving an apologetic look.

“You will win, my dear.” His fingers place some strands of your hair behind your ear, it melts your anger and transforms it into peace. You want to scream how much you desire him. But you must retain your feelings given the hatred days you were living.

“Let me thank you for the training in advance, General,” you say, getting on your knees.

“Good girl…” Marcus whispered as soon as your tongue started working on him.

…

The usual crowd in the Colosseum couldn’t be compared with the amount of screams and cheers from the people watching the emperor’s daughter fighting one of the greatest female gladiators in Rome; Calista.

The sandy floors were covered in an elegant tapestry that marked the square where the show was occurring.

You are sweating, there's blood running down your chin and you can’t breathe correctly. Calista was ordered not kill you, but for some reason, she seemed to be personally trying to knock you out.

She had a helmet and armor in gold and red. But it was hard to deny everyone was invested in the attire you wore. A golden mask of Neith, the god of war that covered your face and a gold vest and bare shoulders. Everyone thought you were insane for that.

You remember all the things Marcus told you. Soon after your father started the encounter, you learned gladiators were blinded by the necessity of seeing blood on their rival instead of following a technique of combat.

Calista’s sword is sharp enough to give you a long cut by the movement of a soft swatch. You yelp in pain and she kicks your ribs, making you fall to your knees.

Marcus stands worried from his seat, but he soon returns to his place after making eye contact with Geta, who sends daggers with his eyes. Marcus understood your brother was insane when he disapproved of the gladiator he had chosen. Geta picked the most sanguinary and violent warrior to fight you.

Marcus couldn’t do anything. But he was impressed by your skills. He sighed with joy everytime you slipped from Calista’s touch. Even your father was displaying a face of proud.

But it’s not the same for you. You enter in panic, knowing you are at full mercy, almost dropping your spare. Your father is about to stop the encounter. The crowd is impossibly louder. You want to throw up. The sweat mixed with nausea, the cold air of the night, and the dryness in your throat are too much to handle. But you refuse to lose. With the sharp edge of the spare, you cut Calista’s calf. She’s startled, ready to strike back when your leg pushes her on her back. The heavy sword she carries makes a loud noise. Her skull crushes against the floor. It gives you enough time to stand, place your foot in her throat and point the spare against her forehead, ending the encounter.

The cheers are disgustingly excessive. But you’re done. You did what your father asked. You take off the mask and look at your brother in anger. Geta offers you a fake smile. He was surprised to see you were able to slip away, from his evil plans, from defying your father.

You offer your hand to Calista, but she refuses. She looks like she wants to kill you. But she only reverences your family and leaves.

Everything is forgotten when you set your eyes on Marcus. You want to smile and run to his side. He sees you with adoration. He sees the reincarnation of Psyche in you. A woman who Marcus swears it’s even more graceful than Venus and Persephone themselves.

Marcus Acaius makes a decision; He must marry you.

…

After a banquet, your bones and muscles ache with each movement you make, but you run towards Marcus. You need to see him after such a long day. He waits for you in the secure spot of the farthest tower. His light robes and leaf crown are securely dressing him when you spot him. The gold in his attire matches your bronze bracelets and indigo dress.

He’s the man you desire. He’s the man that had offered you a real demonstration of affection. He wasn’t trying to manhandle you like everyone before did. It’s more than enough to make you think your prayers to Venus have worked. You collide in his chest, giggling.

“I love you”

Both of you say at the same time. It leaves you shocked. Marcus smiles and you have to kiss him to believe it’s real.

“I promise you… we’ll be together” you nod dying out of happiness. He kisses you back and you feel you want to cry out of happiness.

What feels like a second was an hour of kissing.

And Geta was able to witness some of that time. Drowning in a monstrous wave of jealousy, he ran towards the Emperor to accuse you of adultery. But it was too late, your father was out of the city for the rest of the day. Geta is beyond enraged with the news. So he sends part of his father’s cabinet to a brothel, hoping his evil plan would work.

Later, when he finds you going towards the garden, he fastens his pace to harshly grab your forearms and stop you.

“That General is no good for you.” He spits with disgust as you squirm away from his touch.

“Neither are you” you fireback, stepping backwards.

“Go find him. You should know he just uses you to have our father’s approval. So I insist you, go find him and see what kind of man he is after you leave his bed” You raise your hand ready to slap him, but you don’t. You simply turn away and keep walking.

Geta’s words echo through your mind. You question him, valuing the honesty of his words. Marcus was a man after all. There wasn’t a perfect man nor a perfect woman, but you liked to believe there was still good in the hearts of the people.

Perhaps Marcus would be disappointed by your mistrust. But the uncertainty of his loyalty was something you couldn’t risk.

That night, you go out in a linen cloak, hunting the man you love. The guards won’t know you went out prowling around the city.

It’s late, but not for the city. Although is not crowded, there are a lot of people in the market. You let yourself wander across the place. There’s handmade stuff that women and kids sell. It makes you think about power and how not all of the people had it. If you ever became Empress, you wanted to see a prosperous and bright city. You want to ensure them with security and peace. You want to get rid of eccentric stuff, including gladiators.

The sound of music along with laughter draws your attention to a specific place. At first glance, you think it’s a tavern. But as your feet made it to the entrance, you gasped in shock. There are more men compared to women. The females are scattered around the place. Some feed grapes to men. Others dance and use their bodies to charm. All of them have their chests bare, showing their breasts and silver bracelets. It shocks you to see some of the females naked, kissing between groups of four or more and almost fucking them at the sight of everyone. The wine smells cheap, the whole place smells like sweat and sex combined.

You see from afar a large table of men. Your eyes look at the head of the table and it causes a great mix of confusion and intrigue. Because it’s your Marcus who’s seated with those men. He talks and looks seriously intimidating with his sword resting on the table. Your heart starts racing as a woman gets closer. She raises her hand to touch him. Marcus turns to look at the woman. She has short blonde hair, pale skin, and purple fabric that barely covers her body. Your eyes water at the sight. Your lover, who promised find the way to be with you hours ago is there, surrounded by naked women and you can hear him cursing. When the blonde woman is about to sit in his lap, you leave the place running away. There’s not even time to tear yet, you are completely covered in shock and disgust.

Soon you are back. You gasp for air, opening the doors of the place you call home. Two guards let you enter and you throw your cloak to the floor. When you look at the end of the long hallway, you spot Geta talking with his counselor. At the sigh of you, he indicates the man to leave. You want to leave him behind so bad, you avoid his eyes but it’s his voice that stops you.

“I told you so…” he says with an evil smile.

“Be quiet…” his laugh is loud and it angers you more.

“He doesn’t care about you. Acaius only cares for power. He could never love you-“

“SILENCE!”

You push him towards the granite bench behind and he is taken aback.

Even more when you lean to smash your lips with his.

It’s disgusting. There’s no care, only two individuals fighting for control in the lips of each other. Even the beetroot juice you applied hours ago has transferred to your chin and Geta’s. His hand is resting with pressure on your nape, and you slightly pull his hair, making him groan before kissing you even harder.

Just when you are about to sit in his lap, you stop. You look at him in horror. There’s no way you just kissed him. That you almost succumbed to his touch. But you remember Marcus with that woman. What were you doing?

Geta sees you quietly crying before standing up from the bench and watching you bolt.

You run to the meadows. The place where everything began. And at that moment, you realized you had completely failed.

Fighting in that encounter with Calista for what? Unnecessary approval of men who would surely die before you birthed your first child.

You pleased your father to live in peace for what? To carry the weight of a narcissistic brother and a traitor lover.

Your prayers were in vain. The love you wanted to find was over before it even started. Because it wasn’t real. You should’ve stayed back in Egypt. Maybe you should have married Geta on the first day. At least whatever he did to hurt you would have a payback. But with Marcus, it resulted in an excruciating pain that you had never felt before. Which makes you feel so ignorant and brainless. All that ego your mother had helped you build collapsed at that moment. You just wished for a remedy. Which for sure didn’t exist. But there must be a way, to make everyone feel at least a drop of what you have.

—————————————————————

part two or what? (Literally didn’t add the part I wrote for the sneak peak lol)

taglist: @drewharrisonwriter @my-dearest-agent @yellowheartz @spookyxsam @natasharomanoffsmotorcycle @uncassettodiricordi @kluvspedritooo @littleblackcatinwonderland

#pedro pascal x reader #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #gladiator 2 #joseph quinn x reader #emperor geta #emperor geta x reader

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seattlesellie · 1 year

Text

don’t cross the line

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warnings: smut (mdni), cheating, angst, mutual masturbation, just morally wrong, mentions of alcohol

Parties in Jackson fucking suck.

It’s not like youve ever been at a different party, but still. You’ve read about them in the little magazines from the old days you found on patrols. Small blurbs about meaningless celebrities, a concept you barely even understood, drinking themselves to oblivion. Paparazzi pictures of young starlets in black limousines, rappers getting coked up in dark bathrooms. You never really got it. Parties in Jackson were like a parallel universe.

“They must have made that up” you told Dina, your best friend and trusty patrol partner. “Nope” she shrugged. “Heard that Paris Hilton girl was really like that.”

Paris hilton would have hated Jackson parties. A bunch of old people, and a handful of young ones, dancing around to the beat of an old country song, if you could even call that a beat.

You could have responded with a simple “No thanks” when Jesse had invited you to tonights party. You could have told him you were tired, busy, sick, he would have left you alone - But you didn’t, alas, this is how you found yourself here. Alone, in an old barn, listening to the batshit insane, drunk ramblings of an old fart named Seth.

“Ripped that fella’s throat with just one move” Seth mumbled, laughing stupidly at his own words.

“Go — got him real good n’dirty, I tell ya”

Whoever said “respect the elderly” clearly never met Seth. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes that he traded for food and supplies, and my god, he was standing so close you could see the veins in his yellow tinted eyeballs. You really were too polite for your own good, you thought to yourself, because Ellie would have shoved him away already.

Ellie.

You felt like slapping yourself in the face. What the hell does she have to do with this? Why can’t you just let it fucking go already? It truly was desperate, and pathetic, and borderline immoral, the amount you spent thinking about that girl.

So what if she used to be your best friend. So what if she was the first girl who ever made you feel something, even if it was too late. She has a girlfriend, and she’s not thinking about you, she doesn’t care, maybe never has, probably never will. She left you for her, with that useless excuse of “Cat doesn’t like it when we hang out” followed by a pathetic “We can do it in secret, though.”, when she saw your eyes turn glossy and your breath hitch up. Fuck her, and fuck those memories. Fuck all the nights you spent together telling each other your deepest and darkest desires, and especially fuck that time you almost-

“Hey”

You'd recognize that voice anywhere.

A royal blue flannel button up shirt appeared at the corner of your eye.

“Mind if I steal her for a sec, Seth?”

She sounded raspy, laced with that velvety layer her voice had adorned whenever she had a sip or more of Whiskey. When you drank together for the first time, at the ripe age of sixteen, next to a big bonfire and the ever so familiar scent of pine lacing your sense of smell, you told her that she sounds different when she’s drunk. More mature, somehow. Less fidgety, slower, sultrier. She replayed that sentence over and over again in her head. “Sultry”, she whispered to herself. “I sound sultry.”

Seth cleared his throat, a deep cough escaping his lungs.

“Of course, pretty girl like her shouldn’t be around me for too long, might start acting all wild!” The old man threw his hands in the air, and disappeared somewhere in the scarce crowd.

Your heartbeat was faster than normal, but that’s not new. Not when she was around, anyways.

Ellie stood by your side, hands crossed over her chest. She had a glass of Rum in her hand, not Whiskey. Funny.

“You’re a Rum type of girl now?” you questioned, never meeting her gaze. If you bothered to look to your side, you would have noticed she was staring.

“Fame’s changed me, I guess” She responded, mixing the fluid in her glass.

One week ago, Ellie went on patrol. One week ago, Ellie killed more infected in one go than anyone else had in years. She was the town’s hero, the infected slayer. Cat even made her a badge. She wasn’t wearing it now.

“Cat or fame?” you quietly mumbled under your breath.

You weren’t spectacularly brave with your words, but one glass of presumably expired white wine made a simple girl go very far.

“Hah. Funny” she scoffed dryly, earning her Rum another pointless swirl.

“You’re the towns hero, I’m the towns comedian, we’re both pretty famous, i’d say.”

Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the wall. She squinted her eyebrows slightly, humming in response. You looked over at her, for just a second, noticing the dim light reflecting in her eyes. She was a sight to behold, the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You wish she knew that. You wish you could be the one to tell her.

You inhaled deeply, and it came out so shaky that when you exhaled you were terrified she heard the tremor in your body.

“Thank’s for the save, by the way” you said quietly, apologetic. You even smiled politely, which was absolutely for nothing, because she wasn’t looking at you, avoiding your gaze like the plague.

It’s not like Ellie and you didn’t talk since that night she told you she couldn’t see you anymore. It’s been two whole years. You had to talk, you had to communicate somehow, even if it was through polite smiles and dry conversations during shared patrols. Hell, you even went to Cat’s birthday party you somehow were invited to. Dina was practically on her knees begging you to come with her, and who could say no to Dina when she looked at them with those puppy eyes that could tug at a monsters heartstrings?

“Yeah, no problem. That man’s a fucking dickhead” Ellie scoffed, leaned against the bar and crossed her legs.

“Where’s Cat?” you questioned. Are you sure you only had one glass of wine?

“She’s not here” Ellie responded dryly, seemingly annoyed at your question. She almost tsk’d when you asked. She didn’t look surprised by your rude antics, maybe you got like this more often than you thought. How about that time you told her you’re surprised Cat didn’t pack her a sandwich with a sticker on it’s wrapper during patrol?

“I can tell… why?” you inquired. Your own voice was deeper too, it almost matched hers.

“Didn’t wanna come” Ellie said, stuffing a hand inside her pocket. She was uncomfortable, clearly, and wanted, needed, to make you shut up. It’s not because your presence annoyed her, It’s because she knew she was wrong. She knew she fucked up when she ditched you, and if only you knew how it was eating her alive every day. She had to do it, because in her eyes, she would have done something much worse if she hadn’t.

Being around you when she wasn’t with Cat was hard enough, because she knew she could never have you, that you’d never want her. Not if you knew. You were too smart, and too good, to ever want to be with her. Cat was easy, she didn’t ask too many questions. She’d lay there for Ellie when Ellie told her to, and she would agree to stop a conversation when it got too personal. When Ellie cried at night, and woke up sweating, she didn’t ask why. She let it go, and Ellie knew you never would have. You’d fucking hate her if you knew. She could have saved the world — and she didn’t. He didn’t let her. The wounds she had were too deep, they were clawing and tugging at her skin from the inside. Ellie was a tortured soul, and you didn’t deserve that. That’s why she left, and maybe, that’s why she was here right now.

“That’s too bad” you mumbled quietly. You did your best to make it sound genuine, and you failed miserably.

Ellie scoffed.

“Yeah”

You shifted slightly, and walked over to stand right in front of her. You met her eyes for the first time. Those stupid, beautiful emerald eyes.

Ellie looked down, and looked up at you. She swallowed deeply.

“Anyways” you sighed. “Think I’m gonna go”

“Already?” she questioned, slamming her Rum filled glass on the bar counter.

“Yeah, I’m cold and it sucks in here, so” you said, and smiled politely. It really was freezing, and talking to her like this was painful enough.

“Let me walk you” she blurted.

What?

“Huh?” walk you where? the door? you knew where it was.

She tugged at the loose string on the bottom of her button up. It was ironed, where did Ellie find and iron? Did Maria do it for her? Town hero perks?

“Let me walk you home” she repeated, her voice carrying a touch of insistence. Once again, you found yourself captivated by her burning gaze, those eyes that seemed to hold secrets yet to be unveiled.

“I can walk home alone, Ellie” You huffed, ever the stubborn.

“No” she exclaimed.

“Maria said it’s been pretty dangerous”

“I can have my own back, you know, I’m not an idiot” You scoffed. You knew she didn’t think you were an idiot, why did she have to walk you home?

“I know that — Just wanna make sure you’re safe”

“Gosh, Ellie thank you! thank you!” You said in the most high pitched voice you could fathom. “The town’s hero is at it again, everybody!” You exclaimed, slightly raising your voice, earning both of you a few curious looks from the townspeople.

Ellie wasn’t embarrassed. She was just annoyed. And she wanted to slap you in the face for being so stubborn.

She grasped your arm with an unexpected forcefulness, pulling you along as she swiftly guided you outside. In the process, you accidentally bumped into a few people, hastily muttering a string of apologetic "sorry" and "excuse me" as you hurriedly tried to navigate through the crowd. You attempted to resist her firm grip, trying to free yourself with a burst of strength, but you found yourself overpowered by her determination.

Once she managed to pull you outside, she finally released her grip on your arm, allowing you a brief respite from her firm hold.

“You are not walking me anywhere, Williams” you scoffed. What made her think you needed her help?

“You’ve always been so fucking stubborn” she turned to face you. Her hands were on her hips. Her face wore the same expression she did when you went on your first patrol together, when you insisted on going left, even though she knew you had to go right.

“I’m walking now” you stepped away, and started walking. “And if you followed me — you wouldn’t be walking me home, you’d be stalking me” you exclaimed as you backed away.

Ellie quickly followed your pace, her boots stomping on the snow covered ground.

“You are”

Step

“So fucking annoying”

This was the longest conversation you’ve had with Ellie in two whole years. It felt like nothing’s changed, except for everything.

The following ten minutes were torturous. You were walking fast, Ellie right behind you. No words were exchanged between you, the silence enveloping the crisp air as you both walked in silence. Your attention turned inward, focusing on the sensation of the cold air filling your lungs with each breath, and the soft sound of Ellie's boots pressing against the creaking snow beneath her.

You finally arrived at your place. It’s grey exterior blanketed in a pristine layer of snow. Every inch of its structure was adorned with a delicate coat of white.

You turned around to face her.

Ellie’s skin appeared slightly flushed, with a rosy tinge highlighting her cheeks, and her nose bore a noticeable reddish hue, hinting at the crisp winter air. She didn’t say a word.

You took a deep breath. She looked cold.

“Want me to make you some tea?” you questioned. You didn’t mean to let her in, and she didn’t expect you to ask. She looked surprised, her eyebrows turned slightly upwards.

“M’fine” Ellie insisted, her voice resolute despite the chill in the air. She sought warmth by tucking her hands deep into the pockets of her dark green coat.

“Jesus, Ellie — Just come inside” you urged, the concern evident in your voice.

“If walking you was stalking wouldn’t coming in be breaking and entering?” she inquired, a sarcastic tone lacing her words.

“Just —“ you uttered, your voice trailing off as you reached for the doorknob, slowly opening the door.

“Come inside”

"Fine," Ellie relented, her resolve wavering as she decided to follow in your footsteps.

The house welcomed you with its cozy warmth, though slightly disorganized in its appearance. Yet, amidst the subtle chaos, it remained a comforting sanctuary, always your safe space. Being there brought a sense of solace, as if the troubles of the outside world faded away. And with Ellie's presence by your side, an inexplicable tingling sensation spread through your being.

You proceeded to heat up some water, carefully attending to the task of preparing tea, a familiar ritual.

Ellie never knew where to sit, or where to stand, so there she was, examining every single one of your movements. The air felt thick, like you could cut the tension with a switchblade.

"Your house looks different," she murmured in a low voice, leaning against the cream-colored wall.

“Bad different?” You questioned, taking out two mugs from the cupboard.

“No, just… more stuff” she murmured.

"Well," you uttered as you gently placed the teabag into the awaiting mug. “You haven’t been here in a while, so”

Ellie hummed in response, and bit her lower lip.

“You’ve kind of changed too.” you murmured.

“Tattoos looking bigger. And you look more tired. Plus, your shirt looks ironed, so maybe you even… showered? Woah.” you teased.

“Fuck, you really are funny huh?” she said, crossing her arms.

“Always were a sucker for my jokes” you responded with a sly smile.

She didn’t mean to say what she said next, because that was like opening a pandora’s box. Or, more like, the gates to hell.

“This is the longest conversation we’ve had in years” Ellie murmured. You handed her the green colored mug, your finger brushing her’s for a second. You both flinched.

“Mhm” you took a sip from your tea. It was still so hot, it burned your tongue.

“And who’s fault is that?” You questioned, raising your eyes to meet her burning gaze. It was incredibly impulsive.

Ellie rolled her eyes. She looked baffled.

“You still don’t get it, do you? She questioned.

“Get what? that your girlfriend doesn’t like me? trust me Ellie, I get that, crystal clear.” You smiled, as you slammed your mug on the counter.

“I’m not doing this right now” she declared, her tone firm and resolute.

Oh, did that sentence burn through you.

“I think you are” you stepped forward to face her. She looked terrified, like a lost puppy. Not so “town’s hero” now. Thank god she wasn’t wearing Cat’s badge, because she would have looked ridiculous.

“I’m not” she said quietly, looking at the floor beneath her.

You felt the ever so familiar lump forming in your throat. She owed you.

“Tell me what it is exactly that I don’t get” you spat. The pent up anger from all these years finally just fucking bursted. She left you. She left you for her, your best fucking friend.

“It’s just funny how she didn’t give a shit about Jesse, or Dina, or anybody! Just fucking me, right? I’m the fucking problem?” you blurted. Your voice was shaky, filled with rage. The tears in your eyes started forming. You didn’t even know how much you were holding it inside of you, it all overflowed, at 2AM, right in your kitchen. Right where she told you she couldn’t see you anymore.

Ellie was frozen, her mouth parted slightly. She was flushed, and it showed. It wasn’t the cold weather anymore, it was you. She didn’t expect this to happen so fast. She came inside for some fucking tea.

That’s when you shoved her. And she didn’t even fucking move.

“Don’t fucking do this to me” she begged. Her voice was desperate, and shaky, and what the fuck was she hiding?

You found yourselves standing uncomfortably close to each other, the proximity palpable. The warmth of her breath gently grazed your forehead, creating a tantalizing sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.

She took a deep breath.

“What I did was bad. But — fuck, Jesse and Dina never slept over, you know that?”

The room fell quiet.

“So?” you whispered. You couldn’t even look at her.

“Don’t do this” she begged. Her eyes were glossy. She looked as if she was about to cry, too. Her chest was pressed up against yours.

“I’m not doing anything” you mumbled quietly. Her body was so warm. You felt like you were about to have a heart attack, and Ellie felt like she already did.

“If I would have stayed… I would have done something… so much worse” she whispered. Her hands were trembling.

“What would you have done?” you whispered against her. Dangerously close now. You could feel her unsteady heartbeat.

“You know” she whispered back. You saw the vein on her neck, how beautifully spattered the freckles on her skin were, like a constellation.

“Please” you begged.

That’s all it took.

Almost.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The proximity between your lips was almost intimate, an agonizingly close distance.

“Please” you begged.

Her eyes were dark, breaths unsteady and fast, like she just ran a marathon. Her chest was rising up and down. She’s dreamt of this moment, for so fucking long. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t fuck more people up. She’s done more than enough.

“You don’t know what you fucking do to me” She whispered against your skin. Her eyes were shut closed. If she didn’t see, maybe it would’ve been less wrong. If she didn’t see, maybe Cat wouldn’t either. She could go home, kiss her girlfriend good night. Walk away. But there you were, pressed up against her, making her head spin like a carousel, fogging her brain with your scent, and your lips, and all of the times she pictured you like this, helpless and begging. She never looked at Cat how she looked at you. Cat never made her feel like she could faint at any given moment. Cat was safe, she was a sunny day. You were a thunderstorm, a cloud, soaking her up. When Ellie said she would have done something so much worse, she meant that.

Cat was right when she told her to stay away, she always was. When Ellie begged Cat to stop her ramblings, Cat told her she looks at you like she’s hungry. That it’s disgusting, that she wishes it was her. She was crying, and begging, and she was right. That’s why Ellie knocked on your door that way. One person she could save.

Ellie’s hands were firmly pressed up against the wall, locking you in.

“You dont know…” she whispered.

You whimpered silently at her words. You were aching everywhere, you just needed her to do something.

“Show me” you said, and it came out more as a plead. You were begging her.

Ellie leaned in, drawing her face closer to yours, and your lips delicately brushed against each other. The electrifying touch sent a shiver down your spine, evoking a soft, involuntary moan that escaped your lips. It went straight to her heart, and then slipped right to her cunt.

Her lips were plump against yours. Just barely touching.

She delicately brushed her lips against yours, causing a gentle collision that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you. A shaky breath escaped her mouth.

“Ellie…” you whispered. Ellie, just do it. you can’t take it anymore.

She abruptly slammed her hands against the wall, causing it to tremor ever so slightly. The suddenness of the action startled you, making you jump in response.

“Shit” she huffed.

And her lips weren’t against yours anymore, neither was she.

Ellie backed away. She couldn’t.

Your lips quivered, and there it was. Her precious thunderstorm erupting.

The tears came out hot, and sticky. They ran all over your cheeks. You let out a quiet sob. Ellie was staring, her breaths uneven and her mouth agape. She almost did what shes been dreaming of doing since the moment she saw you. Almost.

your legs betrayed you, giving out completely. You crumbled down onto the floor, unable to stand any longer. With tears welling up in your eyes, you instinctively curled up, bringing your head between your legs as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to consume you.

It was a truly pathetic sight, Ellie towering over your quivering body. It’s been two whole years, and you missed her every single day that passed. It was gnawing at you. Seeing them hand in hand, kissing on the street, making out behind the dumpster. Thinking of Ellie hugging her at night, caressing her skin, touching her everywhere, telling her she loves her, fucking her, tasting her and not you. It should have been you. But it couldn’t be.

If only you knew that when Ellie was between her thighs, you were the only one she thought of. If only you knew Ellie had to bite her lip till it bled to stop from screaming your name. That’s why Ellie always turned off the lights, That’s why Ellie shoved Cat’s face down on the bed with her entire palm when she took her from behind. That’s why she always closed her eyes.

Her body gave up on her, too.

She sat on the cold concrete floor, trying to steady her breaths.

“Look at me” she commanded. It was breathy, and shaky, more of a plea than a real command.

You wiped your tears.

“I can’t” you whispered.

“Please” she begged.

You mustered the strength to lift your face, raising your gaze to meet hers.

“I think about you all the time” you blurted.

She huffed in response. Your soft voice was killing her. She couldn’t even respond. She just watched.

“Ellie…” you whined. The distance between you was torturous. There was so much space, and at the same time, no space at all. You could still feel her lips brushing against yours. You wished you could taste her. She yearned for that even more. She felt like something was chaining her down to the floor, holding her captive.

What you did next, is something Ellie had buried deep inside her darkest fantasies.

You delicately caressed your smooth neckline, doe eyes burning through her’s.

Ellie swallowed deeply.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, lower than a whisper. Her voice was raspy, and her pupils were blown out. She was imagining, for sure, hallucinating, intoxicated by the picture of you being pressed up against her. It couldn’t be real.

“I need you” you whimpered.

She almost crawled right to you right then and there. Her knees were spread open in front of you. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart felt like it was leaping out of her chest.

“You cant” she insisted. It felt like she tried to convince herself, and not you. You couldn’t. There’s no way.

“I want you” you whispered, lowering your hand to caress your breasts.

Something took over you. Being pent up with frustration for years birthed such a desperate sight, she couldn’t fathom it.

She grunted in response. Do that again and she’d lose her fucking mind.

You cupped your breast.

Ellie threw her head against the wall. She forgot how to breathe. Her nostrils were flared, and she almost slapped herself in order to convince her that this was real. This was happening.

“Holy shit” she wheezed.

“Please” you begged, and squeezed your breast forcefully. Your nippled hardened against the material, so you gave them a twist, sending a bolt of electricity right through your clothed cunt.

Ellie’s mouth was agape. She was transfixed, mesmerized. Her cheeks grew more red by the second. It was so fucking wrong, she almost told you to stop, but she couldn’t. Her voice felt dry and her brain was buzzing. Her ex best friend was so desperate for her she couldn’t even help herself.

The image of Cat went through her head. Cat seeing, walking in. Cat trembling and crying, telling her she told her so. Cat screaming at her that she’s an awful person, that she hurt her, That she should burn in hell.

Then, you took your shirt off.

And Cat was gone.

Her eyes were darting from your tits to your needy eyes. You were giving her that look she only saw in her dreams. That desperate, pathetic twinkle in your eye. She saw a girl look like that in an old porno she found. Ever since, that picture of your face replacing the actresses burned through her memory. She knew it was for her, you were showing her, but she looked like she wasn’t supposed to see, a peeping tom, a pervert. Her cunt twitched inside her tight black boxers. Cat never made her cunt feel like this.

The dainty lace bra adorned your body. you looked like an angel, eyes red from crying, cheeks still wet, chest rising up and down. She wanted to ruin you.

You stopped for a second, looked for a sign to keep going.

The room was silent, the only noises that muttered were your soft whimpers and Ellie’s harsh, uneven breaths.

“Take it off” she whispered. You almost couldn’t believe she said that. You nodded pathetically. She always knew you’d be like this. She imagined you nodding your head frantically, kneeling beneath her and undoing her belt, way too many times she wouldn’t dare to admit. Her heavy breaths were a confession to all of her sins.

You unclasped your bra, your tits spilling out of it with a sigh of relief.

Ellie was hypnotized, fully staring. She remembered the first tine she saw you in a bikini. Jesse noticed she was staring, and he gave her some advice. “Look at the ground or the sky, pretend there’s something super interesting going on there”

She didn’t need to pretend now.

“Fuck” she grunted, feeling her cunt twitch inside her briefs. Her mouth was agape, she wanted those nipples between her teeth. Her tongue slightly moved involuntarily inside her mouth, imitating the kitten licks she’d give your tits if she could. It was truly pathetic. Thank god you couldn’t see. Her fists were clenched, and she was forcing her feet onto the ground. If she pretended something was pulling her in, she wouldn’t crawl towards you and take you like she always wanted.

You toyed with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers, almost as if you read her mind.

“Spit on ‘em” Ellie demanded desperately.

“Ellie…” You whimpered, her voice was making you grow wetter by the second. If you took your pants off, she could see the wet patch that soaked through your panties, making them almost sheer. You were almost embarrassed, but it was too late now.

“Do it” she commanded.

“Do it for me” Ellie begged. She brought a hand up to cup at her perky clothed breast. She imagined it was you, your tits between her fingers. She wanted to squeeze the fat, take it in, spit on it, latch her mouth onto your nipples, slap them as you ride her thigh, or her face, or her whatever the fuck you wanted.

The saliva ran down your chest, droplets flowing at an incredibly slow pace, each and every one of them teasing Ellie, mocking her. Almost there, almost reaching your sensitive nipples. When it finally did, Ellie was breathing so heavy she almost wheezed.

You rubbed the spit all over your tits, glazing your nipples with the liquid, coating them shiny with your saliva - all for her. You were staring at ellie with your mouth open. You moaned at the sensation, making Ellie shift and slightly slide off the wall. She was gone.

“Feels so good” you whined.

“Fucking shit” She huffed. She bucked her hips, searching for that friction. She didn’t do it yet, but oh she will.

“Mhhm” you hummed, a high pitched moan escaping your lips.

Ellie almost went cross eyed.

“Need you, please” You whispered while massaging your breasts. You were squeezing the fat harshly, almost punishing yourself for being such a dirty, desperate girl.

“Show me” She begged, in between breaths.

“Show me how bad - shit”

You cupped your cunt, your hand feeling warm over it. Your clit twitched. Ellie let out a moan so deep, you almost came right then and there, all over your panties.

You circled your clit through your pants, teasing Ellie without even realizing. I can do it, and you can’t! It felt like you were mocking her.

“Take that shit off — fuck” she huffed. Her hand was resting on her thigh, pinching it. Stay down. Don’t crawl, don’t fuck, don’t cheat.

In a matter of six seconds, your pants were on the floor. You crossed your legs together in embarrassment. What if she saw how wet you were?

“Spread” She commanded.

You looked at her stupidity.

“Spread ‘em, please” Ellie begged.

You spread your legs slowly, revealing your soaked white cotton panties to Ellie. Her eyes rolled back at the sight.

“Fucking shit” she grunted.

Her hand met her own cunt and gave it a stinging slap, followed by a desperate grunt. She moved her veiny hand up and down, almost grabbing her pussy. She felt perverted, and sickly, and so, so good. The friction of her hand on her cunt was followed by a string of deep moans, chanting your name like a prayer. She didn’t even know how bad she needed it.

“Wider” She commanded.

You spread your legs so wide your thighs almost hurt. When Ellie saw that wet spot, she lost it.

“So wet” she whispered in disbelief.

“Show me that pussy” She whimpered.

“Show me that fucking pussy”

You moved your panties to the side, the cold air hitting your clit making you flinch. You swore you could cum just from clenching in and out, listening to the obscenities leaving her mouth.

“Holy shit” She moaned, and cupped her cunt forcefully.

“So pretty” she whispered. It was even prettier than she thought, glistening folds and a little puffy button poking out. She needed to see inside, everywhere.

“Spread it with your fingers” She grunted. You parted your lips with your pointer finger and your thumb, wide open for her. She saw how bad you were clenching, begging for something inside. Your puffy clit moved with every pull.

“Wanna fuck you so bad” she groaned, it was killing her.

“Need to see you Ellie, please, please” you begged.

With that whine leaving your mouth, Ellie unzipped her jeans, and pulled down her boxers slowly, revealing you of the most beautiful sight youve ever seen in your life.

Her thighs were creamy, a mound of soft, dark hair adorning her pubis. Her slick was shining on her milky inner thighs from the boxer briefs she took off slightly brushing on them. She was so wet, it almost glistened like a far away star, deep in the galaxy. Her mouth was parted and she looked famished.

Tiny droplets of sweat were shining on her forehead, making her hair stick to her face. She was a panting, desperate mess.

You couldn’t help but slide your hand up your thigh, and started running your fingers through your glistening folds. Finally. “Oh god, Ellie” you moaned. You wished those were her fingers, if you could, if you only could.

Ellie moaned like a porn star at the sight. You thought she might tease herself, might play with her cunt before doing something. She proved you wrong.

She slid two long fingers inside her aching hole, squelching sounds filling the air. She pumped them in and out, fucking herself like a madwoman. Her hungry eyes were fixated on your fingers caressing your needy cunt. Her mouth was watering, borderline drooling, soft “ah!”s escaping her lips.

You circled your clit slowly, and felt your lower stomach leap at the contact. You lapped your slick with your middle finger, and sucked on it. It was obscene. Ellie’s cunt twitched. She almost came.

“Good girl” She groaned at the sight.

“Faster” She commanded, a deep moan escaping her lips.

You fastened your pace, and she was looking you directly in the eyes while pumping her fingers inside her cunt. With every pump, you could see a milky cream coating her fingers, the sight alone made your puffy clit ache with pleasure.

It was so wrong, and obscene, and pathetic, and you almost came.

“Fucking shit — fuck yourself, show me, fuck yourself” She whimpered, fastening her pace as well. The moans that left her mouth were deep, bursting from the inside of her soul.

Her fucking ex best friend.

“E — Ellie m’close” you whined, inserting a finger inside your soaking hole.

“Can see how fucking tight you are - fuck”

“Faster, do it f’me baby faster” She groaned.

The harmony of your moans intertwined, creating an intoxicating symphony.

“Ellie — gonna cum, fuck” You babbled, drool running down your chin. You were so close, eyes rolling to the back of your Ellie filled brain.

“Please fuck me, please fuck me”

“Cu — Fuck, shit, m’cuming” Ellie grunted.

“Say my fucking name” She demanded, her words coming out so sloppy and ridiculous.

“Ellie — Ellie! Please!”

Ellie almost screamed. She wanted to tell you to come for her, wanted to hear the noises youd make, see your face twist and the screams of her name, but she couldn’t help herself, the sight of your desperate cunt and the look on your face, so stupid, so cumdrunk, so pathetic, begging her to fuck you - brought her to the edge. It errupted inside of her like a volcano, pumping and squeezing on her fingers. She rode her orgasm until it tickled and hurt.

When you came, Ellie almost shed a tear.

This wasn’t just wrong.

This was vile.

She pulled up her pants up and left without saying a word, too embarrassed to look you in the face.

When she got home, Cat was sound asleep on her bed. She gave her a delicate kiss on the cheek, and whispered;

“I’m so sorry”

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #the last of us #ellie williams x you #wlw #lesbian #ellie smut #ellie williams angst

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 7 months

Text

Eddie always notices the cheerleaders, he never notices you, so in an attempt to move on you go to Steve's party and one thing leads to another with him.

Perhaps it's the knock on the head Eddie needs to realise how he really feels?

Mdni, 18+, Fluff and angst, unrequited feelings or are they? Jealousy.

Eddie Munson X Reader.

Brief Steve Harrington x Reader.

💌🫶

Eddie was always flirting with the cheerleaders, it didn't matter if they never flirted back, or they only flirted back to piss off their boyfriends, obviously they were Eddie's type despite his intense hate of the dark side.

You watched Eddie moon over the impossibly pretty girls and sag. He would never notice you, you were just his friend, one of the members of Hellfire.

"Why do you flirt with them all the time Eddie, aren't they part of the dark side of whatever?", you ask him and the rest of Hellfire quieten, it wasn't often that someone challenged Eddie, if at all.

"Sweetheart, I like to extend my superior flirting techniques to all the ladies" he answers back with a teasing smile. All the ladies except you of course.

"Dude, you have no technique, unless technique counts at you making a total goofball ass of yourself" Gareth points out but quietens at Eddie's glare.

"Princess is a girl and you don't flirt with her" Mike adds and Eddie rolls his eyes at him.

"Because she's like one of the guys Wheeler" you still as you process Eddie's comment. One of the guys, that's all he saw you as.

"But I'm not Eddie, just say the truth that you don't feel like that for me and be done with it" you don't mean to be so snappy but Eddie's comment has hurt you.

"I just said that" he says impatiently and it sends a knife to your heart. It's the confirmation you need that he's never going to see you in the same way you see him.

...

Thursday is party night at Steve's, it's the first he's held in a while and what started as just a small intimate gathering has snowballed into tons of students finding their way to his.

He notices you at exactly the same time you notice him, you're new to the party scene. It was a spur of the moment to come here, fuelled by Eddie's comment and the need to move on.

Or to just get completely drunk and forget your heartbreak for a night.

"Hey, haven't seen you at many parties" he hands you another beer and you shrug.

"Just wanted a change, shouldn't you be mingling with the guests?" He makes a face and sits beside you, clinks his beer with yours.

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting this many people. It's not really for me anymore" you look at Steve, really look at him and realise how much he has changed from the Steve you've known for years.

The crowd cheers at someone using the beer keg, the guy is upside down and laughs with his friends as he finishes. The noise is beginning to give you a headache, Steve notices your expression and gestures to the door.

"You wanna get out of here?" He suggests and you nod. Absolutely.

...

For a while you and Steve talk, ignore the noise downstairs and you find yourself relaxing in his company.

"So Munson huh?" he asks gently and you wonder how he knows. Maybe it's the way your face lights up just at the mention of Eddie. Body flushing in embarrassment you nod and sigh.

"He doesn't even notice me" Steve scowls and gently places his hand on your shoulder, squeezes it tenderly.

"Unrequited love. I know all about that. Munson's an idiot" you peer up at Steve and his gaze lingers on your lips, desire floods through you and before you know it you and Steve are kissing.

Hesitant you break away, Steve gently strokes your cheek. "Do you want to do this? It doesn't have to be anything more than two friends seeking comfort honey?" you let that sink in for a few seconds then make your decision.

You lean forward and kiss Steve again.

As the party rages on you and Steve lose yourself in one another.

...

Bright sunshine wakes you in the morning and you groan, Steve is soundly asleep beside you and all the memories flood back.

Fuck. You slept with Steve. Steve groans as you rush out of bed and his hand gently tugs at your arm. "Hey, slow down honey" he mumbles sleepily.

Flustered you sit back down and he takes your hand, "You okay? Was last night okay?" you nod feeling a little bit shy.

"It was nice, really nice" he squeezes your hand and kisses your cheek and even though you're smiling there's a mix of emotions inside you.

You always thought your first time would be with Eddie, it was silly but that's what you thought. You know this was a one time thing but it would be nice if you got to know Steve more, he was a really great guy, nicer than you ever thought.

"I can drive you to school if you want? I need to pick up Robin anyway" you agree to this and quickly get dressed, following Steve out the door.

🫶💌

Movies sure did exaggerate first times. It was lovely but you didn't feel any different or look any different. As normal you head into school and make your way to your locker.

Whispers follow you, you begin to feel paranoid that it's about you and Steve, but the party was really busy last night so who would have seen you and Steve together?

Listening closely to the mutterings around you, you cringe when you hear your name and Steve's. Well shit. The cat was out of the bag.

You slept with Steve and somehow that fact has made it around Hawkins High gossip chain quicker than you could blink. Steve was out of high school so he didn't tell anyone, except maybe Robin but she hardly participated in school gossip. So someone must have seen you going up Steve's room at the party.

Fuck. You avoid the gazes of the rest of your classmates and just about make it to lunchtime to the safety of the Hellfire table. Rarely did any of them pay attention to any gossip, so you assumed you were safe here.

You were so very wrong. From the way that Jeff was staring at you, it was obvious he had heard what happened. Could anything just stay a secret without it making rounds? The perks of living in a small town, you grumble. Everyone knew everyone's business.

Determined you hold your head up high, you don't have anything to be ashamed of. If someone tried to do that then they were an asshole, you weren't going to pay any attention to them.

Eddie barely notices any of the stares heading the way of the Hellfire table, he's off on one of his rants and hyped up.

He winds up Jason as per the usual but Jason only smirks and his gaze rests on you. Bingo on who saw you going up to Steve's room then. You're tempted to flip him the bird but refrain from doing so. It was better to ignore the idiot.

"Hey Munson, I didn't think any of you Hellfire freaks had it in you but she's showing you all up" he points to you and you glare at him. Asshole.

Confused Eddie turns to you and Jason continues his tirade. "So how was it huh? Screwing king Steve?"

There's immediate silence in the cafeteria and you feel embarrassment flood through your body at the attention and the fact that Jason has said it publicly.

"Better than the poor girl who has to ride your tiny limp dick Carver" you reply sweetly and watch as his face goes red with rage.

"Could hear you from the other room couldn't we Chrissy? Oh Steve" he exaggerates moaning and crude gestures. Eddie has gone strangely quiet and he catches your eye.

"You slept with Harrington?" his face is blank and you don't know what to say, his reaction is strange and before you can reply the bell rings, leaving the conversation unfinished.

💌💞

You're faced with comments and giggles all through the rest of class, you put on a brave face but Eddie notices you discreetly wipe your face with the back of your hand at your locker.

All Eddie feels is rage. Steve must have let Carver know all the details of your night with him. There are other emotions churning in his body but he can't look at them too closely because they will change everything.

So he focuses on the rage and decides to go and see Steve.

...

Steve didn't expect a visit from Eddie Munson, he's stacking shelves with Robin and help from Dustin who's practically mooning over his new friend.

Then the guy walks in, his brown eyes flashing with anger and makes a beeline straight for Steve who can barely react when Eddie's fist hits his face.

The videos scatter and Dustin exclaims in shock as Robin rushes to help him. Steve clutches his nose and glares at Munson. "Dude, what the fuck?"

"Cut the shit Harrington. Did you tell Carver all about your night with yn? Spread all the details so people would hound her all fucking day?" Steve gapes and realises that Eddie has gotten the wrong idea.

"What? no way dude. That night was between us" he watches Eddie's anger deflate slightly. Grudgingly he helps Steve up but is still glaring daggers at him, gingerly Steve massages his nose and winces.

"Jeez Munson, that was a mean hit. Are you jealous or something?" Eddie's eyes widen and he scoffs.

"Jealous? I'm not jealous" Robin scrutinises Eddie and nods as does Dustin. He was totally jealous, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"Well you're acting like it dude, she's not your girlfriend so why do you care who she sleeps with" Eddie seems lost for words and opens and closes his mouth several times.

"Dude, did you just realise now after you told her that she wasn't your type" Dustin rolls his eyes at him and Eddie looks sheepish. Robin gapes at him and whacks him on the shoulder.

"Oh my god, you're an even bigger dingus than Steve" she exclaims, Eddie winces and rubs his shoulder.

"I know I'm an idiot. I fucked up, I realised once I heard about you and her and that I've been hiding how I feel for months. So yeah you're right Buckley, I'm a dingus"

Dustin looks between Eddie and Steve, catches Robin's eyes and rolls his eyes. "So why don't you just get on with it and tell her?" He asks exasperated.

Eddie bites his lip, he knows he has to tell you but what if he's too late? He voices his concerns and Robin smiles. "You never know until you say something"

He nods still nervous but determined, and he also still has the urge to kick Steve but he puts that down to the jealousy still pulsing in his veins. He had to do this, had to be Eddie the Brave and win his princess.

...

Eddie's at your door with wildflowers he plucked from the forest, he hands them to you and you smile, feeling better already.

"What a shit day" you sag and he pulls you into a hug, you're exhausted with the wave of emotions that has been plauging you all day. Then you remember Steve's call and peer at Eddie.

"Steve told me you hit him" Eddie's cheeks turn pink and he ducks his head to avoid your gaze.

"I thought Steve managed to spread around about your night together and I kinda lost it, you were so upset and it pissed me off... I was totally jealous as well" he says this in a quieter tone and you're sure you've misheard him.

"You were jealous of me and Steve?" he nods and you're puzzled by this because he said he didn't see you that way. Noticing your confusion Eddie gives you one of his sweet dimpled smiles.

"Yeah, I'm a dumbass or a dingus as Robin said" you snort feeling exasperated. After all this heartache it turns out that he does have feelings for you after all.

"You couldn't have figured this out earlier?" his cheeks warm at your response.

"I know, I have now and I'm hoping I'm not extremely late and that maybe you feel the same way sweetheart?" you tug him to you, hooking your fingers through the waistband of his jeans and kissing him then breaking away secretly thrilled when he looks dazed.

He captures your lips with his again and you can't help but smile.

"You're a dingus Eddie Munson" he gives you the sweetest, goofiest grin and tugs you close to him.

'I know Princess, but I'm your dingus"

💞🫶

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x best friend reader

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chvoswxtch · 1 year

Text

desire

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: now that the defenders of freedom had been caught, what's next for you and frank?

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol & grief, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.1k

a/n: the one you've all been waiting for. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Considering the fact that your place was still an active crime scene and Homeland still needed to track down the rest of Steven’s dipshit goons to ensure there would be no more threats or attacks, Dinah wanted to take you to a safe house until the investigation was finished.

Frank, however, was not having any of that shit.

It was admittedly an ego boost watching Dinah and Frank lock into a heated staring contest while arguing about who got protective custody of you, and definitely amusing. But eventually, she gave into the stubborn brick wall that was Frank Castle, threw her hands up in total exasperation that was followed by a colorful string of adjectives thrown his way, and that was how you found yourself once again on the road with Frank.

Initially when you noticed that Frank was driving in the direction outside of the city, perplexment weaved between your brows, but he quickly set your curiosity straight as soon as he noticed it blanketing your features. He didn’t even give you a chance to voice your inquisitions before explaining that he was taking you somewhere safe that no one else knew about.

That knowledge filled you with a bubbling sense of giddiness because getting to stay with Frank at his apartment was one thing, but getting to stay with him in a place that sounded private and secluded? Yeah, that was more than okay with you.

The longer Frank drove, the more drastic the scenery changed, passing by in a blurry film reel on the other side of the passenger window. The clamorous and bustling streets of the concrete city faded away slowly and soon settled into quiet black asphalt that shrank to one lane on either side of the road. The millions of inhabitants of New York City seemed to melt away into the horizon in the rear view mirror of Frank’s truck, leaving the two of you the only souls for miles. The trees became more and more dense, creating opaque patches of foliage in golden ochre, rusty ginger, and spiced cranberry. In that moment, sitting in the passenger seat was the most at peace you had felt in almost seven months since the whole had nightmare began, and a lot of that peace had everything to do with the man in the driver’s seat absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the Bruce Springsteen CD currently playing.

After about two hours of driving and light conversation, Frank turned off the asphalt road onto an unmarked dirt path, and you turned your head to stare over at him in half-hearted suspicion while lifting a brow in silent questioning.

“You know, if you kept me alive this long just to murder me in the middle of the woods, that’s some serious dedication.”

Without missing a beat, Frank let out a dry chuckle.

“If I was gonna kill ya, I woulda started switchin’ your coffee out with decaf a long time ago.”

It was always a struggle not to laugh at Frank’s dry sense of humor. You tried not to give him the satisfaction of your amusement, but you found yourself giving in more and more lately. Letting out an overly dramatic sharp gasp while staring at him in exaggerated faux horror, you reached over and lightly smacked your palm against his firm bicep.

“That is the most evil form of torture I have ever heard.”

Frank snickered deviantly, clearly pleased with himself, and the relaxed grin on his soft lips was stretched so wide that his lifted cheeks caused his eyes to crinkle in delight. For a moment, your breath caught in your throat at the sight. It never failed to render you speechless just how much lighter Frank looked when he smiled. Happiness looked so achingly beautiful on him. Every time you silently observed him, you always learned something new about Frank. He had deep set creases softly feathering around the edges of his eye sockets, proof that Frank had once been a man that smiled and laughed as easily as he breathed. You sincerely hoped that version of him that he seemed to keep buried so deeply was steadily rising back to the surface, and that these ephemeral glimpses you got would soon become permanent.

The gilded stream of midday light cast a velvet glow on Frank’s softened features, leaving you so completely entranced that you hadn’t even noticed the lack of motion when he parked his truck.

“We’re here.”

The gruff alert of Frank’s voice induced you out of your bewitchment, and it was then that you suddenly noticed the quaint one story cabin nestled a few feet away in front of you.

It was composed of wood in a rich shade of burnt umber, and topped with a forest green downward v-shaped roof. There were a few worn steps leading up to an enclosed porch that appeared to snugly wrap around the cabin entirely, and two large square glass windows on either side of the front door that was painted the same shade of green as the roof. The curtains were drawn so you couldn’t see inside, but from the outside it looked incredibly cozy.

When you got out of the car, you noticed there wasn’t anything around at all but thick woods, and you silently wondered just how far back they went. There didn’t appear to be anyone or anything around for miles, and the only sounds you could hear were birds chirping and the worn wooden steps creaking under the weight of Frank’s heavy black boots.

“Wow. Billy offers one hell of a retirement plan.”

Following up the steps behind Frank’s large frame, a glimpse of black flashed in your peripheral vision, and you noticed there were security cameras installed on the left and right corners of the roof, along with what looked to be several motion detector lights along the top perimeter. Knowing Frank, there were probably far more around the entire cabin, and probably even hidden in the trees as well.

Frank paused for a moment at your comment, his dark brown eyes glossing over your presence at his right before taking in the sight of his own cabin like it was the first time he had ever seen it.

“Nah, s’just somethin’ I never got ‘round to finishin’ ‘til a few months ago. Almost forgot ‘bout it. It was s’posed to be a surprise project for my-”

The second Frank cut himself off, his body language changed entirely. His relaxed posture instantly stiffened, causing him to stand rigidly at his full height while his shoulders squared to their broadened width. The former calm expression he wore turned to stone right before your very eyes and he clenched his jaw in such a harsh line you could hear his teeth grind. Frank was intensely staring directly through the small six panel window that was in the top middle of the front door, like there was something on the other side that only he could see.

Before you could react, he abruptly unlocked the front door and pushed it open with his left hand, clearing his throat and vaguely gesturing with his index finger before turning away to descend the stairs without giving you so much as a second glance.

“I’ll uh get the bags. Room at the end of the hall on the right is yours.”

The haunted look in Frank’s eyes reminded you of the night of the gala when he had told you that he had lost his wife. It was almost the exact same one. The thought briefly crossed your mind that he meant to say it had been a surprise project for her, but you quickly put it to rest. Frank clearly didn’t want to elaborate on the subject, and you knew better than to push. The best thing to do was give him his space and let him come to you if he wanted to. Still, it didn’t stop the journalist in you from running wild with questions, and also filling you with a slight sense of guilt that you were about to share a space with Frank that was meant to be something sacred and special between him and his wife.

»»———　　———««

The room at the end of the hall ended up being the master bedroom, to which you protested heavily against taking, but ultimately ended up being an argument you lost because Frank played dirty and distracted you with the delectable scent of homemade pasta sauce and a wine glass that was filled to the brim with bubbly pink.

While you sat at the kitchen island and sipped at your now half empty glass, you studied Frank with a narrowed gaze. A part of you was annoyed with him and yourself at how easily you fell into the trap he set. He knew you well enough to know Italian food was your weakness and that you were more compliant after being fed. But a bigger part of you was completely mesmerized by the way he gracefully navigated the open kitchen.

There was a furrow of concentration nestled between his thick brows while he precisely measured specific spices to add to the saucepan that was layered with ruby sauce that he had garnished with freshly cut oregano and parsley. On the far back left burner was a boiling pot of penne pasta, and in front of that was a skillet of ground meat Frank had added diced onion and garlic to along with several other seasonings. He shifted between each pan with a quiet elegance that captivated you, and simultaneously irritated you, because there didn’t seem to be a damn thing the man couldn’t do.

“So you’ve been a secret chef this entire time and didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Rolling your eyes at his quick retort, you cocked your head to the side slightly and focused on the way his back muscles strained against the fabric of the black henley he wore.

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve had an easier time getting nuclear launch codes from the Russian government than ever getting a straight answer out of you.”

Frank snorted at that, throwing you a quick humored glance over his broad shoulder.

“Hey, I give you answers.”

“Oh yeah, after nearly five months of stonewalling me. I didn’t even know what you did before becoming a bodyguard until you told me, what, a week and a half ago?”

Frank lifted one of his thick brows while turning his body slightly towards you.

“You never read my personnel file?”

Glancing down at your wine glass, you clicked your tongue against the inside of your cheek and gave a subtle shake of your head.

“Homeland wouldn’t let me have it.”

“And you let that stop you?”

There was a hint of tease in Frank’s deep voice, and you lifted your gaze to squint at him in annoyance noticing the cheeky smirk curling at the edge of his mouth.

“I’m a journalist, Frank. Not a hacker.”

“Ah, don’t give me that shit. That may be your job but it ain’t all you are. Besides, you’re a goddamn force to be reckoned with and a pain in the ass when you don’t get your way.”

A mischievous smirk slipped across your lips while you brought your glass up to your mouth, looking at Frank innocently over the rim.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Frank’s eyes seemed to wander over your face, stopping at the way the rim of the glass settled against your bottom lip, and when he met your eyes again, they were subtly darkened with that look that sent a tingle down your spine.

He silently stared at you for only a second longer before giving a slight nod, and you caught the wry smile slipping over his lips as he turned back to face the stove.

“Whatever ya say, sweetheart.”

You weren’t exactly sure what the source was of the heat you currently felt blooming in your cheeks: the wine you had consumed, the aroma of the fresh chili pepper Frank had just added to the sauce, or the way he had just looked at you.

Attempting to redirect your impure thoughts before the liquid courage could make you bold enough to voice them, you looked for something to distract yourself with. With your chin in your palm, you glanced down at the rouge tinted liquid and lazily swished it around in your wine glass. A thought quickly popped into your head that caused you to let out a soft snort.

“I didn’t take you as a rosé guy.”

Frank adjusted the heat on the sauce to a low simmer before turning to face you fully, wiping his large hands off on a sage green rag before tossing it over his right shoulder. He took a step over towards the island you were sitting at and wrapped his long fingers around his own wine glass, which looked ludicrously tiny in his hand, and took a long purposeful swig before licking his lips and arching one of his dark brows.

“What? This is good shit.”

Reaching for the half empty bottle sitting on the island, you let out a soft laugh and went in for a refill. The relaxing effects of the wine had clearly already reached your brain, and before it could catch up with your mouth, you blurted out your next question like it couldn’t possibly ruin the mood.

“Was this your wife’s favorite?”

Frank didn’t clam up like you had expected given his behavior earlier. Instead, he glanced down at the glass in his hand for a moment before shaking his head with a tiny smile gracing the curve of his lips.

“Nah, friend of mine’s wife got me into this stuff.”

Frank took a moment to stare down into the glass, as if there was a fond memory appearing in the bubbles. Clearing his throat, he took another large swig of the wine and set the nearly empty glass down on the island.

“She uh…she liked white wine.”

For some reason, Frank’s casual admission sent a flush of velour warmth through you. Whatever barrier that had prevented Frank from speaking freely earlier seemed to be somewhat dismantled, and this was the first time he had ever spoken voluntarily about his wife that hadn’t left a heavy fog of grief lingering over either of you. A tender smile stretched across your lips as you lifted your glass up in a silent toast.

“My kinda woman. What was her favorite?”

Frank leaned over the island on his elbows, holding the delicate glass in both of his strong hands. The amber lighting in the kitchen made his eyes look like swirls of melted chocolate, and you resisted the urge to lean in closer when he finally looked at you with a faint smile tugging at the left edge of his mouth.

“Pinot Grigio.”

A huge grin stretched across your lips at his answer, and you shook your head faintly as you light heartedly pointed your right index finger towards Frank and lifted your glass to your lips.

“Oh I bet I could’ve easily converted her to a sauvignon blanc girl. There’s this brand from Chile that makes the best blanc, and she would’ve loved it.”

For a moment Frank simply observed you in silent fondness. When you set your glass down, his eyes flickered to his own, and he made a quiet noise of recognition in his throat before speaking quietly.

“She woulda liked you.”

That single sentiment held more weight and significant meaning to you than anything anyone else had ever said to you. A tight lump formed in your throat as those words echoed in your head, and you felt the overwhelming urge to make this intimate moment just as special for Frank, but with the alcohol in your system you couldn’t convey your feelings as eloquently.

“My mom would’ve annoyed you.”

Frank immediately started howling with laughter, turning his head to look at you with squinted eyes in incredulous amusement.

“What?”

“I mean she would have loved you, no doubt about that, but she probably would’ve annoyed you. And definitely hit on you. She was like me, only she had way less of a filter and absolutely zero shame. I think my being nosey and stubborn was genetic, but she took it to a whole other level. Did you know I used to be really quiet?”

Frank’s thick brows lifted in surprise, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond. The rosé was acting as a truth serum, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rambling.

“I was. I was very quiet, and extremely cautious, compliments of my careless mother. She wasn’t really careless, I mean she loved me, she was just a bit reckless, but not in a bad way. Like not a I-need-therapy-for-the-rest-of-my-life way but more of a she-had-me-at-sixteen-and-we-grew-up-together way. You know that I was such a bookworm that she practically begged me to be rebellious and hang out with someone other than her or the local librarian? And she’s the whole reason I wanted to go to Columbia, because she wanted to go to Columbia, but you can’t go to Columbia with a baby and no high school degree, and I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, and I probably should have shut up ten minutes ago, but anyway my mom would’ve liked you but definitely annoyed you more than me.”

Those newfound beloved crinkles were once again decorating Frank’s eyes as he chuckled heartily at your rambling. He downed the rest of his own wine before setting the empty glass down, flashing you a crooked grin as he loosely gestured in your direction with his chin.

“I’m sure I woulda liked Lorelai just as much as I do you.”

There was a skip in your heart’s rhythm, partly because he finally admitted that he liked you as a person, but more so when you realized that Frank remembered your mother’s name. It tugged at your heartstrings, because it was such a simple gesture, but also because it reminded you just how much you missed your mother.

“I forget sometimes.”

Frank tilted his head to the side slightly when your soft voice settled in the space between the two of you, and his playful grin slowly vanished as he watched while you stared blankly down into your glass, clearly lost in your own thoughts.

“Forget what?”

“That she’s gone.”

There was a slight tremble to your voice as you looked up at Frank with a miniscule sad smile. The empathy in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you had to look away to keep your composure from crumbling. Turning your head to the left, you took a moment to observe the layout and minimalist decor in the kitchen while letting out a shaky exhale.

“Sometimes I go to call her…just…on my way home from work, you know? Just to talk to her, hear the latest small town gossip, tell her about the latest coffee shop I’ve found that she absolutely has to try when she comes to visit next. There’s even been times I’ve left her voicemails. I’ll be so wrapped up in something and wanna vent to her, and then I’ll start to wonder why she hasn’t called back yet, and then it’ll just…hit me.”

Frank stayed quiet while he listened sympathetically, and the entire cabin was silent apart from the quiet sizzling coming from the stovetop until you gently spoke up again.

“Do you forget too?”

Finally looking over at Frank again, you watched as he lighty dragged his palm down the lower half of his face. While he glanced down at the smooth mahogany countertop, he clasped his large hands together while still resting on his elbows.

“I don’t forget she’s gone, but I uh…I’ve started forgettin’ things. I can’t remember what her perfume smelled like…or what her favorite song was. I can hear it sometimes, ya’know? Every now and then I get these…bits and pieces. Sometimes I can hear her hummin’ it in the kitchen, but it ain’t long enough to remember what song it was, ya’know? Everythin’ started gettin’ fuzzy…and I remember more things I wanna forget than things I actually wanna remember.”

There was a stretch of silence where neither of you spoke. Eventually, Frank straightened up and turned his back to you to walk back over towards the stove. Even though you knew it might not be the right time to ask, there was a question that had been burning in the back of your mind since the night of the gala.

“Frank?”

He hummed quietly in response, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder as he gave you his full attention.

“What was her name?”

The softness of your question clearly caught him off guard, and you could see the hesitation lingering in Frank’s eyes. Worried that you had crossed the line and completely ruined the moment, you were about to hastily backtrack and tell him that he didn’t have to answer when Frank let out a deep exhale through his large nose, touching his index and middle finger over his chest most likely where his wedding band sat beneath his shirt.

“Maria.”

A minuscule smile covered the edge of your mouth as you tilted your head slightly to the side and tried out her name on your tongue.

“Maria. Is this her recipe?”

Frank's eyes flickered over towards the pans and the pot of boiling pasta that were still on the stove. After a moment, he nodded his head and turned his attention back to you with a tender look in his eyes.

“Penne all'Arrabbiata con Manzo. Her grandmother was Sicilian, just like my parents were. She made this every time I came home from a tour.”

The significance and sentiment behind the recipe Frank was cooking made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your ribcage. Quickly topping off Frank’s empty glass with more wine, you carefully got down from the bar stool that you were sitting on and rounded the island to make your way over to Frank. As you offered him the half full glass of wine, Frank’s eyes flickered curiously between it and your own gaze while his large hand reached out to wrap his fingers around the glass. Smiling softly up at him, you lifted your own glass slightly in the air.

“Well then, to Maria.”

There was a sudden luminescence to Frank’s warm brown eyes, but you didn’t get a chance to study it long before he nodded slightly and his lips stretched faintly into a tiny smile as he delicately clinked his glass against yours and repeated your toast in a more delicate volume of his deep voice.

“To Maria.”

»»———　　———««

“You’re fired.”

Hearty laughter boomed from deep within Frank’s chest and echoed over the crackling firewood currently blazing. He adjusted his position on the couch a few inches away from you, his features highlighted due to the radiant flames cascading from the fireplace in a contorted expression of skepticism and entertainment.

“What? Why?”

“I have known you for seven months, Castle. Seven. Months. And I’m just now finding out you have the culinary skills of a five star chef. Unacceptable. Unforgivable. I’m calling Billy first thing in the morning.”

You couldn’t hardly get through your own sentence without bursting into a fit of laughter, and Frank was in no better shape as he threw his head back against the couch and clutched at his chest with his hand that wasn’t holding his third glass of wine. There were nearly three empty bottles between the two of you forgotten on the dining table, and this was the most loose you had ever seen Frank. Maybe you should get him tipsy more often.

“You can’t fire me.”

“And why not?”

“Cause I ain’t assigned to you no more, brat.”

While Frank teased you nonchalantly as he sipped at his glass and watched the flames dance across the firewood, his words instantly sobered you up. He was right. The Defenders of Freedom had been caught, Steven was facing trial, and there was no reason for Frank to stick around anymore. It was a revelation you had been trying to ignore for the past twenty-four hours. A wave of uncertainty crashed over you in that moment. What would happen between you and Frank? When would he get assigned to someone else? Would that take him far away from you? How long could you stay in this little bubble outside reality?

Glancing down at the wounds in your palm that had steadily begun to heal, you lightly traced your thumb over the raised irritated edges as a thought suddenly flashed across your mind.

“I never thanked you.”

Even though your voice was barely above a whisper, Frank caught it, and he turned his head to look at you intently with slightly confused brows.

“For what?”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you shook your head faintly before looking back at Frank with subtle remorse.

“For everything you’ve done for me. For saving my life, more than once, and-”

Frank instantly brushed off your gratitude with a shake of his own head, reaching over to place his glass of wine on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“It’s my job-”

“No. Your job was to keep me safe, but you did so much more than that. You dealt with all of my shit, fixed every problem I created, and even when Homeland pulled you away, you still showed up for me. Frank, I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. You saved me from those guys at the bar, you saved me from Cavella and Walker, and…you’re still saving me, even now. I could’ve gone to a safe house with Dinah, but you brought me here, even though I’m not your problem anymore-”

Frank reached for your glass of wine and firmly set it on the coffee table, effectively catching your attention while he started almost directly into your soul with a serious expression.

“Hey, you have never been a problem. Ever. You got that?”

There were so many emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface for seven months that you hadn’t been processing, and now they seemed to be rising to a level you could no longer ignore. The verity in Frank’s voice nearly had tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you just wanted answers. Why did he care so much? Why was he still protecting you? Why were you here right now?

“Frank…you could’ve walked away. There were so many times you could’ve walked away. Why…why did you stay?”

A substantial weight felt like it had finally been lifted off your chest as you asked the one question that had been lingering in your bones for weeks now. Although that weight was replaced by a lead filled sense of dread while you waited with anxious anticipation for a response, knowing was better than not knowing.

Frank’s deep brown eyes stared so fiercely into your own, that you felt vulnerably stripped bare despite the clothing covering your body. When he reached his left hand over to place on your jean clad thigh, he grasped it firmly and leaned in just close enough so that you couldn’t escape the enrapture of his gaze.

“I want you to listen to me, right now. I’m always gonna keep you safe, you got that? Job or no job.”

The intensity burning in his eyes and the dropped octave of his rough voice nearly stunned you silent. Your lips parted slightly as if to speak, but your fogged brain struggled to form a coherent sentence. This was the closest you had been to Frank since you had climbed onto his lap in his truck, and you were fighting so hard to not let history repeat itself. But that look…that one goddamn look you could never decipher was roaring fervently in his gaze again, and you were going absolutely mad not knowing what it meant.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself leaning in closer, staring deeply into Frank’s warm brown eyes with a pleading look reflected in your own desperate stare. You wanted to know why. You needed to know why. And you were begging Frank for a confession that wasn’t encrypted.

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine to protect.”

The possessiveness that dripped from Frank’s low voice had you abruptly clenching your thighs together, trapping his thick fingers between your weakened knees. If he minded the entrapment at all, he didn’t show it. The blaze of the fireplace was no longer what had the temperature steadily rising within your body, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Frank’s vigorous and unwavering stare. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and even though you had a million questions clamoring through your brain, all you could manage to get out in a hoarse whisper was one you needed confirmation on.

“I am?”

Frank retracted his large hand from your thigh, raising it up slowly to carefully grab your face. A few of his long fingers curled around the back of your neck while his index and middle finger rested along the underside of your jaw, and his thumb pressed lightly against your chin. His heated gaze dropped to your lips momentarily before flickering back up to meet your eyes, and that fire in them was burning bright enough for God herself to see.

“You’re goddamn right.”

Without another word, Frank pulled you in for a searing kiss, pressing his soft lips against yours tentatively but with enough passion to make his answer crystal clear. A delicate noise of surprise sounded in the back of your throat, and for a moment you nearly stopped breathing. If that first kiss in Frank’s truck was a rare comet bursting across the sky, this one felt like a supernova erupting in a kaleidoscope of colors and stardust exploding across the expanse of the universe.

Even as he retracted his lips just a bit to stare deeply into your eyes to gauge your reaction, his hand gently cradling your face kept you firmly in place. All you could do was stare at Frank in complete stupefaction. Your lips were fervently tingling and your body felt like it had been struck by lightning. Frank’s eyes were searching yours for an answer he seemed to desperately need judging by the way his other hand lightly squeezed at your waist.

“If I’m crossin’ a line, you gotta tell me now. Cause I can’t go back, sweetheart.”

The tender emotion entwined within his words nearly made it sound like Frank was begging for your answer, and suddenly it all clicked. You could never figure it out before, but now as you stared at him in complete wonder and paid close attention to his display of vulnerability, you were finally able to decode that cryptic look in Frank’s eyes.

Desire.

“I don’t wanna go back.”

That breathless confession was all Frank needed, and he seemed to groan in relief when you surged forward to capture his lips with renewed vigor. Frank was so much more engaged in this kiss, and you took that as a good sign to give in to every single temptation. Before you could even think about climbing onto his lap, Frank was three steps ahead of you, and his large hands were firmly gripping onto your hips and effortlessly pulling you over to straddle his hips. Frank’s hands were everywhere; kneading at your denim covered thighs, gripping tightly onto your waist, carding his fingers through your hair and grasping at the back of your head to keep you as close as physically possible.

You cupped his face firmly in your hands and seductively swiped your tongue along his bottom lip begging for entrance, causing a low growl to resonate from deep within Frank’s chest, and his large hands suddenly squeezed your ass tightly through your jeans while you moaned when his taste met your tongue. The taste of Frank was much sharper this time, and you felt far more intoxicated by him than the three bottles of wine the two of you had consumed together.

Even with your chest pressed firmly against his own, it felt like you couldn’t physically be close enough. You wanted to be entirely consumed by Frank, to completely melt into the warmth of his skin and breathe his essence into your lungs. The synchronization of your lips and tongues molding together was impeccable, and the world outside ceased to exist while the two of you began to unravel one another.

An overwhelming surge of impatience had you nearly shredding his black henley with your nails while you fervently shoved it up his toned chest, eagerly caressing the scarred canvas of his tan skin with your fingertips like you had been daydreaming about doing since that night in the motel. He didn’t hesitate to teasingly brush his thumbs along the sliver of exposed skin above your hips before pushing your shirt up your waist and over your head. While you tore it off quickly and carelessly discarded it behind you, Frank dove in to attach his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, dragging his warm and wet tongue along the column of it before gently biting down on the juncture above your collarbone.

A soft moan slipped past your lips and you instinctively rocked your hips against Frank’s lap, coaxing a deep grunt from his chest. He left a searing trail of kisses along your shoulder, the rough pads of his fingers softly tugging the straps of your bra down your arms before splaying both of his large hands against your lower back to pull you further against his own chest. Frank nuzzled his large nose along your neck and whispered huskily into your ear.

“This alright?”

“Yes.”

Unfiltered lust clouded your vision a deep shade of crimson, and you blindly clawed at Frank’s belt while he continued his blazing path of kisses along your jawline and down your neck towards your chest. All of a sudden, his large hands clasped around your wrists gently to halt your movements, and he pulled back a bit to stare deeply into your eyes while panting slightly.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t no rush.”

“Frank, please.”

The desperate plea that sounded from your lips seemed to ignite a brand new fire within Frank, and your consent shredded that last strand of hesitation that was holding him back. He placed his large hands against your ass and lifted you effortlessly in the air, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. Frank easily navigated around the coffee table and slowly knelt down on the fluffy cream colored rug in front of the fireplace, carefully laying you down onto your back. This time when you tugged the leather of his belt away from the buckle, he didn’t stop you, and instead his own deft fingers made lightning work in ridding you of your own jeans.

Slipping one of his hands underneath your back, he easily unhooked your bra with his thumb and index finger, and the second your bare chest was exposed to him, Frank firmly grasped one of your breasts in his calloused hand and took your peaked nipple into his mouth. Your lips parted widely feeling the jolt of pleasure that had you arching your back slightly when he swirled his warm tongue around the sensitive and stiff bud while gently sinking his teeth into the flesh of your breast.

The sensation elicited a series of breathless whimpers to leave your mouth, and Frank grunted lowly in response as you rolled your hips upwards in search of friction, feeling the heavy heat of his hardened cock against your lower stomach through the thin cotton of his briefs. It was a marvel you hadn’t flooded the cabin with how turned on you currently were, and this wasn’t even scratching the surface of what Frank was going to do to you. You gripped at his bulging biceps, his broad shoulders, dark tufts of his disheveled hair, anything you could get your hands on to keep him close to you.

Frank began to slowly descend your body, placing his hands firmly on your sides while leaving warm and wet open mouthed kisses down your stomach, even licking a teasing bold stripe above your belly button. The sight alone nearly made your eyes roll into the back of your head and caused you to whine softly, knowing exactly where his next destination was. But as much as you wanted to have Frank’s mouth on you, and God did you want it, you weren’t sure you could stand another second of not knowing what it felt like to have him inside you.

After he slipped your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, you gave his messy cropped curls a gentle tug to get his attention before he could spread your thighs and settle his broad shoulders between the apex of them. Frank glanced up to meet your gaze, his warm brown eyes nearly as black as the coffee he’d consumed this morning due to how wide his pupils were blown open. The hunger eclipsing them caused you to shudder, and you took a mental image of the sight of him nearly naked between your thighs staring at you like a ravenous wolf salivating at the sight of a vulnerable lamb.

“Please, Frank…I need you. I wanna feel you now…please.”

The two of you seemed to be stuck in the same conundrum, caught in tandem between wanting to savor the moment you had both waited so long for, and also wanting to give into the impulses of your magnetizing desire.

As much as you could see in his hungry expression that he wanted to take his time, to devour you slowly and worship every inch of you, the distress dripping from your breathless plea triggered his own raging need, and he silently obeyed while moving upwards again to hover over your body, capturing your lips in a deeply passionate kiss while you ardently pushed his briefs down his hips and off completely. Frank settled between your hips, displacing his heavy body weight by supporting himself on his forearms that were locked on either side of your head. You were completely caged in and at his mercy beneath him, but that was exactly where you wanted to be.

Frank searched your gaze ardently once again for any sign of hesitation, his dark eyes roaming up and down your face before his tongue quickly darted out to wet his lips.

“We can call it here, ya’know? No hard feelin’s. I can-”

Reaching a hand up to gently hold the side of his face, you placed your thumb against his plump lips to cut off the velvet timbre of his whisper.

“Frank, I want this. I want you. But if you don’t-”

“I do. You got no idea how much I do. But…I want it to be right, yeah?”

A gentle smile covered your lips while gazing up at him in complete adoration.

“Doesn’t this feel right?”

Frank’s eyes flickered between your own and he subtly nodded his head, glancing down at your lips briefly before looking directly into your eyes again.

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a sensual kiss, and the second he nudged the blunt head of his thick cock within your entrance, a sharp gasp flew past your lips and it felt like all the wind had been knocked right out of your lungs. He groaned quietly and nuzzled his large nose against the column of your neck, firmly grasping at your thigh and pulling your leg up and around his waist while he pushed in deeper slowly, one inch at a time.

While your nails instinctively dug fiercely into the muscle of his shoulders, no doubt leaving deep maroon crescent shaped indentations behind, Frank paused for a moment and snaked his hand down between your bodies, lightly brushing the rough pad of his thumb in lazy circles over your clit to help your body relax. You had been soaked through your panties from the moment your lips met, but Frank’s girth wasn’t one your walls had accommodated before, and he did his best to ease the sting of the burning stretch with stimulated pleasure.

“Frank…”

As soon as your hips connected completely and Frank was fully nestled within your tight heat, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head, and your jaw became completely unhinged as you let out a smooth legato moan. You felt Frank’s body tense above you while he buried his face into your neck, letting out a quiet hiss as he breathed out a shaky deep exhale.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, sweetheart.”

“Oh my God…Frank-”

“I know baby, I know. Gimme a second.”

You don’t know how long it was before Frank finally started moving his hips. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. All you knew was that you had never felt so full and so complete in your entire life.

Letting out a quiet shudder, Frank slowly retracted his hips just a bit before cresting against you once again like a gentle tide. He removed his face from your neck so he could stare down into your eyes to watch your face, and you gazed up at him with wide-eyed passion and marvel. You brought your other leg up to also wrap around his waist and wrapped your arms securely around his neck, trapping Frank against your body just as much as you were beneath his.

Frank reached between your chests with his right hand and gripped his wedding band between his thumb and index finger, tossing it and the chain over his back so there was nothing separating the two of you, just his heated skin pressed firmly against yours. Bringing your hands upwards, your trembling fingers weaved through his hair, tugging somewhat roughly at the messy cropped dark strands on top of his head when he began to languidly increase his pace.

It was like you couldn’t speak. Your mouth hung open while you stared up into Frank’s warm brown eyes that seemed to gleam from the amber glow of the fire, but nothing came out except echoes of the pleasure he handcrafted. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, watching in awe as his plump lips parted from panting heavily, his eyes becoming hooded from streams of ecstasy racing through his bloodstream. He gazed down into your eyes in complete adoration, gently stroking his index and middle finger down your cheekbone delicately as you stared up at him with parted lips and pleading eyes.

Frank brought his left hand up to gently brush your hair away from your forehead, cradling the back of your head while his right one came up once again to gently grab your face. Although this time, his index finger rested along your jawline while his thumb and other fingers laced around your throat carefully, which nearly sent you into a frenzy. He leaned in to teasingly slip his tongue into your mouth, kissing you with such ferocity as if he craved the very breath in your lungs.

Frank vacillated his hips repeatedly against your own in a steady rhythm, but with a meticulous precision that revealed new depths with your body even you weren’t aware of. Every sensual thrust wound that tense coil within you tighter and tighter, and it was only a matter of time before you erupted into gratified pieces of confetti. Reaching a shaky hand up to grip onto the back of his neck, your fingertips vibrated as they brushed over the close shaven hair on the back of his head, and you pulled him down forcefully for another deeply passionate kiss.

Only when your lungs began to burn due to lack of oxygen did you finally break apart. He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, gazing so deeply into your eyes you swore he could see right into your soul. You stared back up into Frank’s eyes as yours became glossy due to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure you were experiencing. His coarse grunts and reverberating groans echoing in your ears had your toes curling, and as your mouth hung open in silent begging, you nodded swiftly with an expression that let Frank know you felt it too.

“Please…please…”

That familiar bubble of euphoria was starting to expand wider and wider within your lower belly and you weren’t sure how much longer you had before it burst. The way Frank fit perfectly within your body was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, and you were stuck on the cusp of never wanting it to end, but also wanting to see just how far it could go. You had never been with someone that seemed to be so finely in tune with your body, or that genuinely cared about your satisfaction, but Frank was treating your pussy as if he had designed it specifically for himself. The realization of knowing you wouldn’t have to finish yourself off later like you had to with your exes was a welcomed relief, but not knowing what brink of indulgence Frank was about to catapult you over was exhilarating.

“Frank…Frank…”

“S’alright, baby, I know. Let me have it, yeah? C’mon baby, let go for me.”

A soft whimper slipped past your lips. You were so close, and God you wanted so badly to jump head first into the free fall. But a tiny part of you felt frustrated because you wanted to witness Frank free fall too. You wanted to see him let go, hear his praises of your name, and be coherent enough to feel Frank lose himself.

But you would have to wait your turn, because Frank was sending you barreling towards the edge of an orgasm with every punctual and powerful snap of his hips, and you had no choice but to surrender to the heat of his body enveloping yours in a cocoon of pure warmth and safety.

Frank grabbed both of your smaller hands and laced your fingers together, giving them a tight squeeze as a tangible reminder he was right there with you. He pinned them gently on the soft rug above your head, his pace becoming a bit sloppy as he began to lose his own composure.

“Look at me, sweetheart. Let me see them pretty eyes, c’mon. Let me see ‘em.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open until you physically couldn’t, wanting to witness every second of Frank’s own impending climax contorting his features as he fought to control himself until you were ready to let go.

“There ya go, attagirl. Let go for me, sweetheart. S’alright, let me have it, yeah?”

A symphony of his name played from your lips at a steady crescendo until it filled the entirety of the cabin, and all at once a flash of white exploded behind your eyes as you free fell through space and time, floating in a cloud composed of Frank’s honeyed praises of your name and delicate sweet nothings. You’d given yourself powerful orgasms before but you had never felt something so intense as the delectation Frank created. It felt like you were floating between the astral space between Heaven and Earth, and you weren’t sure you could find your way back to your physical body again.

There was a faint amber glow flickering across your closed lids, and as you slipped in and out of coherence, you felt soft lips delicately pressing against your forehead and the edge of rough fingers gently stroking along your cheekbone lovingly. You didn’t want to move, you weren’t even sure if you could, but there was one thing you did want.

“Frank?”

The voice that resonated in your ears was fuzzy and distant, and it didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. A strong pair of arms wrapped securely around you, pulling you in from your stranded orbit closer towards where you were meant to be, and Frank’s soothing gruff voice quietly dripped a sacred promise into your ear.

“M’here.”

The hypnotic lullaby of his heart’s rhythm tethered you back to the dreamlike reality of Frank holding you against his chest, and that was all you needed to slip away under the blanket of stars that were dancing behind your eyes.

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probablyintensemuses · 4 months

Text

Tiny Little Good Things-

A. Aretas

PAIRING: ARMANDO X READER

synopsis: You and Armando get sent on a mission to stop a vicious drugs and arms dealer. Chaos ensues and you two find out why the lines between love and hate are constantly blurring for you both.

theme(s): eventual smut (+18), gore and blood, cursing, graphic imagery, angst, enemies to lovers, Armando is a dick and really hot when he speaks Spanish.

warnings: there is smut in this fic as well as many bloody scenes, if you can’t handle either, I wouldn’t read on!

authors note: hi, yes I know this fic is long as shit, but I felt it was necessary for what unfolds. There is more than 12k words here, so sorry to all my short attention span people. ❤️love you, k bye!

word count: 12.5k

“Ramos Malik, age thirty-seven and Miami’s biggest up and coming arms and drug dealer.’ Kelly says, fingers gracing her iPad as she swivels through pictures, displaying them on the plasma screen ahead.

“He’s a big fucking problem. 3D printing' slugs that are hitting the streets faster than crack in the seventies.’ Mike Lowery, head of AMMO, interjects. “Shells the size of a thumbs, sharper than lions teeth, are being pulled out of rival gang members, bystanders, and law enforcement all around the city.”

You turn in your chair, pushing away from your computer screen. “So, how do we stop him?”

Dorn rounds the steel table, a slab of guns, gear, and tech, gently taking the iPad from Kelly’s hand, and you don’t miss the way she blushes. It’s cute, those two. Kelly and you had grown close ever since you joined AMMO as their new technical analyst months ago. Dorn gave up the position, wanting to be present in the field—mostly to have Kelly’s six—he and his therapist had been making great progress and he felt it was time to be more than the brawny guy in the chair.

So that lead to you taking over and eventually many girls nights full of red wine, cheese, and pillow talking. A slip of a wine-jaded tongue later and you were the first on the team to know of their love affair. Sometimes you desired to have that of your own, but life and fate, as Marcus would say, hadn’t given that to you yet.

“Good question, followed by an even better answer.’ Dorn sails and the screen changes and a new scene plays. “This is Moxy, a new club on the strip. It’s where Ramos Malik and his crew hang out. Rumor has it he’ll be there tonight, and we're going to bind him with a sting.”

Intrigued you stand. “You need me to make inconspicuous body cams, don’t you?’ You gasp and breath deeply, a smile spreading on your face. “God I love it when you guys want me to make inconspicuous body cams.”

Dorn coughs and Kelly looks off to the side, biting at her nails. Mike walks over slowly, slapping a hand onto both your shoulders.

“Now, we know how much our sweet little, non-violent, girl here loves to just stay in her lane and chill here while we get into all the bloody action.’ Mike massages your shoulders, displaying you off to the group like a fresh piece of wagyu. You scan the crew's faces—mischief, panic, fear—but the one that snipes you the most is the one of Armando Aretas. He sits perched on a table on the far side of the room, combat boot clad feet planted on a chair as his brown eyes pierce into you, sending tiny, invisible sparks flocking on your skin. You suck in a sharp breath and look away. He always stared, so why did it bother you now?

When your ears finally stop buzzing, you dial back into Mike's speech. “But this time, it’ll be different. You’ll be out in the field.”

As if you were just tased, you jut away from his grip. “What?”

“Ramos can sniff cops a mile away. It’s what makes him so good at what he does.’ Marcus cuts in. “He knows our faces, too. The only face he doesn’t know, is yours.”

You take another step back, heart racing, completely stupefied. “So you want me to go and trick that bastard…by myself?!”

“No! Never!” Mike says. “Armando will be with you.”

A clatter echos through the room, all eyes snapping to where Armando was sitting, the little black stool wobbling on the floor. “The fuck I will!” He growls.

Your eyes narrow and you jut your chin up. What the hell was he so mad for?

“Okay, son, calm down. It’s a simple sting operation. If you’re careful, it’s an in-and- out kind of thing.”

Armando circles close, and out of habit you cower behind the wall of Mike and Dorn. You may have a high IQ but you’re no match physically for anyone on this team, especially not Armando. You’ve seen what he can do countless times. He was the silent beast, he always just stared and hardly spoke. No matter how much you tried to warm up to him, make him feel accepted, you two just never clicked.

You thought it might just be his past, how he was manipulated by his father and lied to by his mother, that made him so closed off, but with the way fury rumbles off of him so strong right now, pushing you deeper into Dorn and Mike, it makes you think there’s more unspoken. And if so, what?

Caged between Mike and Dorn Armando finds your eyes again, scolding your cheeks hot with his glare. It was as if he needed you to not only hear his words but feel them too. “I’m not going on any mission with the princesa. All she does is type and sit in that fucking chair all day. It’ll be suicide.”

Mike takes his son's shoulder, massaging them similar to how he’d done your own. “She’s the only choice right now, okay? She’s just the arm candy to fill out the picture we’re setting for Malik, alright?”

For some reason his words— “just the arm candy?”and “the only choice right now,” —sting. You may not be skilled in the field or in combat, but you were vital to this team and you spent months trying to prove your strengths otherwise. When you first joined the team, everyone insisted on making you their baby bird, some wounded thing they needed to protect in a gilded cage. You were the new young and stary-eyed cop, and they are all jaded-old bags who need someone to shelter. It happened authentically and you still couldn’t shake the box they put you in. You aren’t helpless, you are capable and strong and maybe this is what you need, an opportunity outside to finally prove yourself.

“If he doesn’t want to do it, I’m sure there is someone else in the field we can find.’ A surge of confidence flushes through you as you push past the Mike-Dorn barricade, chin help up high with defiance as you brush past Armando. “Whatever the case, I’ll do it. I can do it. I’m capable Mike, so let’s see my cover.”

A smirk peels on Kelly’s face as she passes you your file. “Okay, Ms. Bad-ass. I’m loving this energy.”

Armando scoffs, planting himself next to you, his broad shoulders brush up against your frail ones. The slight gesture sends a hear through you. Quickly you scoot away, no need to sweat through a perfectly good cardigan over mean-ass Armando Aretas.

You flip through your file. You’ll be playing Jenna Combs. A twenty-six year old dancer and model who is the new girlfriend of—

“You hijos de puta’s got me playing myself?” Armando argues. “What kind of shit disguise is that?”

Dorn shrugs. “It’s not. That’s the point. The Aretas name is still feared and no one knows you’re in with the cops. It’s a pretty believable story, you need new armory and he can supply it.”

“Last anyone in this circles heard, you was killing cops and slinging a new dope empire. Just get em’ to confess to making this bullets and where he does it, so we can get em’ off the streets for good.” Marcus chimes in with a smile.

Armando’s grumbles a few curses under his breath before his attention turns and latches onto you. Suddenly you feel hot again, like a solar flares are swallowing you whole. Armando’s eyes rack over your form, slow and tentative.

His gaze latches onto your lips before he says, “And she’s supposed to be my date? Suicide mission.”

“For who? You or me? Because the way I see it, with your attitude you’ll be made in minutes.”

The gap between you and Armando closes in an instant. Your faces mere inches from each other. His cool breath trickles down the crest of your neck and frosts the tips of your ears when he whispers, “Careful when you speak to me, Princesa. You’ll be alone out there with me, and anything could happen to you.”

Was he…threatening you?

Your balls must have really dropped in the matter of minutes, because instead of keeping quiet and apologizing, like you normally would if you managed to anger Armando, you bite back.

“Stop calling me that.” You grit your teeth.

“¿Por qué, eh?’ Armando whispers, pulling back from you and taking a seat on a nearby stool. His eyes are drunk with a flavor you can’t distinguish. “Only princesas get to sit up in their castle all day, shielded, while everyone else goes out and does all the heavy lifting.”

“I never asked to be shielded!’ You stamp your foot, moving in on him with a swiftness. Armando invites your challenge with grace, folding his muscular arms slowly over his wide chest, watching you stalk nearer.

You don’t know how, but you find yourself in between him, his legs two thick gates around you. Where it should bother you, in the moment it doesn’t because It’s your turn to invade his space. In this moment, the great Armando Aretas doesn’t scare you.

You poke at his chest with each syllable. “Rather you like it or not, Aretas, this princesa is going on this sting with or without you, and I don’t give a shit what you think, not anymore. Cool?”

A small smirk pulls on his face as he peels your finger off his chest, the digit so small in his his hand, his movements making you keenly aware of your closeness.

“Cool.” He stands, boxing you in with his large build before brushing past you and walking out of the compound.

You watch as the last bits of daylight leave with him as the door slams closed. This confidence was like adrenal coursing through you and suddenly you felt tired and zapped, being strong is exhausting. You take a seat, pulling at a loose curl atop your head, thoughts burrowing into your mind like a splinter.

To this day, you couldn’t understand the hatred he had for you. In the begging, when Mike had negotiated a deal with the D.A’s office and the department to allow Armando to work for AMMO, not wanting his raw talents to go to waste, no one trusted him. But still, you gave him a chance, because you knew how it felt to be the underdog and you didn’t want the same for him. Still, in his own fashion, he warmed up to the others…but never to you. But maybe he was right, everyone else here has put so much of themselves of the line, risked it all for the greater good, and what have you done? Nothing. You haven’t saved anyone or changed a life. You’ve sat and watched from the comforts of the compound. Their eyes and ears, that’s all.

You push to standing and gather your file. You may not be the strongest, or fastest on the team, but you had strengths and you’d make use of them tonight for once, no matter what.

Suddenly snickers and chuckle fill the room, bouncing off the walls of your mind and bringing you back to the room glazed with the smell of oil and pinesol.

Marcus breaks through the laughter. “Next time you two want to engage in some foreplay, ask for the room first.”

Your skin nearly peels off at his words. You could burn alive right now.

You and Armando?

“Never would that ever happen.” You shiver at the thought of being with any man, let alone him.

Armando is a mean man. A mean man you suddenly have to trust you life with.

But if that’s the case. Why does your heart not fall to your feet at the thought?

###

“You’ve memorized your role, right?” Kelly asks, tightening the final fixings of your dress.

“Yes,’ you nod. “I’m Armando’s new girlfriend, Jenna. I don’t speak, I just sit quietly and listen. I shadow him, basically. Anything he does, I do.”

“Good girl.’ Kelly winks. “One last thing.’ She digs into her pockets before brandishing a small knife. “Here, just in case things go south.”

Your eyes widen and you nearly flinch. “I thought you and Mike said this was an easy in-and-out kind of deal.”

Kelly sighs. “Nothing like this is ever easy. All things have the potential to go south.’ She grabs your face in her hands. “I just want my girl safe, that’s all.”

Reluctantly, you accept the knife, shoving it into your purse. “What about Armando? Isn’t he supposed to protect me—I mean Jenna?”

“And he will,” Kelly assures. “But you can never be too sure.”

You nod. “Right, whose to say he won’t abandon me if shit oops off,” your snicker is laced with fear.

Kelly walks you out of the compound and toward the front where you’ll be meeting the rest of the team. “He won’t. Trust me.”

“He did allude to it early, Kels.”

Kelly rolls her eyes, stopping you and giving your curls one last fluff. “Aretas is all talk when it comes to you, don’t take him for a grain of salt.”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to be mean.”

Kelly smirks. “See for yourself.”

She steps out of the way and in the shinning exterior of Mikes Ferrari, you see yourself.

Do you look like a slut, yes, but nonetheless gorgeous.

Your curls are loose and defined, a cascade of shea butter and hibiscus around you. Your makeup is layered, yet light, elevating your high cheekbones, wide lips, and honey-brown eyes. And your plum colored dress pops against your warm-brown skin, somehow making even your thin body look full and figured.

You look fucking hot.

And for the first time in forever, you feel fucking hot.

Apparently you’re not the only one who thinks so as a whistle breaks loose in the yard.

“Goddamn girl!’ Mike claps. “If I wasn’t some old dog, I’d ask you on a date myself.”

“I’ll keep my comments to myself,’ Marcus smiles. “You know Theresa be listening.” He looks over his shoulders, head on a swivel.

“Dorn don’t say a word.” Kelly scolds her boyfriend, Dorn holds his hands up in defense.

“Staying silent.” He whimpers.

Your cheeks flush. “Stop, you guys.” You giggle. “This was all Kelly, besides you know I look better in a cardigan and jeans.”

“I agree.” A voice emerges from the darkness. A wide berth breaks before you as Armando strolls over.

Your throat goes dry and suddenly your head is dizzy with a feeling hard to explain, as you take him in.

He’s fresh with a new hair cut, faded low on the sides and thick, raven black up top. His beard is full and more manicured, enunciating the sharp cuts of his jaw.

He’s graced in a suit, black-on-black. The undershirt unbuttoned exposing much of his chiseled chest and the gold, cross necklace that dangles there. His suit jacket fits perfectly over the swells of his biceps and his pants expose every aching muscle in his thigh.

Like gravity, it’s hard to pull your eyes away from him. But somehow you become the void of space and manage to.

You can’t say the same for him though, because despite his insults that same burning, tingling sensation finds its way tip-toeing down your back and to the swell of your ass. One quick spin and you catch Armando’s eyes lifting from your backside to face you.

“I thought I looked better in a cardigan?” You say, breathing heavy.

Was he just? No…

Armando swings open the passenger door for you. “Get in.” He grumbles.

Not wanting to test his patience, you oblige, taking a step into the Farrier.

Armando closes the door behind you before climbing into the passenger side.

At the window, Mike approaches.

“Get in ask Ramos about the bullets, say you heard about them from word of mouth and you’re interested in them. You’ll pay top dollar. Once he confirms he can give them to you, we’ll move in. Got it?” Mike explains to Armando before turning his attention to you. “And for you, just be silent, pretty, and say nothing, okay?”

“Won’t be hard for her.” Armando grumbles as he starts the car.

You roll your eyes, ignoring his comment. “You guys will tail us, right.”

Dorn nods. “You should be fine though, you’ve got Armando.”

Armando reeves the engine, slowly idling off and away from your friends. And for some reason, when you whip off, you can’t help but wonder if he was right. This was a suicide mission, just not for him.

Fuck.

###

The drive is silent and smooth. You really could see why Mike insisted on such expensive cars, they rode well.

Your heel-clad feet tap against the bottom of the car, humming a tune in your head, making you realize just how much this ride needed some music.

Slowly, you turn to face Armando. His eyes are focused on the long road ahead, his jaw is clenched and he doesn’t seems to be paying you the slightest bit of attention.

As smooth as you can be you carefully lift your hand up and turn on the radio. Soon enough Ariana Grandes, The Boy is Mine, blasts from the radio.

You squeal and find a small groove with your fingers against your purse, humming the lyrics and bopping your head to the beat. The song is just reaching its second run through the chorus when the radio goes dead.

You turn, seeing Armando’s hand leaking from the controls. Annoyed, you give him a look before turning the radio back on, louder this time.

Armando’s jaw clenches tighter, like he might actually collapse through it with his bite force. He slams the radio off…again.

This time you don’t bite your tongue.

“Would you stop doing that!” You shout.

“No.”

“Why not? I was listening to that.”

“I don’t care. I need to focus.” Armando grumbles.

“Focus on what?”

“I don’t know, Princesa, making sure we both come out of this alive, because I damn sure can’t count on you to do that.”

His words bite, but if he wants to play a snake you have venom for him. “Why don’t you like me, huh? What have I ever done to you?” You hide.

Armando stays silent, his knuckles whitening as his grip strengthens on the steering wheel.

You snap at him. “I’m not talking to myself, Armando. Why do you hate me, huh?!”

“Cállte!” He shouts

You don't know much Spanish, but you’ve heard him say it enough to know it’s time to walk away from the conversation.

So you do, resting your head against the window seal, counting the number of streetlights you see flash and shimmer as you zoom by.

When you were younger your mother couldn’t afford fancy candles so she used a flashlight instead. You imagine the streetlights as just that, wishing that one day you’d know what you did to anger Armando so much.

Not soon enough, the car comes to a halt. The only sounds filling the cabin are those of Armando undoing his seatbelt.

Annoyed, you don’t even look at him as he speaks. All he’s done is tear you down in the past few hours, you’re done giving him the energy you need to conserve.

“When we go inside, don’t say a word. I don’t care how many questions he throws your way, you don’t say shit. Am I clear?”

Slowly, you turn towards him. Your mouth is scrunched and your eyes filled with no sympathy for the devil in front of you.

“Crystal.” You whisper, venom leaking off your tongue as you speak.

Armando’s chest rises and falls as he takes in your anger. He squeezes Mikes keys between his hands, and you you really do your best to ignore the heat that unfurls inside of you when he bites his plump lip between his teeth and runs a hand over his dark, full beard.

You adjust in your seat, because despite his constant cold front, It looks as if he has something to say. You wait in contemplating silence, the only sounds in the cabin being your breathing and Armando’s hesitant taps on the keys.

Part of you just wants to go in a get this over with and never speak to him again, but another part is desperate for him to say something meaningful to you. Something like the things you say to him before a mission.

“Don’t die.”

“Come back in one piece.”

“Be careful.”

“We should all have pizza when you come back.”

You knew how scary things could get on missions and you just wanted your team to know you were there, to take away even a slither of the darkness clouding them in that moment. And for your first time, you thought Armando might do the same—say something meaningful—but he doesn’t.

In a flash he’s out of the car, handing the keys over to valet, threatening them about what will happen if any scratches and dents are found.

You take in a deep breath and look down at the camera, disguised as a gold necklace resting above the cut of your breast.

“You guys getting all this?” You whisper, stepping out of the car.

“Do you mean Moxy, or your fight with Hotmando?” Dorn says over the earpiece.

You come to a halt. “Shit, I’m sorry guys. I’ll keep it professional, okay. From here on out, I won’t let him get to me…that’s not what’s important.”

“Good, get in and come back to us. I need my girl and our wine down Sundays.” Kelly says.

You smile, making your way over to wear Armando stands at the mouth of the nightclub, hoping he heard your words.

The sour look on his face as you walk through the door he holds open for you—sure to flip my hair as you do, giving him a nice taste of your leave in conditioner—tells you he certainly did, and perhaps he didn’t like what you had to say, but nonetheless…

He wont bother you anymore. Not tonight, at least.

Inside Moxy tore hit with a wave of a scent that nearly makes you gag—weed, sweat, and criminal activity. The club its self is large in scale, high ceilings with rope dancers stringing off the tops and flashing red and blue lights melting to make a purple haze over the club. Smoke and bubble guns are in constant effect and you’re pretty sure you can feel the bass of Wiz Khalifa’s Black and Yellow in your thoracic cavity.

From what you can see there are three floors, the first and second appear to be where the actual clubbing takes place. You watch the sweaty bodies corralled into dance floors, babbling nonsense either too drunk or too high for their own good.

But above, on the third, it is caged in and covered by glass. Yellow lights, different from the multi-colored ones below, remain at a halt and big , burly men with guns at their hips wander the halls. No doubt looking to take out any threat that comes for their boss—Ramos Malik.

“The glass. It’s bullet proof.” Armando says, eyeing the scene above, just as you do.

You would praise him for the impressive catch. But you’re Jenna now, and Jenna doesn’t speak.

“Any sign of Malik?” Mike asks.

“Not yet,’ Armando places a hand on the small of your back, making you flinch. “But we’re about to find out.”

Never moving his hands from your waist, Armando guides the two of you through the sweaty pillage of bodies and towards the elevators.

The ride up is quick, quiet. That’s not shocking. But what is shocking, as soon as the elevator comes to a screeching halt, Armando grabs your hand in his, completely engulfing your own with his size.

The burning sensation wraps up your wrist and shoots straight to your cheeks where you flush.

“What are you doing?” You gasps, trying to pull away. You did not sign up for this kind of role play.

Armando turns to look at you. “If you’re my girlfriend, we’ve got to play the part. Other than that you just look like someone who I brought out on a hit with me.” He squeezes your hand.

You suck in a deep breath at the motion, looking away.

“What’s wrong, princesa? This too much for you?” For a second, you thought he meant the fact that he was holding your hand, and in that case he wouldn’t be wrong, but soon enough the doors open and you shortly realize what he means.

The two burly men from early, dapper in black and white suits, wait outside the elevator, fingers in the triggers of their guns.

“Aretas.’ They nod, tuning your attention to you. “Whose this?”

“My girl, Jenna.” Armando says, gruffly.

One of the men nods, motioning you forward. You swallow, backing up a bit, hesitant on what to do.

Armando nudges you forward. “Esta bien bebe.”

You nod and walk towards them. They grab you up, calloused hands running up and down your body, and your pretty sure they linger to long on your untouchables on purpose.

Sweat begins to pile in your hands as a thought burst into your mind. What would happen if they found the knife Kelly gave you? She’d shoved it in a pretty good spot, but still, these guys were being thorough…and not in a good way.

You make eye contact with Armando as one of the guards continues to fill you up with what feels like excessive force.

In a blur, Armando pushes off the wall with his foot, slapping a hand on the guards shoulder.

“She’s clear, eh?”

The guard nods.

Armando grips his collar and pulls him in close. “The why the fuck are you still touching her, hm?”

The guard swallows, fear evident in his eyes.

“Just covering the bases, that’s all, sir.” He whimpers.

“Cover the bases again like that with my girl, and I’ll cut your fucking hand off and feed it to your other fat fuck of a friend.” Armando notions to the guard behind.

The guard nods and swallows, caressing his hand.

“The boss is this way,” he guides us with a motion.

Armando grips your hand once more, leading your down the long hallway.

“You okay?” He asks, holding his gaze forward.

You look up at him, even in heels he still manages to be taller than you. “Don’t pretend to care.” You scoff.

That makes him halt, conjoined with him you have no choice but to face each other. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, yet no words come out.

You roll your eyes, looking past his shoulders. Inside the bright room, you can see a shadow of Ramos. “Let’s just get this over with.” You say.

Armando’s gaze lingers on your longer than you’d like, giving you the shivers despite the fire leaking off him.

Soon enough, he pushes open the door and you follow behind him.

The room is small, club girls linger around either serving drinks or being felt up on. Ramos’s men, stand at each corner of the room searching for the next threat to their boss. Luckily they haven’t figured it is you yet.

“Armando Aretas,” Ramos claps his hands, jumping off of the white couch he’s sat on.

He stalks over, cigar between his lips, and you take him in. He is nowhere near as stalky as Armando, and his curly blonde hair is put up into a bun, exposing the undercut beneath. You can’t catch the colors of his eyes because they are covered by dark, Fendi shades.

His business definitely makes money, and lots of it. His three piece black and burgundy suit screams it all.

“To what do I owe such great pleasures?” He bows, lifting your hand up and placing a kiss on the back. “That goes for you too, sugar.”

Armando squeezes your hand a bit tighter at the pet name. You want to bite back and tell him to go easy, but you’re on stage now, and for your own safety and his, it’s best if you don’t break the act.

“I’m in the business of buying something from you. Streets are hot down in Mexico right now, and I need to establish some new territories…with a little force.” Armando says smoothly, sometimes you forget he was a hardened criminal not too long ago.

Ramos clicks his tongue between his teeth. “Ah. Come sit.” He motions you two over to one of his coaches.

“Good job. Keep em’ talking.” Mike says over the coms.

Armando takes a seat across from Ramos and you do the same.

A chuckle leaves Ramos’s lips. “I don’t think your pet likes you very much,” he motions to the space between you two.

Armando smacks his lips. “Nonsense. Ven aquí, bebé.”

You swallow and scoot towards him. When you’re close enough, in one swift moment, Armando’s slips you in his lap, running a rough hand up and down the exposed parts of your thigh, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps all over your body.

What the hell was happening.

Ramos chuckles, pouring himself and Armando a drink. He pushes it across the glass table, just out of reach.

Armando gives your ass a light slap, you turn and flare your nose, giving him your best “don't push it,” it glare.

He ignores it.

“Tráeme eso, mamá.” He says, motioning towards the glass.

You pick up the tumbler, suddenly realizing what he’s playing at. Ramos is watching because he isn't convinced. So you suck up your pride and do some convincing.

You grip Armando by his chin, rubbing the pad of your thumb in circles over his gruff beard before putting the glass against his lips, assisting him as he drinks.

Never once do his eyes leave you as he swallows the amber liquid, and the shivers that were once in your spine travel lower, much lower. You have to blink away the awful, dirty thoughts of you being in place of the glass out of your mind as you swipe away the spillage off his beard and plump, pink lips.

When you turn, Ramos’ shoulders drop and his smile is so wide it’s nearly reckless.

“So you’re in the business of buying my most popular product from me?”

“That’s right.” Armando says, a hand still caressing you slow and smooth.

“I am curious, though,’ Ramos takes a swig of his drink. “How did you hear about it?”

Armando shifts, the movement forcing you closer to his center. Your eyes go wide as saucers, your new position doing nothing for the growing pain massing within your heat.

“I’m an Aretas. Nothing in the streets goes past my ears…nothing.” Armando's confidence radiates off of him.

“Very well,” Ramos chuckles. “Let’s establish two parameters of this deal, then. One, you pay me before I give you any product. Two, you get caught with my product, you don’t tell a soul who you the fuck got it from. Sounds good?” He smiles.

Armando nods. “Just one thing,’ his hands enclose over your hips, sliding you off to the side, as he leans forward. “How do you make them? The bullets.”

Ramos frowns. “Why? You trying to steal my swag or something, Aretas?”

Armando chuckles. “Nah, just curious.”

“Feed his ego, he’s going to talk.” Kelly says.

“I mean, they're sharp, large, fast, quiet. It’s impressive. I just want to know how you do it before I invest any of my money into it.” Armando leans back, arms spread in a wide arch on the back of the couch.

“In our world now, with a little money, the right connections, and a fuck ton of fortitude, anything you can think of is a possibility.’ Ramos says, lighting another cigar. “It’s rare and hard to get everything right. But if you really want to know how I do it,’ he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper.

Armando does the same, you make the conscious effort not to. Instead you play with your necklace, making sure the camera catches his face and his face only when he confesses.

“It’s a three—,”

A sudden buzz swallows the conversation whole, swirling it down the dirty sink it had come up from. The buzz echoes once more before you realize where it comes from…your purse

Fuck.

Ramos straightens, likes a dog on guard, eyeing you fiercely. Your chest rises and falls with a weight heavier than gravity as your ringtone continues to blare out for everyone to hear.

Ramos licks his lips, like he’s hungry for what comes next. “Well don’t be shy, Ms. Jenna, answer the phone.”

You swallow and tuck a curl behind your ear. “I don’t think that’s appropriate right now. Let’s just finish up the deal—“

In a blur of fury, Ramos stands brandishing a gun, pointing it right at your chest.

“Make you perra answer the fucking phone, or I put holes in you both.”

“Answer the phone,” Mike calls to you. “Do what he asks.”

Armando gives you a cautious look as you slip your phone out of your purse. Your fingers are shaking, so answering takes a few tries but when you finally do get it, you see that it’s your sister calling.

“Make sure it’s on speaker too.” Ramos demands, clocking his gun.

You inhale deeply, press the speaker button, then answer, “Hey, sister, this isn’t really a good time.”

“Hey, I know you’re probably working late and all, but this is kind of important. My routers are not really working and I have a date with that guy, David, I told you about and I really need my tv to work.” She explains.

You bite your lip and lick the sweat that forms around them. “Have you tried turning your tv on and off again? You know I’m not really a whiz at that tech stuff.”

A pause, then your sister erupts in laughter. “Girl, are you high?’ She laughs. “You’ve been messing with wires and the internet since we were kids. That’s the whole reason twelve wanted you anyways”

Your hear sinks the moment she says those words, you hang up because the last thing you want is for your sister to hear you die.

“Well fuck me, Jenna, I’ll be damned.” Ramos growls, pushing his gun into your skull.

You pierce your eyes shut, brace for the burning impact of the bullet and pray for a quick death.

But it never happens, instead in a swift motion Armando pushes you off to the side causing you to collapse onto the ground. He makes a quick sweep of his leg, sending Ramos crashing onto his ass and the bullet that was meant for you soaring up and hitting the rafters, lodging into some wood.

Your breath is heavy as you watch all out war unfold before you. Armando takes on five men at once. The first man takes two tumblers over the head and one shard of glass to the neck, scarlett liquid oozing from the wound before he drops like dead weight beside you.

You let out a scream, backing away from the scene that moves like a riptide before you.

“Get out of there, now!” Kelly screams in your ear.

“I—I can’t just leave him!” You shout back.

“You have no training! We’re coming in, go, now!” Mike yells.

You gather yourself, undoing your heels, still watching Armando skillfully take out guys and keep clear of the gunshots that ring in the tiny room. You watch as he dropkicks one man, then shoots him in the face before stalking over to another man, dishing out a few punches, before finally gutting him with a knife.

He’s still on the move when you finally slip out of your heels. More of Ramos’s men are filing in and the fight expands,moving from the small room you were just in into the hallway where any innocent person could be hurt.

Unlike most times you weren’t in your gilded chair. You were in the field and you would help as many people as you could. So, you don’t think, you let the adrenaline cloud you as you bound down the hallway in hopes to get back downstairs and direct clubbers from the chaos.

Setting the golden elevator in your sites, you push faster. People below were already screaming, running wild. Who knows what could happen? How many people could be trampled and hurt. This only fuels you, quickening your stride. You nearly make it but a gunshot slows you, and the body of a bleeding girl drops before you, putting you into a full halt.

“Oh my god,” your voice is breathy and shaky.

“Why are you still in there!” Dorns’ voice becomes a far void as you rip at the bottom of your dress and use the fabric to compress her wound.

Two gunshots to the chests. The girl, who can’t be any older than yourself, gurgles blood which sprays onto her porcelain skin and leaks into her brown hair, sticking strands to the marble floor.

The girl coughs, sending blood splattering onto the side of your face, and claws at your arms, streaks of crimson standing out against your brown skin.

She murmurs, but it’s hard to hear.

You press deeper into her wounds. “Shh, it’ll be alright,’ You tell her “guys, I need a medic on the third floor when you get here. She’s…she’s in really bad shape.” You whimper.

The girl whines again, her eyes open and closing in two second intervals.

she raises her arm pointing a shaking finger in the direction behind you.

You wipe your eyes, blood no doubt trailing on your face now.

“What?” You croak. “What is it?” You turn around and see Ramos Malik limping over to you, a large knife in his hand.

You stand, putting distance between him, yourself and the girl.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?’ An injured Ramos says, limping toward you with his knife pointed. “Trying to get me caught up in some trap, but you weren’t even smart enough to shut off your phone!” He screams, lunging at you with the knife.

You tumble backwards, your back and head hitting the marble floor with the weight of you both. You cry out as pain sears through you, especially your hand.

It takes you a moment of readjusting to the bright lights and sounds to realize why. You caught the fucking knife in your hand.

You scream, as Ramos pulls it from your palm in a slice. Your hand open and bleeding, you cry out and roll away from another vicious attack by Ramos.

He growls and lunges at you again, grabbing a tuft full of your curls. You beat at his legs with your good hand, squirming in his grip. He pulls at your hair, making you scream, lowering his knife to your neck, pressing inward.

You let out an animalistic scream, pressing your thumb into the oozing wound on his leg. He screeches, falling to his knees.

Wasting no time, you crawl away.

You think you’ve gotten far enough.

You rise up on your knees and push the elevator button, but the cold hand on your ankle snatches you back.

You claw at the marble floors, leaving a trail of blood, as Ramos drags you like a rag doll. He stops, flipping you over and planting his weight on top of you.

You flail, kicking the ground and scratching at his face, desperate for him to let go. But he doesn’t. Instead, he cages you with his legs and wraps both hands around your neck, applying so much pressure that your vision blurs.

Under his grip, your breaths become distant and faint. Your muscles relax, and your eyes bulge. Turning your head to the side, you can barely make out the flashing blue and red lights from outside.

The team is here. But you're not sure they'll find you in time because Ramos is relentless, and the air in your lungs is vanishing. Your skull feels like it’s being crushed, the pressure intense.

You feel yourself slipping away, losing focus on your surroundings. Ramos moves your head to face him, and he’s a mass of incoherent clouds above you, the only clear thing are his dark, empty eyes.

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die,” he growls, spit slipping from his mouth. “I hope Aretas finds you like—”

Ramos drops, and oxygen rushes back into your lungs like a clap of thunder.

You shudder on the ground, scraping at your neck and slapping your chest.

Warm hands engulf your cheeks, and it takes a minute for the blur to leave your vision. When it does, you see Armando before you, a smoking gun at his side.

“¿Estás bien, mamá?”

His voice barely registers before oxygen slips from your lungs again, and you slump over, hitting the ground.

Armando scoops you up, and even though it should be a relief, you can’t help but be saddened by the way your team jumps over the girl you couldn’t save.

Darkness swallows you whole as your team swarms you and Armando.

###

“The stitches will dissolve on their own in time as your wound heals itself.’ Kelly says, tightening the last of the bandages on the hand Ramos had sliced.

“Thanks, Kelly.’ You smiled softly, rubbing at the soreness that still lingered all over your body, especially your neck.

Ramos and his men had been arrested, not on the charges the team had planned, but still, getting him locked away for attempted murder of a police officer and soliciting drugs would have to be good enough for now.

Kelly rubs your shoulders, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “I’m really sorry this happened to you,’ she says, eyeing your injuries, the bandages on your knees and hands, the purple-ish bruise on your neck, and the small scratches and scrapes all over your body. You definitely weren’t as hot as you were that night.

“It’s okay.” You smile. “I’m still here, so.” You shrug.

“You were brave that night, saving that girl. We’re all so proud of you.” Kelly says.

You shake your head. “But I didn't save her, Kels. She died. Right there, she bled out.’ Tears start to rim your eyes as the memories of the girl and her blood in your hands flare in your mind. “Fuck,” you cover your eyes with your palms. “I could hardly save myself that night…if it wasn’t for Armando, I’d be dead.”

You sniffle, taking a seat on a nearby stool. “I’m not cut of for the field, and I don’t think I should ever do it again.”

Kelly swarms you. “No. Don’t say that.’ She shakes her head. “We’ve all been there, helpless, but that’s why we’re a team. We cover each other's six when shit gets rough. So don’t feel bad, we won’t let you.”

You nod slowly, trying to let her words penetrate your soul so that you could really believe them. But right now, you couldn’t. You put everyone at risk because you made a rookie mistake by leaving your phone on.

You were to blame for all the carnage, all the bloodshed and chaos.

Armando was right, it was a suicide mission. And it was all your fault.

Kelly’s phone ringing thrusts you out of your thoughts.

She reads the screen number and looks at you. 'I got to go,’ she motions. “But if you need me, call me, seriously.”

You nod and wave her goodbye. You turn and fully expect to hear the compound's heavy, steel doors slam shut and lock, but they never do.

On high alert you turn and meet eyes with Armando. He’s in his typical black on black, head to toe. The only thing different about him is the white bandage covering the bulge of his arm.

You try not to stare too hard at the way his black shirt clings to his body, flexing every taunt muscle as he strides down the steps and towards you with a force.

Refocusing, you work on the project at hand—Dorns broken drone. You mesh wires together and a spark comes alive, something like the sparks you feel when Armando takes a seat next to you, leaving up against the steel work table.

“So that’s it, eh?” He says, staring at you. “Gonna ignore me.”

You keep fussing with your wires. “Not sure there is much to say.”

Armando chuckles bitterly. “I’m sure I could find some words. How about we start with, lo siento or soy un maldito idiota.”

You slam down your tools and turn to face him, fire blazing in your eyes. “I don’t even know what the fuck you just said.” You growl.

Armando stands, towering over you. “I’d be happy to translate for you, princesa. It means you fucked up and cost alot of people their lives.”

You flinch at his words, more reality of your mistake clouding over you. “You don’t think I know that? I’ve regretted my mistake every night when I cry myself to sleep because all I can see is that girl's face.

Your voice wavers. “Her blood.”

“If you feel like that then you should have listened to me when I told you that mission was suicide.” He growls.

“Fuck you.” You spat, walking away.

Armando catches your forearm, pulling you back towards him. “I’m not done, so don’t walk away from me.”

“Let me the hell go!” You try jerking from his grip but it’s no use, you’re stuck, stuck taking his abuse.

“No, you need to know that it was your fault out there. That your place is in the chair,’ he motions to your desk behind you. “You can’t handle the field, you’re not built for it.”

The need to prove him wrong boils in your gut causing you to lift your hand and swing it out towards Armando’s face.

Bad idea.

He catches your arm with ease and now both your limbs are in his hands. You try to snatch away, but Armando keeps you steady, pulling you closer until the two of you are breaths away from each other.

The heat in your chest spreads like wildfire as you watch Armando’s eyes linger on your bruised lips, then trailing down slowly to your hands and legs, accessing all your injuries as if they matter to him.

“Besides,’ he trails on, his index finger glazing cautiously over the ring bruise on your neck. “If it wasn’t more me out there, princesa, you’d be dead.”

“I didn’t think…”

“That’s the point,’ Armando holds you steady. “You didn’t think, and you not using your head almost got you killed. And if you would have died I—.”

There's a quivering pause in Armando’s voice, his eyes slam shut tight. You don’t know what to make of this, one second he hates you and the next he cares if you’re dead or not. Armando is a mystery you’re too tired to decode.

You jerk from his grasps once more and this shocks his eyes back open.

“Are you done?” You manage to say.

Armando licks his lips, slowly releasing you from his grasp.

“I’m done,’ he says, backing away from you.

You hold onto the steel table for support, the scorch of his touch slowly fleeting.

You hear the steel door crack open and turn to watch him leave, but he’s halted at the precipice, “One last thing, stay in the chair next time. It’s where you belong.”

With that he leaves, the steel door slamming shut and your confidence crumbling down.

You tried your hardest to not let Armando affect you, but he does. His words cut you deeper than Ramos’s knife. Maybe he was right, maybe you should just stay in the chair. But what if there was another time they needed you in the field? Could you just say no without feeling immense guilt? Probably not.

So when you write your resignation and leave it on your desk and walk away from the compound, you do it because you can’t stand to see the people you care about get hurt, all because you’re not a good enough cop.

###

“Okay, seriously! Are you really going to be that stupid and go back into the house where you know the killer is! Come on Noah!” You shout at your television screen.

It’s been a week since you put in your resignation and the amount of discourse behind it has resulted in you shutting off your phone and locking yourself inside, watching shitty horror movies to pass the time.

Because if you step foot outside, you’ll be mobbed by friends from the department and your friends from AMMO who, to say the least, weren’t happy about your resignation.

All but one.

Not that he mattered anyway.

They all hated that you quit, saying you needed to come back immediately and talk this out. But you couldn’t.

How could you face them when you were such a coward and created all that chaos? They worked so hard to save lives and keep order and you did nothing but fuck shit up.

It was time to jump ship before someone else got hurt in the crossfires of your neglect.

The thought pushes you deeper into your plush green couch that sits far back into your home, well renovated garage. But hey, Miami is expensive, and this place was renting out, so you just renovated it. A little love all around and it became an actual home.

You let loose a small smile looking around, the walls, once bare and industrial, now are splattered with a lively palette of bright yellows, deep blues, and playful greens. They are decorated with framed posters of all the things you love: vintage video games, classic sci-fi movies, and beloved comic book covers, each one a nod to your past. Strings of fairy lights crisscross the ceiling, casting a soft, whimsical glow that contrasts beautifully with your high-gear equipment scattered throughout.

Your floor is a patchwork of colorful rugs, each with its own story. Some are intricately patterned, those are the ones your parents gifted you, while others are simple yet bold, adding a splash of color to the room. Together, they might be your favorite part of the whole place, just because they keep your bare feet warm on lazy nights like these.

In one corner, a plush, oversized bean bag chair sits next to a low coffee table cluttered with all your retro memorabilia – old gaming cartridges, Rubik's cubes, and a couple of well-worn graphic novels.

The heart of your home garage is the tech haven. Your large, custom-built desk stretches along one wall, supporting your impressive army of monitors in various sizes. High-end computers hum quietly, their cases glowing with neon lights. Cables and wires, though numerous, are neatly organized, snaking their way through the room in an orderly fashion.

Shelves above and around the desk hold a treasure trove of tech gadgets and components – everything from VR headsets and drones to soldering kits and spare parts. A 3D printer sits in a place of honor, its latest creation still cooling on the print bed.

Your home made you feel complete, but still after you quit you do feel a little empty. You miss the small talks at work, the laughter, the bickering, the teasing. It just wasn’t the same alone. But again, it was for the best, because if there is one thing you know—keeping your family safe is the most important thing, above all.

And you’d hate to be their reckoning.

Flipping open your laptop you continue to scroll through your job search.

“What do you think, Chester?’ You say to your golden retriever. “Tech support job? Or maybe we go dark and get into hacking for higher companies.”

Chester whines, fidgeting in his spot next to you.

“You’re right, no going bad. Tech support it is.’ Chester rummages around a bit more before springing over your coach, darting towards the door. “Hey, I can work from home with this one!” You say.

Chester’s barks ring out, bouncing off the walls relentlessly.

You stand and make your way over to what’s got him so riled up. At the door, you bend down and pet him, still doing nothing to soothe his barks.

“Chessy, what’s wrong, huh?” You grab his collar, pulling him towards the door and opening it.

You stick both your heads out the door, turning them left and right, the only thing you see and hear is darkness and the bad storm slamming outside. You pull back inside and Chester sticks to you like glue. “See, nothing to worry about.’ You squat down to love on your dog, who's growling like crazy right now. “We aren’t like Noah, we don’t go into scary houses for fun. We’re safe here, Ramos is gone. ” You pat his head, but that only makes him bark more.

“Chester, enough already.” you stand, moving towards the kitchen and getting yourself a glass out of the cabinet, flicking on the sink, and filling it with water.

Your just about to take a sip when a loud crack of lighting explodes, illuminating your dark house, revealing a cloaked figure behind you.

You scream and drop your cup, shards exploding on the ground around your feet. Chester is in a full on frenzy right now, and rightfully so. Could this be Ramos’s men, did he send them to finish you off?

“You’re one crazy bitch, you know that?”

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die.”

You scrape at your neck, the tender bruise making you hiss as if the pressure of Ramos choking you has never left.

The figure steps forward and you screech, ripping a butcher knife from your kitchen sink, and pointing it at them.

“Back the fuck up!” You scream. “I’m a fucking cop!” You take wobbly steps back, watching Chester go up the figure and sniff them…then roll over?

Chester by no means is an aggressive dog, but he loves you, and if he sensed you were in danger he’d protect you with his life. So when he begins to receive pets from the intruder, you lower your knife.

“Kelly?” You say, she knows Chester, you’ve brought him to the compound many times before, but she’s the only one on your team who has a key to your place.

The figure doesn’t answer, they just move over to the corner of the kitchen, flipping on the light.

Your shoulders drop the moment you see his thick beard and warm-brown skin peeking from underneath his black hoodie.

Armando.

“How the fuck did you get in?” You cross your arms over your chest.

Armando shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto your kitchen stools. “It’s not exactly a place with state of the art security.”

“I could have killed you, Chester too.”

Armando snickers. “You and your pooch wouldn’t have done a thing.”

You grumble, crossing the kitchen landscape and moving towards the coaches. “What do you want, you're interrupting my movie night.”

Armando follows, hot on your trail. “I can see that. By the way, is that hello kitty on your pajamas?”

You look down and groan. Of course you’d be wearing something totally embarrassing when your least favorite ex-coworker breaks into your house.

“Stop switching the subject. Why are you here?”

Armando rustles in his pocket before pulling out a paper and shoving it into your hands.

You’re careful to unfold it because there is rain damage from the storm, but when you get it open, despite the smooshed ink on the page, you see it’s your resignation letter.

“Okay, and?” You shrug.

“Okay, and, take it back.” He says.

You chuckle. “You’re joking, right. Like you have to be joking.”

Armando’s face is straight. “I’m not.”

You plop down on your couch. “I’m not taking it back, I'm already looking at different jobs.”

A scoff leaves his lips. “So that’s it, eh? You’re just going to run away.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Weren't you the one who told me I should quit?”

“I never said that. I said you needed to stay in the chair, and still, you did the opposite of that.” He says.

You stand. “What’s the point of saying I’m a cop, if I don’t actually save people. You said that entire night was on me, so I backed away from the situation and now you’re mad?”

Armando sits quietly for a moment, tapping his leg against the ground. “I never said quit.”

“It doesn’t matter what you said. I did what I felt I needed to do.”

Armando scoffs, turning in his seat. “Yeah I can see that, real egoísta if you ask me.”

You stand, marching over towards the kitchen. “You know I have no clue what you’re saying.”

Armando turns, follows you, taking a seat at the bar. And before you know it, just like that compound before, you're caged between his legs.

“I called you selfish.”

You let out a gasp. “How the hell am I selfish?”

“Because you left the team!”

“I left the team to keep everyone safe! Not because I’m selfish!”

“We're safe! And we’ll be safer knowing that you’re safe, too, especially with some of Ramos’s associates still out there! I—we need to keep tabs on you.”

You stumble back. “What?’ You swallow. “Are you telling me my life is in danger? That Ramos will send people after me?”

“It’s a possibility we’re considering,’ Armando says, his eyes never leaving you as you sit across from him. “But if you come back to work we can keep you safe.”

“And what’s to say they won’t come for me any other time?” You croak. “Being in that compound doesn’t guarantee my safety.”

Armando rubs a slow hand over his face. “But I can.” He says, hardly above a whisper.

“You. Protect me?”

“Why is that so far-fetched?” He says.

“Armando, you hate me.”

“You keep putting words in my mouth, princesa, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m not putting words in your mouth. It’s just, actions speak louder.’ You shrug. “Ever since you got into AMMO, we’ve been the least close out of everybody. No matter how hard I tried, we just never connected. So yes, I’m sorry if I find you putting yourself on the line for me, unprovoked, a little hard to believe.”

Armando stands, his frame opposing against yours. He lifts his shirt and you hiss at what you see. Bandages, dried blood, and purple bruises litter his torso.

You look away but he catches your chin with his thumb, pulling your attention back to him.

“I wouldn’t put myself on the line for you,’ he said, pulling his shirt back down. “I already fucking did.”

“I never asked you too.” You mutter, looking away ashamed that you caused that.

“You didn’t have to.’ He sighs. “I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“What?” You turn, slow tears building, blurring your vision now.

“I didn’t want you to go out there because, as much as I try to hide it, I care about you.” Armando says, hot brown eyes melting into you.

You blink, stalling and stepping back. Armando…cares about you? Those two things shouldn’t even be in conjunction and your brain can’t process that they are.

The man in front of you has never been anything but harsh towards you, now he comes to your home in the middle of the night begging you to come back to work and confessing his feelings for you.

You truly must be dreaming…this can’t be real. Not that you’d be mad if it was. Despite all your bickering and misunderstandings, you still held a soft spot for Armando. You could see he was trying to be a better person, a more open person, regardless of his flaws.

And there were moments when he was kind to you, like opening doors for you, walking side by side with you to your car late at night, never forgetting to get your lunch along with the teams if you couldn’t make it. You knew he had a nice side to him and that’s why you showed him yours time and time again. Showed him it was okay to be vulnerable, but now he is, truly is, and you can’t even compute it.

“Why would you say something like that?” You swallow, something weird stirring inside of you, making you step closer towards him.

Armando does the same, closing the gap between you two. “Say what, princesa? The truth.”

You don’t mean to, but you whimper as the nickname leaves his lips. You look down, heat flushing in your cheeks. “Please don’t call me that.”

Armando scoops your chin with his index finger, your eyes latching and twinkling under the soft glow of your house's lights. “¿Por qué? no puedo manejarlo.”

“No.” You breath, studying every bridge and sharp angle of his face. This close, his beauty is unbelievable.

Armando’s thick, kept beard, is just as dark as his hair. His brown eyes are surrounded by a shade of full lashes, and his plump pink lips, glistening in the soft light. Armando Aretas was hard to resist and that’s why you feel yourself falling closer into him.

Like your mind is on autopilot, your hands fall to his chest, resting there and feeling every muscle he’s worked so hard for.

“I can see that.” Armando smirks. “I can also see that you care for me, too.”

“I—,”

“Want me to show you how I know?” He whispers, lips touching your ear and making you gasp.

You nod. There was no point in resisting him at that moment. Not that you wanted to either.

In one swift motion, Armando bends down and then you're airborne. His hands rest underneath your thighs as he carries you to your bedroom.

Walking over, your eyes never leave each other. You open your mouth to speak as a thought holds you captive.

“Is this why you said all those mean things? To discourage me because you didn’t want me to get hurt?” You ask, caressing his face in your hands.

Armando leans into the touch, nodding his head just as you two pass through the door of your bedroom.

He sets you down gently and you cling your arms around his neck.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” You ask.

Armando’s hands encircle your waist as he sighs. “I didn’t know how. I was just so angry that they’d even ask you to do something like that anyway.”

“And you were angry because you liked me?”

Armando nods.

“And when I was pretending to be Jenna…were you acting then, too?”

Armando chuckles, biting his lip, you look away to keep from melting. “You mean when I smacked your ass? I might have taken advantage of the situation then.”

You hit his chest and laugh. “I can’t believe you. That’s a violation!”

Armando leans in close. “I’d be happy to violate you some more, princesa.”

You chuckle lightly and wither out of his grip, taking a seat on the bed.

Armando frowns, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong? Was it something I sa—,”

“No. It’s fine. It’s just…I’ve never actually been with anyone before.”

Armando stills. “Oh. I was just joking with you,” he stands. “I can leave.”

Quickly, you grab his wrist, pulling him back. “No. I don’t want you to.’ You stand, taking his face in your hands and pulling him close. His lips are inches from yours and you can feel his nose brush against yours. “I want you to show me, just like you said.” You moan, placing your lips onto his.

Armando shutters, placing a hand on the nape of your neck. He opens his mouth, swiping his tongue over the bottom of your lips, asking for entry. You oblige and he slips inside, turning the kiss hot and fierce.

Armando swallows every moan you release, gripping your hips and pushing you back against the bed, his weight gently hovering on top of you.

He uses his legs, he spreads you open, you gasp at the motion allowing him access to your neck.

Like a man starving, Armando attacks your neck with hot-trailed kisses, lingering sucks and suckles, and licks that drive you wild, the heat between your legs pulsing now with desire.

“Fuck,’ you gasps and he palms over one of your breasts, sucking on the tender spot beneath your ear.

“Te gusta ese, bebe?” Armando whispers against your skin.

You shake your head “Yes.” You whimper.

Armando leans back, pulling at your top. “Let’s get this off of you, eh?”

You sit up just enough, allowing him access to pull the fabric off of you.

In a flash he peels your shirt off of you, leaving you bare in front of him.

Impulse has you covering yourself, but Armando reaches out, slowly moving your arms away from your chest.

“Don’t hide from me, mama.” He says, eyes darkening when he finally has a full view of your boobs.

“Mierda, you’re so beautiful baby.” He moans.

You shutter as he talks one breast in his hands, rubbing circles with it, while the other he latches his plump lips onto, sucking at your nipples.

The sensation causes your head to snap back and a deep, repressed moan to fly from your lips. Armando was doing the lords work with both his hand and tongue.

You squirm, squeezing your legs together and stimulating your spot, making your pants leak with want.

You had never had to opportunity to be with a man before, but in this moment you wanted nothing more than to fuck Armando.

“Fuck me,” you moan out. “Please.”

Armando chuckles, the sensation against your nipple makes you hiss. “Estás tan impaciente, princesa.’ He smacks your ass. “But eh, if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.” He smirks, pushing you down against the bed.

He hovers on top, snatching his shirt off. All of his rippling muscles on display before you. You bite your lip at the site, hoping to see more and soon.

“If you want me to fuck you, will have to get rid of these, no?” He pulls at the strings of your pajama bottoms.

You nod, eager to have him inside of you.

In a blur, Armando pulls off your pants, tossing them to the side.

If you thought you saw darkness in his eyes when he saw your boobs, the look he has now is nothing in comparison. His eyes are nearly pitch black as he takes in what is soon to be his.

Armando spreads open your legs, hissing once he gets a glimpse at your glistening cunt.

You moan just at the thought of bearing it all in front of him.

“God, fuck.” He says, pulling down his pants and revealing a surprise of his own that makes you gasp.

Though covered in boxers, you can see just what he was working with. And to say the least, he was huge, and thick.

“Come here, baby.’ He moans, pulling you by your thighs to the edge of the bed. “Let me taste you.” He says.

You watch as Armando’s head lowers between your legs and the second his mouth touches your pussy, you fell back into the bed.

His mouth makes quick work of you, versing between sucking on your clit and licking your slit in a rhythm that builds a euphoria inside your gut.

The force of his tongue against your pussy and the pressure of his lips wrapped around your swollen clit has your back arching and screaming out.

Your toys had nothing on Armando.

“Please,” you whimper and try to squirm, but Armando holds you in place, slapping your ass twice as hard as a repercussion.

With each pass of his tongue, circling arcs on your pussy you can feel yourself climbing to the edge. Armando must feel it too because he puts the cherry on top when he sinks a thick finger inside of you.

“Oh my—ugh!”

You’re a whimpering, whining mess. The sheets beneath you turning a new shade of green as you soak them with your slick.

Armando adds another finger in for good measure only adding to the build up in your stomach. Each pump, suck, and lick causes a buckle to snap inside of you and a high only the man eating you out right now can give you is climbing.

You reach higher, and higher. Your orgasm just around the bend.

One last pump and suck, and you come undone, all over Armando’s face.

Armando comes back up from the floor, crawling over top of you. With the little moonlight that shines into your bedroom you can see yourself covering his beard, droplets of cum covering most of it.

“Taste yourself for me.” He growls, lowering his lips into yours.

You latch on and a sweet, yet neutral, flavor slips onto your lips as you and Armando kiss in a harmonious rhythm.

You never let go from his grasps as your hand travels down. You grab a hold of his massive, bulging cock.

Armando hisses and whimpers as you begins to stroke it with a various pressures: soft, hard, slow, the soft again. He shutters above you, his faces desperate and pleading.

“You’ll make me come like that.’ He breaths, gripping your hands. “I thought you were a virgin?”

“I am,’ you hiss, still squirming. “But I think it’s a bullshit construct. I’m still highly sexual,’ you say, pulling at his cock, bringing it forth. “And I want to be highly sexual with you.”

Armando bites his lips, pulling you into his lap. “Eres un problema, princesa.”

“I know,” you say, kissing him once more.

You rock back and forth, feeling his cock press against your needing pussy. The pressure making you both shake in anticipation.

Armando breaks the kiss. “Do you have a condom?”

You shake your head. “No, but I’m on birth control.”

He nods. “Good, you’re going to need it.”

He flips you over so that he is on top. Finally, he reaches down and slips out of his boxers, his cock, thick, long and full, springs to life and you can’t help but moan. Your pussy is aching with the need to be filled.

Armando spreads your legs open, angling the tip of his cock with your pussy’s pulsing entrance.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” He asks.

“I’m sure. Now fuck me, please.”

Armando obeys, slowly slipping his cock inside of you.

You hiss at the burning, stretching pain, digging your nails into his back as he pushes in, your pussy swallowing him inch by inch.

“Mm,” you croak.

Armando stops. “Are you okay?” He shakes

You grip at his ass, forcing him inside deeper, despite the burn you’re desperate to feel all of him. “Don’t stop.” You moan. “Please keep going.”

Armando pushes in further and deeper, tearing you open, until you’re fully stretched and he’s reached the depths of your ocean.

You two stay still for a moment, him allowing you time to adjust to the new stretching sensation and his size.

You lean up to kiss him. He deepens it, molding his mouth to yours, before slowly moving.

You moan, holding onto him as he picks up the pace, thrusting into you faster.

You can feel the pain melting into pleasure the more he pounds into you.

Harder and faster you begin to feel yourself loose control, your euphoria coming to hit its second peak.

“Fuck me, ugh! Please, Armando!” You shot, lifting your legs, granting him deeper access.

Armando grips the tiny mound between your hip and leg, using it as leverage to drive his thick cock deeper into your soaking wet pussy.

Animalistic groans leave his lips as he drives into you at an unholy pace. The sounds of skin slapping and drawn out, breathy moans fill the room, reaching a devilish peak when you scream out, coming and pulsing around his cock.

Armando follows you not shortly after, his dick pulsing and pumping his spillage into you.

He rolls off of you, taking you in his arms and placing a sweaty kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He murmurs on your forehead.

“Okay.” You smile, your legs sore and your middle aching.

Armando lifts you up bridal-style and carries you into the bathroom.

Soon you’re surrounded by steam and soap as you two bathe each other down.

Showered, you two snuggle in bed, a burning question still at the forefront of your mind.

“Armando?” You say.

“Hm,’ he is hardly awake at this point.

“When did you realize you cared about me?” You ask, angling your head to head to get a good look at him.

Armando chuckles, stroking your curls you have yet to put in a bonnet. “I think I always did. I was just scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Maybe that you wouldn’t see me the way i see you.” He sighs. “I see only the good in you, and maybe that makes me a blind man, but I’m certain you’re a woman who can see through facades, and you wouldn’t see any goodness in me.”

You sit up. “That’s not true. Armando, of course you’ve done terrible things, but that’s not what I see when I look at you.”

Armando takes a hold of your bandaged hand, placing a small kiss on the palm. “So what do you see?”

“Now? I just see you, and all the tiny little good things that I love.”

A small smile graces Armando’s face before he leans in, kissing you softly. You sigh against his lips, not wanting this moment to end.

Though you two had some struggles, you wouldn’t have this pairing any other way.

You just wished you’d checked your blind spot early to see all the little signs you were missing.

#armando aretas #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life #armando x reader #armando aretas x reader #hot #fic #angst #smut #bwwm love #blackoc #fanfiction #fanfic #jacob scipio

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